Chapter 5

The Boss’s Jealousy

The Boss wasn’t a man given to emotions at least, not the kind that showed.

He’d spent years building walls — not brick with steel and glass. Everything in Boss’s Spot reflected that: clean lines, precise angles, no clutter and no chaos. The kind of control that made men kneel without being told.

Control kept him alive. Control kept them alive.

Since that night — the first and only time Rico had stood in this room and said no — something had been cracking in the walls he’d built, quiet cracks, hairline fractures.

He noticed them in the ways: his hand were tightening when Rico laughed, his jaw clenching when Rico ignored him, the strange weight in his chest when someone else stood too close.

Jealousy?

The word itself tasted bitter. He’d mocked it in others, used it to manipulate men into loyalty, but he’d never felt it. Not until Rico walked through his door with those shake eyes and tough tongue, daring him to try.

Now?

He couldn’t stop watching him.

Five screens glowed in the dark. Five boys in five rooms. All asleep or pretending to be.

Except Rico.

Rico was sprawled on his bunk in Room 3A, his arms folded behind his head, staring at the ceiling fan like it had personally offended him. He didn’t fidget. He didn’t twitch. Just breathed slow, deliberate, like he knew the cameras were there and wanted them to see his stillness.

The Boss hated how easily he read him — and how much he wanted to.

A knock on the office door pulled him from the screen.

“Come in,” he said.

Jaylen stepped inside. His braids hung loose over his shoulder, his expression was unreadable. He dropped a stack of receipts on the desk without being asked.

“Inventory’s low on polish,” Jaylen muttered. “And Felix says the fryer’s sparking again.”

“I’ll handle it.”

Jaylen hesitated, lingering in the doorway. His eyes flicked to the monitors, catching on the screen showing Rico.

“Is it him now?” Jaylen asked.

The Boss didn’t look up. “Go to bed.”

Jaylen didn’t move. “It’s different with him.”

The Boss’s jaw tightened. “You want to say something, say it.”

Jaylen stepped closer, his voice low. “The others are talking. They’re saying you’re… distracted. He’s new, Boss. He doesn’t know how this place works.”

“And you do?”

Jaylen’s gaze hardened. “I’ve been here four years.”

The Boss leaned back in his chair, cigarette glowing in the dark. “And in four years, you’ve forgotten your place?”

Jaylen’s fists clenched at his sides, but he said nothing. He turned and left without another word, the door shut behind him.

The Boss’s eyes drifted back to the monitor.

Rico hadn’t moved, but now, his lips were curved in the smirk — like he’d heard every word.

Sunlight poured through the open garage doors, catching in puddles of soapy water on the floor. The boys moved in practiced silence — rinsing, scrubbing, drying. The pressure washer filled the air, mingling with music from the radio.

The Boss stood on the mezzanine above, coffee in hand, watching.

He saw everything: Felix tripping over the hose. Ty sneaking fries from the kitchen. Marco wiping his mouth, pretending not to wince. And Rico — always Rico — bent over the hood of a car, sweat dripping down the line of his spine, black uniform clinging to him like second skin.

The Boss’s grip on his coffee tightened.

Below, Jaylen approached Rico with a rag slung over his shoulder. They spoke quietly, too quiet for the Boss to hear, but he didn’t need to. He saw the easy way Rico’s mouth curved at whatever joke Jaylen made. Saw Jaylen’s hand brush Rico’s shoulder as they worked side by side.

Something hot flared in his chest.

Not lust and not exactly.

"Possession!"

His eyes tracked every movement, every laugh, every flicker of Rico’s eyes towards anyone else. It was irrational — he knew that. The boys belonged to him, the shop belonged to him and everything here belonged to him.

So why did it bother him so much to see Rico smile at someone else?

The boys crowded around the table, eating lunch from paper trays. Grease-stained burgers, fries, soda cans. Conversation was low, punctuated by bursts of laughter — mostly from Ty, whose jokes rarely landed but always filled the silence.

Rico sat at the end, half-listening, half-watching. Marco sat across from him, silent as usual, his eyes darting between the two of them. Jaylen leaned back in his chair, his legs stretched out, smirking at something Felix said.

The Boss stood in the doorway, unseen.

He didn’t join meals. Never had. But today, he lingered longer than usual, watching how Rico fit — or didn’t — among them. He wasn’t part of the laughter, not really. But he wasn’t excluded either. The others glanced at him often, curious, wary.

And Jaylen — Jaylen looked at him too much.

“Boss?”

The voice startled him. Marco stood beside him, tray in hand.

“What?”

Marco hesitated. “You… wanted me after lunch?”

The Boss blinked. “No.”

“Oh.” Marco’s grip tightened on the tray. “Sorry.”

He brushed past him into the break room. The Boss stayed in the doorway a moment longer, his eyes returning to Rico — now laughing at something Jaylen said, his head tilted back and his mouth open.

The Boss turned and walked away before he could stop himself.

He shut the door behind him, the echo was high in the quiet. His reflection in the glass stared back: his jaw clenching and his veins were visible in his forearms.

Jealousy!!

He hated the word. Hated how it made him feel — small, petty, human.

But watching Rico with the others… it burned.

He lit a cigarette, pacing the room.

In the beginning, this place had been simple: bring them in, feed them, clothe them, keep them close. Some stayed a few weeks. Some stayed years. The rules were clear. OBEDIENCE was SURVIVAL.

But Rico wasn’t obedient, he wasn’t grateful and he wasn’t afraid.

And yet… he hadn’t left.

That made him dangerous and irresistible.

The Boss thought about the last night he’d called him upstairs — the way Rico had stood in the doorway, defiant and bare-faced. The way he hadn’t flinched when The Boss closed the distance between them. The way he’d said, “What if I break you?”

No one had ever dared speak to him like that.

No one had ever made him wonder if they could.

By mid-afternoon, the tension was so real. The boys felt it too, though none dared name it.

Jaylen worked beside Rico at the wash bay, handing him rags and buckets with casual ease. Too casual.

The Boss watched from above, knuckles white against the railing.

“Careful,” Jaylen muttered as Rico hoisted a bucket of rinse water. “You keep staring up there, you’ll trip over your own feet.”

“I’m not staring,” Rico replied, though his eyes flicked upward again.

Jaylen smirked. “Sure you’re not.”

“You got a problem?”

“Just saying… don’t let him get in your head.”

“He’s not.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Rico slammed the bucket down harder than necessary. The splash sprayed across Jaylen’s boots. Jaylen didn’t move.

“You don’t get it,” Rico said lowly. “You’ve been here so long, you don’t even see it anymore.”

“See what?”

“The cage.”

Jaylen’s smirk faltered, just for a second. “Better a cage than the streets.”

Rico didn’t answer, he just turned back to the car, muscles taut and jaw set.

Above, The Boss’s chest tightened. He wasn’t sure if it was anger at Rico… or jealousy toward Jaylen.

The day wound down with the hum of engines fading into silence. The last customer left, the neon sign flickering weakly in the dark. The boys cleaned the bay in silence, sweeping water toward the drains.

Rico was the last to leave.

He stayed behind, wiping down the Charger from earlier. Methodical. Almost like he wanted an excuse to linger.

The Boss stepped down from the mezzanine, boots echoing against the wet concrete. Rico didn’t look up, but he felt him.

“You missed a spot,” The Boss said quietly.

Rico wiped harder. “Didn’t see one.”

“You weren’t looking.”

“Maybe I was looking somewhere else.”

The Boss stepped closer. “Like where?”

Rico finally turned, eyes sharp. “Does it bother you? Me talking to them?”

The Boss didn’t flinch. “Should it?”

“You tell me.”

The Boss closed the distance until only inches separated them. “They don’t see you, Rico. Not like I do.”

“And how’s that?”

“Like someone worth breaking.”

Rico’s throat tightened — not from fear, but something worse.

Want.

Before either could speak, the intercom buzzed overhead. Jaylen’s voice crackled through, calling from upstairs: “Boss? You needed me?”

The spell shattered. The Boss stepped back, his jaw tight. “Go to bed,” he said to Rico.

Rico smirked. “Thought so.”

Jaylen stood waiting in the doorway when The Boss returned to the office.

“You called?” Jaylen asked.

“No,” The Boss muttered, brushing past him.

Jaylen frowned. “Then why—”

“Get out.”

Jaylen stiffened but obeyed, leaving without another word.

The Boss sank into his chair, cigarette trembling slightly between his fingers.

He hated this feeling.

Hated that Rico had done this to him.

Hated that he couldn’t stop wanting him.

But most of all, he hated that for the first time in years, the game wasn’t his alone to play.

"Not anymore."