Blue Boy 1: Bullet (8 page)

“Nah. The night is young. I might go out before I hit the club.”

Levi let it go. He was familiar with the concept of working all day and partying all night, though it had been a while. Besides, if Sonny was tired, that was his problem. It wasn’t like they were friends.

“Can I ask you something?”

Levi dumped some leftover corn bread on the counter. “As long as it’s not about taking it up the ass. I’ve had enough of that shit for one night.”

Sonny grinned, and the fatigue on his face faded like it hadn’t been there at all. The effect was startling, and Levi found he had to look away.

“You’re exclusive to Blue Boy, right?”

“I am these days.” Levi swallowed a mouthful of beer. “Why do you ask?”

Sonny shrugged. “Some guy pulled me offstage a few nights ago. Said he was from Sizzler’s and offered me some work. Has that happened to you?”

“Not for a while, but I’m getting on a bit now. Think they’ve figured out I’m not worth the hassle anymore.” Levi put the last of the salad into the bowl and came to sit opposite Sonny. “You should tell Jon. He won’t like it, but he’ll be pissed if he thinks you’re considering it behind his back.”

It was true. Back in the day, Jon had been tolerant of Levi testing the waters with other studios—perhaps because he knew Levi didn’t have the stomach for the cutthroat world of real hard-core porn—but things had changed. Like every other industry, adult entertainment was losing money, and Jon liked to keep his house in order.

“I told the guy no anyway. I like working at Blue Boy. It’s hard-core, but it’s got a depth to it, you know?”

Levi snorted. “If you say so.”

“Why do you do porn?”

Levi paused. Though it was a question he’d heard before, it caught him off guard. “Same as you, I guess. I started off as a barman at Silver when Jon approached me to do some still shots. He offered me a bunch of cash to take things further, and at the time I needed the money. Still do.”

“There’s other ways to make money.”

“So why do
you
do it?”

Sonny stretched his arm over his shoulder and scratched his back. “I started dancing because I love it, and the rest seemed to come naturally. I like it. It’s interesting, and safer than picking up guys in clubs.”

“A safe way of being promiscuous, huh?”

“If you like.” Sonny didn’t seem offended. In fact, his gaze turned shrewd and introspective. “I like reading between the lines too. Every scene has a story, Levi, even yours. Especially yours. You’re this silent stoic dude until you start fucking someone. Then this haze comes over your eyes, like you’re looking for relief or something.”

“Relief from what?”

Sonny shrugged. “Only you know that, and that’s my point. Most of us become someone else on-screen, even in the unscripted scenes, but you don’t. You talk the talk, but the only person you’re hiding from is yourself.”

The oven timer beeped before Levi could respond. Bemused, he turned and pulled the sizzling dish from the oven, and when he set it down in front of Sonny, the light in the other man’s eyes banished all thoughts of porn from his mind.

Levi was an old Southern mama at heart with his daddy’s Puerto Rican blood, and he got a kick out of feeding folk real food. Even annoying folk like Sonny. He got a big-assed spoon and pushed a loaded plate Sonny’s way. “Eat up.”

Sonny raised an eyebrow and took a bite. “Wow. There really is more to you than your big dick.”

Levi held his tongue. The comment was flippant and meant nothing, but it grated on him. Sometimes viewers—fans—came up to him on the street, and it was clear they thought there was nothing to him but porn either. It didn’t usually bother him, but with Sonny, it kind of did. He took a bite of his own food and felt the pleasurable burn, not too dissimilar to the tingle of the lube, spread down his throat, and he chanced a glance at Sonny. “Not too spicy for you?”

Sonny coughed and took a long pull on his beer. A flush crept up his neck, and Levi grinned. Seemed the kid wasn’t as tough as he liked to make out.

“Have some cucumber to cool it down. Have some other veg as well. It’s good for you.”

Sonny reached for the salad and rolled his eyes. “Man, you’re worse than my mom.”

Levi smiled, feeling content, and the sensation remained until Sonny cleared his plate and got up to leave.

He felt conflicted as he walked Sonny to the door. A sense of disappointment warred with relief that yet another bizarre encounter had come to an end.

Sonny opened the door and put his bag on his back. “So…thanks for dinner. Guess I should jump you on the street more often.”

“Try it.”

Sonny smirked and turned to go, but Levi’s hand shot out before he could stop it.

He caught Sonny’s sleeve and tugged him back. Their evening together had felt like a distorted date, turned upside down and shaken about for good measure. His mind and body felt out of whack, and it didn’t seem strange to pull Sonny back and press his lips to the very center of Sonny’s forehead.

“Good night, kid.”

Chapter Nine

The plate hit the wall, fragmenting into tiny, jagged pieces. Levi dodged Bella’s line of fire. “I’m not stealing your money, B. I put the cash in your account this morning. Just write the damn check.”

“How do I know you’re not after your father’s life insurance again?” Bella looked around for another missile, her gaze clouded and bloodshot. “You’d bleed me dry if I let you.”

“What life insurance?” His voice was low, patient almost, belying the fury simmering in his veins. “Dad’s been dead eight years, and you squandered every cent he left before he was even cold.”

Bella reached for her drink, stumbling over her own feet, knocking her frail shoulder against the kitchen door frame. Levi watched, his anger gone. This was his fault. He knew better than to visit her so late in the day.

“I’m sick of this.” Bella took a long, deep drink of her precious gin, clutching it to her chest like it was her last prized possession. Perhaps it was. “You come in here whenever you damn feel like it and take my money. How am I supposed to live? Tell me that. How am I supposed to live like this?”

“You’re not living, B. You’re an old drunk.”

Levi ventured away from the shelter of the kitchen cabinets, reaching again for Bella’s much-abused checkbook. It was probably reckless to move so soon, but he’d lost the inclination to care. His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He retrieved it, reading the message with half an eye on Bella, who seemed to have slipped into a daze.

Step 3 complete?—S

Levi bit his lip, picturing the small plug Sonny had left in his bathroom after their third…
date
. The plug was bigger than his fingers, wider, and the idea was that he jack off with it inside him, but it had been a week since he’d last seen Sonny, and he hadn’t touched it. Couldn’t. Didn’t want to without Sonny to guide him, and perhaps even then, didn’t want to slide it inside his body himself.

He’d pictured it a few times—standing, stretched and open with Sonny behind him, letting Sonny ease the plug inside him. He’d dreamed of it once too, before the dream morphed into something else, and he woke, sweating and desperate for a sensation he’d never dared imagine before.

And therein lay the problem. Though he was more terrified than he’d ever admit, his encounters with Sonny had left a huge part of him curious as to what it would feel like to have another man inside him.

Another man. Another man? Or Sonny? Each time Levi said good-bye to him and stumbled into the shower, he wasn’t quite sure. He found Sonny insanely attractive—of that, there was no doubt—but he was… Well, he was still
Sonny
. Still annoying, precocious, and impossible to read.

After the scene, they’d probably go another few years without exchanging a word.

Fine by me
, he thought to himself, but a separate, more realistic side of his brain protested.
Oh, yeah? So why the hell do you miss the little shit when he’s not there?

Damn.

His cell phone beeped again. He glanced down, happy to block out the irritating voice in his head. He’d never had another man on his mind the way Sonny seemed to occupy his thoughts.

Don’t ignore me, Ramone. Get it done—S

He deleted both messages and shoved his phone in his pocket. Step three? Nope. The best he could do was go to sleep every night and dream about smooth, tattooed skin that was just out of reach.

Bella laughed. The sound was abrupt and harsh, startling him out of his sordid daydreams. “Why do you need my money, anyway? Are you in trouble?”

Levi sighed. “The payment on that loan you took out last year is due at the end of the week. I need to pay it.”

“So pay it.”

No chance. He’d made that mistake before—paying her bills from his own account. Six months later, a glitch in paperwork had led the debt collectors right to his door. It took him weeks to prove he hadn’t accepted responsibility for Bella’s debts. He slid the checkbook across the kitchen counter. “No, you need to do it. The money’s there. Write the check.”

Bella reached for the checkbook, closed her skeletal fingers around it, and tossed it away. “No. You’re not having my money.”

Levi retrieved the checkbook from the dirty kitchen floor, picked up a pen, and filled out the check. It crossed his mind to forge Bella’s signature and be on his way, but he couldn’t do it. He held out the book once more. “Just sign it, B. Please?”

For a brief, stupid moment, he thought he’d got through to her. Thought she was going to comply. But it wasn’t to be. Bella lashed out, ignoring his outstretched hand and instead picking up the thin, glass work-top protector. Levi watched, frozen to his spot as she hurled it across the kitchen. It shattered on impact with his raised arm, chest, and abdomen.

“No! What happened to my boy, Levi? What have you done with him? All you do is take from me. You were my sweet little boy, and now you’re just fucking like him!”

Levi lowered his bleeding arm. Folded the check into a tiny square and shoved it into his back pocket. He looked down at his stomach. A small shard of glass protruded at a sickening angle. He pulled it out, watching with morbid fascination as a faint stream of blood oozed through his T-shirt.

He set the bloody glass shard on the countertop. Opened a cabinet, bent over, and reached for the dustpan. The picture frame caught him on the side of his head, a sharp, glancing blow that left him dizzy.

Dizzy and furious.

He flew across the room and backed Bella into the wall. Caged in his arms, she looked like a tiny, wizened old bird, but he knew better. He pried the small paring knife from her hands and dropped it to the floor. It wasn’t the first time she’d come at him with a blade, so drunk she mistook him for his father one minute, an intruder the next.

Somehow, he always managed to convince himself it wasn’t him she wanted to hurt.

“Stop it,” he said.

Bella glared, her eyes still distant and somewhere else. “You’re just like him.”

“I am him. It’s me, Levi.”

The back door opened. Old Mr. Draper stepped in, his hands raised in a placating gesture and his eyes fixed on Bella. Levi wondered how much he’d heard before he’d made his move. The old man had put himself between them more times than Levi could count. “Everything all right in here, folks?”

Mr. Draper moved forward, maneuvering around the broken glass and shattered crockery. He reached Levi’s side and put a hand on his arm. “Step away, son. You’re bleeding. Your momma will be fine with me a minute.”

Levi lowered his arms. Warmth trickled down the side of his face. More blood.
Great
. He drifted to the sink and rinsed the gash in his forearm under the tap. Behind him, he could hear Mr. Draper murmuring to Bella in his soothing voice. The old dude could charm the birds from the trees, but it wasn’t working today.

“No,” Bella said, her voice rising again. “No, no, no. I don’t care who he thinks he is, he’s not having my money.”

“He’s not taking your money, Bella, darlin’. That’s Levi, your boy. He’s taking care of you.”

Bella snorted in a way that belied her petite, feminine frame. “He takes care of no one but himself. All he cares about are his Nancy fairy boys, just like his dad.”

Levi spun around, his wounds forgotten. “What did you say?”

“Levi…” Mr. Draper moved between them. “She doesn’t know what she’s saying. Leave it. Go home. I’ll clean up here.”

Levi stared hard at Bella. Often when she lost her mind, it was obvious in her face. Her eyes would become vacant, her voice distant. Even when she screamed in his face, he knew she couldn’t really see him. She didn’t look like that now. Though clouded by alcohol, her eyes were clear. Clear, evil, and fixed on him. “What did you say?” he repeated lowly. “You’ve been saying it all damn night. Finish what you started.”

“What happened to you, Levi?” Bella shook her head. “You loved football and wrestling. Rock music and beer. You were my big, strong boy. What happened to you? He died, goddamn it, and yet he’s all I can see.”

“Like him? What? Fucking miserable? B, if that’s what you want, you’ve succeeded, okay? Let it go.”

“No. Don’t give me that. You’re not miserable. You’re proud of what you are. I can see it in you. Don’t think I can’t. You’re everything he wanted to be. I can even smell it. I can smell
him
, you dirty faggot bitch. I wish you’d never been born.”

Levi felt like a semitruck had driven into his chest. He’d never been sure Bella knew he was gay, but clearly she did. What the fuck was she trying to say? That his father had been gay too? That he’d killed himself rather than live with the shame? Killed himself rather than face her hate? He stepped forward, a rage long forgotten gripping him and surging through his veins.

Mr. Draper met him halfway, his old, wrinkled arms unyielding and strong. “Don’t, son. You’ll hate yourself in the morning. Go home. I’ll take care of her.”

Levi shook himself free. Took a step back. “Don’t bother,” he said, as much to himself as anyone else. “Leave her. Leave her to rot. I’m done.”

* * * *

“She hasn’t banged you up this bad for a while. Why do you let her do it, man?”