Keeping Sweets (2 page)

He quickly glanced around the room, praying that no one would notice his deep blush or the stunned expression plastered to his face. Satisfied that he was alone, he turned his attention back to the website.

The image of the most beautiful man Evan had ever seen took center screen. He leaned back in a chair, pose relaxed, a slight smile tugging at his pink lips. His tanned skin was flawless, probably a product of Photoshop, and stretched tight over well-defined muscles. Noah. That was the man Les had mentioned in his e-mail.

Evan felt like there were fireworks going off in his guts. His palms began to sweat as he scanned lower down on the page to more views of this man kissing another man. He scrolled down further to more photos of guys touching, licking, and kissing one another. The blood pumped harder in his veins.

The images changed every few seconds to reveal more smooth skin and solid abs. Checking again to make sure he was alone, Evan began clicking around the site. There wasn’t much information available to him without a membership, but there was no mistaking what kind of “modeling” Sonic Street did.

This was not the kind of modeling he had in mind. Evan reread the ad. Adult modeling. He should have picked up on that. Of course this was too good to be true.

Evan felt the disappointment swamp him as he let it sink in that this was not going to work. He couldn’t do porn. Even if he had the confidence to let someone film him having sex, he had no experience. Was there a step below virgin? If so, he was it. Eighteen years old and not so much as a first kiss.

Besides that, Sonic Street was located in Portland. He quickly googled the distance between Portland and Eugene. It would take less than two hours to drive between the two, and probably not much more by bus. He could always spend the summer in Portland and then…. No. It wasn’t even worth thinking about. The chances of getting anything beyond an interview were slim. Still, an escape plan was nice to think about.

He closed his laptop and shoved it into his backpack. The sun was beginning to set, and he thought he should probably get back to the house before it got too late. His calculus final was at nine o’clock the next morning, and he had his biology exam in the afternoon. He needed a few more hours to cram the handful of formulas into his head before he went to bed for a solid eight hours of sleep.

The air was a bit crisp for a June evening, but Evan relished the drop in temperature. He was still feeling flushed from his online discovery. He couldn’t stop the images he’d seen from flashing through his mind. The more he thought about it, the stronger the feeling of disappointment flowed through him.

How bad could it be, really? He figured porn stars probably made quite a bit of money for not a lot of work. There were a couple of photos of guys jacking off. Maybe he could do that? He did it all the time anyways, knew he was as least good at that. Might as well see if he could get paid for it.

Whether or not he could get it up in front of a camera was a different story, but it wouldn’t hurt to go to the interview and see what this Les guy had to say. The fact that Noah would be there too was interesting. Evan had felt a certain pull toward the man when he saw his photo. He was curious.

Having made up his mind, he felt jittery, but excited.

T
HE
next few days passed by in a blur. Evan felt good about his finals. Relief mixed with apprehension as he finished packing the last of his things into a ratty blue duffle bag. There wasn’t much to pack. Evan had elected to leave behind most of his books, and other than books, he didn’t own much.

He had four hours to clear out his room and make it back to the high school for his graduation ceremony. It would be tight, but he could make it if he hurried. Not that anyone would miss him if he weren’t there.

When he finally walked across that stage, there would be no proud parents snapping photos and masking appreciative tears with wide smiles. There would be no congratulatory hug or champagne celebration once they returned home. No one would be waiting for him, but it didn’t matter. Those few steps signified more to him than simply the completion of high school. They also meant independence, freedom, and separation from his old life.

Evan was proud of his academic accomplishments and was looking forward to graduating with the people who had ignored or belittled him for the last four years of his life. He did not bear any ill will toward his classmates. Evan was smart enough to know that high school was just the crash course for university and didn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things.

He dressed quickly, pulling on a pair of nice pants he had bought at Goodwill. They were a bit too big, but would be fine under his graduation gown. His tie was knotted securely at the base of his throat, tied via instructions on YouTube. Evan had never had cause to wear a tie before, nor a father to teach him how to tie one.

After grabbing his wallet and shoving it into the back pocket of his pants, he ran out the door to catch his bus to the school.

T
HE
ceremony was long, the sun beating down on the neat rows of excited graduates as they waited to cross the stage and shake the hand of a man they barely knew. It was a rite of passage every teenager looked forward to. Evan was no different. It seemed an eternity before his name was called. As he stood there posing for photos that would never be ordered, he tried to remember the last time anyone had taken a photograph of him.

Sadly, the only memory that came to mind was his eighth birthday. It was a rare time when his mom had been between boyfriends and miraculously sober enough to notice the date. Evan had felt like it was the universe’s birthday gift to him. It was one of the best days he could remember and one of the last times he had felt truly happy.

Evan crossed to the opposite side of the stage and down the uneven stairs of the riser. He waited for a new feeling to settle within him. The feeling never came. He wasn’t sure why he thought he would feel different. Things in his life were changing, but he was still the same person he had always been. A bit let down, he walked back to his chair to sit patiently.

After the ceremony, Evan made his escape as quickly as he could. Although he had resigned himself to not caring about the happy families and proud parents, it still stung a little that no one was there for him.

He picked up the bag he had stashed by his locker and made his way down three blocks to the Greyhound station.

Evan climbed the steep steps onto the bus and looked around for an empty spot. He walked back and slid into the worn fabric seat, colored with unidentifiable stains, and settled in for the long ride to his new home.

The Sonic Street ad had gotten him thinking about Portland. It wasn’t far from Eugene, and he would likely have more luck with the job hunt in a larger city. He’d searched online and found a motel close to downtown that he thought he could afford if he were careful, at least until he found a job and could move somewhere else until school began.

Evan took a deep breath in and let it out slowly as the bus, shuddering and shaking, reversed and then pulled out onto the street.
He said his good-byes to the places where he had spent the majority of his time for the past eighteen years: his school, the library, the park, and the copy shop. He didn’t need to say good-bye to his house. It hadn’t been home for a long time.

Evan stared out the window, watching as the tires ate up the pavement, the bus rolling quickly to the edge of town. Evan said good-bye to his old life. He took a moment to mourn the loss of the little things that had brought him happiness, but he could never return to that place. He didn’t belong there any longer.

He bit down on his lip, tasting blood, trying desperately to keep his emotions under control. He felt overwhelmed that it was actually over. He was moving on, starting a brand new life in a brand new place. He could be anything he wanted to be.

He pressed his forehead against the cool glass and watched the blur of foliage at the side of the road as they sped down the highway. Evan closed his eyes and tried to relax. It would be a long trip. He might as well try to get some sleep along the way.

A
FTER
a twelve-hour trip that had turned into fourteen due to road construction, Evan finally checked into the Mountainside Motel. The room was small and smelled like unwashed feet. The walls were yellowed from years of smoke and God only knew what else. The air conditioning unit was stuck in the on position, so the room was a balmy fifty-five degrees.

Despite the cold temperature, Evan immediately removed the coverlet from the top of the bed and with careful fingers deposited it in the corner of the room. He assumed the sheets weren’t the image of sterility, but the coverlet would be festering with all kinds of unknown nastiness.

His interview was the next afternoon. Hopefully he could relax a little more now that he’d escaped the oppressive town and his stagnated life. The hotel was cheap, but it would be his home for now. He forced down the lonely, desolate feeling that crept up around him like English ivy, pulling at him, strangling him. It would do no good to feel sorry for himself.

B
RANDON
C
OURT
walked into Les’s kitchen to grab a bottle of water. He was tired, hungry, and thirsty. He hated casting days. Hours and hours of awkward conversation before even more awkward fucking with rookie boys that had bigger egos than dicks.

The clock on the microwave read quarter after three. Only one more interview before he could go home and crash. The next few weeks would be a hectic whirlwind of shooting, editing, and of course, fucking. He was getting too old for this shit. At twenty-seven he was ready to retire, which was unquestionably one of the perks of being in the adult industry.

Having entered the scene before he should have at the tender age of seventeen, he had made a name for himself early on. More due to luck than actual talent, he had a number of fans who had been faithful and supportive of him over the last ten years. But ten years was a long time to do what he had been doing.

It wreaked havoc on his personal life, and he had long ago given up on the idea of a happily ever after. It was hard enough to find that as a gay man, but with his history, it was his experience that not many guys could look past everything on his sexual résumé.

When he was young and idealistic, he had tried to have more meaningful relationships. He had all the sex he could ever want on camera, but off of it, was lonely. He had discovered that the men he dated were more interested in screwing Noah Conway than being with him. No one understood that Noah wasn’t actually him; it was just someone he pretended to be for a paycheck.

Ironically, pretending to be someone else was what got him through most days. He dissociated himself from what he was doing and what was being done to him. It was a well-rehearsed routine now, one he had perfected over the years. He was good at what he did, and people seemed to like him, so who was he to complain?

Despite the lackluster social life, he had more money than he needed, a nice place to live, and an awesome car. He had multiple orgasms every day, and although he had never been in love and the guys he fucked meant nothing to him, most guys would give their right arm to trade places with him.

In fact, he had just interviewed six guys who were proof of just that.

The doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of the last appointment of the day. They had seven spots to fill, and if Bran had anything to say about it, none of the guys they had already interviewed would make the cut. The prospects were dismal at best.

He heard Les’s low, hushed voice ushering the boy into the casting room. Bran sighed and headed downstairs to meet him. He walked into the room, and the boy stood from where he had been perched on the edge of the couch and held out his hand for Bran to shake.

“Hi, I’m Evan.”

“Noah.” Bran never told the boys his real name. It led to complications. He preferred to keep his porn life and his private life as separate as possible.

“Nice to meet you.”

Evan’s hands were a bit damp, his voice wavering a little. It was obvious the guy was nervous. Bran had a bad feeling about this. A
really
bad feeling.

“Les, can I talk to you for a moment?” Bran asked as Les reentered the room with the necessary paperwork.

“Sure, Noah. Evan, have a look over this contract, and we’ll discuss it together when we get back. Excuse us.”

In the hall, Bran let his cool façade fall. “What the fuck is
that
,
Les?” he demanded, gesturing angrily at the casting room.

Les faked innocence. “What do you mean, Brandon?”

“That kid in there. What is he, sixteen years old? He looks like a fucking Disney cartoon.”

“I know. Isn’t he great?”

“No, he’s not great. This isn’t going to work.”

“You’re wrong, sugar; he is perfect. Everyone is going to love him. The perfect twink.”