Unfortunate Son (7 page)

Trevor stepped inside and gave a small smile in return. “Good to see you too.”

Rod, who wore a small square-cut swimsuit that showed off his hard abs, nodded down the hall. “Drop your bag and we’ll go over the shoot. You remember where everything is?”

“I should.” Trevor laughed. “I’ve been here enough!”

Rod grinned widely. “You could be here more if you’d ever take that exclusive!”

Trevor shook his head. “You know I’d just cause trouble, man. I’m a loose cannon!”

“Suuuuure you are.” Rod smacked his shoulder lightly. “Go on and get settled and meet me out by the pool. Too gorgeous a day to spend inside if we don’t have to.”

Trevor nodded and headed down the hall to the back bedrooms. One door was closed, but the other was open and the room looked empty, so he went into that one and dropped his bag on one of the two double beds. The bedrooms were set up like stripped-down hotel rooms, with two beds covered in tropical-print bedspreads, nightstands with lamps and clocks, and a long dresser on one wall with a decently sized flat-screen TV on top. He knew that if he looked in the nightstand drawers, or in the bathroom vanity drawers, he’d find a stash of condoms and lube. Get a group of young, mostly gay men together in a house filled with sexual energy, and it was inevitable that some of it would spill over outside the shoots.

Trevor changed into his own swimsuit and switched out the sneakers he’d worn on his flight for the flip-flops that everyone wore in Florida before he headed back down the hallway and through the open glass door onto the patio. Rod had stretched out on one of the lounge chairs, and Trevor grabbed a bottle of water out of the ice-filled cooler sitting nearby before heading over to sit on the chair next to Rod’s. He kicked off his flip-flops and swung his legs up to stretch out, letting out a sigh as the warmth of the sun soaked into his skin.

Rod laughed. “Feels great, doesn’t it?” He sighed happily too. “Wish I could get paid to just lie here like this. Maybe take a dip in the pool or the ocean now and then.”

Trevor smiled. “But you’ve got a job to do.”

“Yep.” Rod turned his head toward Trevor. “This one’s pretty simple, though. We’ll do some promo stills tomorrow, so don’t lay out here too long or you’ll be all red. Then there’s the party at Club Hurricane tomorrow night, and they’re looking for a couple of extra dancers, if you want to rack up some extra cash. Not required.” He laughed. “Well, the party is a promo, so it’s part of the deal, but the dancing is extra.”

“Got it.” Trevor shrugged. “I didn’t bring anything for a show, but I can shake my ass in my underwear.”

“They’ll probably have some kind of promo stuff for that too, so you might not have to wear your own. Anyway, primary shoot on Wednesday, and we’ll do any pickup stuff we need before everyone heads home on Thursday. Then we’re done.”

Trevor nodded. “Who am I shooting with?”

“Lex Kent, mainly,” Rod answered. “Sam Silver and Aron Fox are booked too, but it’ll be two separate shoots. We might do some stills or crossover if we have time, but we have a big shoot scheduled over the weekend, so we need some time in between to get some editing done and set up for that.”

Trevor nodded. He didn’t know Lex or Aron, but he’d worked with Sam a few years earlier. Considering Sam was a tall, muscle-bound black man who tended to be paired with blond twinks for the contrast, he expected Aron to fit that mold, but then, he’d been surprised before. He’d find out about Lex when he showed up, he supposed. He’d known barely half of his scene partners before the shoots. In many cases, the men came into the industry, got their rocks off and made a little cash, and then moved on. Models who made a career of it like he had were the exception, not the rule.

Rod fell silent, and Trevor lay still, letting the sun’s rays soak into his skin, the warmth loosening tight muscles. Trevor liked to travel, but cramming his long legs into a coach seat for even a short flight was never fun. He suffered through, though, saving up his miles for business-class upgrades on cross-country flights and for the occasional fun trip. He’d spent last Christmas on the beach in San Juan thanks to a year’s worth of flights for shoots.

A doorbell sounded, much too clearly to be the standard front doorbell, and Trevor opened one eye to look at Rod, who shrugged in response. “We finally rewired it to be sure we could hear it from out here,” he said, swinging his legs over and pushing to his feet. “Has a switch so we can turn the whole thing off during shoots too.”

Handy
, Trevor thought as he closed his eye. He wouldn’t have thought about the problems something as simple as a doorbell could cause, but he guessed that trial and error would teach those lessons, if nothing else. He’d never particularly wanted to work behind the camera in porn, but he supposed it could be interesting, working out little details like that.

After a few minutes, a boisterous laugh rang out from the doorway, and Trevor opened his eyes and glanced toward the house. He froze. The man standing next to Rod, nodding at whatever the man was telling him, had dark caramel skin, black hair, and a sleek, lightly furred body that Trevor felt like he already knew intimately. This must be his scene partner, Lex. Trevor’s stomach clenched.

Lex could’ve been Lucas’s brother.

Not his twin, though. Trevor could see differences even without being up close. The longer hair, for one, though Trevor too had long lost the military cut. Lex’s skin was darker and his body hair more sparse than Lucas’s, though Trevor didn’t know if either might be the result of tanning beds and manscaping rather than nature. He appeared to be taller than Lucas too, probably exactly Trevor’s height.

He’s not Lucas
, Trevor told himself.
He’s just a guy
.

A guy Trevor would have to have sex with. On camera, where he had to stay focused and in control.

Trevor’s stomach twisted again, and he dropped his head back against the chaise and blew out a breath.
It’ll be fine.

With enough repetition, even a lie could become the truth.

T
HE
ONLY
thing that kept Trevor from getting blasted Tuesday night
was the knowledge that he had to film the next day. The stills shoot that afternoon had been slow torture. Everywhere he turned, there was Lex, wearing next to nothing, his smile too much like Lucas’s for Trevor’s comfort. He’d gotten through the four hours of photography on pure grit and determination, coming out the other side mentally and emotionally exhausted.

When they got to the club, Trevor strapped on every bit of acting ability and charm he possessed and smiled his way through the event, selling shots to fans from the floor and taking tips from them when he took his turn dancing on a raised platform. The shot money would be pooled and divided up later, after the club got its cut, but the dancing tips went into his duffel bag every time he took a break and slipped into the back room to suck down some water. He ended up taking a few shots, bought by overeager club patrons, but between the water and the dancing, he barely felt a buzz.

He knew several of the other performers in the bar that night had more than just alcohol in their systems. Even if he hadn’t seen pills changing hands, he’d learned long ago what went on behind the scenes at these events. Hell, he’d indulged himself more than once, but the aftermath never seemed to make up for the high. Liquor and maybe some poppers sometimes were plenty for him.

When the club finally shut down at two in the morning, Trevor’s ears rang and his head throbbed from overstimulation. He craved a
cigarette like crazy too, especially since he had to deal with the
downside of staying mostly sober: having to help manage his costars who’d overindulged. Trevor helped Rod get everyone loaded into the van Manclub had rented and pulled himself into the front passenger seat as Rod slid behind the wheel.

Trevor tipped his head to the side to rest against the door and closed his eyes, the van’s swaying lulling him nearly to sleep by the time they got back to the house. Thankfully, everyone in the back had sobered up enough during the drive to get themselves inside, so Trevor just stopped by the kitchen to grab a bottle of water before walking to the back bedroom where he’d left his bag.

He got there to find the second bed had been claimed by Lex.

Trevor’s stomach sank, but he forced himself not to react. “Good night?” he asked, moving over to set his water on the table between the beds and then toeing off his shoes.

“Haven’t counted the take, but not too bad.” Lex flashed him a grin, teeth bright white against his dark skin. “Nice to have a crowd that into the show. Usually a lot more dry back home.”

“Where’s home?” If he was going to work with the guy, he’d be polite, at least.

“Houston. Well, Monterrey, technically, but don’t nobody know that but me and my mamma.” He laughed. “She got across the border when I was just a baby. No one ever asked. Just figured I was her anchor baby.”

Trevor wondered if the studio knew, or cared, about Lex’s immigration status. INS wasn’t likely to come knocking on their door. “Yeah, Atlanta’s pretty dry on club dates.” He pushed off his shorts and tossed them toward his bag where it sat next to the wall. “I’m kinda beat, man. You mind if I shower first? I’m just gonna rinse off and then sleep.”

“No problem.” Lex dug in his bag and pulled out a zippered plastic bag full of green leaves. “Aron and me gonna meet on the patio for a smoke. Sure you don’t wanna join us?”

Weed was one thing Trevor didn’t mind at all, and on a different night, he might’ve accepted the invitation. Not this time, though. Not when he’d have to look at Lex and try not to think about Lucas.

“Nah, you guys enjoy. See you in the morning.”

He stripped his tank top over his head and dropped it on his bag as he walked toward the bathroom. He’d have enough to worry about tomorrow. Tonight, he just wanted to sleep.

“U
P
AND
at ’em, boys!”

At the pounding on the door and yell from the hallway, Trevor groaned and pulled a pillow over his head. It couldn’t be morning yet. He’d
just
fallen asleep, hours after Lex had stumbled back in, high as a kite on God knows what but humming happily under his breath.

He reached out a hand and snagged his cell phone from where it lay on the bedside table. Squinting, he read the time: 10:23.
Dammit
. He had to be ready to shoot at noon, and between showering, shaving, douching, and fighting others for bathroom time, that would take an hour, minimum.

He sat up slowly and waited for the room to stop spinning. The handful of shots he’d had the night before all seemed to be hitting him now, no matter how little biological sense that made. He needed caffeine, but coffee and bottoming were a bad combination for him. Maybe someone had some Excedrin or something he could borrow.

Bracing himself, Trevor pushed to his feet and stumbled toward the bathroom, pausing to drop his briefs next to his duffel bag and grab his toiletries bag on the way. He turned on the shower full blast and peed while the water warmed up, then climbed under the spray and just let it soak him down for a few minutes.

Finally, he dug out his shampoo and body wash and scrubbed himself down from head to toe, paying particular attention to his groin and ass. He rinsed off and let the water pound against his stiff shoulders for another couple of minutes before turning the shower off and climbing out to grab a towel.

He hated douching, but enemas were the best way to keep things from getting messy on set, so he took care of that bit of unpleasantness as quickly as possible. He finished up with a careful shave and a long session with his toothbrush, scrubbing away the remnants of last night’s partying.

He was surprised no one had tried to come in while he was busy getting ready, but when he got back to the bedroom, he found out why. Lex was still curled up under his covers, dead to the world.
Great
, Trevor thought, dropping his towel and pulling on fresh underwear.
Now I get to try to roust my scene partner out of bed on top of everything
.

“Hey, Lex,” he started. “Time to get moving. We start in, like, forty-five minutes.” Nothing. “Lex?” Trevor stepped closer. “You in there?”

He shook Lex’s shoulder, and Lex flopped like a fish. Trevor’s stomach clenched. “Lex?”

He shook again, harder this time, and Lex fell onto his back, revealing the puddle of vomit he’d been lying in. Trevor flinched away for a second, but then the medical training from his military time kicked in, and he jumped forward.

“Lex?” He was yelling now. “I need some help in here!” He leaned close to Lex’s nose, stomach rebelling against the smell of vomit, alcohol, and urine, and placed a hand on Lex’s chest. Lex wasn’t breathing, and Trevor couldn’t feel a heartbeat. “Somebody call 911!” Trevor shouted as he set himself to start chest compressions.

He’d only counted out six compressions when Rod walked into the room. “What’s going—Lex?” He ran to the side of the bed.