The deal was, I do the rewrite and then comes Nicky. Hopefully all puns intended. Which I figured wouldn’t be so hard. I’d combined two books about Beryl Markham into a 135 page screenplay for a couple of women who swore they had the rights. They didn’t, but that’s another story. Anyway, it had worked and I figured this would be about the same level of difficulty.
But Vance wasn’t kidding when he said Smoke’s show was clunky. That’s not to say it was really bad; if it had been, that might have made things easier. No, it was just like every other reality program out there...a bit tedious and brutally predictable. Some action is recorded and we talk about it in ways that make it seem more intense than it really is. The only unusual part was in the first two episodes slipped in moments of Smoke being tied up or preparing to do a jack-off clip, but not actually showing anything in the way of nudity or sex. Just prelude.
Prelude...
Jesus...watching him get ready to be used in one of those videos. Then sitting in his workshop wearing a cut-out shirt and tight cargo shorts and high-tops, chit-chatting about the money he made going toward the down payment on his house and setting up his business with materials he needed, all while looking so fucking adorable...he was...Christ, he was dragging my growling insides closer and closer to uncontainable lust. Because seriously, the camera loved everything about him. His face. His pecs with their manicured hair. His tattoos of geometric designs. His abs that weren’t a six-pack, making them even more glorious. His fan-fucking-tastic legs, also surrounded by fine fur, And most especially his crotch, very deliberately not at all hidden by the shirt’s tale or a carefully placed hand. No dick shots or even outlines, here; and only shot from behind while...oh...getting prepped to do another porn clip. It’s a semi-family show. But even so, his ass looked so fucking fine in white Haines boxer-briefs, there should a law against it.
To keep myself from losing my focus, I ignored the porn clips bits had been taken from and concentrated on the nearly six hours of interviews, where he talked about the freedoms and joy he got from skateboarding. Doing tricks and competitions and learning how to become one with his sled...and there was one clip where is face was almost angelic as he spoke of the first time he built his own skateboard to fit his exact weight and needs and abilities that was flat out mesmerizing.
It had been cut up and sprinkled through parts of the six episodes...which ruined its impact. So I led with that, intact, then went back and built his life from your usual sk8ter boi with a dream to how he was introduced to Georgie and realized he could use that to make his dream a reality. Of course came the trials and tribulations crap, which included friends and family turning away from him when they learned how he made money.
But his attitude remained the same, throughout. It’s a job and it works for me. You don’t like it? Don’t do it.
He didn’t argue with the judgement being passed on him. He didn’t even acknowledge any criticism. He just said, “Don’t judge me till you’re perfect,” then kept going and doing and becoming...
And I think I fucking fell in love with him.
I decided once I was done with Nicky, I’d find some way to pay a visit to Smoke...and fuck Vance’s warning.
It took me four days to pull together a script for the full six episodes, then polished it a few times, till I felt was good enough to show to Vance. Emailed him a copy on a Wednesday.
Friday he texted, They love it. They’re redoing the edit and should have it ready for broadcast in ten days. Congratulations. I’ll get a copy to you.
Not one word about Nicky. Just, BTW, when are you having another one of your parties?
To which I responded, Hadn’t thought about it. Memorial Day sound good?
No, something sooner. Easter?
Are you handling this party?
I’d have a plus-one.
Oh. I should have known. Easter’s bad. Middle of Passover. St. Pat’s?
Oh, right. Half the crowd’ll be Jewish. But St. Patrick’s is the middle of Lent. Valentine’s Day too soon? It’s a Saturday.
You’re joking. No one’ll come.
That would not be a bad thing.
What the actual fuck? He was all but declaring he’d bring Nicky to be taken by me. At my condo????
You have covered parking. Room enough for my Mercedes?
It took me a few minutes to respond, I didn’t care about what he was suggesting; I just wasn’t sure about where he was suggesting for it. Finally I decided, Call me.
He did, half an hour later. “Sorry, I was dealing with the producers of the Gone With the Wind reboot.”
“While texting me?”
“Oh, they were arguing with the costume designer over the color of Rhett’s smoking jacket while in a hotel in Liverpool and whether or not Scarlet’s dress should compliment it or clash. I sat that one out.”
“Good. It’s horrible idea, to begin with.”
“Money doesn’t care about morality.”
“So what’re you talking about, with my condo?”
“Oh, just a thought...but then I remembered you don’t have enclosed parking. So it wouldn’t work.”
“You...seriously...you were going to bring Nicky to me, to a place he can find?”
“Rett! How stupid do you think I am? Jesus. I’d have slipped something in a drink and he’d have awakened in your bed. Blindfolded. Gagged. The usual Georgie situation when the lad can’t easily recognize anyone or anything.”
“You think I want him to just be delivered to me, like a pizza?
I could just hear him taking one of his patented Give me strength breaths before he said, “Do you think you could take control of him on your own? Out in the wild?”
I huffed. “I’m hardly a ninety-eight pound weakling.”
“Okay...then let’s get down to a more important consideration? Exactly what did you plan to do with him once you were done with him?”
That question hit hard. Having it so bluntly asked shut my brain down, for a moment. I’d planned to keep Nicky blindfolded, sure, so he wouldn't see me. And he didn't know me. And I figured I was well-versed enough in handling...oh...men who were uncertain about their own possibilities to get him off and fuck him. Then I’d have drugged him, Again, and leave him at his own condo.
But Vance had very casually alluded to the reality that there would still be a huge risk involved. That Nicky might still recognize me. I had to keep in mind all the times I’ve taken photos of him. And even a video of him getting hard and cumming would only give me slight protection from accusations of kidnapping and rape.
Just because Ben and Liam had gone to Vance instead of the cops didn’t mean Nicky would follow suit. Nor did I have the impression he held the same casual attitude towards sex with men that Smoke did. Nor could he be duped as easily as the boys were.
So what the fuck was I thinking of doing? Keeping him? Killing him? Dumping his body along a freeway like William Bonin and Randy Kraft had done? Do that to someone as gorgeous as him? It's not my way to waste beauty.
At least, I don't think it is. But something I had learned from my research on various screenplays with serial killers was the fact that at the right place and the right time, anyone is capable of anything.
Even murder.
Did I really want to put myself in that position? Just for a fuck?
Was I that controlled by the beast within?
Or was I being controlled by a beast without? Because Van had worked out a sort of plan to get Nicky, already, and now was simply adjusting it to fit the circumstances and...
And suddenly didn’t make sense. Not considering the Vance I knew, who cared more about his reputation than anything else.
“Vance,” I said, my voice soft and wary, “why are you helping me with this?”
“It’s...how I’m paying you,” he said, but I noticed that hint of uncertainty in his voice.
“By kidnapping and rape a relatively well-known man, for me to rape? That’s a huge pile of illegal, which could send us both to prison forever.”
“Rett, honey, you’re the one who wants to do it and all I’m doing is making sure...”
“All you’re doing is facilitating it. Why? It’s one thing for me to plan some crazy shit like this. It’s another for you to join in. Why are you?”
His voice was surprisingly hollow when he said, “You’re right. It is some crazy shit. I think it’s time you considered the ramifications of what you’re planning.”
Which raised another question in my head. “How did you know I was planning it? I didn’t share this with Ben or Liam.”
He couldn’t answer me. He’s always had a quick response to my questions, but this one he hesitated. Like he hadn’t planned on my asking it.
“Well, we...we sort of pieced it together. From things you said. How focused you were on Nicky and...well...I was hoping you’d come to your senses and...and...”
Which wasn’t answering my question, not really. Did they really think me being obsessed with a gorgeous man mean I’d want to force myself onto him? I mean, yeah, I’d told Ben and Liam I’d like to fuck Nicky, but in a general way. I didn’t have pictures of him everywhere. I hadn’t physically stalked him...just online and...and...
Online.
That’s when paranoid writer finally kicked in.
Georgie’s office. Where I did my writing and researching...and had dug deep into Nicholas McNevin Chase’s whereabouts and schedule and past and present and everything.
Online.
On my laptop.
In a room where cameras were in the molding. I hadn’t disabled them.
Had Vance been using those to spy on me?
Okay...I didn’t like the idea of that because I’d actually not only jacked off to the video of me raping Ralph, but also to Nicky’s images and videos. At my desk. Nice long, lovely hand jobs imagining myself as Nick bound to that chair and unable to get loose as I sucked him into nine kinds of heaven...
Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck, had they recorded me doing that? But...but...but they hadn’t been in that room. Had they?
No! No one had a key to the condo except me. The paranoid writer in me had changed out the locks when I took possession.
So that wasn’t making sense. But for them to go from a gay man being obsessed with another man’s looks to not caring about committing felonies? That didn’t work, either.
How could I figure this out?
“Rett, you still there?”
Shit, forgot about him. I deliberately gave a vague chuckle.
“Fuck, Vance,” I said. “Suddenly I’m seeing what a stupid fucking idea taking Nicky would be. You’re right. Kidnapping and raping a man raises the possibility of criminal action against you, no matter what. I can’t believe I didn’t really consider that.”
“Well...you have been known to go on a tangent in your research.”
Bullshit. That never happened.
That is when I began to feel like Vance was manipulating me into not wanting to take Mr. Chase for my own pleasure. Work with me. Take me by the hand to let me see, for myself, that it was an insane plot. No lectures; just I’ll help you, if you’re really that much of a fucking idiot. His way of protecting Nicky or something. Maybe they had a project being lined up, like what he did with Smoke...
No, not Smoke. From now on he’s Stevie...like Nicholas is Nicky.
A pair of pretty men being protected by Vance from the dangerous fixation of a deranged writer who knew a bit too damned much about serial rapists and killers of men.
Maybe he thought I was a bit too obsessed with evil like that. Maybe a bit too in touch with my inner monster. Maybe a bit too willing to not give a fuck when he wants something...
Or someone...
So I said, “You’re right. Forget Nicky. Forget anything about it. Let the boys know I’m sorry and will make it up to them for being such a fucking asshole. Thanks for bringing me back to earth.”
“That’s good.” And his voice was actually relieved. “I’ll tell them.”
“Thanks. Now I’m getting credit for the job I did on Smoke’s project, right?”
“We didn’t discuss that...”
“That’s all I want in the way of payment. Doesn’t have to be solo.”
“That’ll be up to the Writers’ Guild, but I’ll mention it.”
“Great. No I really feel the need of a nap. Talk later?”
“Absolutely. Ciao-ciao-ciao...”
And he disconnected.
I went up to the bathroom and slipped into the editing suite and inspected it from every angle I could. If this was being fed to another location, I wanted to know where and how. But nothing looked out of place or added on...until I noticed in the lower right corner of the wall behind the editor one little wire punching through the sheetrock, at the very bottom.
I went outside and looked up at the second story but didn’t see it coming out, anywhere.
My next door neighbor had a twenty foot extension ladder, so I borrowed that. Told him I had a leak and wanted to check the asphalt seals.
I climbed up onto the flat roof, hopping over the short barrier around the outer edges...and found nothing out of the ordinary. Skylight that needed cleaning. Couple of exhaust pipes. Great view of the Pacific. It hit me that adding a deck up here and a set of stairs to climb to it would be perfect. But other than possible plans? Nothing.
Fuck.
I mean I scoured my roof and it all looked proper and correct.
Until I compared the left corner the barrier to the right corner, and noticed the asphalt sheeting on the right had an odd bump in it. I followed that up and looked over the side down to the next unit’s roof...
And there, sticking out of my wall was a thick wire as long as my little finger. Looking for all the world like just an extra bit of nothing.
But there it was.
An antenna.
It didn’t seem strong enough to send all the way to Vance’s place. Could there be a relay, nearby...
Like where Ben lived? I’d seen his ID but only barely registered the address. I just remembered it wasn’t far from my condo. But I’d gotten the impression he wasn’t all that far from my condo.
Oh, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit...why hadn’t I paid attention to that?
I climbed back down and returned the ladder then headed inside and back up to the editing suite. I didn’t know enough about how the equipment was built to tell whether or not it had been modified to relay anything.
But by this point I was convinced Vance had tried to manipulate me into not going through with taking Nicky. I hate being manipulated. Despise anyone who attempts it.
Well, if that had been Vance’s intent, it had fucking backfired...because now both Nicky and Stevie were my prey.
And Vance was about to learn...nobody fucks with me.
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