Blue Boy 1: Bullet

by Garrett Leigh

  Levi shook his head. The tidy pile of memories didn’t fit with the Bella he knew, and he couldn’t remember a time when it did. He flipped through the first stack. Some were dated, some not. Some of them were labeled with names and locations; some of them he had to guess. He came to an old photograph of a trailer park in Nevada and paused, staring hard at the faded image. They’d lived in the trailer for a while. Bella had hated it and spent her days screaming at Ernesto to get a better job, but Levi had loved it. To a six-year-old boy, the tiny tin box on wheels had seemed almost magical.

  Bella’s phone rang. Levi ignored it, setting the photo aside and reaching for another. The next image took him forward in time, back to LA and the home he’d spent most of his life in. The photo was of his father, posing outside his new workshop. Levi had been too young at the time to know what Ernesto’s dreams had been. By the time he was old enough to understand, the reality of the gang-affiliated chop shop had become normal. He didn’t know any different until his own dreams had lured him away from California.

  Levi turned the picture over with a heavy sigh, shoving it and the rest of them back in the box. He was stalling, using the masochistic trip down memory lane to avoid the arduous task of trolling through Bella’s papers. There were things to be done—burial arrangements, notifications for creditors and insurance companies, and bank accounts to close. He wasn’t going to bother with her personal belongings. There was nothing in the house for him but bad memories, and with no siblings or surviving family, who really cared? Not him.

  He spent much of the night pulling together the paperwork he needed and compiling a list of calls to make in the morning. The sun was beginning to rise when he came across a stray photograph he’d missed. The image of Bella cradling a swaddled infant in her arms was grainy and smudged, but the words, printed neatly in blue ink on the back, were legible.

  Levi, 6/9/1985. My love, my life, my world.

  He swallowed, blinking hard, but the words blurred away to nothing. The numbness evaporated, and the hard cast protecting his heart cracked open a wide fissure. He cast the photo aside, buried his face in his arms, and wept for the mother he’d lost more than a decade ago.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mr. Draper woke him sometime later. Levi sat up and rubbed his face, taking in the tidied paperwork and photos on the table. Even the untouched bourbon had been cleared away.

  “Doing okay, son?”

  Was he? Levi wasn’t quite sure. He stretched his arms over his head and shrugged. Mr. Draper nodded, understanding like he always had.

  “There’s a lot to do, eh? No need to do it all at once, though. Go home, get some real sleep. All this will still be here tomorrow.”

  The old man shuffled around the room, plumping dirty cushions and straightening dusty ornaments. Levi watched him for a while, still somewhat asleep and detached from reality. He knew he’d cried; he could feel the dried tears on his face and the alien tightness at the base of his skull, but somehow, the last twenty-four hours seemed like they’d happened to somebody else. He glanced around him and shivered. He felt like he was in the wrong place. He wasn’t supposed to be here; he was supposed to be somewhere else, but where?

  His head ached as he thought hard enough to burst a blood vessel. Then Sonny’s face flashed into his mind. “What time is it?”

  Mr. Draper checked his watch. “Eleven thirty.”

  “Eleven thirty?” Shit. He shoved back his chair. “I gotta go.”

  An hour later, he pushed open the familiar, blacked-out glass doors to the studio. The chick on the desk was on the phone. Her eyes widened when she saw him. She put her hand over her mouthpiece and started to say something, but he didn’t stop. He made his way straight to the bathrooms, stripped off, turned the water as hot as he dared, and stood under the shower until he felt cleansed of the sweat and grime of two hellish days away from home.

  The scalding water left a heated flush over his tanned skin. He glared at it, scrubbing with a towel, but the pink blotches stayed put. Short of scouring his skin right off, there wasn’t much he could do. He went to his locker, searched out a clean pair of jeans, and pulled them on. On the shelf above the locker, a crew member had left a stack of T-shirts to go with his trademark loose, scruffy jeans. They were all white. Irrational annoyance burned through him. He dropped the shirts on the bench and retrieved his own shirt from the floor. It was crumpled, and the faded black material showed up the damp patches on his skin, but he didn’t care. He pulled it over his head, jammed the rest of his stuff into his locker, and slammed the door shut.

  It swung back open. He slammed it again, and again, but to no avail. Damned thing wouldn’t close. Furious, he drove his fist into the flimsy locker door. The hinges snapped, and it fell to the floor in a heap of battered, twisted metal. He stared at it, seeing nothing but Bella’s shattered body. She’d been dead a little over twenty-four hours, but he could still feel her cold, lifeless hand in his, could still smell the stale odor of her favorite gin on his skin. Goddamn it! He clenched his fists, ready to punch out every locker in the row, ready to tear the whole fucking room apart, ready to…

  “Hey.”

  He spun around, startled. Though the studio was often a hive of activity, the three-way was scheduled as a closed shoot—essential cast and crew only. Aside from the chick on the desk, he hadn’t seen another soul. He hadn’t even heard the dressing room door open.

  Of course it was Sonny. Who else would it be?

  He found his tongue. “What?”

  Sonny stepped forward, letting the door swing shut behind him. He glanced between Levi and the broken locker. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothin’.” Levi averted his gaze and bent to pick up the mangled door. “Locker broke.”

  “Broke? Looks like someone beat the shit out of it.”

  “So?” Levi straightened up to find Sonny right in front of him. The urge to lash out and hurl him across the room warred with a deeper, more desperate need to pull him close and hide away in all that was Sonny—his bright eyes, sarcastic grin, and hypnotizing smell. “What do you care?”

  Sonny raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “You’re about to stick your dick in my ass. I’d rather you weren’t thinking about killing someone at the same time.”

  His choice of words stung. Levi’s breath caught in his throat, cutting off his defensive reply. Sonny frowned. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “I…” Levi broke off. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t find the words to explain how his whole world had tipped on its axis since the last time he’d seen him. He stumbled backward, colliding with the lockers.

  Sonny reached out, alarmed. “Hey, hey. It’s all right. You don’t have to do this, Levi, okay? Go home. I’ll tell them you’re sick. I’ll tell—”

  The dressing room door opened, cutting him off. Jon stuck his head in without looking at either of them. “Good, you’re both here. We’re ready to start. Come on through when you’re ready.”

  He let the door close without another word, but the brief interlude was enough to break the tenuous hold Sonny had over Levi.

  Levi sidestepped him and headed for the door. The three-way had been the last thing he wanted to do for weeks, but now it was all he could seem to focus on. He had a job to do, and he was going to damn well do it.

  “Levi, wait.”

  He stopped with his hand on the door. Sonny’s voice was low, gravelly with an emotion he didn’t understand. The fractured, weathered shield on his heart threatened to give way. No. He clamped down the feeling. If he fell into Sonny’s arms now, he’d never get up.

  “Come on,” he said without turning round. “Let’s get this bullshit over with.”

  * * * *

  The set was silent. Levi sat on the back of the perennial L-shaped couch with his eyes down, avoiding Sonny’s wide-eyed concern to his left, Jon’s sharp gaze in front of him, and Cam’s appraising stare from right at the back of the room.

  What the fuck is Cam even doing
here?

  He chanced a glance down at Rex slouched on the sofa between him and Sonny, with one heavy arm resting on each of them, and considered him. Rex was tall with wide, thick shoulders and sandy-brown hair, but though he was blandly attractive, he did nothing for Levi. Big musclemen weren’t his thing.

  Rex shifted and leaned back. His posture mirrored Levi’s, relaxed and casual, though Levi suspected his demeanor was sincere. After all, what did he have to worry about? He had two dudes to fuck. He was gonna have the time of his life.

  Sonny let out a soft sigh. It echoed in Levi’s ears. Sonny. Damn it. He could feel his presence just a foot away, and a strange current crackled between them. Most days, he found Sonny’s energy exhilarating…thrilling, but today it disturbed him, taunted him almost, like it was the one thing that could push him over the edge.

  Jon clapped his hands, as though calling for quiet on the stony, silent set. “Okay, the general plan is to keep it short—fool around, get each other going, then finish up with some hard fucking. Nothing cute, please, guys. We’ve got a brief to work from, and this is a raw scene. Everyone clear on what they’re doing?”

  Levi met his gaze and nodded. A few days ago, there’d been a tiny rebellious part of him looking forward to the shoot, curious as to what it would really feel like to take another man inside him. Now, though, all he felt was a short, sharp shock of disgust. The warmth of Rex’s arm on him felt wrong, all wrong, in a way that no shoot ever had before. He just wanted to get it done and go home.

  Warm fingers slid over his. Sonny tugged on his hand, leaning over to whisper in his ear, “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

  Levi kept his eyes down, hardening his heart as anger rumbled through him like simmering lava. How could Sonny say that? What the fuck did it even mean? “It’ll be okay.” What the hell was that? The stupid kid had forced his way into Levi’s life and now thought he had the right to tell him that? What the fuck did he know?

  Sonny squeezed his hand, his grip strong and sure, like a buffer to Levi’s anger. He held firm, and the fury surging through Levi’s veins evaporated, leaving him hollow. He felt the urge to laugh, really laugh, like he'd never fucking stop.

  He didn’t. Instead, he turned away, leaving their hands entwined, and before he could reconcile himself with his whiplash-inducing mood, Jon raised his hand to give out his final instructions.

  “When I call action, skip the preamble and get right into it. We can record some preshow banter later if we need it. Okay? Have a good fuck, guys. Let’s get to it.”

  Five, four, three, two, one…

  “Action!”

  For a moment, nobody moved. It happened at the beginning of every scene, even if all parties were eager and ready—that awkward, split-second pause. Levi was usually the one to break it, the one to reach out and pull a nervous bottom toward him, but not today. Today he couldn’t bring himself to care.

  Sonny slid off the back of the couch like a snake, inserting himself into Rex’s reaching arms. In a flash he had Rex’s shirt pulled over his head. Rex responded greedily. He grabbed Sonny and yanked him close, biting at his neck. Levi watched in a daze, until he glanced up and caught Jon’s eye. The inflection in Jon’s raised eyebrow was clear—get your head in the game, Ramone.

  He released his death grip on the back of the couch and reached for the hem of Sonny’s shirt. Sonny jumped, then raised his arms to let Levi pull the shirt over his head.

  Levi sat back and stared. The skin of Sonny’s bare back was as smooth and flawless as the rest of him, and Levi found himself transfixed by the sight of his slender, defined muscles rippling as he moved down Rex’s body to undress him.

  A flicker of tension ran through Sonny. It was subtle; Levi was sure no one else would’ve noticed it, but he felt it—a shot of apprehension he didn’t understand. He looked up, following Sonny’s line of sight to where Rex stood naked. Levi stared at his cock. Thick, long, and uncut, it was the biggest dick he’d ever seen, bigger than he’d imagined.

  Holy hell.

  His heart beat faster. The events of the last twenty-four hours had left him numb and separated from the world around him, but there was no denying the nerves that swept through him now.

  He stilled his hands on Sonny’s back. Sonny glanced over his shoulder, his eyes wide. He leaned back toward Levi but stopped halfway, perhaps uncertain of his reaction. Rex took advantage of the pause and undid Sonny’s jeans. He yanked on them, knocking Sonny off balance, and it was enough to rouse Levi from his detached daze. He moved to steady Sonny, grasping his shoulders and pulling him close, letting his hands roam over Sonny's chest and belly and shivering despite the warmth of Sonny’s skin.

  Sonny arched and pressed his lips to Levi’s throat. The kiss was soothing and sweet, belying the charged air around them. Levi buried his face in Sonny's neck and breathed deeply, losing himself. Bella’s death loomed dark and sinister in the back of his mind, but a part of him was in the present, in the moment, and totally consumed by the lithe, young body in his arms.

  I could stay here forever.

  Sonny squirmed. Levi raised his head and loosened his grip. Sonny turned and shoved at his T-shirt. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Levi absorbed the sensation of looking Sonny in the eye for the first time since he’d walked out of the storeroom at the club two nights ago. Took in his light, sardonic grin and all-seeing hazel gaze. The cameras, the lights, and all the watching eyes faded away, and he felt lighter, like Sonny was all he’d ever needed to see. He tilted his head. “Watcha gonna do about it?”

  Undress him with his teeth, it seemed, while Rex entertained himself.

  Levi shuddered beneath Sonny’s wicked mouth. In the weeks leading up to the shoot, he’d fretted that his dick would let him down. Needlessly, as it turned out. Sonny took Levi's nipple in his mouth, but instead of teasing Levi the way he had in the storeroom, he bit down, and the surge of exhilarating pleasure went straight to Levi’s cock.

  Levi kicked his jeans away and jumped off the couch, taking Sonny with him in one smooth, agile movement. Rex moved to stand behind him, but Levi ignored him for now, distracted by Sonny and the sight of him without a stitch of clothing. He’d never seen him naked before.

  Wow. Levi’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. It seemed Sonny had tattoos everywhere. Levi leaned forward, straining to see the ink at the base of his cock. What was it? A cross? A heart?

  His staring didn’t go unnoticed. Sonny ran his tongue over his lips. “See something you like?”

  Hell, yeah. “Maybe,” Levi said. “Come here.”

  Levi led him back to the couch and sat down, pulling him over to straddle his chest. He stared at Sonny’s dick. The tattoo was a tiny star with the words no fear running through it. Levi raised a curious eyebrow, but it wasn’t the time for talking. He looked up and met Sonny’s eyes again, then, without warning, took him deep into his mouth.

  Sonny jolted and let out a surprised groan. “Fuck!”

  Levi grinned around Sonny's dick. A rush of victory teased his gut. He had the upper hand. Finally, he’d caught Sonny off guard. He opened his throat and let Sonny in. His scene partners were often surprised he gave them head, like they expected him to sit back and be worshipped, but in truth it was something he enjoyed, something he knew he was good at. With the right dude it was exciting and fun.

  With Sonny?

  It was incredible.

  Sonny gripped the back of the couch with one hand. The other found its way to Levi’s face, rubbing Levi's cheek in time with Levi’s tongue on his cock. “Fuck, yeah. Suck that dick.”

  The words were classic porn, but his tone gave Levi pause. He slowed his mouth and looked up in the same moment Sonny glanced down. Their eyes met, and what passed between them was so quietly profound Levi almost didn’t notice Rex's dark silhouette appearing behind Sonny.

  Almost.

  Rex buried his face in Sonny’s ass. Sonny cringed and rolled his
eyes. Levi hid his smirk in Sonny’s balls. He’d been the victim of overenthusiastic rimming himself. It wasn’t the nicest thing in the world, but it was harmless. He took pity on Sonny and tried to make up for it by going to town on his cock.

  For a while, the only sounds in the room were the squeak of the couch and the low, throaty rumble of Sonny’s moans. Levi gripped his hips, holding him firm, and reveled in the feel of sweat dripping down Sonny’s torso and onto his hands. Whatever was going on behind him, with Sonny’s dick in his mouth, it was all too easy to ignore what Rex was doing to him. All too easy to forget Rex was there at all and pretend it was just the two of them, the way Levi knew it should’ve been all along.

  The stinging sound of a hard slap pierced the air. Sonny cried out, staggering on his knees. Rex struck him again and shoved his other hand forward. Levi couldn’t see where it went, but he could guess.

  Sonny cringed, the discomfort in his face clear. He dug his fingers into the couch, ducked his head, and hid in the crook of Levi’s shoulder. Levi pulled his mouth from Sonny's cock with a wet pop. He found Rex’s eyes and shook his head. “Easy.”

  Rex grabbed Sonny by the back of the neck and yanked him away from Levi. “Nah, he likes it, don’t ya? You’re gonna love it when I tear you up, bitch. I can’t wait to nail this tight little ass. Levi’s gonna love it too. I know what he likes.”

  He raised his hand to slap Sonny again. The leer on his face was nothing Levi hadn’t seen before, but something inside him snapped. He was damned sick of being told what he liked, what he was. Who he was. Bella, Sonny, Rex. It didn’t seem to matter. What the hell did they know? A red haze descended over his vision, and all the rage he’d repressed over the last few days, months…years, boiled over.