by Nicola Haken
“Wouldn’t go that far, tiger,” I teased. “You’ll never knock me off the top spot.”
Laughing, Mason settled down beside me on the couch, moving closer so our thighs were touching and we could both see the screen of the laptop clearly.
“Let’s start with Twitter,” I suggested, seeing as I was already on the page. Mason shrugged as I logged out of my account. “Right, you need a handle.”
“Ricky Rear?”
“That’s boring. You’re selling yourself here, plus people need to know you’re a porn star and not the Ricky Rear who works at the local builders yard.”
“There’s a Ricky Rear at the builders yard?”
“Hell, I don’t fucking know! But you get my point. Maybe we just put some X’s on the end.”
“Everyone does that. How about Fuck Yeah Ricky Rear?”
“Perfect! You’re getting into the spirit faster than I thought you would.”
“Why’d you say that?”
“I just get the feeling this isn’t your first choice sometimes. The porn I mean.”
Mason’s eyebrows furrowed, his eyes narrowing as he contemplated my words.
“Maybe it’s not. But I chose this, and as with every other job I’ve ever had I will give it my everything. To say I’m doing this because I’ve no other choice, like I’m being forced into it or only doing it because I’m desperate is disrespectful to both the industry and to me.”
“Hey, that’s not what I meant,” I said genuinely, worried I’d offended him.
“Oh I know you didn’t. I just wanted to put it out there, that’s all. I don’t know many people, but of those I do I know they’ll judge me for this when they find out. Too many people assume going into this industry means we’re either damaged, desperate or fucking whores who deserve to be seen as nothing more than a walking fuck hole.”
“Well fuck ‘em. Anyone who doesn’t see you for who you are isn’t worth knowing. We’re all in it for different reasons, and those reasons are no one else’s goddamn business. It’s just a job. A fucking great job, but still a job nonetheless.”
“You really think it’s a great job?”
“Sure I do! I love sex, and I get to fuck hot guys for a living. Who wouldn’t love that?”
“But it’s different, no? I know I’ve only done one scene, but it’s a whole different ballgame than when you’re intimate with someone.”
“I don’t do intimacy, so I wouldn’t know.”
“So, you’ve never had a relationship?”
“No. Not something I’m looking for.”
“You don’t think it’d work? Being in porn?”
“It’s got nothing to do with the porn. A few of the guys are in relationships. Gio’s been with his guy almost a year and they’re still going strong. It’s just not something I want, regardless of the career I’ve chosen.”
“You must get lonely though. We all do. Don’t you hope to find someone you can just… I don’t know, share things with one day? Be there for you?”
“No,” I said curtly, hoping my tone would be enough to stop him probing further. “Okay, you’re all set to go on here,” I added, changing the subject. I’d been completing his Twitter signup while we talked. “You just need a profile picture and then you can start tweeting. You’ll be amazed how fast you pick up followers, especially if you post naked selfies.” I winked at him and he raised an eyebrow, smiling devilishly at me. “Same goes for Tumblr, but Facebook will kick your arse from their site faster than you can say pube for posting anything below the waist, so you gotta be good on there.”
“Got it. No pop shots on Facebook.”
“Ha! You’re learning.” It only took another fifteen minutes or so to get Mason, or Ricky, set up on the major social media sites and after a quick tweet to my own followers mentioning him, his feed was on fire within seconds. “Oh I forgot to say, Will wants you to text him. Wants to know where he can get some weed in New York.”
“Sure. I know pretty much everywhere.”
“You do?”
“I’m not some virgin you know. Sometimes you treat me like I’m so innocent.”
Do I? I wondered idly why that was, because he was right. I did think of him that way. For the last few months my life had consisted of sex, weed and parties and nothing much else in between. Whereas Mason, he’d rather stay inside with a good book and a cup of coffee. He just didn’t ‘fit’ so easily into this world, and it was possibly the thing I admired about him the most.
“Not innocent,” I replied. “Just genuine.”
Something passed between us in that moment, causing us both to shuffle a little further apart. I didn’t know what it was, but it was a little intense and a whole lot of uncomfortable.
“Okay, well I’m gonna head out and pick up some new clothes and stuff,” Mason said, rising nervously to his feet. “Ivan paid me for the photo-shoot I did the other day. I’ll grab some groceries too and then give you some rent with what I have left.”
“Sure. No worries.”
And then he was gone, leaving me sitting there with my head thrown back and wondering what the hell just happened.
**********
“Ryder,” Seb greeted warmly when he answered the door to his and Ivan’s apartment. “How ya doing, buddy?” he added, bringing me in for a hug.
“Great thanks, Seb. We’ve missed you down at the studio.”
“Busy season,” he explained. “Everyone’s gearing up for LA Fashion Week.” Seb was a fashion photographer and stylist and he hadn’t visited the studio for the last month.
“I should put you in touch with my friend Elle. She might be working the event too. Plus she’s awesome, you’d get along great.”
“Well any friend of yours is a friend of ours. You should bring her over one night.”
“I will. She’s thinking of moving over here permanently so I’ll see what I can do. Where’s Ivan?”
“In the sitting room,” he replied dejectedly.
“I knew it. I knew something was wrong with him.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t need to. What’s going on, Seb?” I pressed, closing the door behind me. Seb simply sighed and led me into their large, segregated living room. He sat beside Ivan, resting his hand on his partner’s knee. These guys were adorable together. You could almost physically feel the love between them radiating from their bodies when they were together.
“What’s going on, Ivan?” I asked impatiently, taking a seat on the opposite side of the coffee table.
“Well hello to you too,” he tried to tease, but his meek expression betrayed his words.
“Cut the shit, Ivan. You can trust me, you should know that by now.”
“I do, kid,” he said before dragging in a deep breath. “It’s Mack.” Mack was Ivan’s silent partner of Back Door studios. He didn’t have any input in the day to day running of things, he simply helped Ivan with the start-up costs and now took his share of the profits. I’d only met him once, but it was enough to know he was a giant fucking sleazeball. “I’ve always known he was a gambler, but I didn’t know just how bad. He’s in debt up to his eyeballs and has been taking from the business to try and repay them.”
“Holy shit.”
“There’s nothing left, Ry. I can’t afford to buy him out so I need to do something to get us back in business or…”
“Or we’re screwed.”
“Yeah. We’re screwed.”
“Can’t someone else buy him out?”
“Like who? I don’t trust anyone else. Anyone who’d be interested would already have their own connections in this business and might have ulterior motives. You know we’ve been climbing to the top this past year and there are a lot of people who want to bring us back down.”
“I don’t know what the fuck to say. Except if you think a scene with me and Stewart will bring in some new fans then I’m in.”
“Kid, you know you don’t have to do anything you’re not
comfortable with.”
“He’s a jerk, but it’s just a fuck, Ivan. I’ll do it. Is he up for it?”
“You know Stew. He thinks anyone is lucky to be paired with him.” A crooked smile flashed across Ivan’s face but it left as quick as it came. He got that right though. The word ego could’ve been invented for Stewart.
“It’s not gonna be enough though. Is it? One fucking scene isn’t gonna get us out of this shit.” Ivan smiled – the first full smile I’d seen since I arrived. “What?”
“Just the way you said ‘us’.”
“We’re a family.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “Yeah we are. You’re a good kid, Ry. You all are.”
“We’ll find a way, honey,” Seb assured, curling his arm around Ivan’s waist. Ivan eyed him up dubiously. “You’ve worked too damn hard to give up now.”
“I’m with Seb. You should have told me. Told all of us. We’re a team, and as a team we’ll find a way out of this mess. As for Mack – he’s a fucking arsehole. What’s he got to say for himself?”
“Not much. We’ve never really gotten along, but at the time he was my only option. He’s convinced he’ll win it back. But aren’t they all?”
I nodded in solemn agreement. This couldn’t have been the end for us. Rumour had it we were on course to bring home at least three Silver Chain Awards in November’s event. That was a huge fucking achievement in this industry. The best of the best.
“Are you staying for dinner?” Seb asked.
“No,” Ivan answered for me, and my eyes widened in surprise. “Go home, kid. Or go out and have fun. Get high, get fucked, and enjoy yourself. Have fun and leave me to worry about the serious shit. Got it?”
“You know that’s not gonna happen, but I am gonna get going. I’m giving Mason lessons in social media.”
“I like that kid. Something innocent about him. Draws you in.”
“Yeah, he’s turning out to be a pretty great friend.”
“Good. You keep your eye on him, I think he needs a friend right now.”
“You do?”
“I’m not stupid,” he said with one of those fatherly expressions that let you know you’re busted. “I know he’s crashing with you because he came here with nothing. He didn’t even have the brains to research LA before he listed his address on his paperwork. According to his contract he lives on one of the wealthiest streets in the city.”
“Well yeah, I figured out after our scene together he had no place to stay. Still don’t really know why. He’s not much of a talker. Not about the shit that matters anyway.”
“And you are?”
He knew me too well.
“Guess that’s why we get along. Neither of us see the need to complicate anything by dredging up shit from the past.”
“I don’t know about your past, kid, and I suspect no one does. But don’t let whatever it is define you, or stop you letting anyone in. You’re young, you won’t see it now, but I’ve been alone, Ry and it ain’t a nice place to be.”
“I’ll never be alone,” I said confidently, proud that my voice didn’t waver. “I’ve got tonnes of friends. I only need to pick up my phone and I can be surrounded by people within minutes.”
“And sometimes, being in a crowd is one of the loneliest places you can be. One day you’re gonna need someone when they’ve all gone home.”
“I’ll never need anyone,” I shot back. This was all getting a little too serious for my taste. “Look I gotta go. Still got a headache and I’ve gotta make sure Mason isn’t getting involved in any Twitter wars,” I joked.
“Sure thing, kid. I’ll call you about Stewart.”
I nodded, making a conscious effort not to roll my eyes. Then I stood up, gave Ivan and Seb a clap on the shoulder in turn, and made my way back home. My heart laid heavily on my stomach as I drove back to my apartment. If Back Door studios went under, I would lose more than a job, more than money.
I’d lose the only family I’d ever had.
Chapter Four
~Ryder~
The first thing I did after kicking my shoes off when I got back home was roll a joint and chill back with it on the couch, not bothering to open a window like I usually would. I groaned as I blew out the first toke, flopping my head back onto the cushions as the serene haze washed over my body. It felt like hours had passed by the time Mason got home, but the digital clock on the fridge confirmed it was only fifteen minutes.
“Dude, open a fucking window,” he scolded, faking an exaggerated cough and wafting his hand in front of his face.
“Want some?” I offered, holding out another freshly lit joint as he made his way back from opening the window.
“Sure,” he said, surprising me as he eyed me up curiously. He took a long pull through his lips and held it in his lungs before blowing out a cloud of smoke as he settled down onto the couch beside me. “What’s wrong with you?” he added, passing the spliff back to me.
“Nothin’ serious,” I replied. Ivan trusted me with the information he shared and if there was one thing I prided myself on, it was fierce loyalty. Mason’s eyes narrowed, suggesting he didn’t believe me. Still, he let it go, and went on to tell me what was in the shopping bags he’d dumped by the door instead.
“What are those scars on your arms?” Mason asked curiously, nodding towards the top of my arm where my t-shirt had ridden up. It was a couple of hours later and we were in my bedroom. Our highs had worn off and he’d just whipped my arse on Call of Duty Black Ops.
“Um, branding,” I answered, flustered. “It’s a form of body modification where they use a heated rod to burn images into your skin. Kinda like a tattoo.”
“Sounds painful.”
I was proud of my quick thinking and the fact he seemed to believe me without question.
“Yeah. I just tested it out there on the inside of my arm in case it wasn’t my thing. It wasn’t. Anyway,” I said, changing the subject and praying the heat in my cheeks wasn’t visible. “I feel like we’re pretty good friends, but I don’t really know anything about you.”
“What do you wanna know?”
“Anything.” Everything. That silent statement still confused the shit out of me.
“Not much to tell. I grew up in New York, no siblings, small family. That’s kinda all there is to know.”
“What about friends? School. Jobs?”
“Never really had any friends,” he shrugged. “I dropped out of school and I worked three jobs until I found the dancing. As soon as I heard that would make me more money than those three jobs put together, I didn’t have to think twice about going for it.”
“Who doesn’t have friends? You must have some.”
“Never got the chance, I guess. I was too busy at home.”
Mason’s eyebrows drew together and he exhaled a deep sigh. He was clearly uncomfortable and I felt like I should leave it at that, but a more prominent part of me was desperate to know more about him.
“What happened?” I probed. “I mean, you came here with nothing. I’m guessing you’ve been through some pretty tough shit.”
“My mom got sick. My dad left a few months later so that meant I had to stay home and care for her.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“She had motor neurone disease. She passed away two years ago.”
“Jeez. I’m sorry.”
“The end was kind of a relief. It was real hard watching her suffer. In the weeks before she died she couldn’t move at all. She couldn’t swallow, she could barely breathe… she couldn’t even talk to me anymore. But I’d do it all over again because she was my mom and I adored her.”
“So that’s why you needed quick money? That’s what got you into this business?”
“Yeah. I’ve been paying off medical bills ever since she passed, and the dancing just wasn’t enough. I couldn’t afford to eat let alone rent somewhere to live. I knew a few guys who were in the porn industry and it seemed like a natural progression from wh
at I was doing.”
“What the fuck was your dad playing at?” I blurted, unable to hold in my anger. “Leaving a kid to deal with that shit on his own?”
“I can’t answer that,” he shrugged. “Guess he couldn’t cope.”
“I’m sorry, Mase, but that makes me so fucking angry.”
“Don’t let it. I don’t. He’s not worth the energy it takes for you to stay mad.”
“But because of him you’re doing something you don’t want to.”
“You keep saying that to me,” he replied, pursing his eyebrows in confusion. “But I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be. I’m a grown man, Ry. I can make my own decisions. If this is because I told you I’ve never bottomed then you’re reading too much into it. I’ve had sex. I love sex. The guys I’ve met so far in this industry are some of the best I’ve ever known. They’re genuine. Real. That’s all there is to it. Sure I’m not planning on doing this longer than I need to, but that’s not because I think it’s wrong or seedy, it’s because I’ve got dreams, you know?”
“Oh yeah?”
“Of course I have. Doesn’t everybody?”
“I don’t,” I said, feeling quite pathetic.
“You must have some. What did you wanna be when you were a kid? No ten year old dreams of becoming a porn star.”
“When I was ten I wanted to be a chef.” I shook my head and laughed at the ridiculous memory.
“Yet now you live off pizza?”
“I was ten! Ten year olds are stupid.”
“Given the fact I wanted to be a mechanic when I was ten I guess I have to agree.”
“What’s wrong with being a mechanic?” I asked, confused.
“Nothin’, if you’re not gayer than Christmas on acid,” he joked. “My dad was a car fanatic and I just wanted to be like him, I suppose. I remember the first time he took me into his garage to show me around an engine and the tiniest drop of oil spilled onto my new, white sneakers. I cried for hours. Like you literally can’t imagine the drama I kicked up about it.” I smiled, imagining a young, perfectly styled Mason, flipping out over his shoes. He’s definitely not like that now. I’ve seen camper wrestlers than Mason. “I was a very theatrical ten year old.”
