LOVER FOR PAY: The Escort & The Teacher (M/M)

by A. J. Blake

  Seated in the living room at the dining table, Marbell picked up his cell phone and stared at the lit screen. His lockscreen was a picture of London making a silly face, his tongue sticking out and his eyes were playfully crossed. Marbell smiled down at the amusing picture, running his thumb across it. “Where are you?” he said under his breath.

  Without London here, Marbell knew there was no way he could go into work like this. He wouldn’t be able to make it a full day if the tattooed boy didn’t come back tonight. For a quick moment he wondered if London could have gone to Wonderland. It was a Monday, but a nightclub like that would still be open to the public. No, Marbell swore to himself, he wouldn’t go back to a place like that, even just to have a mildly good time. They were too focused on packing this house up to move. There was no room in either of their minds to party.

  Dialing London’s phone one more time, he held himself back from chucking the phone when it was forwarded to voicemail again.

  “Hold on a minute,” Marbell pondered of the few times before when he left behind messages, he sat through all of the rings until voicemail picked up the call. Forwarding like this after the first two rings...was done manually...so did that mean London wasn’t taking his calls on purpose? Why would he be doing that? Trying once more, Marbell didn’t know what to think when the call was blocked again after the first ring.

  Breaking his train of thought, a rough knocking came to the front door then. With haste, Marbell rushed for it and threw it open. His heart stammered when he locked eyes with a tired Henry Dawncraft. He was dressed in jeans and a wrinkled grey shirt with black short sleeves. His dark hair was tucked under his favorite purple beanie, and he was clearly exhausted. “Henry?” Marbell said, flustered, “What are you doing – how did you – did you run the whole way here?”

  Henry made his way into the house under Marbell’s arm, “No,” he said, noticing all of the piled cardboard boxes in the living room, some of them with his and Joyce’s name on them, but he was too mentally frantic to give a shit about what they were for. Clearly they were packed, so where they moving? “I called one of my friends since I was sure you wouldn’t bust me out of that sterile hell. Is London still not back yet?”

  Marbell almost couldn’t believe Henry had defied the hospital, leaving ahead of schedule and without permission.

  “Don’t worry,” the boy said, “I left a note saying I couldn’t stay.”

  “Henry, I don’t think that matters, but, no, I still haven’t heard from London. I was thinking of going to the police to file a missing–.”

  “Please...they would type his name into their data base,” Henry said, “see who he’s related to and then call everything off. Being our father’s sons, the police have never really cared about us. Like with the accident I was in, do you seriously think they were going to put all their efforts into finding who hit me? One less Dawncraft, I’m sure they’d say.” He stormed down the hallway towards his bedroom, hoping that at least a few things were still unpacked.

  Following behind his student, Marbell watched as Henry sat down at his desk and opened a laptop. “What are you going to do? I can’t think of any way for us to be able to find him.”

  When the laptop was powered up, Henry clicked about with the mouse, typing into his search engine. “One acronym, Marbell,” he said, “GPS. Global Positioning System. Wherever London is, I’m sure he has his cellphone even if he’s not answering it. If I can locate his phone, I’ll be able to find exactly where he is.”

  “Why didn’t I think of that?” Marbell said, more to himself than anything.

  Henry focused as he searched for the right tracking device on the laptop. When he found one, he typed in all of London’s cellphone information and hit search. “Alright,” he sat back, “Now we wait...”

  “How long is this going to take?” Marbell asked, impatiently. He was anxious to know where London was, and if he didn’t get that question answered in the next minute, he was sure he’d lose it. There was a strange cavity in the center of his chest, one occupied by the single thought he couldn’t bear to dwell on. What if London was somewhere hurt? Marbell didn’t want to think about the possibilities that maybe his lover was in some sort of danger, but that’s all that slithered into his mind as the minutes drove by. There was no way in hell London would just up and disappear without a word, without giving even the slightest hint as to where he was, yet here the house had been, empty of its owner. “Is there any way to make that damn thing go any faster? I’m about ready to pull my hair out.”

  Henry jiggled the mouse as if it would help, and then the small information box on the laptop finally loaded. Reading through the coordinates mapping London’s cellphone location, Marbell rutted his brow in deep confusion when he...recognized the address. It was his house over in the Barcello Estates. He swallowed hard, closing a shaky hand on top of Henry’s shoulder, “That’s – that’s where I lived.”

  Henry turned in his desk chair, giving his geometry teacher a look, and said, “What the hell would he doing there?”

  “And if you continue this fucking affair with that piece of shit, I will make his life a living hell, too.”

  Marbell could hear Vivian’s threat as clearly as the day she’d said it. She couldn’t have possibly been able to get a hold of London, especially not on her own. London was too big and strong to be overtaken by a small woman, and even if she did have help, the house had been virtually spotless when he got here. There were no signs of a struggle, something London would have put up if anyone threatened him.

  “I don’t understand,” Marbell stepped back, nibbling thoughtfully at the tips of his nails, “There is no reason for him to be there, unless...unless he’s with–.”

  “Your wife?” Henry glared up at Marbell.

  Nervous, the teacher said, “Watch out,” and then typed all of Vivian’s cellphone information into the laptop, hitting search, and then waited for hers to load. When the location popped up on the screen, Marbell felt a dizzy spell coming upon him. “Oh, my god,” he said, circling away from the desk.

  “Marbell,” Henry said, standing from the chair, “Is your wife crazy enough to try and hurt my brother?”

  Panicked, the man almost couldn’t breathe when the idea of Vivian doing anything in her power to harm London came to mind. “She’s always had a temper, but – but to resort to unimaginable violence isn’t something I would consider she’d be able to do.”

  “That’s a ‘yes’,” Henry said, storming for the hallway. “Let’s go, we’re going there now.”

  When the teenager made it to the kitchen and snagged Marbell’s car keys, the teacher blocked Henry from the door and took the keys back. “You are not going anywhere, young man. Not only are you in no condition to even be out of the hospital, right now, but I need you to be here for Joyce. She’s across the street with Mrs. Campbell. I want you to go and wait there until you get a call from me.”

  Henry shook his head, “I’m not staying here like a child while my brother might be out there in trouble. I’m coming with you whether you like it or not.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  Marbell stomped his foot, voice raising to a notch the boy definitely wasn’t used to. “Henry,” he shouted, “I am terrified that London might be in some real danger out there, and the last thing I want is for you, someone he loves more than anything, to get hurt, too. I’m not saying you should stay here because you’re a child, I just want you to be safe. Now, I’m sorry for yelling like this, but go to Mrs. Campbell’s and wait there! Now!”

  Henry shrunk in front of Marbell, and when the teacher could see this, he pulled the boy into his arms, holding him fast. When he felt Henry’s hands ball against the back of his shirt, Marbell closed his arms tighter. “Bring my brother back to us,” Henry sobbed, “Please...”

  Resting his chin at the top of Henry’s head, Marbell then kissed the teenager’s black hair, a gesture of security and love that he�
�d been introduced to by London himself. “I will,” Marbell said, “I promise. Now, go and I’ll be back.”

  When Henry disappeared into the house across the street, Marbell dropped into his car and started the engine again. He didn’t know what he’d walk into when arriving back at the house he’d shared with Vivian, but, if anything, he hoped it wasn’t something he couldn’t take control of by himself.

  The last thing he wanted was bloodshed.

  London looked down at his forearm, witnessing as his skin turned from a tanned light bronze, to a purplish bruise with a blackened outlining. He could still move his fingers properly, but, in doing so, the sting of his nerves raved sorely. He could still smell the hotness of the bullet driven into the wall beside him, and in thinking it could have easily been his head, was starting to settle in on him. This bitch was a fucking psychopath, and if he really did want to live to see his family again, he’d need to learn how to shut his mouth.

  Then again, from the determination in Vivian’s cold eyes, it didn’t seem like she had even the slightest consideration towards letting him go. His life was in Marbell’s hands now.

  “So what are you going to do, then?” London said, glaring up at Vivian and Theo, “Set the house on fire while I’m still down here?”

  Vivian smiled, “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. Fires are a little more exciting to watch.”

  Hearing her anticipation churned London’s stomach, and he suddenly wondered if she had a track record of doing this kind of thing. Most of all, he wondered how Marbell could not have known she was this insane before giving her his name. This kind of irrationality could not be that easy to hide from society.

  “What’s wrong, London?” Vivian said, sounding more sympathetic than ever, “You look a little down?”

  She was mocking him and with each word he got more and more pissed off.

  Theo, who’d been standing behind the sofa, came around and took a seat on the armrest. London wasn’t surprised to see he was trailing after his crazy sister. Their madness probably ran in the family. Then again, if she was able to manipulate Marbell into marrying her, the influence she had on her own brother was likely over the moon. “You know, Viv,” he said, running a hand back through his blond hair, “I still can’t believe you were able to get your hands on Marbell.”

  Vivian smirked, “Why not? He was so pathetic in university; it was really only a matter of time until someone snagged his ass. What better person than me?”

  London rubbed his temples, it was all he could do to seal his mouth.

  “Hey, London, you want to know a little secret? Since you’re about to die and all, I don’t think I’ll have to worry about this getting out.”

  Not answering, London just pulled his knees to his chest, and rest his forehead down. All he wanted was to get out of this fucking basement, but he didn’t see a way out. If Vivian didn’t have that stupid gun, he wouldn’t hesitate to fight Theo given he was the one with the muscle. At this point, he didn’t care about all the things he’d said before, about wanting Vivian thrown in prison for years, he just wanted to go back to his family.

  “Hey!” Vivian shouted, “I asked you a question!”

  “What!?” London shouted up at her, tired of hearing her annoying voice.

  “Yell at me again, and you’re gone.”

  “What do you want to tell me, Vivian? What?”

  Sweetly, the woman strolled about the basement, dragging the tip of the pistol across the countertop of the bar behind the lounge. “I’m sure you’re familiar with that beautiful scar covering Marbell’s chest, right?” She snickered in amusement. “I gave it to him. Not personally, of course. I didn’t forcefully burn his skin, but I did set that study hall at university on fire knowing he was inside. He was the only one in it at the time, and since he had ideas of breaking up with me early on in our arranged relationship, I decided if I couldn’t have him...well, you know how that saying goes, I’m sure.”

  London was at a loss for words at Vivian’s sudden admission. He remembered the fear in Marbell’s eyes when he’d been told the happenings of that night, and would never forget how disgusted the teacher had been about the scar on his body.

  “When he lived,” Vivian said, “I stayed by his side like a good girlfriend, helping nurse him back to health and all. See, I’m not as bad as you want to make me out to be. I was the only one there to care for him.”

  “You almost killed him...” London felt a hot flame begin to boil in the pit of his stomach. “He – he could have died, and all because you want money? Money and what? Status?” Rising to his feet, London could feel the anger in him worsen, completely ignoring the fact there was a loaded gun aimed straight for him. Without thinking, London stormed for Vivian, but before he could even get within a couple feet of her, he was ambushed by Theo.

  London’s back collided with the wall, the air being knocked out of him in the process. When he regained focus, London brought his knee up, hitting Theo in his crotch. He bent over in agony, closing his fists into London’s shirt. He dragged the tattooed boy to the floor and pinned him there. Once he brought his fist back as to slam it down into the target’s face, London was able to catch the strike. With a weak hold on Theo’s arm, London couldn’t bear the strength opposing his fractured forearm and lost control.

  The blond man struck him across the face, slamming his knuckles down so hard, London felt his inner bottom lip slice open against his teeth.

  Able to shove Theo off, London tried to quickly get to his feet when a loud bang sounded, followed shortly by an excruciating discomfort pass through the top of his left shoulder, and then another grazed the side of his neck. The speed of the two bullets knocked him back, the shock of being shot dragging him down. With the impact his head had taken when hitting the hard floor, London’s awareness swayed back and forth, blurring his vision until the only thing he could see was nothing.

  “Oh, shit,” Theo groaned, getting to his feet, “I thought you weren’t going to shoot him.”

  Ambling towards London’s comatose body, Vivian stood over him, watching as the blood from the bullet wounds gushed out into a puddle on the floor. She hadn’t gotten a very good shot out at his neck, but the graze looked deadly enough. Dropping the gun at her feet, she nudged London with the tip of her high heel. When he didn’t budge, she smirked, and said, “Either way, through fire or gunshot, I’ll be damned if he leaves this house. Hurry up and light this place up; we’ve got a plane to catch.”

  When his sister marched up the basement steps, Theo grabbed a gasoline canister from behind the sofa, spilling out an amount all over either side of the room. After lighting it, he took the canister with him and went up to the first floor. “Goodbye,” he paused, realizing he knew absolutely nothing about London, but that didn’t seem to turn him away from committing the act his own sister drove into his mind.

  Any reasonable thinking person would see that all of this, the jealously, the greediness, and fixation to end someone’s life was utterly insane, but given their detachment from rationality, it severed any means of either empathy or sensibleness. Vivian nor Theo could rightfully determine what they were doing was vindictive and crude, giving Theo no second thought when he let the fire spread about the first floor, in the living room and kitchen before taking his leave.

  Instantly, the liquid caught, and fire raced all about the gasoline soaked spots. The walls held crawling licks of fire that reached the ceiling, furnishings catching as well, filling the house with smoke and heat.

  By the time Marbell drove into the neighborhood of the Barcello Estates, the first thing he noticed was the rapidly approaching sound of sirens, and it was only a few more seconds until he figured out why. Pulling up in front of the house he’d purchased when first moving here to Anavrin, Texas, Marbell sat in shock behind the steering wheel, mouth agape as the dismay set in around him. There was a fierce fire raging inside the house, and with no word from London still, his thoughts spiraled at the grasp o
f the tattooed boy being inside.

  Getting out of the car, Marbell raced onto the front lawn as the blaze sprung from the windows of the first floor. He wanted to go inside without thinking twice, but he couldn’t help the freezing of his footsteps. Fire was his greatest fear, already having lived through an experience of almost losing his life, but to stand out there and wait for firefighters to get there wasn’t an option. London was in there, he knew it.

  The firetruck sounded like it was a few blocks away, but, without hesitating this time, Marbell took a deep breath and rushed inside the burning house. Covering his mouth and nose with the hem of his shirt, he squinted his eyes. The curtains over the tall windows were burning, walls scorching in flames, and thick black smoke choked the dry air. “London!” he shouted over the roaring fire.

  With no response, Marbell stormed through the first floor, checking all the rooms only to come up empty handed. “London!” he called again, lungs feeling heavy as traces of the thick smoke found its way through the covering of his shirt. “London, where are you!?”

  Marbell suddenly jumped back when the ceiling across the kitchen collapsed, bringing down the contents of an upper bedroom on the second floor. Fast flickering red lights flashed outside when he rounded back into the living room, the firefighters, but he couldn’t leave now, not without London with him. When he passed an archway that led towards the laundry room, Marbell froze when he spotted the door to the lower ground floor. The door was ajar and just by the reflection of flames dancing in shadow, Marbell could see something had originated there.

  Hastily, he went for the door and pushed it open with his shoulder, bustling down the stairs. When he reached the bottom, the heat of the atmosphere rose several more degrees, warming his skin to a temperature he was all too familiar with. He coughed severely as the smoke continued to find a way through the fabric over his nose, and when it seemed almost unbearable, he descended to his knees. The air was cleaner down there as the smoke rose to the ceiling. Crawling on his hands and knees, Marbell’s eyes began to water from the aridity. “London!” he choked out to the best he could.