Hollywood Bound

by Morticia Knight

  “Let’s start with you and your little friend’s pay. I work on what’s called a tit-for-tat pay scale. Know what that is?”

  Nick shook his head.

  “The better you take care of me—the better I take care of you.”

  Nick gulped. He didn’t want to appear too weak, so it was important that he stay focused, try to negotiate.

  “Could you explain exactly what will be expected from us sir? And what we’ll be gettin’ paid?”

  Nick hoped there weren’t any tremors in his voice.

  “You’re a smart cookie. And well hung. So I suppose you have a little room to bargain. Just remember though, I’m the boss.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Okay, I’ll go first. Is your little golden-haired friend out there interested in joining us?”

  “No!”

  Nick answered, too harsh and abrupt. He’d have to cover for it. Wilson frowned at him. He’d already dropped his dick, and was back to being the boss. His coveralls were still unbuttoned, but there was nothing sticking out any longer.

  “Why so protective? You after that ass for yourself? Or maybe you already have it. Damn it. Bernie played me again…”

  “No, that’s not it at all.” Nick was sweating like crazy now. “He’s my cousin, a real churchgoer, whole family is. I promised his mama before we left that I’d take real good care of him. She was afraid of what might happen to him in the big city and all.”

  “Smart dame. Okay then, if it’s just you we’re talking about, he gets forty a week, and you get sixty as long as there’s a picture to work on.”

  Nick resisted the urge to whoop aloud. The pay was even better than he’d hoped for.

  “And what do I get…to be here with you?”

  Wilson leant back in his chair and laughed heartily.

  “That’s what you get.” He sat up straight again, jabbing his finger towards Nick. “And for the sixty, you come here whenever I tell you to, and you do whatever I want you to do—got it?”

  Nick hesitated. That meant this evil fuck would be messing around with him all the time, and he’d have to take it. Who knows what he might expect him to do?

  “The door’s right there you got a problem. I’d put my clothes back on though before you go and collect that cute little mama’s boy and get the hell off studio property.”

  “That’s okay, sir. I got it. It’s fine. Whatever you say.”

  Nick never cried. He didn’t think he could even remember when he might have cried last. But he wanted to let all of his tears out right then. Wilson had him, and he knew it. So much for negotiating.

  Chapter Eleven

  Nick had been in their new boss’ office for a long time. So far, all Jack had done was saw up some two-by-fours that Bernie had said were needed. He was done with that, and the other guys—including Bernie—had already taken off to the soundstage to start building in there. Jack was a fast worker—he was used to having to do quick fixes in between acts if something broke in the middle of a show. He wasn’t accustomed to a lot of the standing around, smoking and talking that these guys seemed to be doing half the time.

  Jack had also noticed that there seemed to be two distinct groups of guys—the older, cranky ones who always kept to themselves, and the younger ones who hung around with Bernie—the ones who did most of the smoking and talking. Now it seemed that all of them had gone over to the soundstage, but he didn’t want to leave Nick behind. The door to the office opened, and Jack sighed with relief.

  Nick will know what to do.

  Nick headed towards him. Jack didn’t even get a glance of Mr Wilson in the doorway before it was closed. He was excited to hear what sort of pay they’d been offered, but now he was concerned. As Nick drew closer to him, he saw a strained look on his face, as if all the troubles in the world were kept there.

  Did we get let go already? Or shitty pay?

  Nick reached him, and pulled out a smoke. “Hey.”

  Nick offered one to Jack, but he shook his head.

  The mood was tense and awkward. Jack could feel it just from Nick’s jittery body language, and the dark cloud he saw in his eyes.

  “I don’t want to pester you, Nick, but, you seem upset.”

  Nick took a drag on his cigarette, and looked up at the sky. Jack followed Nick’s gaze, but couldn’t figure out what he was looking at.

  “What a beautiful day, huh Jacky boy? Look at that blue sky—these trees.” Nick gestured all around them. “A man should be blissful and at peace on such a day as this, don’t you agree?”

  Jack was confused.

  “S-sure. Everythin’ okay?”

  Jack felt a twinge of worry. Nick was acting funny, and he hadn’t said a word about what he and Wilson had talked about.

  Nick laughed in an almost disgusted way.

  “More than okay. We got ourselves a big chunk a change. We’re gonna be rollin’ in dough from now on.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s he payin’ us?”

  “A hundred bucks a week, Jack. How’s that sound?”

  Jack gasped. It was more than twice what they’d been getting back in New York.

  “He’s givin’ us fifty bucks each a week?”

  Nick shook his head, a half-smile on his lips.

  “Yeah. Somethin’ like that.”

  “Holy shit! I’d never even hoped for that much!”

  Nick looked back at the sky again. “Me neither, Jack. Me neither.”

  * * * *

  It had been an interminably long day. First Wilson, then sawing wood in the hot sun for hours. Apparently they hadn’t quite paid their dues yet, so the other guys got to go inside the soundstage and build sets from the wood Nick and Jack cut up.

  Sure felt like I paid a lot of dues today. In spades.

  He worked the kinks out in his neck, rolling his head all around and side to side. He was hot and sweaty, and would have given anything to soak in a nice cool, tub of water. Nick unlaced his old boots with the holes in the bottom—the same ones that he’d been wearing ever since he’d first arrived in New York three years before.

  Guess I can afford to get new ones now.

  There was no joy or satisfaction in the thought. He was starting to feel numb about everything that had gone on in the last couple of days. The only thing left that he still felt strongly about was Jack. Jack’s well-being. Jack’s happiness. All of his concentration centred on him.

  Jack stepped out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his slender waist, droplets of water still clinging to his chest, the white skin of his torso contrasting against the burn on his forearms. They’d both thought to wear their caps, so Jack’s face had been spared most of the sun’s bite. When he turned around to finish drying off though, Nick smiled despite his gloom. Jack had a bright red patch on the back of his neck that would probably peel within a few days. They weren’t outdoor workers. They were used to the dark recesses of the theatre where the only light was the artificial cans with their coloured spots. They spent their days indoors, and stayed out late at night. And they certainly weren’t used to the scorching heat of the desert.

  “Hey, Jacky boy, c’mere.”

  Jack came over to him, absent-mindedly drying himself off with the towel, completely naked.

  “What, Nick?”

  “Let me see your neck.”

  Jack bent his head down, so that Nick could see him close up.

  “We need to get you some mineral oil for that. Your skin is a lot fairer than mine. You gotta be careful.”

  Jack stood back up and continued drying himself.

  “Yeah, I’m startin’ to feel it. I ain’t never had that happen before.”

  Nick gazed at Jack’s form. After what had happened earlier, he’d been sure that the thought of sex with anyone ever again would make him sick. But what he shared with Jack went beyond the physical. He could see that now. For so long he’d resisted any intimate contact with Jack because he was male, because he’d been raised to deny and fear tha
t. But it wasn’t the fact that he touched a man that was important. When they joined together, it was like they were one person. They fucked—but they also loved.

  Nick felt a little teary, so he bent down to pick up his discarded clothes before Jack caught him. He headed for the bathroom, and called over his shoulder.

  “How about a nice meal out to celebrate our good fortune?”

  “I thought you said it won’t be another week till we get paid?”

  Nick turned on the water spigot.

  “So? We still got money, and we don’t have to worry about runnin’ out now. Whaddya say, Jacky boy? We ain’t had ourselves a real good night out in a while.”

  Nick stepped under the water that was just warm enough to soothe his aching muscles.

  Jack came to the doorway. “Sure, that would be really great.”

  He continued to watch Nick as he showered. Nick finished soaping up his body, and started to lather the suds into his hair. He looked up at Jack as he stared.

  “What?”

  “Is your side better?”

  Nick frowned. “A little. Why?”

  “I want to hug you so bad, Nick, but I don’t want to hurt you. You mean so much to me, do you know that?”

  “Jesus.”

  He stuck his head under the spray of the shower and rinsed his hair completely.

  Shutting the water off, then stepping out of the stall dripping wet, he walked straight to Jack. He yanked him close, and enveloped him in his arms. He lowered his lips onto Jack’s, pushed his tongue into his mouth and kissed him thoroughly. It all came to him in a rush. He needed Jack to wash away the filth of what had gone on in Wilson’s office, in a way that no water could.

  Nick lifted Jack up so that he straddled him, legs wrapped around his waist, and carried him to the bed. He laid him gently on it, and gazed down at his man. Wilson could take his dignity, his pride and his body, but he couldn’t take this from him. Jack was his.

  “Are you sure you’re well enough, Nick?”

  “If I can saw through wood all day in the blazing sun, I can make love to my man.”

  Nick knelt between Jack’s legs and bent down to nuzzle his groin. He rubbed his face all over Jack’s lengthening cock, kissed his balls and inhaled his scent. He reached up with his hands to caress Jack’s chest, and tweak his nipples. He took one walnut-sized sac in his mouth and suckled it gently, teasing it lightly with his tongue. He sampled the other one, licked underneath them, then all the way to Jack’s asshole. He wanted to consume all of Jack.

  Nick let go of Jack’s chest and brought his hands down so that he could open up Jack’s cheeks for better access. Jack moaned, draping his slender legs over Nick’s shoulders, and dangling them across his back. As Nick probed deeper into his anus, Jack dug his heels into Nick’s flesh.

  “Oh, Nick, I love you, Nick.”

  Nick wasn’t bothered by Jack’s words—he needed to hear them after all he’d been through. Jack twined his fingers into Nick’s hair, and pumped his hips into nothing as Nick continued to eat his puckered hole greedily. He pulled his tongue out of Jack’s ass and moved higher up to capture Jack’s cock in his mouth. This was it. This was the aroma he hungered for. The feel of Jack’s dick as he sucked him. It was better than anything. And it did erase everything else, even if it was just for a short while.

  When Jack came down his throat, Nick milked him dry. He didn’t want to lose one precious drop.

  Make love. That’s what Nick said.

  It wasn’t what Jack had been hoping to hear ever since they’d started up, but it was probably as close as he’d get. And it had been sincere—he saw it in Nick’s eyes and heard it in his voice.

  Even though they were on their way out the door to celebrate, Nick seemed so serious. And he had been so intense when he’d sucked Jack off. Then he’d surprised him when he’d said that he didn’t want him to reciprocate. He wasn’t sure how to take that, but Nick had hugged and kissed him and reassured him that he just wanted them to get out and have a great evening together.

  They had explored their neighbourhood just a little bit since they’d arrived, but they knew everything within a few blocks’ radius. They had looked in the window of a little Italian place not too far from the market, and had promised each other it would be the first big place they would eat when their fortunes turned. There was sawdust on the floor, candles in wine jugs, and red-chequered table cloths. Jack wished they had bought new shirts just for going out. Their new work ones were sweaty, and their clean shirts from New York were worn. When he got his first paycheque, he would ask Nick about that.

  They had been pooling their resources for so long, Jack wasn’t even sure what he would do if he had to take care of things on his own. He shouldn’t be letting Nick be in charge of everything like that. He needed to learn how to do things for himself. At the same time, it had always given him a sense of security handing over the day to day responsibilities to Nick. And now, it was as if Nick were his husband providing for the family. That thought filled Jack with a satisfying warmth.

  “Okay, Jacky boy—this the place we wanna go?”

  Nick smiled and rubbed his hands together just outside the front door of Geno’s Pizzeria and Pasta. Jack was relieved. Nick seemed to be gaining some of his good humour back.

  “What about you, Nick? This where you wanna go?”

  “I’m takin’ my guy wherever he wants. Whaddya say?”

  “Well, we did say we was gonna come here when we got ourselves some jobs. So I say yes.”

  They went inside and Jack ate the first plate of spaghetti and meatballs he’d had in ages. They had breadsticks and salad and Jack felt like a king. Nick leaned close to Jack, and looked around to make sure that no one was listening. They laughed, reminiscing on some of the funny and crazy scenes at the theatre. Like the night when one of the entertainers was so drunk, he fell from the front of the stage and into the pit, landing in the lap of the piano player. Or when the curtain-puller had yanked on the pulls, and the entire apparatus came crashing to the stage. No one was hurt, but it had been hilarious the way everyone was all jumbled up in the heavy fabric, twisting and scrambling to get out.

  “Yeah, Nick, and remember when we went to the Red Head, and that dizzy dame was shimmyin’ on all the tables, and the dancehall girls was gettin’ jealous, tryin’ to pull her down?”

  “What I really remember was the gin. Too bad we don’t have somethin’ stronger to drink than this here Coca-Cola.” Nick tapped the bottle with his finger, then took a final swallow from it.

  Jack’s eyes widened. “But we don’t know any gin joints around here.”

  “I do.” Nick whispered.

  “What?”

  “I asked Bernie. He told me about a coupla places nearby—gave me the passwords.”

  “Can we afford eatin’ here, then goin’ there?”

  Nick bit off the end of a breadstick, and crunched away before answering. He used the rest of it to point at Jack whilst he talked.

  “We got twice the money comin’ in than we used to, right?”

  “Right.”

  “And we’re payin’ the same rent. We ain’t savin’ to move west, and we’ve been livin’ like low-down dirty rats for months now. Why don’t we just say fuck it, and have ourselves a good time? Come on, Jacky boy, let’s live a little!”

  Nick reached across the table and slapped him on his forearm.

  Jack felt a surge of excitement in him. Nick was right. They needed to let go and have a good time.

  “Sure, Nick. That sounds terrific.”

  “That’s my boy. Let’s pay this cheque and get the hell out of here. I need a cool gin and some hot jazz.”

  Chapter Twelve

  His head was a little fuzzy.

  Just the way I want it.

  Warmth flowed like a soothing tonic through Nick’s veins, courtesy of the three sloe gins he’d consumed in less than thirty minutes. The numbness was heavenly. Jack nursed a Foghorn. He sa
id the ginger ale and lime tasted good on the hot night.

  The club was even hotter. And it was loud. In addition to the jazz musicians wailing on trumpets, trombones, clarinets, piano, drums and upright bass, there were dancehall girls in sparkling skimpy outfits. Men and women danced wherever they could find a free spot, smoke from cigars and cigarettes hovered like a fog over everything, and of course there was the chatter and laughter of the jovial patrons.

  Nick looked over at Jack. His face absolutely shone. He was like a kid in a penny candy store with a bagful of coins. It was worth it. Everything was worth it to see Jack so happy. They were seated in the corner at a small round table near the stairs they had come down when they’d first arrived. This was the closest joint to where they’d been at the restaurant, so they’d come here first. Unfortunately, Bernie was also there with some of the guys from the studio, and if it hadn’t been for Jack’s excitement over going to the Silver Star—as the place was called—he would have headed right back out of there. So far, he’d done a fairly good job of keeping out of their way by going to the corner, despite how tight the space was.

  Jack shouted to him even though they were less than a foot from one another.

  “Nick, this is the fanciest place we’ve ever been to. The Red Head was nothing compared to this!”

  “Ha! That’s a laugh! This place is a dump.”

  Nick turned to look over his shoulder. A flapper who looked to be no more than twenty sat on the steps just behind them. She was absent-mindedly reattaching the garters to her powder-blue stockings, lifting the hem of her matching chiffon dress high above her knees without any concerns as to what might be considered improper. She wore a shimmering turban-style cap close to her head with a wisp of auburn curls peeking out from the sides, the rest of her hair cut very short in the back. She was willowy, and her movements reminded Nick of a hummingbird. She was filled with motion even as she sat on the stairs. Digging into the gold mesh bag that was attached to a thin short chain, she seemed to be desperately looking for something.