Under the surface
I know one day this thing will kill me,
You’re my favorite mistake.
-- The Haunt, Cigarettes & Feelings
His notifications were getting a little out of hand now. It was already bad enough that every rat had seen and shared that stupid video; they didn’t need to contact him about it too. He checked the forum pretty frequently, even if he never posted on his page—the crowd could reach him that way and they knew it. Still, unknown numbers flooded his inbox and mystery callers filled up his voicemail with the weirdest, most unimaginable shit he’d ever heard; to say they were upset would be an understatement. He’d never understood why they cared about his love life so much, yet there was an entire group out there dedicated to documenting his escapades like a jealous ex-boyfriend. As soon as they’d found out he was in a committed relationship, all hell had broken loose. They’d caught onto Theo pretty early on, but what used to be vague interest had suddenly turned into an obsession—they just had to know how Laith had managed to land one of the Hollywood boys. Given how massively incorrect that line of thinking was, he wasn’t really worried it’d get anywhere. Still, Theo probably shouldn’t come down today; they’d meet up on the surface.
The only texts he cared to reply to had come from Emily and Sherry, congratulating him on his milestone. He sent them both a brief thanks and moved his day along—there was much to do. Justin had also texted him something of the same caliber, but since they’d already talked about this at Quince, he didn’t find it necessary to repeat himself. He and his friends left each other on read all the time; it didn’t matter.
Generally, when something happened in the extremely niche group of people hell-bent on stalking him, despite how big of a deal they made it seem online, it never bled into his day-to-day life. He could go about his business like any other person and get everything done without running into a single one of them. Today, however, the tunnels seemed different. Instead of moving out of his way with their heads down, rats stared at him, clearly looking for his plus one. He didn’t react, because if he went around punching everyone who looked at him wrong, it’d only make things worse, but leaving it on a passive note also didn’t feel right. He had to send a message, just not one that singled anyone out; a word to the lot of them. What that should be eluded him, though. He’d only managed to build the respect he had today by confronting his attackers face to face, but when it came to a great number of people who’d mostly done nothing wrong, he didn’t know what the right move was. Should he post on the fucking forum? Ugh, the mere idea sent shivers up his spine. No, there must be something more practical he could do.
In the back of his mind, he knew Sherry was the one to fix this. Since he worked for Burman, any scandal that involved him could easily be taken to the head of PR—if he wanted to do that. This was her literal job. Still, he couldn’t find it in himself to trust her, especially with something as big as this. They’d never been very close, even before she’d started dating Ryan—he kept all of Burman’s associates far away. Getting drunk and partying together didn’t automatically mean opening up; she didn’t know the first thing about him the same way he didn’t know the first thing about her. She didn’t open up either. He’d never say it out loud, but he was pretty convinced she’d only started speaking to him to act as Burman’s eyes, less obvious checkups. The timing checked out—two weeks after the hospital couldn’t be a coincidence.
The thought of approaching Punjab only crossed his mind when his subway raced by one of the Dead Ponies’ entrances. Since everyone thought Theo was one of his boys, then it should be in his interest to address that. Image was everything to him; if he didn’t fix this outright, then he’d at least have a pointer or two to give. Laith made sure to drop by his office on the way to Burman’s, after his last visit of the day.
“I’ve been expecting you.”
For as powerful as he was, Punjab was very small, about five feet tall and very thin. Sitting behind his desk, no one could tell; Laith only knew that because Punjab had opened the door for him last time. This time, it wasn’t locked.
“So you know why I’m here.”
“Yes. This is a rather unique situation, isn’t it? I never thought I’d see the day when one of my boys would go for you. It seems insistence really does pay-off.”
His eyebrows furrowed. “He’s not one of yours—that’s the point.”
“Yes, precisely. So you see the conundrum I’m in.”
Light filtered in through the window behind Punjab’s desk, casting a long shadow across the room. The darkness inside accentuated the brightness of the club. He leaned closer and rested both of his elbows on the desk, fingertips meeting. Laith watched him from the door.
“What’s his price?” Punjab asked. “He’s obviously very beautiful and the entire underground already thinks he’s one of mine; it’d be a simple transaction, really. The marketing team wouldn’t even get involved. I’d allow him the freedom to be with you, since you’re the one who brought him to me, but that’s the only exception I’m willing to make.”
Wait, what? As he began to make sense of Punjab’s words, his heart began to race. “Hold on, wouldn’t you want to fix this mistake? It’s—it’s slander; they’re lying about your business.”
“Oh, Shark, this is free advertisement! Hiring him would be a great investment; he’s already so well-known. My patrons won’t stop calling me about him, trying to meet up. The nature of my line of work is that I, without fail, must provide.”
His lungs collapsed, hard to breathe—this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Punjab couldn’t hire Theo; it’d ruin everything. Bringing him into the limelight would make the Crow notice him, learn about him, find out everything they’d been keeping from him. Laith would lose his job; the dogs would come after him—he couldn’t let that happen. Plus, the thought of much more handsome and interesting men taking Theo’s attention away was so painful that he couldn’t even humor it. Theo was pretty much the only thing he had going his way right now; he needed him.
“Hey, listen…” His brain worked fast, trying to come up with something to say. The first thing he could think of was what everyone had been using against him for the last two weeks. “He’s eighteen, I mean, are you sure hiring him is a good idea?”
His question put a scowl on Punjab’s face. Dark eyes glanced off as he leaned back in his seat, silhouette darkened by the neon lights behind him. As if making up for his lack of height, the backrest of his chair was very tall, like a throne. “Well, that is a little young… Oh, no matter; we’ll advertise him as twenty-one. The younger they look, the more popular they are.”
Shit. A breath held in his throat—this guy wouldn’t give up. His mind had already been made; there was nothing Laith could say to change it. Punjab hadn’t heard him before and wasn’t about to hear him now; he needed someone else involved, much more powerful, who could tip the scales. There was only one person who could do that, and even if this was his worst idea yet, he’d have to take it; there was no other way.
“If you’re rolling with this, you’ll have to speak to the Crow. I don’t know that he’ll be very interested in having his son tangled up in your business, though—he has other plans for him.”
“Blue’s his son?” A hand came up to touch Punjab’s chin. The frame of his chair flashed pink and white in quick succession, a strobe light effect. “Huh… yes, I see the resemblance now. How unfortunate.”
“He doesn’t know about the video yet,” Laith continued. “Are you gonna be the one to tell him? Because if you’re hiring his son, he’ll want to know why.”
Dark eyes took notice of his stature, standing by the door. It was very clear that, were Punjab to say yes to that, Laith would kick the door down in his next visit. He swung the bat for emphasis, bringing it up to rest over a shoulder.
“That wouldn’t be very prudent of me. Raging war against my dear cousin would only bring me debt,” the man spoke pensively, watching Laith through a squint. “This is quite the predicament indeed.”
He parted his lips to follow up, but Punjab beat him to it.
“Alright, here’s the plan, then—we don’t tell him about the video. Let’s keep this entire venture away from him; if he doesn’t know Blue’s his son, then no one has to change that. Josh, get in here.”
The command brought a big man into the room.
Wait.
“Tell Burman and her people to keep the video from the Crow; it’s imperative that he remains unaware of Blue’s identity. Also, tell Deborah to get me a new wardrobe, size small, and fix up a bedroom for the newcomer. You don’t happen to know his shoe size, do you, Shark?”
“Uh… no.”
“No matter; get me everything between nine and eleven. Does he have any allergies?”
“You’re planning for something that might not happen,” he interrupted. “He hasn’t signed anything yet.”
A sharp snort left the man’s nose. “Of course he’s going to sign, Shark—everybody signs. I don’t think you realize I’m the one holding the no’s. Josh, draft up a contract for tomorrow; Shark will come by with a very special guest.”
“No, I don’t think I will.”
Before Punjab had the opportunity to respond to that, he left the room and slammed the door, pulse jumping. Who the fuck did he think he was? Just as that question crossed his mind, he remembered the answer. Alright, so he was incredibly powerful and important, but that still didn’t warrant such arrogance. Well, okay, so maybe it did, but it still made him a fucking dick. On the bright side, at least the video wouldn’t reach the Crow—right? Or would it only not reach him if Theo signed? His throat closed, feet taking him deep into the club. He wasn’t sure what was worse, if Theo was forced to sign or if he did it of his own volition.
***
Only a few feet from the exit, a hand grabbed his arm. It yanked him back a step, turning him around only to see the devil himself, shirtless with stars glued to his face. His hair was tied back today, half up in a bun, half down in long locks and stray braids, much longer now. His beard was longer too, a perfectly full face trimmed at the bottom, following his jaw line. He smelled of oranges soaked in vodka, eyes sharp, blue stars matching their hue. Laith’s heart made for his throat. They’d vowed to never see each other again.
“So you’ve finally made it to Hollywood, huh.” Ben’s low voice dragged his syllables out, past his drunken lips.
The grip on Laith’s arm was tight, and as he fought it, their feet shuffled. Unsuccessful at breaking apart, he ended up stumbling near the metal fence that kept the crowd from approaching the stage. His free hand dropped his bat to grab it, but as soon as his weight pushed it back, he realized that was a bad idea—the music was too loud for him to hear the bottom scrape across the floor. Fortunately, Ben kept him from losing his balance, practically holding him upright. On second thought, that wasn’t very fortunate at all.
“How insufferable you’ve become.”
He grabbed Ben’s arm, feet moving to steady himself. The moment he regained balance, he shoved Ben on the chest just hard enough to put a foot or so between them. It really put into perspective just how strong he’d gotten in these last few years, if he’d grown able to move this mountain of a man.
“Oh, don’t think putting on a couple of pounds makes you tough now,” Ben continued, still holding his arm.
His grip pulled Laith closer, forcing him to fend Ben off with two forearms on his chest. Even though they were almost the same height now, Ben was still broader than him, just not by much anymore. If he wasn’t so terrified, Laith would be fighting him off much more successfully, but the fear that froze his veins made it difficult to move. Not to mention that being this close to Ben again brought a handful of very conflicting feelings back—it’d been so long.
“You’re still the same pathetic slut I met seven years ago, only you have no self-respect left. How much of your soul did you have to sell for a piece of heaven?” Ben pulled him closer for the next part, lips on his ear. While his immediate reaction was to jump and squirm away, part of him almost didn’t want to. His hands pressed flat over Ben’s chest, half on the verge of shoving him off again, but mostly just feeling the warmth of his body. Breath came in short.
“It’s not real if you’re paying for it.”
Those words almost didn’t register as Ben’s hair brushed him on the face, oranges deep in his lungs. His hands made to push Ben off, but for a moment, he considered not doing it. He could slip both arms under Ben’s own and hold him instead, bury his face into the crook of his neck, breathe him in. Holy shit, he’d missed him. He turned his head, nuzzling into the side of his face a bit, his beard. Ben made it so their foreheads touched, noses a hair apart.
“Jesus Christ, you still want this, don’t you?”
A snort turned into laughter as Ben stepped away, finally letting go of his arm—he knew Laith wouldn’t be going anywhere. The ridicule brought color to Laith’s face, jaw set tight. His hands balled at his sides, squeezing his gloves into his palms, arms shaking—he wouldn’t cry. Even though his eyes filled up with tears, he kept them at bay with a big breath, chest puffed out.
He really fucking hated him.
“What do you want?” That question didn’t come out nearly as ugly and threatening as he’d hoped. His voice was way too soft, compromised by the humiliation that almost put a tremble in his bottom lip.
Ben noticed that, grinning still. His affability was tight and humorless, fabricated. “Everyone’s talking about you, Shark—I just wanna know how you did it.” That name didn’t belong in his mouth.
“It’s a simple transaction,” Laith echoed Punjab’s words. “I’m sure you get it.”
“Man, who knew being an errand boy could be so profitable? I might have to ask Burman for a raise. What are you, too good to be with the rest of us now? Wouldn’t waste your breath on someone who doesn’t look like they belong on the big screen?”
The need to spill out the truth came up his throat like a bullet, but he swallowed it down. Still, in the back of his mind, a very small voice told Ben that he, too, belonged on the big screen if he wanted to. Laith knew that wasn’t what he meant, though.
His silence prompted Ben to continue. “To be fair, there’s nothing like a pretty boy under your arm to get your name making the rounds. I get that—I just don’t think you need it. I already gave you the fame you wanted.” Ben took a step closer, kicking Laith’s bat under the fence. Laith didn’t move. “Is that it or do you just want someone who won’t say no to you?” His question was a whisper in the space between them, easily extinguished. A hand came up to touch Laith’s hair, gentle, brushing a stray lock off his forehead. “Someone inexperienced,” Ben continued, “who trusts you completely. A loyal little lap dog.”
Laith breathed in deeply, trying to ignore how quickly his heart hammered. His eyes closed as a flurry of memories flashed past, everything they’d done together, every feeling stirred within him, his first time. His throat closed, barely able to let any air through.
No, he wasn’t Ben and he wasn’t continuing the cycle with Theo.
“You know that’s not my type.” His voice was so small it almost got lost under the booming music.
“Then why are you with someone so young?”
“It just happened.”
“No, the way I see it, I rubbed off on you. I mean, we’re not so different, are we? We’re into the same fucked up shit. What I did to you—” Ben grabbed his face, fingers on his jaw. “—what you begged me to do to you—” The fingers squeezed, digging into his cheeks. “—you loved it. You ate it up every single time. Why wouldn’t you go out there and do the same to someone else? It just makes sense.”
A lump grew right in the middle of his throat, eyes burning. “I wasn’t even his first.” Speaking was difficult—he sounded ridiculous—but he managed to push his words out, even if all that did was humor Ben. The corners of his lips curled into a sharp smile, blue eyes watching Laith very closely. It seemed he’d sobered up in the span of a minute somehow, with how grounded he was all of a sudden. Ben’s smile wasn’t kind at all, but it still put a skip to Laith’s heart—he’d done good; he’d done the right thing. Under the false premise he was on Ben’s good side now, he touched his arm in an attempt to lower it.
No give.
“You’re sleeping with a hooker, dumbass; of course you wouldn’t be. Then again… were you hoping to?” Ben asked. “Did you wanna ruin him?”
“No.”
Ben’s hand squeezed harder, painfully this time, sending a twinge all the way up Laith’s skull. When his eyes shut, the tears dripped. He hadn’t meant for it to happen, to look so weak in front of Ben, especially after so long. He’d done a lot of growing up in these last few years, but for some reason, all it took was Ben’s presence for his progress to jump out the window. Just like that, he was back on the stage, a little puppet on strings. Ben’s behavior in particular—his antagonism; this charged energy between them—not only brought him back in time, but dragged him to the worst day of his goddamn life, when he’d felt absolutely worthless, the worst it’d ever been. His chest constricted with the memories, lungs defective.
As soon as the tears touched Ben’s hand, the grip was gone, leaving what felt like a ghostly imprint behind. The abrupt disconnect pushed Laith’s feet two steps back. Meeting Ben’s eyes again, he found a strange softness there, the kind that would still cut him if he wasn’t careful—familiar. He wiped the tears very quickly, as if they’d never fallen at all. That was such a common sight that embarrassment never even crossed his mind. Ben never mentioned the awkward spots he put Laith in and what he was forced to do to get out; it was all part of the game.
“I’m not like you,” he defended.
“No, you’re not,” Ben quickly added, speaking before he could get another word in. “I’ve never needed to pay for sex; I’ve always had everyone I wanted. Here’s the thing, though—you’re the same case. That’s why I’m so confused.”
“I chose him.”
“I’m assuming he didn’t choose you.”
They held the stare—no, Theo had. In fact, he’d chosen Laith so forcefully that it’d given him whiplash; he’d needed three weeks just to make sense of it. The transformation his innocent crush had undergone had been so massive that it was barely recognizable at this point. Laith was pretty convinced it wasn’t a crush anymore, but something a lot more intense now. “You don’t know the first thing about him.”
“Should I?” Ben asked. “Maybe I’ll pay him a visit. Expensive, sure, but if you’re so adamant about it, then it must be for a reason. He must be really good.”
“Good luck finding him.”
A swift movement picked up the bat as he started for the exit again—he knew what walking out on Ben entailed. His legs stuttered a bit, still instinctively tied to the fact he should never do that, but he forced them to move anyway. Part of him wanted Ben to be angry, to grab his arm and pull him close again, if only to fill his lungs with oranges one last time. On the other hand, he really just needed to leave; they shouldn’t even be talking. He held a breath, already expecting the tug, the violent grip on his arm.
It never came. Instead, Ben spoke to him, making him pause all the same. “Puppy.”
That nickname froze him with a boot just about touching the floor. A tidal wave of emotions washed over him, good and bad—a reminder of what he’d lost and of what he’d feared. He didn’t turn around, keeping still. Ben already knew he was listening.
“You don’t need to pay for attention.” Ben’s voice was quiet, just above the booming music. Somehow, Laith’s heartbeat was still the loudest sound of all. “If you want it, you know my address.”
His brain failed to make sense of that, and without a word, he walked out of the club.
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