Blunt nails scraped down his back. “Looking for someone?”
Levi turned midstep. Sonny stood behind him, fresh offstage in nothing but a sheen of sweat and a pair of tight designer underwear. Levi’s breath caught. He’d been staring at Sonny for most of the night, but somehow, it hadn’t occurred to him that they might cross paths. “I, uh, was getting my shirt.”
Sonny glanced between him and the rumpled shirt. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped, narrowing his eyes. He stared hard at Levi, squinting in the murky light of the corridor and tilting his head to one side. “What the fuck happened to you?”
“What?”
Sonny reached out and traced a fingertip along his injured forearm, then touched the healing gash on his abdomen. “You’re hurt. What happened?”
Levi shrugged, caught off guard by the question and sorely unprepared for the sensation of Sonny’s light touch. He considered lying, telling Sonny he’d fallen off his bike, but he didn’t. He didn’t say anything.
Sonny’s hand hovered. Levi was almost sure he saw a tremor run through it, but then Sonny dropped it back to his side. The other dancers began to filter offstage and into the narrow corridor. A couple shot Levi curious stares; a few waved. Levi grinned back. He knew some of them by name, but not all. He’d never taken enough notice to care.
Sonny said something. Levi missed it over the pounding beat of the music. He leaned forward, frowning. Sonny met him in the middle, bringing his lips so close to Levi’s ear, his warm breath washed over Levi’s neck. “Come with me.”
He grabbed Levi’s hand and turned, tugging him forward. Levi followed him without thinking, all the way back to the fire escape, but before they reached the exit, Sonny opened the door to the backstage storeroom and pulled him inside.
Levi cast his gaze around the shelves of props and disused office equipment. He drifted to Jon’s old desk and hauled himself up to sit on it.
Sonny leaned against a battered filing cabinet, his gaze shrewd and appraising. “So?”
“So what?”
“So…” Sonny folded his arms across his chest. “It’s been a while. How’s the prep going?”
Levi shifted. Sonny had watched all his scenes, seen him jerk off with his fingers up his own ass, and yet he could still make him squirm with an arch of his goddamned eyebrow. “It’s, uh, going fine.”
“Yeah, right.” Sonny snorted, his disbelief clear. “You’ve been ignoring me for days. What’s up? Been too busy with Kai?”
“What?”
“Kai,” Sonny repeated. “He’s pretty sweet on you, and I saw you with him earlier…” He trailed off, averting his sharp gaze.
“Saw what? Some kid jumping all over my lap?”
“Some kid? You fucked that kid seven ways from Saturday a few weeks ago.”
“What?” Levi was used to Sonny’s pugnacious nature—used to him shouting down everything he said—but not quite like this. He took in Sonny’s jittery hands and dilated pupils. What’s up with that? “Are you pissed that I didn’t call you back? You said you were busy.”
“I’m not pissed. I just…”
“What? You said you were busy. Somethin’ wrong?”
“No.” Sonny pushed himself from the filing cabinet and ran his restless hand through his damp hair. “I was busy. I was busy with school. I had midterms. You know there’s more to life than porn, right?”
Levi ignored the veiled barb, ignored the strange sensation he felt at knowing Sonny had been watching him as much as he’d been watched himself. He wasn’t in the mood to lock horns with him, not tonight. He’d had enough fighting in recent weeks. “You’re a student? Thought you said you were twenty-two.”
“I am,” Sonny said shortly. “I started late. What’s that look for? Something wrong with getting an education?”
“No, no.” Levi held up his hands. “I went to school, for a bit, anyway.”
“What happened?”
“Life.”
His clipped answer seemed to make sense to Sonny. He nodded. “Did you go to school here in California?”
“Penn State.”
“Bet you were a jock, though, right?”
“Nope. Mechanical engineering. Was nearly done with it too, before this shit got in the way.”
His candor surprised even him, and Sonny’s eyes widened. Levi noted a bloodshot tinge he’d never seen before. Damn. Is he high?
He found the notion horrifying. He’d seen drugs at Silver before. Hell, he’d seen them just about everywhere, but the idea of Sonny touching that crap made him feel sick inside. He had to be wrong; he had…
Sonny shivered, wrapping his arms around himself and reminding Levi that he was standing in the drafty storeroom in his underwear, his heated, sweat-sheened skin now chilled and cold.
Levi opened his arms on instinct. Sonny stepped into them with equal lack of thought. Levi wrapped his arms around Sonny’s shoulders and rubbed his palms over the coiled, defined muscles of Sonny’s biceps. “Do you want my shirt?”
Sonny chuckled. “It would look like a dress. You’re, like, a foot taller than me.”
“Don’t do drag, huh?”
“Nope. Do you?”
“What do you think?”
Sonny shifted, wedging himself between Levi’s legs and resting his forehead on Levi's chest. His sigh was soft against Levi’s skin. “I think there’s a lot you still don’t know about yourself.”
Levi bit back his flippant retort. Sonny liked to push his buttons and rattle his cage, but he seemed different tonight, like his wicked sense of humor was somewhere else. Without it, Sonny was dark and intense, and Levi could feel an undercurrent of something simmering beneath his smooth, tattooed skin. His skin… God, that skin. Levi closed his eyes.
Another tremor ran through Sonny. Levi looked down at the sight of his arms and legs wrapped tight around Sonny’s body, consuming him, caging him close. In the same moment, Sonny opened his eyes and looked up. Levi drew him closer, reached out and cupped his face. Sonny sucked in a shaky breath. “We can’t.”
“Can’t what?”
Sonny closed his fingers around Levi’s wrists. “We can’t do this, not yet, not now.”
Levi leaned down, his face an inch from Sonny’s. “Says who?”
“Says me.” Sonny peeled Levi’s hands from his face and dropped his head, taking Levi’s nipple in his mouth. He sucked on it, drawing those damned short nails down his chest. Levi shuddered. Sonny brought him alive in ways he’d never imagined, but the sensation of his warm tongue teasing him was almost too much.
“Fuck.”
Sonny released him with a wet hiss. “Yeah? And what about this?”
He moved his mouth over Levi’s abdomen and chest, ghosting his sensitive skin in places, licking and nipping in others, until Levi couldn’t stand it.
Levi groaned and shoved his fingers into Sonny’s damp hair, yanking his head to one side and burying his face in Sonny’s neck. He sank his teeth into the soft flesh he found there. Sonny gasped, arching his body, and his hard, constrained cock ground into Levi’s groin. Levi tightened his grip on every part of Sonny he could reach, touching him, tasting him, breathing in the sweet scent of his silky hair and smooth skin. It was too much, and yet not enough. He wanted more.
In his arms, Sonny trembled, responding fiercely until he reared up and pushed him away. “No.”
Levi came back into himself, panting. Took in the teeth marks on Sonny’s neck. He looked down. There were red scratches on his own chest, and somehow, his jeans had found their way open, and his rock-hard cock was half-out. How the fuck had that happened? “I’m sorry, I—”
“No! You don’t fucking get it. Don’t you see? You need this…” Sonny gestured between them. “You need to want me the way you do now. You have to, or this scene is going to break you.”
Levi opened his mouth and shut it again. Sonny’s words hit him like a wrecking ball, and Levi knew without a doubt Sonny was right. He co
uldn’t face the three-way scene without Sonny. Hell, these days it seemed he couldn’t face anything without Sonny. “I can do it.”
“I know you can.” Sonny closed his eyes, banging his head on Levi’s chest. “It’s going to be all right. Let Rex do his thing. Then you can have me, okay? You can have me any way you want me.”
Levi was silent for a while, entertaining himself with Sonny’s hair while he considered his words. “You can have me any way you want me.” Did he really want to have Sonny that way? What about Sonny? What did he want? What did he need? And what did any of it even mean? He felt a connection to Sonny that he’d never felt for anyone before, sexual or otherwise, but their relationship was built on…on what? On nothing as far as Levi could see. It didn’t make any sense, and yet he knew without doubt that it was real.
Eventually, he grew weary and sighed. “How did this happen?”
“What?”
“This—you, me,” Levi said. “I don’t even like you.”
Sonny shrugged. “Yeah, well. The feeling’s mutual. The way you make me feel pisses me off.” He brushed his lips over Levi’s chest one final time before he disentangled himself from the grip of his thighs. “I’ve always hated you. Do you know we’ve worked in the same studio, hung out at the same club for two years, and you’ve never even spoken to me? I live, like, three blocks from you, and you walk past me on the street like I don’t exist.”
“What?” Levi didn’t believe that. It was true that he’d written him off as a bitchy twink, but he’d always, always looked twice. Sonny was too beautiful to ignore. There was no way he’d ever walked past him. “I saw you. I let you hustle me home and cooked you dinner. How is that ignoring you?”
Sonny scrubbed his hands over his face. He seemed rattled. “You wouldn’t have chosen it that way. I saw you and jumped your ass. Listen, I gotta go, but I’ll see you at the shoot, okay? Call me if you need help before then.”
He backed away.
Levi stared at the door, transfixed by the gaping void Sonny had left behind. It felt strange to be alone again, like he was in limbo, waiting to realize something really fucking important.
His cell phone roused him. He fumbled for it, answering without checking the screen as he tucked his still-hard dick back in his jeans. “Yeah?”
“Levi?”
“Mr. Draper? What’s wrong?”
“It’s your momma, son. You need to come home.”
Chapter Eleven
“Levi?” Mr. Draper touched Levi's shoulder with his gnarled, weathered hand. “Levi, son? The police want to talk to you.”
“Can it wait?” His voice sounded hoarse and weak, like he hadn’t used it in days. He cleared his throat. “Tell them to wait.”
Mr. Draper left the room, his usual shuffling footsteps silent against the shiny hospital floor. The door closed with a quiet click behind him, leaving Levi alone again— alone with all that remained of his mother.
He took a deep breath. Closed his eyes. He never saw the body after his father had turned his shotgun on himself. It was a bright spring day. He’d gone to school as usual, and by the time he came home, the only thing left of his father was the bloodstained, plastic tarpaulin someone had forgotten to remove from the porch.
This was different—Bella wasn’t dead, not yet. She was still alive—for now, at least. A young Asian doctor with a black head scarf and kind eyes had told him it wouldn’t be long.
Levi opened his eyes and ran his gaze over her, squeezing her thin, fragile hand. On the surface she didn’t look so bad—the hospital team had cleaned her up before he’d got there—but he could see the deformities in her shoulders and the strange indents in her chest. He was sure if he pulled the sheets back, he’d see the wheel marks of the pickup truck all over her broken body.
She didn’t stand a chance. Mr. Draper said it was an accident, that she had milk from the all-night store in her purse, but Levi wasn’t buying it. Bella didn’t drink milk at three a.m. There was no reason for her to be walking the streets in her nightgown, no reason at all. One parent had taken the easy way out. Why not her? She let out a weak, shuddering whoosh of air. He held his breath, but after an unending moment, she began to breathe again.
Not yet. Not yet.
“Mr. Ramone?”
He jumped. Somehow he’d missed the door ghosting open again. It was a nurse this time. She stepped into the room, assessing Bella with an appraising glance. “Why don’t you step outside for a few moments? We just need a few minutes. We’ll find you if anything happens.”
Levi stepped outside. He was bone weary, so tired his body ached with every step. It had been hours since Mr. Draper’s call tore him from his Sonny-filled haze in the storeroom of the club. Somehow, though, he was wide-awake, so awake he felt like he’d never sleep again.
He sank down onto a hard plastic chair in the busy ER corridor. It didn’t take long for the police to find him. They ushered him into a side room, leaving the door open for an officer to keep an eye on Bella’s room. An overweight, middle-aged beat cop pulled up a chair opposite. “Sorry, son. We’ll try and keep this quick. I take it you know what happened?”
Levi bristled. Son? He could take it from Mr. Draper, but not from the cops. His momma was clinging to life by a fast-eroding thread. He wasn’t anyone’s son anymore. “She got hit by a truck.”
“Yes, I’m sorry. It appears that she was crossing quite a way down from the pedestrian crossing outside the general store. The area isn’t well lit at the best of times, and the truck had a light out. Do you have any idea why she wasn’t at home and asleep at that time of night?”
“No.”
“Your mother’s neighbor said you buy groceries and deliver them to her. When did you last see her?”
Guilt burned a path from Levi’s chest to his stomach. He’d missed his weekly checkup with Bella. The first time in years. “Two weeks ago.”
“How did she seem? Was she her usual self?”
He snorted; he couldn’t help it. “Yeah, she was her usual self.”
The officer nodded and made a note. “Your mother has high levels of alcohol in her system. Your neighbor says that’s not unusual. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“Is she an alcoholic?”
“Yes.”
There was silence as the officer turned over a page in his notebook. Levi looked around the room, taking in the shabby equipment and faded pictures on the walls. Trust Bella to wind up at the worst ER in LA.
The officer cleared his throat. Levi glanced back at him, feeling somewhat detached. He kept waiting for the gravity of the situation to feel real, but it hadn’t happened yet. Maybe he was still drunk himself, though the buzz of his night at Silver seemed a lifetime ago.
“Mr. Ramone, do you believe it’s possible your mother was trying to…”
Urgent movement in the corridor cut the officer off. A nurse appeared in the doorway. “You need to come with me.”
Levi shoved his chair back and pushed past the officer at the door. He followed the nurse to Bella’s room, bypassing her when she trailed to a stop. He reached Bella’s bedside and took her hand. At first it seemed that nothing had changed, but then he heard it, the faltering stutter of her failing heartbeat. A doctor hurried in. The chick was young; she didn’t look much older than him.
“It’ll be quick now.”
He nodded, his gaze fixed on Bella. Her eyes were closed, her face smooth. They’d been saying for hours that she was beyond feeling any pain, and he believed them. She hadn’t felt much of anything in so long.
Transfixed, he squeezed her hand as her chest made a strange rattling sound, and he brushed her hair away from her face. Bella had been a beautiful Southern belle once, but now her features were ravaged by years of misery and alcohol abuse. Paper-thin skin and frail bones. He’d always known the booze would kill her, but he’d never imagined he would say good-bye to her like this.
She shuddered. He watched the tremor travel thr
ough her body. To him it seemed like an animal shedding its skin, like she was trying to wriggle out of her life and force her way into whatever came next. The thought almost made him smile; then he noticed her chest was no longer moving.
He watched her for a long while, though in reality, it might have only been moments. Sometime later, he felt the hand of a stranger on his shoulder, and he knew she was gone. His momma was dead, she was free, and for the first time in years, so was he.
* * * *
He drove back to Bella’s house in a daze. Her death had been quick and painless—for her, at least—but the formalities that came next had gone on for hours. Death certificates, funeral homes, donating her only fully functioning organs—her eyes—to be used for medical research—the list was endless. It was early evening by the time he pushed open her unlocked front door.
The house was just as she’d lived—chaotic and loud. It struck him as morbidly ironic that her last moments had been so quiet and peaceful. He passed through the cluttered kitchen and into the living room. The TV was still playing one of the quiz shows she’d enjoyed so much. He crossed the room in two strides and shut it off, exasperated. Why couldn’t she shut the damned thing off?
He turned in a slow circle, searching for a point of focus. His gaze fell on the bureau, half-hidden by the open door. It was beside the liquor cabinet. He swiped a bottle of bourbon from Bella’s stash and opened the first drawer.
It took a while, but he eventually unearthed a pile of official-looking papers and envelopes. He carried them, the bourbon, and a glass into the disused dining room and sat down at the table. Though he’d spent more time than he cared to remember toiling through Bella’s finances, the stack of paperwork seemed imposing. The first inch of hard liquor helped, but not much. Though he poured another, he knew he wouldn’t drink it.
He reached for the closest thick envelope. It was weathered and dog-eared, like it had been opened again and again and stuffed back in its drawer. Inside, he expected to find bundled-up betting slips or evidence of hidden debts he knew nothing about, but instead, his fingers closed around banded stacks of photographs. Bewildered, he pulled them out and set them in front of him. There were dozens and dozens of them, arranged in chronological order and spanning decades and decades of Bella’s life.
Blue Boy 1: Bullet Page 8