Porter (Dick Dynasty #1)

by David Michael

  “Honey,” he put a hand on my shoulder with a laugh, “you don’t need to worry about that. My days of seedy release parties are long gone. I mean, I invite my mother to these things! I can’t really have smut plastered all over my walls with her wandering around, can I?”

  I could only raise an eyebrow at him as my eyes went to the full-frontal billboard-sized print hanging on the wall over his shoulder.

  “Don’t even!” Preston put a hand over my eyes, “That is art. You’re comparing apples and oranges, my dear.”

  I bit my lip to stifle the giggle threatening to bubble out of my throat.

  “You’re insufferable, Holly Nash. Now I need a drink!”

  He took my arm captive once again and dragged me through the thick crowd without so much as bumping into another person. People called his name to get his attention as we passed, but he was a man on a mission and just waved them off with a smile.

  “Oh good,” he smiled over his shoulder, “my brothers seem to have taken a break from harassing my poor bartender. Marco!”

  The gorgeous Latino hunk behind the bar turned from the glasses he was drying and beamed a mega-watt smile at the man whose grip still held my elbow.

  “I was starting to think you’d never come back for me!” the bartender wailed.

  Ugh. The good ones are always gay.

  “Oh, honey, you know I could never leave you!” Preston leaned over the bar and planted a scorching kiss on him, tugging me halfway on top of the gleaming polished oak surface.

  “Preston, with a piece of ass like that on your arm, I know you could leave me in a heartbeat. Who’s the señorita bonita?”

  I blushed before I could help myself as Preston gently trailed a finger along my jawline and down my neck to my collarbone, “This delicious little morsel is Holly Nash. I picked her up on a corner out in WeHo last weekend. Doesn’t she clean up nice?”

  “Preston, she’s got about as much potential as a hooker as I do the Pope. Don’t try to bullshit a bullshitter. Let’s stick to things you know, honey. What can I get you and your pretty lady to drink?”

  Knowing that something with an absurd amount of alcohol and sugar was about to be forced upon me, I choked back the urge to groan in protest and waited for Preston to spew a complicated list of ingredients at the bartender.

  “Vodka martini. Dirty. Give us the goose.”

  Marco winked at Preston with a smirk and turned to mix our drinks, leaving me slightly awed that I wouldn’t have to choke down some fruity concoction of juice and too many alcohols to count.

  “Preston,” I tried my best to look worried, “have you given up on drinking yourself to diabetes already? No Mai-Tai Ocean Breeze Sunrise?”

  “The night is young, my dear!”

  Marco placed two tall martini glasses brimming with olive brine and vodka on the counter and smiled, “Never-you-mind the secret ingredient.”

  Preston threw down a tip, snatched the glasses off the bar, and threw an arm over my shoulder, guiding me away before I could ask any questions.

  “Do I even want to know what he meant by ‘special ingredient’?” I eyed the glass next to my face warily.

  “Like the man said, never-you-mind,” he released me from his grasp and handed me my drink before lifting his own in a toast, “To my penis. May it continue to make me enough money to pay for these parties!”

  I could feel the heat in my cheeks as I touched my glass to his and took my first sip of the cloudy, salty drink. Thankfully, I detected nothing but the sharp bite of vodka and the bitter, but satisfying, zest of olive brine.

  “Hear, hear!”

  I turned to see who had so vehemently joined in on our toast, teetering on my heels.

  The sight of his five-foot ten-inch frame, clad in a light blue fitted t-shirt, dark blue, almost black, Diesel jeans, a pair of black and white high-top Converse sneakers, and a black beanie sporting the DC Shoes logo sent a flood of heat through my stomach.

  Porter was so much hotter in person.

  The dark stubble on his square jaw stood in sharp contrast to his intense ice-blue eyes and I was powerless to stop the images of his lips trailing their way down my body as his tongue flicked out to moisten his bottom lip before he spread them to reveal a gleaming row of perfect teeth.

  The quiet moan that resonated in the back of my throat pulled me out of my reverie and my whole body turned red with embarrassment as I prayed that nobody else heard it.

  “Porter!” Preston yelled from my side, “Where the hell have you been hiding?” His excitement over seeing his oldest brother seemed to be on par with that of my vagina. If he had started weeping with joy, I might’ve mistaken them for one another.

  “I had to sneak out to the guest house and get a look at the reason we’re all here!” They embraced in a very manly hug, back pounding and all, before Porter turned that glistening, predatory gaze back to me, “Who’s your friend, little brother?”

  “Holly Nash,” I managed without collapsing to the floor like a swooning debutante. I extended my hand to him, mustering the best smile I could without looking like a mental patient.

  He clasped it in his own, massive palm, and bent down to touch those sultry lips to my knuckles without breaking eye contact.

  The electric pulse that shot through my body stiffened my nipples and dampened my panties.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Holly Nash. I’m Porter Hale.”

  I thanked the Heavens above that my tongue had been stupefied by his surprising display of chivalry because I hadn’t been able to say something stupid like, “I know who you are.”

  “Holly’s my date tonight,” Preston proclaimed, wrapping his arm through mine and pulling me against his side, “No touchy!”

  “I’m sure you could spare one of your dates for your big brother,” Porter pouted out his bottom lip and batted his lashes, “I promise to take good care of her.”

  “Go prowl somewhere else, you douche!” Preston laughed, “This one’s a keeper. I’m not gonna let you chase her off.”

  He dragged me away from the eldest Hale brother and I noticed that the further we got from him, the more of my brain I seemed to have control of. I made a mental note to stay as far away as possible for the sake of my own well-being.

  “Don’t let his public persona fool you,” Preston confided, “He’s actually a great guy. He’d go into the depths of hell and back for those of us who make it into his good graces.”

  “Hmm,” was the best reaction I could come up with.

  The last thing I needed in my life was a one-night stand with a porn star.

  I just had to convince the traitor between my thighs to agree with me.

  Porter Hale was trouble.

  I reached down and pulled the hard-on inching down my leg into an upward position and pinned it in my waistband, a trick I had learned in middle school to disguise those inopportune boners that popped up as I nervously made my way to the front of the class.

  “Who’s the babe with Preston?”

  I hadn’t heard him sneak up, but the voice was a familiar one and I didn’t have to take my eyes off Holly’s ass as she walked away to know that it was Parker.

  “Holly,” I informed our middle brother, “and I’m gonna do bad things with her.”

  “Send her my way when you’re done!” Something in his voice caused me to finally pull my attention away from the high hem of Holly’s dress and the way it rose up just a tiny bit with every step she took in those sinfully high heels.

  Parker and I are the same height and close to the same weight. His frame is a little bit broader than mine though, so he could probably afford to gain a few pounds. He always looked a little bit gaunt if you could see past the well-defined muscle, perfectly chiseled jawline, and shaggy, golden-blond hair.

  He was the only one of us that took more after our mom than our father. He had her hair, her mouth, her perfectly straight, slightly upturned nose, and her long, thick lashes. His eye color, like Preston’s a
nd mine, was that of our father’s: icy-blue.

  The color made it easy to spot his dilated pupils.

  “Really, Parker?” I questioned, trying to keep the accusation out of my voice.

  “What?” His eyes snapped to mine and blazed defensively.

  “You’re high as a kite right now. I’m not stupid,” I hissed the words in his ear so that other guests wouldn’t overhear, “Couldn’t you, for one fucking night, keep your shit together and support your baby brother?”

  “I’m fine!” he said in an attempt to placate me, “It was just a little bump. No harm done. I’m cool.”

  He brushed absently at his nose as his eyes scanned the room around me. They darted from face to face, never staying long enough to actually see anything. He was just trying to avoid eye-contact with me.

  “You’re something else, Parker.” I turned away from him and stormed off through the crowd, ignoring the cries of co-workers and fangirls alike as I made my way to the front door. I needed some air.

  I know he’s an adult, and in our industry, there are far worse drugs he could be addicted to, but he’s still my little brother. I guess I just can’t help but feel that I fucked up along the way somewhere and that some small part of me is responsible for him. Recreational or not, I hated that he had to be coked out of his gourd to deal with people. As the oldest, it’s my job to step up and make sure that my brothers were safe. It’s my job to make sure that they’re taken care of. It’s my job to keep them from making stupid decisions and ruining their lives.

  I needed to be a better role model, be more involved. He needed my help to get that shit out of his life for good. I should’ve—

  “You okay?” the concern in Preston’s voice cut off my self-destructive train of thought before I could drive myself over the edge.

  “Yeah,” I huffed and waited for him to call me out on the poorly delivered lie.

  “Bullshit,” he set his beer at the base of one of the tall pillars of the porch, “What did I miss? When I left you by the bar, you were all but busting a nut in your jeans over Holly. Now you’re out here rage-pacing by yourself in the driveway.”

  “It’s nothing, Preston. I just needed some air.” I couldn’t bring myself to break the news to him that our idiot brother was high on coke that he’d probably sniffed out of some whore’s bellybutton in a bathroom.

  “You’re pissed that Parker snuck off to get high, aren’t you?”

  My heart squeezed painfully inside my chest. I hated that Preston knew. I hated even more that he was so calm about it. The fact that one of his older brothers was high so often that it was normal to him made me feel even worse. How had I let this happen?

  “When did you become so observant, Preston?” I threw an arm around his shoulders and we stood there at the bottom of the steps staring down his car-lined driveway.

  “I always have been,” he said with a smile, “How do you think I stayed out of trouble as a kid? You and Parker made it easy enough. All I had to do was watch the two of you and take notes. Every time you guys got caught doing something you weren’t supposed to do, I figured out how I would do it better when it came to be my turn. Come to find out, I was usually right.”

  “Not always,” I chided, “You followed us into this mess of a profession, after all.”

  He smiled at me with genuine happiness shining brightly in his eyes, “I did. And it has afforded me a life that most people only dream about. Look around you, Porter. I earned all of this. I’m the king of this domain. And all I had to do was sleep with a few skanky bitches and take some terrifyingly large dicks in the ass.”

  I drew my brows together and scowled at him, “That’s all? That’s a pretty high price to pay if you ask most people, Preston.”

  Preston laughed and ducked out from under my arm, “We’re not most people, Porter,” he said with a smile, “and not all of the bitches were skanky and not all of the dicks were terrifying. For the most part, I love my job. Especially now that I have a name for myself and I can be a bit more selective when it comes to who I work with.”

  I recalled my own workday and cringed, “I wish I could say the same thing.”

  “I keep telling you, man-on-man is where it’s at! I make triple the money when I bottom, bro. You wanna make the big bucks, you gotta go where they pay.”

  It was a conversation we’d had several times over the years and it always ended the same way.

  I screwed up my face and covered my ass with both hands, “Not a chance. Just the thought of getting pounded in my man box makes me want to cry.”

  “It’s not that bad. Stop being a pussy. I know a few guys that’d be happy to break you in gently!”

  “I’ll pass, thanks,” I shook my head, trying to Etch-a-Sketch the visual away.

  “If you ever change your mind, let me know. I’ll make some calls.”

  Before the conversation could get any further off course, heavy bass began thumping through the speakers in the house.

  “Looks like Parker found the stereo again. We should probably get back in there before he trashes my house. Again.”

  I nodded in agreement, “He’s an asshole and not good for much most of the time, but the man knows how to work a crowd. He’ll have them in a frenzy in no time.”

  We stepped into the dining room where Preston always set up the bar during his parties. Parker had managed to set up a miniature stage, lost his shirt, and gathered a small group of women and gay boys to squeal at him while he danced. Dollar bills were quickly piling up at his feet and forming a hula skirt of sorts at his waist.

  “Leave him be, Porter. He’s harmless for now. Let him dance it off and have some fun.” Preston had to shout over the tooth-chattering hit of the bass, but I got the message loud and clear: He didn’t want to cause a scene.

  If there’s one thing our brother is good at, it’s causing a scene.

  “I need a drink.” I turned on my heel and before I could take two steps, slammed into someone, nearly knocking her over. Her squeal as she teetered backwards had my arm shooting out to catch her before she could crash to the floor with her martini.

  Holly lifted her head and shot me an accusing glare. There was so much anger blazing in her eyes that I half-expected her to shoot laser beams at my head.

  It made my dick hard again.

  “I’m so sorry, Holly,” I apologized lamely.

  “I know you’re probably used to using people as doormats,” she spat, “but you do know that’s just a figure of speech, right? You should probably watch where you’re walking.” She shook the spilled booze from her arm and stormed off toward the front door as Marco appeared to clean up the broken glass.

  “Fuck me!” I yelled as I sidestepped Marco.

  I hit the bar with a vengeance and poured myself a triple shot of Jack, which I tossed back like a college boy.

  I’m going to regret that in the morning…

  I put away two more before leaning down on the polished bar top and glowering in the general direction of the stage, invisible through the throng of adoring fans trying to stuff dollar bills down my little brother’s pants.

  “What’s wrong, Peanut?”

  The nickname brought a sentimental smile to my face even as I rolled my eyes.

  “Nothing, Ma. It’s just been a long day.”

  “Don’t you bullshit me, Porter Joshua Hale. I’ve been reading between your lines for thirty-two years, young man. Something is bothering you and you’re going to tell me what it is.”

  I’ve always had a weird Pavlovian response to the use of my full name. When I was a kid, I knew I was in deep shit if she threw in the middle name or, God help me, the words “Just you wait until your father gets home!”

  My whiskey-muddled brain fired in a furtive attempt to come up with a placating statement that would get me off the hook.

  “I’m worried about Parker is all,” knowing that she could sniff out a lie better than a drug dog could sniff out my brother, I had to go for a li
ght version of the truth.

  “You mean his drug problem?”

  I couldn’t mask my surprise and felt my eyebrows shoot so high they damn near joined my hairline.

  “Don’t look so shocked, Peanut. I was married to your father for twenty-eight years, God rest his soul. I know what this industry does to people. Honestly, I’m just thankful that only one of you struggles with it. Your father used to come home from parties just like this one higher than a kite. Parker’s lucky to have you looking after him. If anyone can talk some sense into that boy, it’s you. You always could.”

  “No pressure or anything,” I muttered under my breath, praying that the deafening pounding of the speakers would keep it from reaching her ears. No such luck. The woman can hear conversations in China if she puts her ear to the ground.

  “There shouldn’t be pressure to be who you are, Porter, and you are his big brother whether you like it or not. Do what you do best and take care of them. I won’t be around to do it forever, you know.”

  “Neither will I, Ma. When is it time for him to start acting like an adult?”

  “About ten years ago, Porter. He hasn’t had many role models in that department though. He’s got some catching up to do.”

  Her voice was soft, but those words were sharper than any knife she could have buried in my chest. She gently patted me on the back and kissed my cheek before she wandered off toward the kitchen; presumably to gather her purse and jacket before heading home for the night.

  “What the hell did you do to Holly?”

  “Jesus Christ, Preston! Can I catch a break? Five minutes! That’s all I ask! Five fucking minutes without being grilled by a family member about my failures of the evening!”

  My youngest brother raised an eyebrow at me and caught his bottom lip between his teeth.

  “Mom found you, didn’t she?”

  I blew out a long breath and rubbed my hands over my face, “Yeah.”

  “Queen of guilt trips strikes again!” he stepped around the bar and poured us both a shot from the bottle beside me, “Let’s drink about it.”