The TV went blank. The sound vanished, leaving loud silence behind. I stared at the glassy wall, not understanding what had just happened. Then Eryx stood up. He was holding the game system’s plug in his hand.
“Time’s up,” he said. “I want to watch a movie.”
Before I knew what was happening, I jumped him. Eryx’s eyes lit up and we went at it. We rolled around on the floor, pushing each other and trying to punch, but not doing much damage. I finally got Eryx on his back. My nose was bleeding and his lower lip was cracked. I drew back my fist to slug him in that sneering face when he started to laugh. That threw me, and I hesitated, my fist hanging in the air like a missile waiting to drop.
“You don’t even know,” he said, and a bloody bubble formed at the corner of his mouth. “A big fucking porn star, and you don’t even know.”
I stared down at him. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re famous, asshole. Everyone’s seen you. All of you.” That made him laugh again.
I got off him and stood up. I just didn’t get what he meant, but his laughter made my skin crawl. Eryx sat up and wiped his mouth. My nose started to hurt, and I pinched it to stop the bleeding.
“What are you talking about?” I said in that dead voice you always get when you hold your nose.
“Porn star, man,” Eryx repeated. “Shit, you’re the biggest fucking thing on the underground underage underdog set.”
I edged backward. He’d lost it. Crazy. Bedbug city. “Sure,” I said. “I’m famous. Right.”
“I’ll show you, asshole. Or maybe I’ll show your asshole.” Eryx laughed again. Then he went into Myron’s study.
Myron’s study is off the living room, a little room with a good view of Lake Trick. It’s the hub for Myron’s ethernet system, and all the computers in the house connect there. The desk top is always empty except for the computer and a few office supplies. Two locked filing cabinets guard the corners. Eryx sat down and flicked the mouse. The screen leaped to life and asked for a login and password. I looked around, suddenly nervous. The study was the one room Myron said we weren’t allowed to enter, and I knew it in my bones that he and Mom would come home and catch us. That’s the way it always works. Do nothing wrong and no one notices. Screw up even once, and that’s when someone sees.
Eryx entered Myron’s name. Then, to my surprise, he entered a password and the computer desktop appeared.
“You know his password?” I said stupidly.
“Duh,” Eryx said. “Check out this hard drive, porno boy.”
He clicked around and a bunch of pictures popped into view. I stared, then leaned over Eryx’s shoulder and stared some more. They were all of me. They ran something like this:
PHOTO 1: Danny sleeping face-down on his bed, wearing nothing but a pair of blue boxers.
PHOTO 2: Danny sleeping face-up, wearing the same boxers. The fly gapes a little, showing dark pubic hair.
PHOTO 3: Danny standing by the toilet taking a leak. The hand holding his dick hides it from the camera, but the thin yellow stream is easy to see.
PHOTO 4: Danny getting undressed in his room. His shirt is halfway over his head.
PHOTO 5: Danny in his room with a hand inside his jeans. He seems to be scratching.
I felt my face go solar heat. “What the fuck is this?”
“You haven’t seen the best one,” Eryx said.
He clicked the mouse and a video filled the screen. There I was in the shower, the camera looking down from above. Water ran over the video me, streamed over my skin, plastered my hair. The tinny sound of shower spray trickled from the speakers. A cold fist clenched inside my stomach.
“No,” I said.
“Fuck yes,” Eryx laughed.
I knew what was coming next, and I wanted to throw up. Instead I watched. The video me rinsed off a last bit of lather, then reached for soap again, getting a good fistful. Video me reached for his groin and started stroking. Jesus! There I was on the video, getting hard and pumping it for all I was worth. I felt sick as a poisoned dog, but I couldn’t have looked away if a cement truck had smashed through the wall. Video me paused a second, got some more soap, then went back to business.
“You got a good stiffy,” Eryx commented. I jumped—I’d forgotten he was there. “We’ve got videos of you getting ready for bed, waking up with morning wood, and beating off in your bedroom. The shower one is the most popular, though. Over three thousand downloads and counting.”
“Downloads?” I said. My kneecaps turned into marshmallows and I leaned against the wall. “What do you mean?”
“I said you were a porn star, dude.” Eryx called up a web browser and typed in a URL. It showed a site with some really boring-looking business graphs. Before I could say anything, Eryx skimmed down to the second-to-last graph and clicked on it. A login box appeared, and Eryx typed in a login and password. What the fuck was this?
Eryx clicked, and a jumble of images washed over the screen. All of them were of naked or near-naked guys, though their faces were blurred out. A box asked for another login and password, which Eryx gave. More graphics popped up, including one with my picture. I was smiling at something and not wearing a shirt. I had no clue where that picture had come from.
DANNY: OUR MOST POPULAR NEW CUTIE, said the caption. SCROLL DOWN FOR PICS AND VIDEOS.
Eryx scrolled down. Thumbnail photos of me coasted by in an obscene parade of skin. Eryx clicked on a couple at random and they ballooned into full size. I made a horrible sound in the back of my throat.
“Oh, calm down,” Eryx said. “It’s not like you’re the only one.”
He clicked the BACK button and scrolled down past several other half-naked guys my age until he came to a picture of himself, blond and grinning at the camera. He clicked on it, and a bunch more Eryxes appeared. He scrolled down and I got an eyeful of Eryx’s private, solitary sex life. Eryx didn’t seem at all bothered that I was seeing it.
“But wait, it gets better,” he said like a TV announcer.
Further down, the photos and stills became less solitary. Other people were in the pictures with him. Other men.
“What the fuck?” I yelped. I punched the screen’s power button and the images vanished.
Eryx turned in the chair, grinning through the dried blood on his cracked lip. “Dude, how do you think Dad affords this nice house and all this computer shit? We all have to pay rent. You’ve paid some, and you’re gonna pay more. It’s why Dad’s been so nice to you. He’s buttering you up for your turn to play horsie.”
“He thinks I’m gonna do that shit?”
“Sure. And the videos of it will go out live. Summer tourist season is over, but bow hunting season just started, and Dad always gets a little spike in business. When rifle season starts, he gets really busy. That’s why he needs a second boy.”
Eryx said the word second like an exclamation point. I was clearly second and he was first. In that moment I knew what had been going on all this time. Eryx was scared and jealous of me. He was afraid I was going to take his place.
“Is my mom in any of these?” I blurted out.
Eryx snorted. “Hell, no. The guys who visit have better taste than that.”
Normally I would’ve wanted to hit him for that, but I’d already been punched in the gut with a wrecking ball.
“We’ll call the cops,” I said.
“Yeah,” Eryx shot back. “Because the cops are all about helping people like you and me. Because the cops won’t keep these pictures off the news. Because the cops will stop everyone from learning you’re a porn star.”
I swallowed with a dry mouth. He was right. “Where are the cameras?” I said.
“All over,” Eryx said. “Mostly in the corners. Dad’s good at hiding them. They’re motion-activated, so they start recording the second you walk into a room.”
Anger overcame the nausea. I couldn’t completely understand the idea of thousands of men watching a video of me in the shower�
��the idea was too big, too sickening—but I could understand cameras. Cameras could be smashed.
“I’m getting rid of them right now,” I said, striding toward the door.
Eryx caught me by the arm. “The fuck you are. You break those cameras, and Dad’ll throw you and your mom out. He didn’t marry her, so it’s not like she could get alimony or anything. Both of you will be homeless.” He paused as a new idea came to him. “On second thought, go right ahead. It means you’ll be out of my life.”
I stared at him and he stared at me. Then I ran into the bathroom and threw up. When my stomach was empty, I sat down on the cold tile floor and cried. After a minute, I remembered that a camera in the bathroom was recording me right then. I threw up again, dry heaves that wrenched me from neck to knees. Once the spasms ended, I washed my face—dried blood was caked around my nose—forced myself to take a look at the ceiling. Up in two corners near the ceiling were bracket shelves with fake plants on them. I’d never really paid attention to them before, but now I stood on tiptoe and pushed the plastic leaves aside. Camera. It was tiny, with an antenna sticking up from the back. The second bracket overlooked the shower, and it had a camera as well. I thought about everything I had done in the bathroom and wanted to throw up again.
“Hey!” Eryx called from the other room. “I can see what you’re doing. Leave the cameras the fuck alone or you’ll be out on your ass.”
I snatched my hand back and ran into my room. It was the usual mess of clothes and DVDs and shit. Now I saw it through different eyes, the eyes of a thousand hungry perverts. Did they think my dirty laundry was a turn-on? What about my old underwear? My messy blankets?
I remembered the angle used in the pictures Eryx had shown me and figured the camera had to be above the door. I dragged a chair over and found it. Only the tiny lens showed through the drywall, easy to overlook. The camera itself was in a hollowed out area in the wall above the door frame. That somehow made it worse. The bathroom cameras were there casually, could almost be there by mistake. They saw anyone and everyone, including Myron. This camera was specially made and hidden to spy on me.
“Don’t even!” Eryx warned from Myron’s office.
I forgot—he could see me. Was anyone else watching? It suddenly felt like every eye in the world had turned toward me. Millions of invisible gazes piled on top of me, forcing me down off the chair. Their weight pushed me down to the floor, and I crawled across the carpet. Every limb felt heavy as an anvil. I hauled myself under my bed and lay there, pinned to the carpet. I wanted to leave. I wanted to run. I wanted to call the cops. But Eryx was right. Myron and Mom weren’t married. She and I didn’t have any claim on anything in this house except our clothes and a few Christmas decorations. Mom had the money from selling the house, but that wouldn’t last long. With Myron gone or arrested, we’d be out on the street. Mom doesn’t have any relatives that I know of, and Uncle Zack was dead. No one to go to. I huddled there on the coarse carpet and shook like a trapped animal.
Eventually I must have fallen asleep because the sound of the front door opening woke me up. My entire body tensed as I heard Myron’s voice.
“—son is here,” he was saying. “And another boy named Danny. This’ll be his first time, so whichever one of you takes him will have to pay extra.”
Two other male voices made “sure, okay” sounds. Cold adrenaline spurted through my body. I started to pant, then bit my lips to hold in the noise.
“Eryx! Danny!” Myron called. “Get out here!”
I heard shuffling noises from the room next to mine, followed by the sound of Eryx’s feathery footsteps on the hardwood hallway floor.
“Good-looking kid,” said one of the strangers. “How about the other one?”
I had a hard time believing this was happening. I was being bought and sold like a puppy or can of beans. This shit is supposed to happen in the city, in slums and crappy neighborhoods. Not out here in sporty, resorty Lake Trichonida. Not to me.
“Eryx,” Myron said, and in my head I saw his big, powerful hand pat Eryx on the shoulder. “Where’s Danny?”
0o0
We’re still hours and hours away from Florida. It’s still night, and the bus has cooled off. The fat guy got off two stops ago. I don’t even know where we are. Eryx is sleeping like a rock in his own seat. His mouth is open and he’s drooling. It’s gross. At least he isn’t leaning on me anymore.
I’m still awake. I’ve gone through sleepy and come out the other side. I’m restless and I’m trying not to do a bang-ass freakout. I need to go for a swim, feel the cold water of Lake Trick wash off all the dogshit that’s hanging onto me, but Lake Trick is a trillion miles away. All I can do is write. But when I write about what happened after Myron came home, my lungs feel like they’re full of sand. It’s hard to breathe, and I get black spots in front of my eyes. I need a break, so I’ll do something else.
0o0
Ganymede sat on a stone bench in the gardens at Crete. Night turned the shadows purple as Minos’s robe and made everything look lush and expensive and fake. His first finger itched where Minos had licked it. A foul taste was laid over his teeth like thick paste from when he had thrown up. His stomach was empty, but he didn’t feel hungry. A little fountain trickled water nearby. In the fountain was a statue of three little boys peeing in three different directions. Ganymede had thought the fountain was freaking hilarious when he’d first seen it. Now he wondered why Minos wanted it in his garden. He got up, rinsed his mouth out with water from the fountain, and sat down on the bench again.
Tomorrow. Ilos had said he would talk to Minos, and Minos would probably come for Ganymede tomorrow. Minos would take Ganymede to bed, do some shit, and then Minos would sign the trade agreement Troy needed so much. What was the big deal? Like Ilos said, being a prince wasn’t a free ride. It came with sacrifices, and this one was pretty small, really. Once the trade agreement was signed, Ilos and Ganymede would sail back to Troy and Ganymede would never have to see Minos again.
But the memory would go with him. Ganymede’s skin still remembered Minos’s every touch, the oily hair, the garlic mouth, the fingers chilly as dead worms. And he remembered how his own brother was going to arrange it. Maybe Ilos was talking to Minos right now. What was he saying? “Hey, that little thing in the garden was a misunderstanding, your Majesty. My kid brother actually thinks you’re the coolest thing since unwatered wine. He’s a great piece of ass, don’t you think? Now, about that trade agreement.”
Ganymede felt like he was going to throw up again.
A figure dressed in yellow came around the garden path. Ganymede didn’t feel like talking to anyone, but it was too late to find a place to hide. The figure drew nearer, weaving through the shadows like a little ghost, and Ganymede saw it was Phaedra. She was fourteen, and her yellow dress had a purple edge because she was Minos’s daughter. She had honey-blond hair, blue eyes wide enough to fall into, and a small nose. Phaedra was very pretty, but her beauty reminded Ganymede of a butterfly. If you touch a butterfly’s wings, the pretty scales come off. He liked Phaedra all right, and had kissed her once on this very bench. Then her father had started seriously chasing Ganymede around, and that had shoved all thoughts of Phaedra out of Ganymede’s head.
Phaedra slipped up to the bench and sat down. “Hi, Ganymede,” she said. Her voice was high and breathless.
“Hey,” he said shortly, hoping she would get the hint and leave him alone.
She didn’t. Instead, she slid a little closer until her thigh touched his. Her perfume was light and floral. Ganymede didn’t move away, but he didn’t press toward her, either. He had no feelings for Phaedra either way. This actually bugged him. Ganymede had heard lots of stories and poems and stuff about people falling in love, and he had seen his friends pair up lots of times. His dad seemed to love his mom a lot, too. But Ganymede himself had never fallen in love, even though he was already sixteen years old. Girls just didn’t grab him. Neither did boys. Was there some
thing wrong with him? Phaedra here was pretty, and a princess, and she seemed to like him. She should have been perfect, but Ganymede felt nothing for her. He had kissed her that one time, hoping to see if he could feel anything for her. It hadn’t worked.
“I talked to my father just now,” Phaedra breathed. “He thought it was a great idea. Your brother was there, too. He agreed.”
“Agreed?” Ganymede looked at her. “About what?”
She gave him a playful little slap on the shoulder and giggled lightly. “About us, silly.”
“Us? What us?”
“You’re so funny.” Phaedra took Ganymede’s hand and leaned against him like a wisp of damp silk. “We could probably do it next week if we hurried, though two weeks would be better. Mother cried when I told her.”
“Phaedra, I’ve got no clue what you’re talking about,” Ganymede said.
She looked at him in the deepening purple shadows, clearly puzzled. “We’re getting married, dummy.”
“We are?”
“Well, yeah.” Phaedra sighed, her small breasts barely moving beneath her dress. “It was very romantic, the way you kissed me here on this very bench. So sweet. I told Father that you were interested, and he thought we should get married as soon as possible. It would cement relations between Crete and Troy, he said. You’d live here, of course—I certainly couldn’t move to a backwater hole like Troy—and you could take over as the liaison between our two kingdoms. And Father said he would love to have you around all the time. Those were his exact words.”
Ganymede couldn’t speak. His future unrolled before him like a ball of black thread, and Ganymede saw Ilos handing him over to butterfly Phaedra; he saw himself waving from the dock as his brother’s ship sailed for Troy, while Phaedra stood at Ganymede’s side and Minos’s chilly, long-fingered hand gripped his shoulder.
Danny Page 4