One Shot

by Vicki Tharp

  “This adds a complication,” Niko said. “Have you thought—”

  “Uh, Niko.” Sebastian cut in. “That call?”

  Niko cut his eyes to his nephew. “Who is it?”

  Sebastian swallowed hard and took a step back. “Peter.” He half-whispered the word as if ready to make a run for it if Niko exploded.

  Niko’s eyes closed for a beat as he took in a deep breath. “Tell him I’ll call him back.”

  “He says it’s urgent.”

  “With Peter, it’s always urgent. As soon as I’m done here—”

  Sebastian scrunched up his nose. “He was crying.”

  “Fuck.” Niko stood. “This is why relationships are a bad idea. This should only take a minute.”

  Sebastian took his pen out of his back pocket again and approached Alex. Niko clapped a hand on the back of his nephew’s neck and ushered him toward the door. Before Niko left the room, he turned back and said, “While I’m gone, you two talk about that extra scene.”

  3

  Elijah chuckled. “So... Not a furry porn star.”

  “What just happened here?” Alex looked dazed.

  “Pretty sure you got fangirled.” Then Elijah looked Alex up and down. Alex was a good half-a-head taller than Elijah, and he was six foot. Alex had to have the wingspan of a bald eagle. “Pitcher?” Elijah guessed.

  Alex nodded, the wattage in his eyes dimming like a New York City brownout in the summer.

  “What happened?”

  Alex tugged the sleeve of his dress shirt up, exposing the four-inch scar on the inside of his right elbow. “Happened during my Major League debut with the Los Angeles Grizzlies two years ago.”

  “Sorry, dude. That’s...” Elijah didn’t know what to say. “That’s...”

  “Fucked up,” Alex said. “But it is what it is.”

  Alex rolled his sleeve back down as if leaving it up left him feeling more exposed. “About that extra scene...”

  For the first time, Elijah allowed his gaze to drop to Alex’s lips and the scruff of blond stubble surrounding them. He’d always been partial to scruff on a man, and it would be a lie if he said he’d never been curious about wanting to feel the scratch and the scrape of it against his face. “I don’t see a problem with us kissing.”

  “It’s not a big deal, right?”

  “First base stuff.”

  “What about...?” Alex made a pumping motion with his closed fist. His hands were huge. His fingers long. He had to have one hell of a grip.

  Blood surged south, and Elijah crossed his legs to hide his growing erection. Now wasn’t the time to sprout wood. “It’s not like we’ve never had a dick in our hand before. Am I right?”

  Alex barked out a laugh as the red crept into his cheeks. “Fuck. No lie, man.”

  So, they were on the same page with kissing and giving each other a hand job. That left...

  “I don’t know about the other.” Alex shifted on the couch and couldn’t meet Elijah’s eyes.

  Was it wrong that Elijah did know how he felt about the proposed blow job?

  The thought of Alex’s dick in his mouth, all that athletic meat—and don’t forget the real reason they were both there: the added money—certainly sweetened a deal that to Elijah’s curious bi side already sounded quite tasty.

  Elijah cleared his throat. “I could... you know. Go down on you, I guess.” Elijah hesitated again. If he sounded too eager the guy might bolt. “If you closed your eyes... you could pretend...”

  Alex’s eyes lingered on Elijah’s mouth for a beat before meeting his gaze and swallowing hard. For a supposedly straight guy, Alex didn’t seem too freaked out, especially considering he’d come to Black Stallion, the way Elijah had—thinking he’d only be doing a solo scene. Was it Elijah’s wishful imagination or did Alex seem... intrigued?

  Alex’s leg bounced a couple times, then Alex quieted himself with a large hand on his knee. He sat back. “I’m not going to pretend the extra money isn’t tempting.”

  Yeah. Money talked. And in this case, could talk a straight guy into oral sex with another man.

  Niko returned, his expression flat except for that valley digging between his brows and the stiff, agitated way he carried himself. He sat on the edge of the leather chair as if he didn’t plan on staying long. “What did you two decide?”

  “We’re going to do the extra scene,” Elijah said, not giving Alex the chance to back out. After all, Elijah was there for the money as well. The faster he got caught up on his bills and built a big enough nest egg to get him through the last two semesters of college, the sooner he could put this part of his life behind him.

  “Have you thought about what will happen when you get recognized?” Niko asked Alex. “Because it is a when not an if. Your situation is different than Elijah’s. No one cares if Joe Blow does gay porn. You on the other hand... with the paucity of out gay baseball players, you getting outed for being in gay porn could become a real media shit storm. As far as Black Stallion is concerned, we welcome the publicity. For you, it could be more than you bargained for.”

  “My baseball career is over.”

  “Still. It’s not a decision to make lightly.”

  “I need the money.”

  “There are worse things than being broke.”

  Elijah laughed. “Says the man living in a multi-million-dollar home.”

  Niko inclined his head with deference, but added, “I didn’t always live this way.” He didn’t elaborate, but Elijah didn’t doubt there was a story there.

  Alex didn’t respond. After a thoughtful minute, Niko said, “I’ll tell you what. We can shoot you from the neck down. It’s not my preference, but I think until you’ve had more of a chance to think about how this could affect your future, it’s a compromise we could both live with.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Alex said.

  Then Niko focused on Elijah, “What about you?”

  Elijah raised his hands. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

  Leaning forward, Niko opened each of the manila folders. “Your contracts, boys. I’m going to need your paperwork from your STI screening, and this is the general liability release, which also outlines payment for scenes and what to expect from residuals. Pay special attention to line five, what everyone affectionately calls the Straight Clause.”

  “The Straight Clause?” Elijah asked.

  “Basically, you’re affirming to Black Stallion Studios that you’re straight. We pride ourselves on this. Many other studios will say their performers are straight, we’re the only ones who make you put your money where your mouth is.”

  Alex picked up the contract in front of him and flipped to the enumerated clause in question. “How’s that?”

  “If we find out that you’re gay, not only will you never work for Black Stallion again, you forfeit all rights to your residuals.”

  Alex glanced at Elijah, then back at Niko. “No problem here.”

  Niko focused on Elijah. “And you?”

  “Same.”

  They both skimmed through the document and signed on the dotted line. After all, even though Elijah had found himself attracted to men in the past, he’d never kissed a man, much less had sex with one. That means he could effectively round himself up to straight. Right?

  All the guys had gathered around a large white marble kitchen island by the time Alex and Elijah had dumped their duffel bags in their shared room. Grant stood at the stove, slaving over a boiling pot of water. He poured in a box of noodles and turned the burner down on a bubbling pot of spaghetti sauce.

  “Reyes,” Grant said, “Stop stuffing your face with chips and dip and set the damn table already. And, Darius, you’re on dish duty tonight.”

  “What the fuck, man?” Darius complained around a mouthful of tortilla chips. “Why do I always have to wash the dishes?”

  “Because Reyes made the salsa and you burn water. You learn to cook something other than microwave pizza, I’ll be happy to do t
he dishes for your sorry ass.”

  “Hell, man, ain’t nothin’ wrong with zapped pizza, it’s—”

  “Boys.” Rose walked into the kitchen with a moon-eyed, trying-to-hide-the-fangirl Sebastian behind her. Alex was almost afraid to make eye contact and set him off again. “I’m going to go over the house rules.”

  “House rules?” Alex dug a chip into the salsa. What was this, high school?

  “One.” Grant stuck a spoon in the sauce and took a taste. “Ms. Rose isn’t your mother, so pick up your own shit.”

  “Two,” Reyes added. “Division of house duties is decided equally between the performers.” That comment seemed aimed more at Grant than anyone else.

  Grant stirred in what looked like oregano and muttered, “Someone has to take charge and be the adult around here. Not my fault you guys squabble like spoiled children.”

  “And the most important rule?” Rose asked the room in general.

  Darius grinned a big toothy grin. “No draining the sac.”

  Elijah choked on a chip.

  Reyes clapped Elijah on the back. It didn’t seem to help. “He means no jerking off. Gotta save the spunk for the big screen.”

  Elijah cut Reyes a look that said get-real. “I know what ‘draining the sac’ means.”

  “Any questions?” Sebastian asked.

  Reyes raised his hand. Rose twisted her hair into a bun and stuck her pen through it to hold it in place. “This isn’t grade school, Reynaldo, you don’t have to raise your hand.”

  “I wanna know why Grant gets his own room. Is he, like, boning Niko on the side or something, because that’s a price I’m willing to pay if I don’t have to share a room with Darius again. He watches porn all night. I can’t get any sleep.”

  Darius draped an arm around Reyes’ shoulder. “It’s called research, asshole. I gotta keep one step ahead of the competition. You think those boys over at Men on Men or PornU are going to bed early and dreaming of tamales all night? No, they’re—”

  “Jesus Christ,” Grant said. “Would you two quit arguing and fuck each other already?”

  Darius plopped a salsa loaded chip into his mouth. Around the bite of food, he said, “I would, but I can’t violate rule number three. Rose would get the paddle and—”

  “Oooh,” Reyes said, “Sounds kinky. I’m in. But that doesn’t tell me why Grant gets his own room.”

  “I’ll tell you what, Reynaldo,” Rose said, “when you’re the biggest stud in Black Stallion’s stable, you can have your own room, too.”

  Grant grinned as he poured the cooked noodles into the strainer, the cloud of steam rising and nearly obliterating his face from view. “Time to eat, boys.”

  “Alex, Elijah,” Rose said. “You two shoot first thing in the morning. Be down in the studio by seven. The rest of you guys don’t need to show up until around nine.”

  “We’ll be there,” Alex said.

  Sebastian held back as Rose started to leave. “You coming, Bass?”

  “I need Alex to sign one more thing.” Sebastian held up a manila folder similar to what had held Alex’s contract, but Sebastian’s cheeks went red, and he wouldn’t meet Rose’s eyes.

  “Bass.” Rose had that motherly what-are-you-up-to tone. She didn’t wait for an answer. Instead she strode back over to the island and snatched the folder out of Sebastian’s hand. A photograph slipped free and floated to the tile floor. A photograph of Alex in his San Fernando Hawks’ uniform from two years ago.

  Elijah bent and picked it up and laid it on the counter. Grant, Darius, and Reyes gathered around. Reyes laughed, and to Alex said, “Holy shit, hermano. You are somebody.”

  Alex used to revel on those rare occasions that he’d been recognized on the street. But now, it made him feel like day-old, dried-up crap. “That was a long time ago.”

  Grant clapped Alex on the back and grabbed the bowl of pasta off the island. “I knew that I knew you from somewhere. Looks like we got ourselves a superstar.”

  “Hardly,” Alex said.

  “What’s this all about?” Rose asked.

  Grant returned to the stove and began ladling the sauce into a bowl.

  Elijah laughed, and said, “Sebastian loves him some Alex.”

  Grant paused, the ladle halfway between the pot and the bowl. His eyes went to Sebastian. After a heartbeat or two, Grant said, “Does he, now?”

  Sebastian swallowed hard. “I—”

  “I call dibs,” Darius said.

  “Dibs?” Reyes laughed. “You’re loco.”

  “My wife loves baseball. I tell her I dipped my dick in some baseball ass, she won’t let me out of bed for a week. Oh, man, our seventh anniversary is coming up.” Darius turned his attention to Alex. “You think maybe I can get your number and you know... You two could...” Darius waggled his brows up and down.

  Grant set the bowl with the pasta sauce on the table, with a loud crack. The ceramic didn’t shatter, though it should have. “I don’t know what you traditionally give as gifts for a seventh anniversary, but I’m pretty sure it isn’t dick.”

  “Well it should be,” Sebastian muttered.

  “Ain’t that the truth,” Rose said. “I’m out of here, boys, you all have a nice night.”

  Darius looked at Alex, waiting for an answer. What was he supposed to say to that proposition? He’d had the occasional baseball bunny chase after him in the Minor Leagues—which he’d taken advantage of a time or two because... hey... sex—but he’d never had a man offer him up as a gift to his wife. “Um...”

  “Here’s a pen.” Sebastian held up the fine-tipped Sharpie.

  Alex shoved Darius’ offer out of his mind. Surely, he was joking, right? “Yeah, sure, Sebastian.”

  Alex scribbled his name across the mound at his feet and handed the Hawks’ eight by ten promotional glossy back to Sebastian who had that embarrassed, dreamy look in his eyes.

  Sebastian took the folder back. “Thanks. I’ll let you guys eat before your dinner gets cold. See you in the morning.”

  They all found a seat around the table. The conversation and ribbing died down and was replaced by more mundane words like “Pass the bread” and “Hey, jerk-wad, I need more sauce than that.”

  Alex didn’t realize he’d been staring until Darius glanced up at him, his mouth half-full of spaghetti noodles. “What?” The word came out muffled.

  Alex twirled the noodles around his fork. “You guys really all straight?”

  “Ask my girlfriend,” Reyes said.

  “A hundred percent,” Darius said. “I even got two kids. Not that that proves anything or that you’ve gotta be straight to have kids, but I am and I do.”

  Grant was slow to answer, but then he swallowed and said, “Those are the rules.”

  Elijah helped himself to another piece of garlic bread and glanced across the table at Darius. “Your wife knows what you do? And she’s okay with it?”

  Darius chuckled, his grin wide and his eyes bright. “Oh hell yeah. I was a bricklayer before. You know how much a bricklayer makes?”

  “Not a clue,” Elijah said.

  “A hell of a lot less than a gay porn performer. More money. Less hours. And it’s a hell of a lot easier to do the heavy lifting with my dick instead of my back. Besides, those kids, they ain’t cheap.”

  Alex pushed his empty plate back and wiped his mouth. “What about you, Reyes. Your girlfriend know?”

  Reyes threw his crumpled napkin on his plate. “No, man. She has no clue. And if she finds out, she’d be gone.”

  “That sucks.” Alex glanced down the table at Grant. The man was awfully quiet.

  Reyes shrugged one of those it-is-what-it-is kind of shrugs.

  Elijah stacked Alex’s empty plate on top of his and reached across the table for Reyes’. “What does your girlfriend think you do for a living? How do you explain your time away for the shoots?”

  Reyes smiled, but there were no teeth, and it didn’t reach his eyes. “She thinks I run dru
gs over the border.”

  Darius barked out a laugh. “Your old lady thinks you’re a mule? And that’s better than finding out you do gay porn?”

  “She doesn’t know know. But she suspects. And I let her.”

  “That’s a fucked-up way to run a relationship.” Grant was proving to be a man of few words, but apparently couldn’t hold back his opinion.

  “At least I have a relationship,” Reynaldo spat back, with a touch of heat thrown in for the first time. “Her family is very religious. They don’t believe in gays.”

  “Don’t ‘believe in gays’.” Grant slammed his glass of water on the table. “For fuck’s sake. What do you think they would say if they knew their little girl’s boyfriend supported her with the money he made from all the gays who watch porn? Do you think they would believe then?”

  Grant stomped off to the kitchen and dumped the dirty pots and pans into the sink. “I’m going to bed. I’ve had enough.”

  Alex waited for Grant to disappear behind his closed door before he said to Reyes and Darius, “Sorry, guys, I didn’t mean—”

  “Naw, man. It’s all good.” Darius cleared the food from the table. “I don’t know what’s up with Grant, but he’s had a bug up his ass for a while now.”

  4

  After his shower, Elijah slipped on a pair of cut-off sweats and climbed onto his bed. The room he shared with Alex was little more than a glorified college dorm room, only bigger. At least the beds were full-size. And, like a dorm, they each had a set of drawers to put their clothes in, and a short rack for hanging items. Under the window between the two beds sat a desk, but only one. Elijah figured Niko didn’t expect them to be getting a lot of work done between scenes.

  It wasn’t that late. And, if he was smart, he would get started on his Dynamic Systems homework before he got too far behind. He reached for his backpack and pulled out his laptop. He padded over to the desk, powered up his computer, and went to download his homework from the college’s website.

  As he waited for the site to load—which for a technological school, it had crappy technology—he clicked on a new tab and typed Alex Payne.