by BLMorticia
I threw the ball up again and caught it once more. "That's fine. You're the one walking away without a story. And by the way, don't talk shit when you do your write-up. If you do, I'll make sure you won't work at any other major magazine in this town, this country, or the whole freaking continent. You'd have to move overseas, and even then, I'll be on your ass like white on rice. So don't cross me!"
What's-his-face gasped, eyebrows furrowed. "You can't do shit! All you are is a spoiled internet rock star."
I cocked an eyebrow at this wannabe Justin Bieber douche. Finally I got his goat, and I loved every minute of it. "Oh, I'm more than that, my man. Like I said, if you want to try me, go ahead. Write bad things, and I'll ruin you. My fucking father is a lawyer."
He stood up and stared at me. If his eyes were daggers, I'd be dead. "That's all right, Cayden. I'd rather interview a musician with a sense of humor, a better attitude, and class! You don't deserve any time in our magazine. Have a nice day, Mr. Wythe!" With that, he spun around and left, slamming the door behind him.
"Pssh. Reason number one hundred why I don't do interviews!" I threw the ball against the wall and it fell helplessly onto the floor. At this point I needed something more to let off some steam.
Just when I was about to check in with my friends, my cell rang with the tone I used for my manager. I already knew what this was about.
"Cay."
"Cayden! What the hell? I just got a call from the interviewer from Gen-Pop. Why were you so mean to him?"
"Because he was nosy! He tried to find out who I'm dating. He's supposed to be talking about my music first."
"You could've have said 'no comment' and kept going."
"Well, if his questions were better than my favorite color and flavor of ice cream, I wouldn't have pitched a fit."
"Really? That's what he asked?"
"Yeah. Now you tell me, does that deserve a response? I've had better interviews with webzines and fucking sixth graders at my old elementary school."
My manager, also known as my dad, Alden the lawyer, laughed. "Okay, okay. You know, there's nothing wrong with telling people you're gay."
"To be clear, I'm fluid," I snarled. "I play music, I smile for pictures, and that's it. I believe I cover my likes, dislikes, and all that trivial shit on my Instagram and Snapchat accounts. He was supposed to ask me about my inspirations for songs. 'Heart's Remorse,' is the deepest shit I've written."
"You're right, son."
I harrumphed and twisted my lips. I really hated when he called me that. Just like any other gold digger I'd ever known, Alden decided to show up when I made it big. Not that he was hurting, but hey, why not take the opportunity to mooch off your newly famous offspring? After all, I was the number-one downloaded artist on iTunes and Spotify. I was selling out venues around the globe, raking in thousands on merch sales alone. Besides, I needed someone who knew their shit and wouldn't try to take every single dime I had. He and his team took care of everything. I only had to play music and make videos every so often.
"Cayden?"
"Yeah, yeah. Okay, fine, maybe I could've told him that much. I like dick. There. Exclusive to the fucking world. I prefer dick over pussy."
"Must you be so graphic?"
"Gotta problem with it, Alden?"
"Of course not, but you can say, 'Hey, I'm gay,' instead of being so damn offensive."
"Again, fluid, not gay. If I find someone attractive, it's not because of gender."
Alden sighed into the receiver. "Anyway, we have a new contract with Warner Brothers to sign."
"What kind of contract? I want full control, Alden. Don't sell my soul to record companies." I'd warned Dad many times that I was an independent artist.
"No, no. It's a two-year deal for distribution only. They're giving us 70 percent. Stop by, and we'll discuss the details over lunch."
"Fine. I'll be there after I hit up my boys to go paintballing later. I need to let off some steam. And by the way, Alden?"
"Yes?"
"No more fucking interviews this year, okay? I'll talk about my new single on my Facebook and interview my damn self."
Alden sighed aloud. "Yes, sir. I'll make sure of that. Come into the office when you're done."
"Right." I pressed the disconnect button and pushed speed dial Two. I waited a couple of seconds and drummed my fingers on the chair's arm. Just as I was about to hang up, my buddy Jonah answered. We'd grown up together in the Los Angeles suburbs. Unlike everyone else, he didn't come to my damn doorstep asking for anything.
"Cayden, my man."
"What's up? Hey, you up for some shooting tonight?"
"Always. Are you buying out the place again?"
"Sure the fuck am. I need it after this interview that just ended. Round up the guys. I'll call the place to set up?"
Jonah laughed. "Will do. See you in a bit."
"Later."
I hung up and looked in my contacts for Powerhouse Paintball Park in the suburbs. It was a hike but well worth the time and effort to let out some aggression. It was either that or kickboxing, which I enjoyed doing a lot with Jonah one-on-one, but ever since I'd made a pass at him, I hadn't asked again. When it happened, he immediately let me know he wasn't into dudes like that. From then on, I'd shied away.
Maybe that was a coward's move on my part, but I couldn't help it.
When Jonah turned down my advances, it hurt me like a stab to the gut. Other than the death of my mother, it would take me a while to get over that pain too.
I'd always thought friendship with Jonah would turn into something more, and when it didn't, it nearly killed me.
Trent
"Trent, get your tired tail over here with them boxes!"
I sighed, wiping the sweat from my brow. As per usual, June temps in New Orleans spiked, but that couldn't stop me from working at the place I'd wished I'd had when I lived on the streets. With a box of books in hand, I walked outside to where our volunteer captain for Harbor House stood. He was taking inventory of the items people had donated.
NOLA hadn't done anything for these kids until we raised a stink about it. Thank goodness the guy in the mayor's office had a bigger heart than some of the other idiots they'd elected.
"Here they are." I dropped the box between us. "There's about six more. I'm gonna need a little help bringing them in."
"All right. I'll get Prez to help. You gotta work a little faster, boy! We got a deadline to meet. You know they're set to open this place up on Thursday."
"Yeah, I know. I'm going as fast as I can, Cap. You know I gotta leave soon, though. I got a tour tonight, and I gotta close up shop at Deminion."
Cap chuckled, shaking his head. "Boy, don't you have enough to do? When the hell do you sleep?"
"I'll sleep when I'm dead. These queer kids needed a place to stay."
"And they got it, thanks to Mr. Evers, the mayor, you, and some of the other reformed drifters. You know a lot of 'em still wanna be out on the streets peddling."
"Sure. Maybe once they see a person like me made good, they'll get their asses in gear." I took off my fedora and wiped my forehead. The sun had been blazing ever since it rose after 6:00 a.m. At barely 10:30, it was almost ninety degrees.
"I hope they will. You did good, boy." Cap patted my shoulder. "Go on and bring the rest of them in. I'll find Prez and tell him to help ya out."
"Thanks, man."
I spun on my heel and left to grab two more boxes. This shit was heavy as hell, but I was grateful there were good people left in this world. We had a nice selection of books too... everything from old textbooks to children's classics to sci-fi novels. It was a great stash to start. We would continue taking them in to put together a library for everyone here to check out in their spare time.
"Need a hand?"
Prez's voice sounded from off to the left. He took the boxes from me, smiling wide. "You're too wiry to handle these, Trent. Let a real man do this."
"Fuck you, man," I laughed, sl
apping his arm. I picked up two more. "I'm strong as an ox. Don't let my skinniness fool ya."
"Oh, I don't, believe me. You're working like three hundred jobs. Dude, you need to quit one, don'cha? And you're volunteering?"
"I got to. That's the only way I stay out of trouble and sane." I nodded my head to tell him to follow me into the room where Cap stood.
We both put our boxes down, then walked back into the other room.
"I get it, but geez. Haven't you made enough money?"
As I lifted the last box and Prez took the other, I shrugged. "It's not all about money. I like working at Deminion. And the tours... pssh. I have fun scaring the tourists with the ghost stories."
"You're a freak!"
"Proud of it," I yelled. We walked back into the office and dropped the last of the books.
"Who's a freak?" Cap asked with a grin.
"Damn Trent. He works at a store that sells weird shit, he does ghost tours...."
"Fuck yeah. Dude, if you haven't noticed, we live in New Orleans."
"True dat, but some of us are sane around here."
Cap chuckled. "Some, but not all. All right, boys, take a break. I'll have more work for you later. Do you have to take off, Trent?"
"Yeah. Call me on my cell if ya need me to do something else before I do my tour."
"Okay, man. Thanks for your help."
"You're welcome." I nodded at Cap and slapped hands with Prez.
"Be good, dude. I'll catch ya, later," Prez said.
"All right."
I left Harbor House and skipped down the few steps. People waved hi or bye as I walked out. Some of them were the same kids I used to run and drug with a couple of years ago.
Now that I had two jobs, I had no time for the foolishness. I'd been given an opportunity, and I'd take advantage. Like I told Cap, I'd sleep when I was dead, preferably on the shores of the Mississippi, where they'd throw my ashes after cremation. Someone up in the sky saw me as worthy enough to save, and I'd made sure I passed along the good karma whenever I got the chance.
Chapter Two
Cayden
"Yeah!" I jumped up and down when I realized I was the last man standing in our paintball free-for-all. "Dammit, I'm good!"
"Dude, you cheated." Harry chuckled, pulling his girlfriend up from the floor.
"No, I didn't," I stressed. "It was all part of the strategy."
"Oh, so you call tripping me, then shooting me part of sportsmanship? Don't cry when I do it to you next time," Will yelled at me.
"Damn, you guys are sore losers!"
A lot of my half-ass friends got up, grumbling to themselves. They were buddies, but some were Jonah's hangers-on, especially his witch of a girlfriend, Brianna.
Admittedly I was jealous of the cunt that had my best guy's eye. I believe she wasn't nice to me because she knew I'd made a pass at Jonah. For that reason and more, Brianna threw her Jonah's-extra-special-girl shit in my face every chance she got.
"Heh, good game, man. I almost had you there," Jonah said, smiling. He walked over with Brianna hanging off his bicep like a wet dishrag.
"Yeah, you did. Too bad you didn't get him right between the eyes like he deserved," Brianna snarled.
"What did you--" I stepped up, ready to defend myself.
"Now, now, you two. You promised me there would be no catfighting tonight. I'm not in the mood to play referee." Jonah kissed Brianna's head. "Why don't you go over with the girls, babe?"
"Sure." Brianna glared at me and turned around, then walked off in the other direction.
"Tell me why you like her again?"
Jonah stroked his chin. "Let's see. She's fun, sexy, great in bed, oh yeah, and smart as shit. She can be sweet, you know. Why do you act like such a bitch to her?"
"She started it. Ever since she found out about my, uh, you know, with you, she's been mean as fuck. I'm not gonna take it lying down either."
Jonah shook his head. "Man, c'mon. You need to get over that, all right? You might end up being the best man at our wedding, so y'all need to get along."
Upon hearing that, I almost choked on my own saliva. "What?"
"You heard me, stud. She might be my bride."
"Did you ask her?"
"Not yet. But if it does happen, you're gonna have to drop this feud. I love both of you. You're my bestie, and she's my girl. Come on, Cay." Jonah rubbed my shoulder and gripped it tightly.
From that friendly touch, I bit my lower lip and stifled a moan. Ever since I told him about my feelings for him, he loved to torture me.
"Man, cut that shit." I moved backward. "You're a tease. Here you are talking about your girlfriend, then caressing my shoulder like some long-lost lover."
Jonah snickered and put another hand on me. "You know you love it. I told you, even though I'm straight, I kinda like that you got the hots for me."
I glared at him and shifted again to make his hand fall. "You fucking bastard. I swear if you weren't my best friend...."
"Hey, at least I'm honest," Jonah said with a grin. "Anyway, are you still going on vacation?"
"Yeah. To New Orleans, remember?"
"Yes. I want to go with you."
"Sure, but you gotta leave your dog treat at home."
Jonah laughed and dropped his head. "I swear if I didn't love you, I'd deck you for talking about my girl like that."
"That's exactly why I did it. Consider it payback for teasing me. Now. I'm leaving in a week. I've already got a room, so I'll pay for you to have your own."
"Uh-huh. If I'm in my own room, why can't I bring Brianna?"
"Because I'm in no mood to fight with her. It is a vacation, Jonah."
"Right. Count me in. Go on and book it. I'll pay for my airfare."
"What? Dude, no. I'm renting a private jet. And even if I weren't, I wouldn't let you pay for anything. Keep your money to spend on other things. Drinks, weed, strippers, whatever. I got you on everything else."
Jonah sighed aloud. "I'm not your kid."
"I know."
"So you don't have to pay. I don't know how many times I've told you that."
I frowned. "I really don't care. I said I'd take care of you. You're my bestie. Whatever money I make, you always got a piece."
Jonah stared at me pointedly. "Uh, okay, thanks, man. Anyway, um...." He ran his hand up the back of his neck, then over his closely cropped black fade. "All right. I got some vacation time I can put in. I'll stay for a week, then come back. How's that sound?" Jonah smiled and rubbed his goatee again.
Dammit!
I loved when he stroked that little black fuzz hanging from the chiseled face everyone on his college campus admired. He was a teaching assistant at Long Beach State, about ready to graduate with his master's. Everyone had a crush on him.
Including me.
"Yeah, that'll be awesome. Since it's summer we'll catch a festival and go out and scope... people." I laughed nervously.
"Cool. Well." Jonah clapped his hands again. "What are we eating? I'm starved."
Still staring into his light-brown eyes, I forced my hands into my pockets. "It's all taken care of. I ordered pizza, wings, and breadsticks. It should be here any minute."
"Good. I'm gonna, um...." Jonah pointed over in Brianna's direction. "I'll speak with my girl a moment. Be right back." With that he turned around quickly and stalked to his lady Chihuahua, who mauled him the minute he got there.
Watching them kiss and hug, I exhaled and closed my eyes tightly, wishing I could drop through the nearest black hole.
Why can't he like me?
Yeah, why couldn't he? Then I wouldn't be lonely and feel like such a loser with nobody to call my own.
Trent
Running through the streets of the Quarter, I went from Harbor House to Deminion in about twenty minutes. Good thing I had my Chucks on instead of my shitkickers, or I would've never made it.
Deminion was a small voodoo shop on the other side of Bourbon Street. The owner, Irma, had
given me the job three years ago when I finally got sober.
Walking in, the strong scent of strawberry incense hit me. I inhaled it deep as I shouldered my way through tourists.
Susie had looked up from her book, appearing concerned. "Trent. Oh God, I'm so glad you're here."
"I told you I would be. Where's Irma?"
"In back doing a reading. I'll be at Roglio's if you get busy." Susie smiled.
"Hanging with Sage again, huh?"
Susie's grin got wider as I hopped up on the riser separating the checkout portion of the shop from the rest of it. She squeezed past me, smelling of lavender. I loved that scent.
Susie flung her purple dreadlocks over her shoulder. "Sage is fine, Trent. You're just jealous."
I frowned at that. "Am not. Okay, maybe a little because dude's got some killer threads. I suppose if I was the head bartender at Roglio's, I'd have some too."
"Yeah, but it's not just the clothes that make him special." Susie held her copy of the Satanic Bible to her chest. She sighed dreamily, like a little schoolgirl talking about her first crush. "He's just so hot. His braids, the piercings, tattoos, oh, and he has the body of a rock star."
"Uh-huh. I had the rock-star body too"--I pulled up my shirt and patted my bulging middle--"but this little flab prevented me from having the flat stomach or six-pack abs I've been dreaming about."
What could I say? I loved beer too much to worry about that shit, especially some NOLA beer or Guinness.
"Ah, Trent. Even without the beer, you wouldn't be as hot as him. Sage is the goods, and the best part is he's fluid. He totally gets that I'm bi, and he's open to us sharing people. I've been looking for someone like that for like, I dunno, eons."
"That's... great." I shrugged and picked up the local newspaper. Susie loved to talk about her sex life, as if everyone needed to hear it. I wasn't that type of guy. I liked privacy, and my partner would have to like the same. Oh, and I was too jealous to share. To each his or her own on that one.
"Thanks. I think it's awesome. Okay, I'm gonna head on over." She leaned into me and patted my shoulder. "I'd keep an eye on the frat boys over there. They look like they want to lift something," she whispered in my ear.