Behind the Lens (Behind the Lives) (17 page)

Sledge
felt like all the air had been sucked out of his lungs, and if he didn’t get
away, he was going to suffocate. He took off, ignoring Corey’s cries to come
back. He pushed inside the house, barging through the crowd of people, not
caring as he bowled some over, his desperation to escape taking a hold of him
to the point that he was going to punch the next person who got in his way. He
exited out the front door and ran down the footpath, and was several streets
away before he finally came to a halt, puffed out of his brain and so fucking
humiliated he couldn’t think straight. He put his hands on his knees and bent
over, getting his breathing under control, then he straightened and yelled out,
“Fuck you, Corey! Fuck you, you backstabbing li’l bastard!” A light came on
across the street. Sledge took off again, then stopped around the corner,
realising he had no clue where he was. He swore as he spun around in a circle,
all the houses appearing the same. He turned back and started walking the way
he’d come, cursing Corey under his breath, then stopped and slumped down on the
concrete footpath, wishing he could rewind everything that had happened.

Corey’s
hurt expression came to mind. Sledge put his hands to his head and swore again,
now distraught that he’d upset Corey, even though the prick deserved it. Those
guys, those girls, they were all laughing at him, like he was a reject, some
pansy-arsed homo who liked to fuck butt, someone so weak he did males. But he
wasn’t weak; he could take down those punks who’d laughed at him. His face
fell. Shit, he’d left Corey alone with them. He jumped up and ran down the
street, cursing when he turned the corner, again not recognising where he was.
He ran faster, hoping he’d come across something familiar, anything, but his
panic grew when he didn’t. He stopped for a few seconds to get a breather,
reasoning that Tama was at the party, and that Corey could ask him for help.
Sledge grimaced, knowing there was no way Tama would leave a sure thing to help
Corey—even if he wanted to, which was unlikely with the way those two acted
around each other.

Sledge
started running again, now desperate to get back to Corey.

11

Corey

Corey hobbled down the road,
desperate to find Sledge. He knew he shouldn’t have outed him, but the way that
tall bitch had her hands all over his man had caused him to lose reason, and
although he understood why Sledge had denied him, it still hurt, making him
feel like a dirty li’l secret.

More
laughter came from down the road. Corey’s gaze darted to the three punks
standing a property away from him. They had followed him from the party, asking
whether he wanted them to fuck him. They were scaring the shit out of him, even
made him reconsider going back to the party, but to do that he would have to
walk past them, plus he couldn’t ask Tama for help. When Sledge had gone to get
them drinks, Tama had threatened him, saying that he knew what Corey was up to
with Sledge, and if Tama saw him touching Sledge again he’d smash him over.
Corey wanted to tell Sledge, but wasn’t sure he’d believe him, plus Tama
would’ve denied everything, and that prick was such a bloody good liar, the
type that looked you in the face without even flinching, which was why Corey
had stayed on the couch. But when Sledge hadn’t returned after several minutes
he’d gotten worried, so he’d gone outside looking for him, but instead found
that bitch feeling Sledge up, something that only Corey was allowed to do.

A
whistle came from the punks. “C’mere, purty,” one of them yelled. “Let us make
your arse happy.” Laughter followed.

The
taunts reminded him of what Tama had done to Nike Daniels’ sister, and how the
prick had ordered them to chase her. Now he understood how that girl had
felt—absolutely and utterly terrified. But unlike her, he couldn’t run with his
broken leg, and Tama had still caught her, stabbing the poor chick, but
thankfully not killing her. Still, how could Sledge like that bastard? Corey
used to respect Tama, even had a brief crush on him before he’d met Sledge, but
his crush had grown into dislike, then when Tama had been convicted of raping
Nike Daniels’ wife it had turned into outright hate.

The
punks drew closer, one of them reminding him so much of Tama. Not his looks,
because they couldn’t have appeared more different, especially since this guy
was a punk with a spiky black and blue Mohawk. No, it was the swagger that told
him the guy was cut from the same cloth as Tama, which meant that Corey needed
help now or he was going to get hurt. He glanced at the nearest house; not
believing that this could be happening, because he couldn’t get gay-bashed
twice in a week, the last time almost killing him.

“Stop
mucking us around, purty boy, cos we all know you’ll bend over for us.”

“Let’s
roast him,” another of the guys yelled.

“Yeah,”
Mohawk sniggered. “You can have his mouth while I’ll take his arse.”

“But
what about me?” the third one said.

“He
can wank you off.”

Oh
God, oh God, oh God...
He needed to
get out of here.
NOW!
He hobbled up to the first door, knocking so loud
it hurt his knuckles. He glanced over his shoulder, getting more and more
worked up as the three guys drew closer. They were at the mailbox now,
seemingly not in a hurry, as though they knew no one would help Corey.

“Why
you running? We’re not gonna hurt you,” Mohawk said. “We just wanna give you a
good time.”

“Leave
me alone!” Corey yelled.

The
guys stopped a few feet away from him, all three of them grinning wide. Corey
started banging on the door even louder, screaming: “Help me!”

Footsteps
answered him, then the door pulled back a fraction, a chain stopping it from
opening fully. Two of the guys taunting Corey took a step backwards, their
gazes now weary, while Mohawk narrowed his eyes.

“Why
are you banging on my door?” a male voice asked from the other side.

“Please
help me, mister, these guys are gonna hurt me.”

“No
we’re not!” Mohawk yelled.

“Yes,
he is,” Corey said, almost crying. “He wants to fuck me. Please lemme in, I’m
scared.”

The
man pulled the latch off and opened the door. He was taller than Corey, but
that wasn’t hard, because at five-foot-six, most men were. But the man looked
tough, like he could take on the punks then sit down for a round of beer.

The
man’s gaze went to the three guys. “I know you boys and don’t think your
mothers won’t be hearing about this.”

The
punks, no boys, flinched. For the first time Corey realised how young they
were, their scared expressions giving away their ages, which was probably no
more than fifteen. Their leader shook his head, the only one trying to pretend
he wasn’t scared. “No, dude, we were just punking him, it’s all a joke.”

“Go
home to your mother, Grant. It’s not nice how you worry that poor woman.”

“How
do you know ’bout me? I don’t know you,” Mohawk said, now looking worried.

The
man tapped his nose. “That’s for me to know and for you to shit yourself over.
Now get outta here.”

The
boys turned and ran, disappearing down the road.

“Thank
you,” Corey said, relieved that someone was actually helping him this time,
because the last time he’d pounded on doors no one had come to his aid.

“What
happened to your leg?” the man said. He looked about fifty and had a bulbous
nose. It was reddish too, making Corey wonder whether he was an alcoholic.

“I
wuz hit by a car.”

“Ouch.
Anyway, I’m guessing you must need a phone,” the man said, pointing to one on a
small table in the entrance.

“Thank
you,” Corey said, not wanting to tell him that he already had one, because he
definitely preferred to be in the safety of the house than outside. He stepped
inside and went for the phone, quickly dialling his sister’s number. When Beth
didn’t answer, he dialled his brother’s, Naf not picking up either. “No one’s
there,” he said, not wanting to phone his mother, because she would go nuts at
him if she knew he’d gone to another party, and there was no way he’d ask for
help from his dad.

The
man watched him closely, probably making sure that Corey didn’t steal anything.
Corey rubbed his face, not knowing who to phone. He knew Sledge would be too
pissed off with him to come back, but he still needed a lift. His mind went to
Tyler, another mate, or in Tyler’s eyes, his ex. After Tyler’s father had hurt
Corey, Tyler had called him every day to apologise, although it wasn’t the
guy’s fault. Corey had felt guilty for ignoring Tyler’s messages, but he’d
promised Sledge he wouldn’t talk to Tyler if Sledge stayed away from Stella,
the woman his boyfriend had gotten pregnant a few months back.

“Well,
kid, you gonna call anyone, cos I wanna get back to my programme.”

Corey
nodded, then tapped in Tyler’s number, knowing he had no choice. “Hey, Tyler,”
he said, when a “Hello” answered.

“Corey?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh
my God, I can’t believe you’re calling.”

“Yeah,
sorry.”

“No,
no, don’t apologise, I wanted you to call.”

Corey
grimaced, feeling uncomfortable with asking Tyler to pick him up. “Can you come
get me?”

“Yes!
Oh God, I can, I can. Where are you?”

“Just
a mo.” He got the address off the man then relayed it to Tyler.

“I’ll
be there in fifteen minutes,” Tyler said. “And Corey...”

“Yeah.”

“I’m
so happy you called. I thought I would never see you again after what my dad
did.”

“That
wuzn’t your fault.”

“But
I feel like it was.”

“Don’t
see why, and your father’s in jail cos of me.”

“Which
he deserves to be.”

The
man cleared his throat, clearly getting impatient.

“Look,”
Corey said to Tyler. “I hafta get off the phone, cos it’s not mine. We’ll talk
’bout this later. Okay?”

“Of
course, and Corey...”

“Yeah?”

“I
love you.” Tyler hung up, leaving Corey speechless. He put the phone down in a
daze, then nodded at the man his thanks.

The
man smiled back. “You want to watch some telly with me until your ride comes?”

Corey
nodded again, definitely not wanting to wait outside, plus the man’s behaviour
made him feel safe. He followed the old dude into a small lounge where the
telly was playing a documentary about trucks on ice. He sat down on the couch,
watching the man go to the fridge. The guy returned with some soft drinks,
handing one over to Corey, who took it with a thank you.

“You’re
a polite kid,” the man said.

“My
mum always makes me say thank you. She tells me off if I don’t.”

“She
sounds like a good mother.”

Corey
nodded as he opened the can, his mind still on Tyler’s
‘I love you’.
He
took a gulp of the orange fizzy drink, now wishing he’d called his mother
instead, because he didn’t know how to handle what Tyler had said—or what
Sledge would do if he found out.

***

Corey sat in Tyler’s Alfa
Romeo, looking down at his hands as he was driven through Auckland, feeling
awkward and embarrassed. But how was he supposed to react after Tyler declared
his love? Because there was no way he could say it back, especially since he
was totally and utterly in love with Sledge, who probably hated his guts right
now.

“We’re
here,” Tyler said.

Corey
looked up as the car turned onto Tyler’s street, which was in one of the most
expensive suburbs in the city, if not
the
most expensive, the view of
the Waitemata Harbour and its bridge proof that it was prime real estate. Plus,
Tyler’s terraced apartment was anything but cheap, the Mediterranean-styled
building probably worth more than a mil. But instead of making Corey stare in
awe, like the first time he’d seen it, it created knots in his stomach, the memory
of Tyler’s father attacking him now bashing the shit out of his mind.

“Stop!”
Corey yelled, then covered his mouth, knowing he was going to puke.

Tyler
slammed on the brake as Corey opened his door. He leaned out of the car, just
in time to puke on the road. After he’d finished, he wiped his mouth and sat
back in his seat, covering his face in shame. “I can’t go in there, I can’t,”
he sobbed.

“Oh
God, I’m so sorry,” Tyler said, “I shouldn’t have brought you here. Shut the
door and I’ll take you somewhere else.”

Keeping
his face covered, Corey shut the door, then rested his forehead against its
window, not understanding why he’d agreed to go back to Tyler’s place. But
where else was he supposed to go, because he couldn’t go home tonight. He
wanted to give Sledge enough time to cool off, plus he was terrified of being
dumped. Oh God, everything was ruined because of his big fucking mouth and
moronic jealousy.

Tyler
did a U-turn, driving away from Corey’s own piece of hell. Corey kept his hand
over his face, not removing it until Tyler pulled on the brake a while later.
He opened his eyes and looked out the window at a long line of warehouses
darkened by the night. “Where are we?”

“At
one of my boss’s studios. He lets me use it when I don’t wanna take guys home
or if I have a friend who needs a place to crash for the night.”

“He
sounds nice.”

“Nice
is definitely not a word I’d use to describe Ant.”

Corey’s
gaze wandered over the nearest warehouse. “Is this where you do modelling
shoots?” he asked, relieved to be talking about something other than what a cry
baby he was.

“Ah,
I kind of lied about that,
well
, sorta. It’s still technically
modelling, just with some additions.”

“Like
what?” Corey asked, turning to Tyler.

“Um
... I do, ah ... pornos.”

Corey’s
eyes widened. “You’re shitting me?”

“Nope.”

“Whoa!”

Tyler
shifted about in his seat, looking uncomfortable.

Corey’s
shock quickly turned into a smirk, because he’d been fucked by a porn star!
“How come I’ve never seen you on screen?”

“You
watch porn?”

“Is
the sky blue?”

“It’s
black now,” Tyler said smiling, although he still looked uncomfortable.

“Ha,
ha, but seriously, dude, you do porn? That’s like huge. I’m totally addicted to
it, can’t get enough. I used to use up all the bandwidth cos of it, still do. I
especially love watching big guys fucking smaller ones, it makes me think of
gettin’ fucked, totally gets me hard. Ah...” Corey stopped, realising he’d said
waaay
too much. “You pro’bly didn’t needa hear that part.”

Tyler
laughed.

Corey
felt his cheeks heat. “So, how come I haven’t seen you on screen?”

“The
site I’m on costs a lot to see, plus it does specialty stuff paid to order. A
lot of it’s hardcore. They also do mainstream porn, but I refuse to do that,
cos I don’t want my family finding out.”