Chapter Twenty

Arthur

“Come on, Arthur. Don’t even go there,” I mumbled to myself at the vending machine where I’d stopped to get three bottles of water. I wanted the last night of our cruise to be perfect, and it would be ruined if I didn’t stop thinking about that guy Bailey had been texting. I would have already pushed it from my mind except that at the back of my mind, I still had a niggling doubt about why he chose me. Earlier when I’d all but confessed my love for him in front of the kids, he hadn’t even said it back to me. I couldn’t decide which was worse. Him just saying we’ll talk about it later, or me wanting him to be like some of my exes who parroted the words for me not to feel bad that they didn’t reciprocate my feelings. I might have been hasty in the past to throw the words around, but this time with Bailey felt different. Though we just started to get to know each other, my feelings for him weren't born out of desperation. I had genuine feelings for him and the kids. I had no intention of telling him how I felt before Reggie had asked why I kissed his uncle so often.

If I forgot Bailey mentioning that he had fallen for his best friend at one point, my night would have improved, but I couldn’t get that out of my mind. I would have never considered myself the jealous type. I had been with several guys before who were fast and loose, and it never really bugged me once they returned home to me. What was so different about Bailey that I wanted to keep him locked in my suite where he would have no chance to think about another man? I hated the thought of him falling for someone else. Then he’d made it worse by mentioning his friend hadn’t been emotionally available to reciprocate his feelings. I felt he was settling for me because he couldn’t have his friend, and I hated that feeling because all this time, I thought I was special for him.

More like a special kind of idiot.

Although the machine took my money, it made a whirring sound, and I heard the sound of a bottle moving about, but nothing fell into the tray. I frowned and pressed the button for the water again, but still turned up empty. I sure hoped tonight wasn’t my usual bout of bad luck. My father always told me bad luck happened in threes, and I believed it so much that it was reflected in my life.

“Hey man, that machine is broken,” someone said loud enough for me to hear over the music.

I turned to acknowledge the speaker and found an older guy who was probably in his late fifties or early sixties. The front of his head was bald and the sides thinning white streaks. He wore a pair of thick-framed glasses but seemed friendly enough.

“Ah, thanks, I guess,” I replied and would have moved on, but he stood in my way.

“Uh, I’ve something to ask you if you don’t mind.”

“Something to ask me?” I repeated because I could not fathom what this stranger had to say to me.

He nodded, his face going red. “You see, I was watching you dancing earlier with that young man. If I’m not mistaken his name’s Bailey or Daley or something like that?”

I frowned at him, wondering how this man knew Bailey and what he wanted from me. “What are you getting at?”

He pushed his hand into his pocket and came out with his wallet. “It’s just that I’ve never quite forgotten him since that night,” he answered, his words leaving me stunned and rooted to the spot. “That night was nothing short of magical, the things he let me do to him. While he's expensive, he was worth every penny. I'm taking it that he works for you now? Is his price the same because you know, by now he's probably wrecked at the rate he was accepting clients. I'll pay you a reasonable amount to have him for just an hour."

Rooted to the spot, I waited for the man to laugh or for someone to jump out of hidden spaces and yell ‘prank’ at me. He didn't say anything that made sense, but somehow my mind grasped that he thought Bailey was some kind of prostitute. And I was supposed to be Bailey's pimp?

“I think you have the wrong person,” I stated, forcing the words out.

“I'm quite positive it's him.”

Fed up with where the conversation was going, I grabbed him by the lapels of his shirt and lifted him clean off his feet. I didn't give a fuck who saw.

“Do you know who the fuck I am?” I hissed at him. “The name's Arthur Parrish.” His eyes widened in surprise as he recognized my surname, which was well-known in Alabama. “If you continue spreading that propaganda, I'll have your ass so tied up in lawsuits you won't have to worry about paying for a fuck because it's free where you're heading."

“I swear I'm not trying to cause trouble.” His eyes were wide in fright, and he had gone pale as he struggled out of my grasp.

“You just accused my boyfriend of being a prostitute,” I snapped at him. “You'd better have solid evidence before you make such wild accusations. You have the wrong guy.”

He fixed his lapels, sulking. “If you say so although I do have pictures to prove it.”

I should have allowed him to slink away, but I was hooked at his mention of pictures. Those pictures could confirm that he was mistaken about Bailey and set my mind at ease. I gripped him by the arm before he found himself out of reach. “What photos?”

He turned to face me. “Now you're interested? Those photos are for my private pleasure. Do you know how long I've had them?”

“Be glad I'm not breaking your fucking nose. Show me these photos you are talking about. I'm quite positive they aren't of my Bailey.”

“Just give me a minute. They are backed up in the cloud. Shouldn't take long as I keep them organized. He's in my WFA category."

"WFA?"

"Would Fuck Again."

He grinned at me like he was clever. My hands curled into fists, but I waited while he scrolled through his phone, performing quite a few taps. It gave me the time to study this man. He was bigger than me with a belly which hung over his pants. If Bailey had really slept with this man for money, wouldn't he do the same to me?

“Ah, here they are.”

He tried to flash the picture beneath my nose, but I'd have none of that. I grabbed the phone from his hand and frowned at the picture. I could see a guy who resembled Bailey, but the quality was too poor to say for certain. I scrolled ahead and encountered more photos of the dark-haired youth in various states of undress. The poses were explicit and inviting. The further I skipped ahead, the more intense they became and featured different men. I could see a resemblance to Bailey, but I refused to believe it until I paused at a photo. There was no doubt the guy kneeling in the center of the room, his face slick with cum from three faceless men, was Bailey. He was looking straight into the camera, startled as though he didn't mean to be caught in that compromising situation.

I sucked in a painful breath and saw all my dreams for us crash while studying that picture. Yes, Bailey was younger in that photo and less filled out, but it was him. I couldn't believe my Bailey had been a prostitute. Was he still one and was that the real reason his mother protested him being named the guardian of the kids?

“Where did you get these?” I demanded.

“They go around in our circles,” he answered. “You know we're usually kept abreast of the fresh meat on the market by their pimps. I've to tell you, man, with all the money he was making, I can't say I'm surprised he landed himself a bloke like you. You look like old money, and guys like Bailey never forget the pleasures of money. The guy took dick like a pro too. He never complained no matter how hard you lay into him. Now may I have my phone since it's the only company I'll have for tonight?”

Instead of complying, I pressed the button to delete all the photos from the cloud.

“What the hell are you doing?”

I tossed the phone at him as the photos continued to delete. There was no way he could reverse the action.

“You stay the hell away from us for the rest of the trip,” I threatened him before stalking off. No matter how I tried, I could not summon the energy to be angry. I was too stunned, too hurt and confused at what I had just seen to feel the anger yet.

As I entered the area where the dance was being held, I caught sight of Bailey dancing with that woman I thought he was married to. I watched as they danced together, and given the photos I just saw, wondered if he had lied to me about her too. What if he really was bisexual like his brother rather than gay? He spotted me and smiled. Usually, I would return the smile, but my lips couldn't do anything other than to curl up in disgust. He was not the guy I thought he was. The image was forever branded in my mind of his face covered in cum. And to think we had been barebacking. The memory made my stomach queasy. I turned and walked away to find my suite.