Noel rarely used his personal cell phone while on shift—mostly because the rest of the world was asleep—and he could count on one hand the number of times anyone had ever called him past midnight. So when his cell went off a little after one a.m., his heart gave a kick. They’d parked in the lot near Hearn’s grocery store to write reports after responding to two different noise complaints. Nothing like the Fourth to make people party too hard.

The call was from an unknown number.

“You gonna answer it or stare at it?” Benedict asked. He was writing the incident report on the last party breakup.

Probably a drunken prank call. Noel answered it anyway. “Officer Noel Carlson.”

“This is Noel Carlson?” The line was a little fuzzy, with a heavy music in the background.

“Yes, who’s this?”

“Richard Brightman. Listen, you know a kid named Tristan Lavalle?”

Ice skittered down Noel’s spine. “Yes, I do. Is he all right? Where is he?”

“He’s up here at Big Dick’s, club in Harrisburg. I’m one of the owners. Employees told me that all of sudden this Tristan kid starts freaking out, and I thought he was tweaking but it’s like he’s got no idea what’s going on or where he is. All he kept saying was to call you. I had to White Pages your number.”

Tristan had gone out. Alone. To a gay bar. “Listen, Tristan has memory problems, that’s why he’s freaking out. Just tell him that I’m on my way. It’ll take me about thirty minutes to get there, so you may have to tell him again.”

“All right. Come right to the bar when you get here. Ask for Richard.”

“Okay. Thank you for calling me.”

“Sure.”

Noel hung up. “Wade, I need you to take me back to the station. I have a family emergency.”

For once, Benedict didn’t have a snide comment for him.

* * *

Noel managed to keep a tight lid on his panic for the entire drive into Harrisburg. He sped and he was lucky he didn’t get pulled over. Flashing his badge would get him out of the ticket, and he was still in full uniform, but he couldn’t afford the time waste. He parked illegally in front of an alleyway, and he didn’t give a shit about that potential ticket.

The big guy at the door waved him inside. Noel ignored the curious—and nervous—looks cast his way as he pushed through the crowd to the bar. “I’m looking for Richard,” he said to the tall, blue-haired man behind the bar.

Blue Hair pointed at a door to the left marked Employees Only. “Back there, honey.”

Noel shoved through the door and ended up in a short hallway. “Tristan?”

A noise erupted from an open door on the right. An average-height man with graying hair and a purple-sequined vest poked his head out. “You Noel? He’s in here.”

Tristan was in what looked like a break room—table and chairs, lockers, vending machine. He sat in the corner, on the floor, curled into himself. The instant he saw Noel, he bolted up and into Noel’s arms. Noel held him, concerned by the shaking, overwhelmed at the entire situation. His own panic finally took over, stinging his eyes with relieved tears.

“I’m sorry, so sorry,” Tristan said, over and over.

“It’s okay.”

“I don’t know why I came here. I lost my notebook.”

“He keeps asking for a notebook,” Richard said. “My guys are keeping an eye out.”

“He has short-term memory loss,” Noel said. “He writes everything down so he can read it and remember why he is somewhere, or what he was in the middle of doing. Without the notebook, he has no idea.”

“Fuck, that sucks.”

“Yeah, it does.” Noel pulled back so he could look in Tristan’s eyes. “Do you feel okay? Did anything happen?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Where was he when he started to panic?” Noel asked Richard.

“Men’s room.”

“Which one?”

Richard frowned. “The one with the favors.”

Noel wanted to scream. Tristan had gone into the second bathroom with someone.

“Look, a guy came up to tell me about your friend freaking in the bathroom,” Richard said. “I went in, and he had all his clothes on. Nothing hanging out. If that helps.”

It made Noel want to interrogate every person in that club a little less. “Does anyone know who he went in there with?”

“He was with Marty,” a new voice said. A tall, black-haired man about Noel’s age walked in. With a tattered notebook. “And I found this.” He handed the notebook over to Richard, then tilted his head at Noel. “Hey. You the friend?”

“Noel Carlson.”

“Gabe Henson. Is he okay?”

“He will be. Who’s Marty?”

“He’s a friend, good guy. He said he was dancing with Tristan for a while. Thought the notebook was kind of weird, but that Tristan was ten kinds of hot. Also said the bathroom was Tristan’s idea, but when they walked in, Tristan froze, got really wide-eyed, then started freaking out like he didn’t know where he was, or why. Scared Marty to death, so he panicked and left him there.”

Noel snorted. “Oh yeah, he sounds like a real good guy.”

“Hey, your friend came on to him.”

“My friend is dealing with a lot.” Noel didn’t want to get into a pissing contest with Gabe, and the news that nothing happened with Marty had lifted some of the fear off his chest. Tristan was shaken up, and he’d take this hard, but he was physically fine.

It could have been so much worse.

“It was so stupid,” Tristan said. “I am so stupid. I’m sorry.”

“Stop it,” Noel said. “Coming here without me was a bad decision, yes, but you aren’t stupid.”

“I feel stupid. This is all so stupid.” His eyes filled. “Why didn’t they just kill me with that fucking bottle?”

Something inside Noel broke. He hauled Tristan against him. Thin arms wrapped tight around his waist. Tristan buried his face in the crook of his shoulder and sobbed. Noel wanted to take this pain away from his friend, to have been the one left so broken by those wastes of life who attacked them. He cried his own tears for Tristan’s pain.

After a long time of standing, Tristan quieted, and then they stood some more. Noel noted that they were alone, the break room door halfway shut. Someone knocked.

“Yeah?” Noel said.

Gabe entered with two bottles of water and a box of tissues. “Thought you guys could use these.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I do anything else?”

“No, thanks. But please tell Mr. Brightman thank you for getting in touch with me.”

“I will.” Gabe’s gaze dropped to the back of Tristan’s head. Something sad flickered there. “Take care of him, okay?”

“He does,” Tristan said. His voice was hoarse, his cheeks blotchy, but he turned to face Gabe. “Thanks.”

“Next time you drop by, drinks are on the house. Just bring your friend there.”

“On the house?”

Gabe smiled. “My dads own the place.” And with that, he drifted back into the corridor.

“You ready to go?” Noel asked.

“Definitely. I’m so—”

“If you apologize one more time, I’ll tape your mouth shut.”

Noel kept his arm slung across Tristan’s shoulders while they walked out. He didn’t see Richard or Gabe, and the bouncer gave them a hearty thumbs up. Noel’s car was, mercifully, not towed away or ticketed. Tristan fell asleep on the drive back to Benfield. Noel pulled into visitor parking and used it as an opportunity to read Tristan’s last few notebook entries.

9:45 p.m. So much fun watching fireworks with Noel and his boyfriend Shane (dark hair, dark eyes, don’t forget). Fireworks went off from Senator’s Stadium, and watched from the river so colors were exploding all over the place. They’re fun to hang out with, even Shane who I shouldn’t like but I do because he’s nice. He doesn’t treat me like I’m broken, and that’s really cool. If Noel’s going to have a boyfriend, it needs to be with a nice guy like that.

The words were messy, so he must have written that part in the car. The next paragraph of text was much neater.

10:42 p.m. Sad. Not sure why I’m so sad. Reading back and probably because of the day with Noel. Knowing he was here and left again. I know why he leaves. He has a life. I’m only a tiny part of it, but he goes home to someone now. He isn’t all alone like me. I fucking hate this. Hate the loneliness and being so tangled up in my head. Don’t know why he puts up with it but he does. I love him so much for that.

11:58 p.m. Still lonely. Mad too. Why do I have to be alone? I’m an adult. I can go out whenever I want. Even if I have to fucking sneak out of this place but I don’t think I have to. I can sign out. I want to be with someone, even if it’s a random sweaty fuck with a stranger like I used to do in college. I can do that if I want to. I just have to be careful. Notebook. Keep a note in my pocket because I can’t write it on my hand or every guy will think I’m a loser.

12:25 p.m. Back of a cab, heading into the city. I’m going to get laid tonight! Fucking finally!

That was the last entry.

Noel closed the notebook, uneasy at having spied into Tristan’s private business but glad for the information into why Tristan had risked his safety by going out. He was so lonely for affection. Starved for it, really, even though they were regularly seeing each other twice a week now.

“Why didn’t they just kill me with that fucking bottle?”

Tristan had said variations on that line in the past, more times than Noel cared to remember. Sometimes he was sure Tristan was able to write it down so he’d know he said it. Tonight he hadn’t written a word about what happened in that break room. Noel filled in the information as succinctly as necessary, including physical descriptions with names like Tristan preferred.

He left out the bottle mention.

Then he roused his friend, who was as confused as Noel had ever seen him. He explained their night while he walked Tristan back to his room.

“I’m more trouble than I’m worth,” Tristan said. He flopped into bed, probably exhausted both mentally and physically from his day.

“No you aren’t. You know I’ll always be here for you, Tris. Just please make a big-assed sign somewhere that tells you to never go to Big Dick’s alone? You really could have gotten hurt tonight.”

“I know. Why couldn’t that bottle have scrambled my impulsive nature, instead of my memory?”

“Because your impulsive nature is part of what makes you who you are.”

“Irritating as hell?”

“Shut up. Go to sleep, okay? I’ll call you tomorrow to check in.”

“Okay.”

“I love you, Tristan. I know you know that.”

“I do. Love you too.”

Noel called the station before he hit the road, to let his supervisor know he’d be back on duty in less than an hour. He hated leaving work in the middle of a shift, but it had been necessary. And he didn’t regret it. Not for a moment. He didn’t know what he’d do if something happened to Tristan.

* * *

“So, last day?” Tony asked as he plopped down on the set sofa next to Shane.

“Yes.” Shane gave him a wary look. “Are you talking to me again?”

“Yeah. Kind of need to if we’re going to be shooting together, don’t you think?”

“I guess so.”

Tony tilted his head. “I’m guessing it’s a good thing today is your last shoot, because you’re glaring at Chet like you want to cut off his balls and hang them from your rearview.”

“I was fooling myself into thinking my last shoot was going to be easy.”

“I hear you. Sorry.”

Chet had nearly given Shane fits when he said today was going to be another three-way. Similar story to before, only this time Colby was having a little something on the side, and Tony interrupts.

They were working with a new guy named Dane, who was standing close enough to Chet to share in Shane’s glare. Dane was Tony’s height, with about twenty more pounds of muscle, and, according to Chet, seven and half inches below the belt. It was a pretty good bet that by the end of the shoot, Shane would have taken both of his scene partners’ big dicks.

A few hours work, then it’s over. For good. You can do this.

Tony cracked a wide yawn. Shane gave him a harder look-see, surprised by the faint bags under his eyes.

“Late night?”

“Something like that. Had an incident at the club last night. Couldn’t stop thinking about it enough to fall asleep.”

“What kind of incident?”

“I’m not even sure, exactly. A twink freaked out, and his friend had to come take him home to chill.”

“Bummer.” Shane had been hoping for something more exciting, like a bar brawl.

“So how are things with the boyfriend?”

Shane grinned, unable to help himself. “Good. We hit a rough patch, but we’re working our way back.”

“I hope it works out.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Tony smiled, but there was tension around his lips. Something odd in his eyes. “So I have a special treat for you, courtesy of Chet.”

“I’m afraid to ask.”

“All right, boys!” Chet’s voice boomed over the set. “We’re ready to get started.”

Chet and Dane weren’t heading in their direction, so Shane and Tony hauled ass to the other side of the basement.

“So we’re following the story we set up with Colby and Tony on the first vid and carried into the second,” Chet said. “Colby and Dane are fooling around, getting naked. I’ll send Tony in. He’s upset because he gave up Boomer for you, Colby, blah blah. Colby, you’re tired of being a fuck toy, you want to top for once and Dane’s all for it. Tony, you don’t believe it so you watch while Colby fucks Dane, then you join in. You all fool around a bit. Endgame is Tony is finally giving up his ass cherry to Colby.”

Shane’s stomach plummeted. “What?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never popped a cherry?” Chet asked.

“Not on camera. Not without a lot of prep and patience.”

“It’s fine,” Tony said, even though he looked a little pale. “I’ve been stretching on my own. It’ll be fine.”

“Just imagine how hot this gonna be,” Chet said. “Two big tops getting topped by a skinny—”

“If you call me a twink, I will slap you,” Shane said.

Chet chuckled. “Just fuck like a god today, kid. That’s all I ask.”

* * *

Shooting the penetration stills with Tony was more painful than the actual sex had been. He was sore and had a tough time keeping it up long enough for the photographer to get an angle. Shane wasn’t sure how to help, other than rubbing his back or shoulders, reminding him it was almost over. God, he hated himself for doing it. Maybe he’d managed to escape the day without being fucked, but Tony…something had driven him to agree to being topped, Shane was sure of it.

He wasn’t sure how to ask, and he was pretty sure Tony would tell him to fuck off, anyway. They weren’t friends.

Chet took pity on them a little after six o’clock and called it a wrap. Tony escaped to the upstairs shower first. Shane lingered onset in his briefs and checked his phone. Voicemail from Noel.

“Hey, it’s me. I know you’re working late, and maybe you can’t get away, but if you have ten minutes before I go in tonight, can you call me? I just need to talk something out. It’s about Tristan and I know you’ll get it. Later, cowboy.”

Curiosity urged him to call Noel back immediately. Disgust kept him from doing it. Noel was clean. He didn’t want to dirty up their relationship by talking to Noel from a porn set. Even if he’d shot his last video, he hadn’t even showered. No, he’d call when he got home. Far, far away from this.

If he dumps me for this, I’ll deserve it. I’m a dirty liar.

Another conversation about Tristan too. It tweaked his jealousy a bit, because Tristan was perfect for Noel. They adored each other, that was clear. And despite his memory problems, Tristan had never lied to Noel—not like Shane had.

After his turn in the shower, he collected his check from Chet.

“Sorry to see you go again, honey,” Chet said. “You’re an asset to Mean Green. Your videos are some of my best sellers.”

“That’s flattering, but you know why I got in this, and now I can get out. I appreciate it, though.”

“I remember what it’s like to want for money. You need big cash fast again, you got my number.”

I’m deleting your number as soon as I walk out that door.

Or maybe once the check cleared. He’d never had one bounce, but waiting was smarter. “Like I said, I appreciate the opportunity.” Be nice and get out. Solid plan. He even shook Chet’s hand.

“Go conquer the world, Colby.”

I am never speaking that name out loud again.

Shane drove home in a daze, barely remembering to stop at the ATM and deposit the check. The last check he’d ever sell his ass for—the thought didn’t make the knot of ugly in his belly go away. The knot that reminded him he’d promised Jason he would tell him where the money was coming from as soon as he’d quit. Even though their loan would be paid off next week as soon as Chet’s check cleared, he couldn’t find a shred of joy. Not when he was about to disgust and disappoint the two people he cared for the most.

He pulled into the driveway a little after seven, surprised to see Jason’s pickup there. Home on a Saturday night, instead of out with Elizabeth? She was probably working. The Feed stayed open later on Saturday nights.

Jason was sitting on one end of couch, a beer in hand, the television on. He looked at Shane, his expression alarmingly blank.

“Hey,” Shane said. He shut the storm door to keep in the wheezing air conditioning. “You okay?”

Jason’s jaw twitched. “How was the gig today…Colby?”

Ice squeezed Shane’s heart, and his stomach erupted with acid. He dropped the gym bag, fingers too numb to hold it. He was too fucking surprised to play dumb. All he could manage was a squeaked, “What?”

“Did you know that men screwing other men is a big turn-on for some women? I had no idea, but apparently it’s a thing, and it’s also Elizabeth’s thing. She has a Tumblr feed and follows a lot of that on there. She was browsing her feed this morning while I was still asleep.” Jason said it all so calmly, so matter-of-factly, that it terrified Shane. He knew the quiet before the storm.

“Elizabeth saw a photo in her feed of a guy fucking another guy who, she said, looked like your twin brother. And being a curious creature, she checked out the studio watermarked over the image. Found other stills of a guy named Colby. She didn’t say anything to me at first. Over breakfast she started talking about how everyone is supposed to have a twin somewhere in the world, who looks exactly like them. She joked about having seen your twin on a gay porn site, only she couldn’t imagine you with a butterfly tattoo.”

The acid burned higher in Shane’s throat. His skin itched. He wanted to crawl out of it, so he didn’t have to live with himself or the gut-gnawing shame.

“I told Elizabeth I wanted to see this twin.” Jason’s voice wobbled. “She thought it was me being kinky or something, so she found the Tumblr picture again. I saw your tattoo, Jo. I didn’t want to believe it, so I didn’t say anything. I made up an excuse to leave, and I went to the bank. They showed me scans of all of the checks you got through Green Enterprises, out of California. So I came home and looked them up, and lo and behold, guess what they own?”

Shane couldn’t answer. He had lost the power of speech. He couldn’t even look at Jason anymore. His attention fixed on a balding spot on the carpet, near Jason’s feet.

Jason stood up, and those feet moved two steps closer. “Fucking porn, Jo?”

Instead of the anger he expected, the grief in Jason’s voice startled Shane into looking up. Meeting Jason’s glimmering eyes. Seeing Jason that close to tears shattered something in Shane’s chest. He’d done this. And now that the inevitable moment had arrived, Shane had no explanation good enough for the look on Jason’s face.

“We needed the money.” Shane’s voice was rough, shaking, and the words were so pathetic it hurt.

“Not that badly.” Jason took another step closer. “You did this for me, didn’t you?”

Shane’s throat closed. He nodded.

Jason blinked hard. Wiped his eyes. “How many?”

“Six.” He swallowed down the bile in his throat. “But today was the last, I swear. We have enough money to pay off the loan completely, so it’s not around our necks anymore. I’m done with it.”

“No you’re not.”

“What?”

“This is why you’ve come home some nights looking like you’d taken a beating and then eaten shit. Right? Why you’ve been miserable most of the time?”

“Yes. I hated it, Jason. I’m so ashamed of it that I want to scream, but it was my choice. I need you more than I need my pride.”

“You can’t destroy yourself for me, little brother. One day I won’t be here, and you need enough of yourself left to keep going.”

Fear hit Shane like a winter wind. “What do you mean? Did you get shocked again?” He closed the distance between them and grabbed Jason’s shoulders. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I’m not dropping dead tomorrow. That’s not what I meant.”

“Well, it sure fucking sounded like it. How do you feel?”

“Don’t change the subject. We’re not done.”

“What more is there to say?” Shane released Jason and stormed to the other side of the room. “I made gay porn, and I made a lot of money doing it. The loan will be paid off next week. Hell, there will even be enough left over for you to take a vacation. Go away for a few days. Take Elizabeth someplace expensive for dinner. I don’t care. Enjoy it.”

Jason shook his head. “You think I can have fun with money that you earned like that?”

“It’s just sex, Jason. I didn’t hurt anybody.”

“Except yourself.”

“I have a knack for that, don’t I?”

“What about Noel?”

“He’s my business.”

“So he doesn’t know.”

“Are you kidding? Of course he doesn’t know. Have I lied to him about how I got a bruise, or why I couldn’t call him back? Yes. But we aren’t exclusive, and I didn’t lie when I said I didn’t want to date anyone except him.”

So much for it’s my business. Big mouth.

“Are you going to tell him?” Jason asked.

“Yes. I was going to tell you, like I promised, but your girlfriend outed me before I could.”

“Really? You were going to sit me down and admit you earned that money doing porn?”

“Yes. I promised you, Jason, just like I promised we’d get through your heart problems. I took care of it like you’ve taken care of me my whole fucking life, so just say thank you and leave me the fuck alone.”

Jason flinched and looked away.

Shane didn’t think he could feel any worse about himself, but he was wrong. “I know you hate this, and maybe it’ll all blow up in my face one day, but what’s done is done. I tried to kill myself, and it stuck us with a huge fucking bill. It was my job to pay it off, not yours.”

“By trying to kill yourself again?” The heartbreak in Jason’s voice was too much.

That’s not what I was doing. It’s not. IT’S NOT.

He didn’t have to angle around Jason to get to the hallway, because Jason got out of his way. Shane slammed his bedroom door shut hard enough to rattle the wall, then jammed the lock into place. He stared around the small space, unfamiliar, because a stranger lived there.

A young man named Jody McShane used to sleep in that bed. Read those books. Tear those pictures out of music magazines. Jody owned the small collection of DVDs on the floor by the bed. When had he stopped existing? When Thom died? When he hung himself? When he let Tony bend him over a couch and fuck him the first time?

You haven’t really existed since you went bare the first time for Chet. You lost yourself years ago.

He stopped caring he’d lost himself when Jason almost died, because nothing was more important than saving him. Not even Shane’s own happiness. Happiness he’d only really felt around Noel.

He wanted Noel so much. Wanted Noel to wrap him in his arms and tell him it was okay, that the porn was okay, and that he wasn’t ruined.

He won’t do that. He’s too smart. He’ll leave you, and you’ll deserve it.

Shane stared at the bottle of prescription sleeping pills on the shelf over his bed. Half full. The notebook was right next to it, mocking him with its empty pages. Daring him to write it all down, get it all out. The idea exhausted him. He wanted to sleep, not think.

He picked up the bottle.

Hello darkness, my old friend…