r/TSDrake

Previous: Chapter 16 • First: Chapter 1

The houses on Sinclair Boulevard were as pretentious as the street name. It was the only “Boulevard” in town. The houses didn’t have driveways, they had long, curving private roads leading from their individual mail boxes to their four-car garages. Half of them had fences and wrought iron gates, and Jason felt underdressed even in his black uniform and tie.

The rest of his shift at the theatre had gone exactly as promised. Walsh emerged from the green room and ordered people to work faster, he sweet talked the marketing executives out the door, and he even gave Darlene a compliment on such a well-planned event. It was a masterclass of Hollywood producing. Before he left he put an arm around Jason’s shoulder and whispered, “Nine o’clock in the park. Don’t waste my time.”

So Jason went looking for Wesley’s house. Three o’clock on a Thursday the streets were quiet. The rich professionals that lived on Sinclair would be attending to patients, legal clients, the city council, or would have just left to spend their summer in Europe. Through the trees shielding homes from the road, Jason spotted a gardener riding a massive lawn mower across a park-size area of perfectly green grass that was probably never stepped on and drank more water than Jason’s whole family.

Wesley’s house was white faux marble with columns and a black front door. The driveway didn’t curve, and the long unshaded incline left Jason sweating and out of breath by the time he reached the top. He straightened his tie and tried to look presentable in case anyone else was home and then he reached for the small gold doorbell. A Big Ben chime echoed inside.

He had his arguments ready for anything Wesley threw at him. He was even prepared to apologize for firing him and to offer him his job back if he agreed to Walsh’s terms. He’d have to promise to stay away from Griffin, of course, and Jason would make sure they were never on the same shift, but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make if he got the private meeting with Roth.

Footsteps approached inside and the door opened to reveal a potbellied man in a blue polo shirt and tan shorts. He smiled and greeted Jason with a friendly voice, “Hello, young man, are you here from the church?”

Jason wasn’t prepared for that. “Uh, no sir, I’m not. I’m looking for Wesley.”

The man’s smile dropped. His voice filled with suspicion, “Why?”

What could he say? He’s needed for a prostitution arrangement in the park? Jason went for the nearest thing to the truth that didn’t risk oversharing, “I need to talk to him about work.”

“Work? Work where?”

Had he been lying to his parents about having a job? Why?

“At the theatre?”

The man clicked his tongue, “Of course. And who are you? One of his little faggot friends?”

It would have shocked Jason less if he’d been punched in the stomach. His throat shut and he recoiled from the door.

Wesley’s father shook his head slowly, looking like he smelled sour milk. Before he closed the door he spat out, “The faggot doesn’t live here anymore. Now get off my property before I call the police.” The door slammed shut.

Jason stumbled back down the steps to the driveway pavement. The black asphalt radiated heat. Jason loosened his tie.

Had Wesley’s parents kicked him out? How long ago? When Wesley applied for the job after New Years he’d said something about paying for damages for his time in Europe. He’d always breezed into the theatre like he was riding a golden pony. Had he actually been homeless? Where was he?

Jason’s thoughts carried him back out to the tree-lined road. Then the sound of quick footsteps turned his head.

Wesley’s sister, Samantha, dressed more casually than she had been at the theatre, in shorts and a baggy sweatshirt, jogged up to him on the sidewalk.

“Why were you looking for Wesley?” She was small, but her voice had an edge that made it clear she was more than capable of standing up for her older brother.

“I need to talk to him about something.”

“About getting his job back?”

That was part of it, so Jason nodded.

“He’s been living on Commercial Street since dad kicked him out. It’s an apartment above Gravity Records, 413A.”

Jason thanked her and turned to leave when she asked, “Are you going to apologize to him?”

He turned back. “What?”

She spoke slower like he was an idiot. “Are you going to apologize for firing him?”

“How do you know I fired him?”

Her head dipped. She definitely thought he was an idiot.

“Sorry,” he said, “He told you?”

She crossed her arms and smirked, “Oh yeah. He’s told me all about you, Jason Falconer.” Her voice changed to a mocking falsetto, “Oh no, I’m a workaholic that doesn’t know how to relax! But every time a cute boy smiles at me I bend over backwards to do whatever he wants!”

“No I don’t!”

She rolled her eyes, “Sure. And you totally didn’t fire my brother over a boy.”

There was more to it than that, but Jason didn’t want to argue about it.

“Whatever, just give Wesley this for me.” She held out a wad of folded twenties. “It’s my allowance.”

Jason cautiously took the money.

“I’ll know if you don’t give it to him.”

“I won’t steal it. Why are you giving him your allowance?”

She shrugged, “You fired him. He has to eat.”

She flipped her hair and left him to process, alone.

-

Jason didn’t even know there were apartments above the record store. He’d been inside a few times and never noticed the alley leading behind the building. On the bus ride downtown he decided to open with an apology. After what Samantha said, Jason knew he had misunderstood at least part of what Wesley was doing at the theatre, so there was a chance he was wrong about other things. Maybe he’d been too hasty to fire him.

“What do you want, Jason?” Wesley’s voice made him jump.

The metal stairs leading up the back of the building were flaking blue paint and Wesley sat on the top step in a matching blue tank top. It was the one he wore to the amusement park. He had his blonde hair tied back and cradled a can of cheap beer between his hands.

Jason put a foot on the bottom stair.

“I’m not inviting you inside, we can talk out here. What do you want?”

Jason stepped back down to the concrete, “I came to apologize.”

Wesley scoffed and sipped his beer.

The alley was a quiet dead end with a few garbage bins beneath the stairs. Wesley was sitting in the last of the sunlight that made it over the roof of the pawn shop next door.

Jason stood in the shadow. “So how long have you been living here?”

“Since last summer.”

“What happened?”

“I thought you came to apologize.”

Jason reached out for the railing and rocked back on his heels. He was still hurt by Wesley’s stolen kiss with Griffin, but everything he had learned about Wesley’s home life had doused the flames of his anger. He took a deep breath and admitted, “It was unfair to fire you so suddenly. I didn’t give you a proper chance to explain.” Although, what could explain kissing Griffin like that? Jason swallowed the question before it escaped his lips. He looked up at Wesley, “I’m sorry.”

“Ok. Is your conscience clear?”

“I can get you your job back if you want it.”

“Not afraid I’m going to steal your psycho boyfriend?”

Jason tightened his grip on the railing and bit his tongue. “Can I trust you not to?”

Wesley scoffed and took a drink.

This was going nowhere. Jason took two steps up and growled, “Do you want your job back or not?”

“Is this just because you found out about me?”

“No, I just need–I mean–I just wanted to apologize and see if you were ok. And I have money to give you. It’s from your sister.”

Jason pulled the folded twenties out of his pocket and climbed a few steps closer to hold it out.

Wesley’s eyes cut through him with suspicion. “Why are you really here, Jason?”

Jason waited for him to take the money but Wesley left him in limbo. “I came to apologize and your sister gave me this for you.”

Clearly unconvinced, Wesley took the money and stuffed it in the breast pocket of his tank top. Then he sipped his beer and watched Jason as he didn’t leave. “Something else on your mind, bossman?”

This really hadn’t gone the way Jason had planned. Standing awkwardly, halfway between two stairs, looking up at calm, cool Wesley was not the position he wanted to be in. But the sun was getting lower–Jason was running out of time.

“I need your help for the premier. Something tonight.”

“I thought the premiere was tomorrow.”

“It is, yeah, but the producer. He has some… extra demands.”

There was no way to sugar coat it. Jason told him everything. Almost. How Walsh was the guy from the park, how he wanted to fuck Wesley, how he was willing to fuck Jason instead, and if nothing happened before sunset the premiere would be cancelled and everyone would be fucked. Jason left out the part about Griffin and the private meeting with Roth.

When he finished his confession he waited for Wesley to tell him to fuck off and go get fucked in the park, but Wesley didn’t react right away. His face was unreadable as he finished his beer and then he dropped the empty can over the side of the railing. It landed perfectly in the open recycling bin.

Wesley stood up and walked down the stairs past Jason. “Alright, let’s go.”

“What? Really?”

-

Wesley didn’t speak for the short bus ride to the park except to tell Jason to shut up when he wouldn’t stop asking questions.

All that remained of the Canada Day fair were some patches of dead grass where the rides had sat. Nearing sunset, the main field was mostly empty. A few college students played frisbee close to the pond, and a group of families occupied the gazebos with a barbeque.

Jason kept silent as they crossed the stretch of grass separating the fair ground from the far toilets, but when they stepped up to the building he couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Why are you doing this?”

Wesley gave him the same ‘you’re an idiot’ look his sister had given Jason earlier in the day, but he finally answered with a shrug, “I’m not a thief. He paid for it.”

“I didn’t think you’d actually show.”

Walsh stepped out from behind the building. He held the white jacket of his suit over his shoulder with one hand and put a cigarette in his mouth with the other. Then he flipped an old Zippo lighter open and a burst of flame illuminated his face. It was like something out of a dozen old movies, and Jason realized he had probably been waiting just so he could pull that move.

Without slowing down, Wesley approached Walsh, plucked the cigarette from between his lips, and put it between his own, and then he slid past him into the shadow behind the building. Walsh’s eyes followed him with a look that made Jason’s stomach churn. He wanted to get away before he had to hear anything.

“So, deal done, right?”

Walsh turned back with a Cheshire grin, “Almost.”

“I’ll give you some privacy.”

Jason turned to leave but a firm hand gripped his shoulder.

“No no no. I think you should stick around.”

He threw off Walsh’s hand and turned, defiant, “The deal was only for one of us. He’s here. I’m leaving.”

“Ah ah ah,” Walsh waggled his finger like Nedry in Jurassic Park, “One call and it’s all off, remember?”

“I’m not letting you fuck me!”

Walsh closed the distance between them and whispered, “I don’t want to fuck you. I want you to watch me fuck him.”

“You didn’t seem eager for him to watch last time.” Wesley was standing behind Walsh, cigarette smouldered between his fingers, with his bare cock on display between his naked legs. He’d abandoned his shorts somewhere behind the building and was standing like he hadn’t noticed they were gone.

Jason and Walsh were speechless, but Walsh recovered first. “I was caught off guard last time. But who doesn’t love an audience?”

Wesley shrugged and turned, flashing his smooth cheeks as he disappeared behind the building again. Walsh followed, and Jason, reluctantly, went with him.

Wesley took his position, elbows on the air conditioning unit. Walsh tossed his suit jacket over the metal box and gripped Wesley’s hips, pressing his crotch against his ass. Wesley didn’t seem bothered by any of it and continued nursing the cigarette.

At the edge of the building’s shadow, cast by the pink sunset and a distant park lamp, Jason crossed his arms and tried to look anywhere else. A deep nausea had settled in Jason’s gut, like he’d eaten something heavy and poisonous. He tried to focus on the distant chirps and buzzing of the park and not on the scene in front of him. Every glance at Wesley’s calm face, the curve of his shoulders, the smooth line of his naked legs, stabbed Jason’s insides as bad as when he had caught Wesley with Griffin.

Walsh took his time. He ran clawing fingers over Wesley’s hips and up the base of his spine with slow purpose, constantly thrusting the front of his pants forward. But his patience didn’t last forever. He fumbled his belt and fly open and fished out a skinny, half-hard cock.

It looked smaller than Jason’s.

Hacking spit, Walsh wet his shaft, giving himself a few extra strokes to get closer to hard.

“Don’t forget this,” said Wesley. He held a small square package out for Walsh over his shoulder.

The producer snatched the condom out of Wesley’s hand and begrudgingly ripped it open. He muttered as he rolled it over his cock, “Good memory.”

“Like the boy scouts say,” Wesley tapped out the butt of the cigarette on the wall–then Walsh’s cock penetrated him in a rough thrust and the next word caught in Wesley’s throat. He winced, “Always be prepared.”

“A little old for a boy scout, aren’t you?” He didn’t wait for Wesley to adjust to the sudden intrusion. He fucked him, short and quick, like the jerking twitch of a muscle spasm.

Wesley gripped the edge of the air conditioning unit and spoke through gritted teeth, “It’s a figure of speech, douchebag.”

“Oh, come on, you can do better than that.”

“Fuck you, faggot.”

Hot breath hissed through Walsh’s teeth and he thrust a little harder, leaned a little closer, and whispered in Wesley’s ear loud enough for Jason to hear, “I like a mouthy whore.”

“Fuck you, at least people want to fuck me.”

“Yeah, talk back, little bitch. Tell me what you really feel as I fuck you.”

Jason wanted to run. He wanted to plug his ears. He wanted to beat Walsh over the head with a stick so he’d stop touching Wesley.

“You skeezy fucks have to pay for it because you can’t get it up for your drunk wives.” Wesley brushed hair out of his face and tried to appear unbothered, but the strain in his voice betrayed his discomfort.

“Tight little bitch,” Walsh croaked.

“If I’m tight for your tiny cock, I must be the tightest ass in town.”

“Bitch… faggot,” Walsh wheezed. His torso hunched over. He fucked in desperate little thrusts, and then he gasped. It was high pitched, like something a pig would make falling into a trough.

Wesley covered his mouth. Was he in pain? Jason took half a step forward but Wesley held up his hand, revealing a smirk. He was trying not to laugh.

Walsh’s pig squeals slowed and his twitches stopped and he raised his head to look over at Jason with a proud grin. He was pathetically sweaty for how little they had done, but he withdrew from Wesley and stood with hands on hips like he was some kind of superhero. He slipped off the condom and tossed it into the grass, and then he fished another cigarette out of his pocket.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” said Wesley, turning around and leaning back on the air conditioner, his soft cock proudly on display.

Walsh quickly stowed his dick and zipped up, but they had all seen the comparison. He lit his cigarette and stepped back like he was expecting Wesley to try and snatch it again. “Look me up if you’re ever in LA. I’ve got some casting couches you can test the springs on.”

His joke didn’t get a laugh, and there was something about Wesley’s half-naked lean that absorbed all the attention. In that moment, Wesley had the power, and Walsh was just a desperate loser.

Standing around smoking wasn’t changing the vibe, so Walsh looked for his exit. He turned away from Wesley’s body to Jason and gave him a vague salute with the two fingers holding his cigarette. “See you at the Premiere,” he said, and then he strolled away around the far side of the toilets.

Leaning over, Wesley picked up his shorts and stepped back into them. Without underwear, Jason noticed.

“What time does my shift start tomorrow?” Wesley’s voice had flattened. His charm was done now that he was off the clock.

“Doors open at six, but staff are arriving at three.”

Before Jason finished speaking, Wesley turned away. “Sounds good. See you tomorrow, bossman.”

He left and Jason was alone.