Chapter 1 December #2
After that, I wondered how much longer I had to endure before I could leave.
Granted, so far it had been one of the most pleasant gatherings I’d experienced with them in a long time.
Probably since my dad died. And a part of me didn’t want that to end, but another part of me poised at the starting gate, ready to run.
I waited. Anticipation building. Maybe I could get out before anyone said anything awkward.
After the kids opened their presents, Tony let them out into the back yard to run around and play. And when he came back in, it all fell apart. As predicted. “So, our Joey isn’t famous yet, fam. But he’s getting there. Anyone see the latest video?”
“What video?” I hadn’t posted anything in a few days. Even wannabe influencers had to take time off. So what the hell was he looking at on his phone?
He stuck it under Sissy’s nose, and she scowled. “I don’t want to see that.”
“What?” Willow asked.
He turned and showed her too, and she scoffed.
For fuck’s sake. “Give me that.” I grabbed his phone. He didn’t even try and fight me for it, simply smirked.
“Boys, come on. We were having a nice time.” Mom was always trying to make peace. I couldn’t blame her, but then she was normally the first to scold or look down on me, saying something derogatory. Probably where Tony got it from in the first place.
I looked at the video. It wasn’t anything I’d posted.
I started the playback over. Oh shit. Someone else had recorded this, but it was totally me in the frame, and to be fair, we were in the main area of Afterglow, where phones were allowed.
It was my indiscretion being recorded, or to be specific, my bare ass on screen.
Live and bright and blinding white. I glanced at who posted it. @myclubnas
That wasn’t anybody I knew. Hell, it could be anyone.
Was this good or bad? Was this going to help me, hurt me, or do nothing? Well, probably not nothing since they tagged me. Fuckers.
All the while, I was ignoring everyone else and their judgy comments.
“Good lord, Joseph Conrad Bennick. Is this what you’re doing in the city?” Wow, she triple-named me and was about to go on a rant. Guess the question of when I could leave was answered, and that answer was now.
I dropped the phone on the coffee table, turned sharply, and walked out the door. I wasn’t going to fight or argue. No trying to justify myself. It was clearly my bare ass. Eventually, it would blow over. Eventually, they’d be on to other things.
I opened my car and shifted to get in, but Tony got my attention, slamming out the front door. “Don’t go yet, bro. We’re just getting to the good stuff.”
“Fuck off, Tony. Why don’t you keep your nose out of my life?”
“It’s too much fun seeing you squirm.”
I flipped him off and got in the car, shutting the door. He tapped on the window, but I didn’t roll it down. I started my car, threw it in reverse, and tore out of there. The last thing I wanted to hear on Christmas was my baby brother’s condescending bullshit. I did not need it.
After I hit the highway, I tapped the screen in my car. “Call Tucker.”
It rang three times. “What’s up, Joe?”
“Where are you?”
“Still with the family. Hold on.” I waited a minute. “Hey. Had to step outside. I’m being tortured here with everyone throwing Bible verses at me, thinly veiled as friendly advice or did you know statements…ugh!”
“Mm…sorry.”
“What’s your sitch?”
“Just left. Tony pulled his shit again.”
“Same ol’?”
“Yes and no. He had a video of me posted by someone from Afterglow. Did you see it?”
“No. What? How bad?”
“Not really bad, but you know me…my ass was on full display.” I chortled sardonically because what other response was there for this situation?
“Perfect. Damn. What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. Can you meet me at the club?” Afterglow was my big splurge. I needed it for so many reasons, and right now, the most important one was on demand. I needed some playtime.
“If I can. I’ll try and get out of here, but you know my folks…
” I did know them. Unfortunately. His father was the pastor’s brother at the church they all attended.
And his mother led several women’s groups.
It all seemed very 1950s country housewives.
Tucker had a lot of aunts, uncles, and cousins, but he was an only child.
I often wondered if it was because they simply couldn’t have more kids, or if it had been on purpose.
None of it mattered. “Okay. Hopefully, I’ll see you there. I think we both need some moral support right now.”
“You bet, dude.”
I headed into town and straight to the club. The owner had decided to open for Christmas in case anyone needed a place to go. Many of us considered Afterglow a second home, and it was needed. And I was going to take advantage of it.
Hell, outside of becoming an influencer, all I really wanted was a daddy.
Someone to put their arms around me and reassure me he’ll always be there, and everything would be fine.
But I didn’t have that. Didn’t know what actually having a daddy was like.
And at this rate, I never would. The only thing I could do was hold on to whoever would let me for the moment.
But even that was a mistake most of the time.
There were a few people at the club but not many. A couple of guys lingered around the long bar that took up most of that side of the room, and one guy sat alone at one of the few tables in front of it.
Music played softly, and I danced by myself, but after waiting for Tucker for nearly an hour, I had two choices. Go into the back and play—probably also by myself—or go home.
Fuck this shit. I was here and needed a release.
I crossed the dancefloor and entered the back rooms, known as No Limits.
There were a lot of BDSM rooms with tons of sex toys and such, and even some plain, normal bedrooms. Something for everyone, I guessed, but honestly, where I was headed was the Littles Room.
After I did the required breathalyzer test, I headed down the hall. I knew the way by heart. I passed the glass windows that looked into the area where littles could play and opened the door. I pulled off my jacket and flung it to the floor.
There was one girl in the corner, sitting cross-legged and playing with a doll. And no one else. I kicked over the LEGO table, and when she looked up at me, I stuck my tongue out at her.
She scowled. “You a bad boy.”
“I don’t care.” I stomped over to the shelves where toys were stored and pulled a basket down, dumping all the miscellaneous things in there onto the floor. “Rawr. I’m a dino.” I held my hands up like claws and growled, before yanking down more toys. The door opened but I ignored it.
Feeling a bit possessed, I continued my rampage. I felt like Stitch in that cartoon I liked. He was made different. Created for destruction. Misunderstood. He escaped and felt all alone in the universe. That was a story I could relate to.
Eventually, he found his family. But where was my chosen family? Even Tucker couldn’t bother to support me today. I stomped through the toys, roaring, but a tear had escaped. I didn’t know whether to rage at the world or curl up and cry.
The door opened again. “Joey. You need to go home.”
“Don’t wanna.”
Big Jake, the dungeon master, stood there with his big tatted-up arms crossed over his chest. About the only rule for playing in No Limits was that you had to listen and obey Big Jake. Period. If you didn’t, you could be suspended or have your membership revoked. Uh-oh.
I looked at my feet. Another tear fell. “I sawry.”
“I know, Joey. This isn’t like you, but you need to go home now. Be a good boy, and I won’t tell Brax about it. Okay?”
Brax, aka Braxton Caruso, was the owner. No one wanted to be in trouble with him. “Okay. I go.” I looked around. “What about dis mess?” I needed to clean up.
Jake put his giant-sized hand on my shoulder. “I got it. This time. But I don’t want to see this behavior again, understand?”
“Yes, sir.” I picked up my jacket on the way out. Thankfully, the place had been mostly empty. Otherwise, I would have been super embarrassed. I would have to think of something nice for Jake to thank him.
Nothing left to do but drive home.
I lived at Casa Pedroso in Ybor City. It was an old 1800s cigar factory that had been restored and turned into these glorious apartments.
Mine had a patio with a wrought iron railing around the balcony.
It was charming, even if my view was of another cigar factory.
The brick of that building was gorgeous anyway, so I didn’t mind.
The area was also what they called walkable, meaning almost everything in Ybor City was within walking distance, which was good because there wasn’t any parking—the only drawback.
But the nearest garage wasn’t far at all, and I had a reserved spot there.
And it cost. A lot. My one-bedroom, one-bath apartment was over two grand a month, and the parking pushed it a lot closer to three.
I sighed. I needed one of those promotions my brother got.
I walked in and tossed my keys on the peninsula counter.
The kitchen was smaller than Mom’s but it was modern, sleek, and well laid out, overlooking the living room and balcony.
My bed was tucked to the side, not really even in a room.
Even though I put up a divider screen to give the semblance of privacy, it was basically all one room.
I kicked off my shoes and headed to the one place I felt secure, and the main reason I kept this place. The closet.
It was big and divided into two sections.
The main section where you hung clothes was in the back, and I’d managed to stuff a tall boy in there for extra storage.
Who the hell could live without some drawers?
But the front part was an empty, virtually useless space.
Unless you were a little like me. I had cushions and blankets on the floor, and I could still shut the door.
I stuck one of those push-button lights low on the wall in case I needed to see and didn’t want to get up.
I also had Rex, my stuffed dog, shoved in there.
It was the perfect size for curling up and resting.
I pulled off my clothes and dumped them in the little hamper I kept in the bathroom and pulled out my soft clothes from a drawer.
Once changed, I grabbed one more thing. I had a basket on top of the shelf above the bar where I hung my clothes.
In that basket, I had little things. A couple of books, two wind-up dinosaurs, a bunch of monkeys from an old Barrel of Monkeys game, some soft blocks, a teething ring, and my pacifier.
It was that last thing I grabbed out of the basket before cuddling up with my favorite blankie and my Rexy stuffie.
I shut the door, locking the rest of the world out.
Last race of the season
I accepted the trophies. Not only for the race win, but for the championship.
I shook and opened the giant champagne bottle, spraying it all over the crowd of fans and some of my team.
I’d beaten the top racers from all over the world, and I was fucking proud of myself.
But I was also finished. This was my last race.
I’d announced my retirement halfway through the season, and winning the championship didn’t change anything. But try telling that to Grant.
He threw an arm around my shoulder as we headed to my trailer.
“You can’t retire, man. You can’t. Do you even know what they’re offering you?
Not to mention the competing offers that are starting to come in?
” Grant was not only my business manager but my best friend.
We’d met and become friends early in my career, when Grant had been racing, too.
But he wasn’t great, probably because he didn’t love it, and quit racing, went to college, and now managed my career. To an extent.
“I’m turning thirty-three next year. I’m not going to keep doing this.”
“That’s not too old. Come on. Plenty of time to take a break before you get back to training. Season doesn’t start until March.”
“No. I want to go out on top. That hasn’t changed.” It was only downhill from here. And I didn’t want that. I wanted to be known as a champion. End of story.
“Think of the money. California Alpine will pay you thirty million base. That doesn’t even include bonuses. And the factory teams are all begging. Mercedes threw out a potentially nine-figure number. Come on!”
“Eh. I have enough.” I’d made millions in my short career between racing and sponsorships, not to mention some fantastic investments that doubled my worth. I was set for life. “I want to explore new things.”
“You mean men. And sex.”
“So what if I do? I’ve put my love life—hell, my whole life—on hold for ten years. It wasn’t supposed to be that long.” I’d anticipated much less since racers normally only did it for a good five to seven years at the top level. It’s too stressful to go longer.
We walked up the steps to my trailer, and I pulled off my gear, leaving it in the foyer area. Grant kicked my pants. “I know. I know. I can’t blame you for that. I guess.”
“Then stop harassing me.”
“Fine. What are you doing next then?” Grant knew me well enough to know I’d already started planning and was determined not to crash those plans—even with fast cars.
“I’m taking a trip to Florida to look for a house.”