Chapter 2
Shiloh
I walked the perimeter of my third-grade classroom, checking in on my students’ work. Sierra had filled in the capitals on her United States map and was now doodling pictures in the states to represent them: a sunflower in Kansas, a cowboy hat in Texas, and a snowflake in North Dakota.
When I saw Nebraska, with a little corncob sketched in, my stomach fluttered. That was where he lived.
Holden.
But I shouldn’t be thinking about him in class. Or about anything to do with that part of my life.
I squeezed her shoulder. “Good work.”
She smiled up at me, pride shining from her eyes. “Thanks. I studied really hard!”
I didn’t doubt it. Sierra didn’t get a lot of attention at home. She filled that void by earning her teacher’s praise instead.
I moved on, glancing at Jacob and Kelly’s work, both on the right track. I paused by Luke’s half-filled map. He was struggling.
“Think about the song we came up with in class,” I suggested. “It’s a mnemonic device to help you remember.”
“I can’t remember the song.”
I hummed a few bars, then watched the click when he remembered a few of the words and bent forward to scribble in another capital.
My classroom door opened. “Mr. Blum.”
I glanced toward the doorway, taken aback by the stern expression on the vice principal’s face. Tasha Chavez and I usually got along just fine.
“What is it?” I asked.
“You’re needed in the office. I’ll watch your class.”
I dredged up a smile. “Okay! Kids, you heard Ms. Chavez. Continue with your maps.”
All the way to the principal’s office, my mind spun with reasons for this interruption.
It had to be serious, judging by Tasha’s expression.
I didn’t have any family here, so it couldn’t be news of a tragedy.
Maybe one of my students had lost someone, and the administrators wanted to inform me first?
But that didn’t make sense. When Jesse Rains’s dad died, they’d pulled her straight into the office.
Of course, there was one very obvious reason they might call me in. But I didn’t want to consider the possibility, because that would be…bad.
Really bad.
I entered the office. The front desk receptionist, Mary, waved me on. “Principal’s waiting for you.”
The door to Principal Weigand’s office was open. When I entered, he looked up at me, expression tight.
“Mr. Blum, sit down.”
I took a seat, knee jiggling. “What’s this about? The kids are in the middle of a test and—”
“Don’t worry about your class right now. This is about you.”
My heart faltered. “What about me?”
He spun the computer monitor around, displaying a camboy site. My camboy site.
. Complete with a reel of damning photos. A bare torso arching. A view from the back, ass pushed out and up. A close-up of a guy in profile, bangs falling over his eyes as he peeked to the side demurely. Even with half my face hidden, there was no denying it was me.
My breath whooshed out of me as if someone had just kicked me in the chest.
“I can explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain,” Principal Weigand said. “We have a zero-tolerance policy in our handbook. You’ve violated the morality clause.”
My face went hot. “Principal Weigand, please, I need this job. I love this job. I just needed to make a little extra money.”
“Then mow some goddamned lawns!” he exclaimed loud enough to make me flinch. “Get a part-time gig at the coffee shop. Jesus. Anything but this.”
“There were no other jobs that would have paid enough,” I said tightly.
“It’s disgusting,” he muttered.
When this conversation started, I was embarrassed to be caught out. A little ashamed because I knew it was against policy. But now, seeing the revulsion on his face, I got angry.
“Not everyone lives a perfect life where they can meet a partner and have their needs fulfilled. I help my viewers feel a little less lonely. I am not ashamed of that. It’s a service, just like any other.”
“Well, you’ll have a lot more time to serve them. You’re suspended. But I have no doubt you’ll be terminated once the school board reviews your case.”
“Please reconsider,” I said. “I love my job. I’ve never had a single complaint lodged against me in all my years here.”
He sighed. “I’m sorry. You’re a good teacher, and I hate to lose you, but my hands are tied. The parents would have my job if word got out we knew and didn’t act.”
There was no convincing him. Ten minutes later, I was escorted out of the building.
I stumbled toward my bus stop in a daze. I’d always known camming was a risk, given my profession, but I hadn’t had much choice.
I stopped abruptly as I spotted Brick Olson. He looked about the way his name implied: large, flat face with intelligence to match. He was leaning against the kiosk at the bus stop, arms crossed over his chest, an ugly sneer directed at me.
“Leaving work already?” His gaze panned over me, making my skin crawl in primal response to a threat. Then he glanced at his knockoff gold Rolex and smirked. “That didn’t take long.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked numbly.
“I came by to tell you that your payment just went up.”
“What? But I…” I waved toward the school a block behind me. “I just lost my job.”
“Then you should have more time to cam like we suggested, huh? Those shows are lucrative. You’ll raise the money in no time.”
Realization crashed down. Brick wouldn’t know to be at this bus stop right now unless…
“Tell me you didn’t.”
He shrugged. “The teaching thing was limiting how much you could cam. Now, you can bring in more money and pay us faster. It’ll be five hundred next week.”
I shook my head. “No way. I can’t!”
His eyes went hard, flat. There was a reptilian quality to them. Before I could react, he’d grabbed my throat and slammed me up against the kiosk. I cried out as a sharp pain radiated through my spine.
“Now it’s going to be seven hundred next week,” he said, his large hand squeezing my throat.
I clawed at his fingers, but I couldn’t break his grip. Tears welled in my eyes. I wheezed out the only word I could. “F-fine!”
He released me, and I gasped for breath, spots dancing before my eyes.
“Word of advice, Shy. Stop being a little bitch about this. Jimmie stole from us, and we’re going to extract what we’re owed, either in cash or in a pound of your fucking flesh. Got it?”
“I’m not even with Jimmie,” I rasped. “I broke up with him before he robbed you. It shouldn’t be my problem.”
A meaty fist flew at my face. I lurched away, but I couldn’t totally dodge the hit. It crashed into my jaw, sending me to the ground.
He crouched beside me. “When are you going to learn? We don’t give a shit.
Jimmie ain’t here, so you’ll have to do, won’t you?
” His voice turned silky smooth. “Besides, it’s not like you didn’t know what he was doing.
He spent that money on you. On your hair and your nails and god knows what else.
He took care of you, and now you’re going to take care of us. ”
My eyes watered, this time with frustration.
My taste in men had never been great, but Jimmie took the cake.
I should have known the first time he flashed his money around that he was into something sketchy.
He’d paid to repair my car when it broke down.
Bought me a phone. Always covered the tab when we went out.
But I thought he was employed and responsible, not the neighborhood drug dealer.
I broke it off as soon as I figured out the truth—right after meeting Brick for the first time. He wasn’t subtle. But it was too late. Jimmie robbed his buddies a week later and then got himself thrown in prison, leaving me to pay the price.
Brick grabbed my face, one finger pressing into my jaw where he’d hit me. I hissed as pain flared, and he clucked his tongue.
“You better get home and put some ice on that. It looks like it’s going to bruise. Seven hundred. Next week. Promptly, or this will be the least of your pain. Got it?”
“H-how am I supposed to cam with a bruised face?” I whispered.
He made as if to hit me again, and I flinched, eyes closing.
Brick laughed. “Keep the camera pointed at your dick. That’s all they care about, right?” He pulled me to my feet and brushed dirt from my arms, my back, my ass. He lingered there a minute. Brick was a self-proclaimed straight guy who thought what Jimmie and I did was disgusting.
He was also copping a feel.
But I didn’t have it in me to risk more abuse. I stood there, rigid, heart thumping loudly, until he stopped touching me.
“See you next week, Shiloh. Have the money ready.”
He walked away.
I slumped onto the bus stop bench, shaking too hard to stand. The twenty minutes until the bus came dragged by as the throbs in my jaw echoed the thuds of my heart.
How had I gotten here? Three months ago, I’d been a schoolteacher with a charming boyfriend. My salary was modest, but I loved my job, and I had my life together so much better than my parents ever believed I would.
I’d gotten kicked out at seventeen, but I’d worked two jobs to make it through college—one of them as a camboy to cover my tuition.
That’s what had given me the idea to cam when Brick and Curtis came calling about Jimmie’s debt and I couldn’t persuade them that I wasn’t the person who owed them.
It was the quickest, easiest way for me to earn the cash they kept demanding. But part of the appeal of a camboy was that he wasn’t too cheap or easy. You got the highest rates by making viewers believe that they were getting a VIP treatment when they got access to you.
If I started adding cam sessions willy-nilly, I’d just drive down my value. I could take on more private sessions, yes, but I only had two steady clients who wanted those.
Would Holden want more time with me?
My heart fluttered at the thought, then dropped like a rock. I couldn’t ask him. Even if he would take me up on it, I’d be taking advantage of his need for intimacy.
I wished I could stop charging him altogether.
It felt wrong to take Holden’s money when I loved our talks so much.
The sex was good too, but I’d always been a little bit of a slut, so that was to be expected.
I wouldn’t be a camboy if I didn’t have an exhibitionist streak mixed with a very healthy sex drive.
The way Holden liked to take control and boss me around only fed the exhibitionist in me. I loved performing for him.
But with the pressure to pay these creeps more every week, I couldn’t afford to turn down Holden’s money. Still, I refused to use him like some sort of cash cow.
I’d have to come up with another way. Maybe add more sessions under another name or do more shows on a few larger cam websites. They paid less per show, but right now, I couldn’t be choosy about how I came up with the money.
The bus pulled into the stop, and the doors opened with a hiss. I pulled out my bus pass to scan and climbed the steps.
The bus driver carefully averted his eyes at the sight of me. Not one of my better days, I was sure.
I took the closest seat and shifted uncomfortably as my back twinged.
The ten-minute ride gave me too much time to think about how alone I was with this problem, how I had no one to turn to, how if my parents had loved me more, or I’d been a little less queer, then maybe I’d have somewhere to go, someone to ask for help.
When Jimmie’s “friends” first threatened me, I’d sold my car, hoping to make them go away. That had been a mistake, because they became more demanding. No matter how much I gave them, it was never enough. I’d sold everything of value in my apartment, and still, they wanted more.
I wasn’t dumb. I knew there was no amount that would make us square. I could go to the police, but they wouldn’t be able to do anything until they caught them in the act, and I knew from watching my favorite true crime shows that it would be too late for me then.
I could go to one of my friends, but I really didn’t want to lead Brick to any of their families. Nate had kids, and Sheila lived with her younger sister.
No. I couldn’t risk making any of them a target.
The bus came to a stop in front of my building. I let myself into my quiet little one-bedroom apartment.
I shed my coat by the door, too drained to bother hanging it up. Then I made my way to the kitchen to grab a baggie and fill it with ice. I laid it on my jaw, tensing at the cold burn over my skin.
I was reluctant to look in the mirror and see the mark Brick had left—or how badly it might fuck up my camming plans for the week.
It was the worst possible time to cancel shows, but I always showed my face.
That was half of the appeal. Viewers felt like they knew me.
I talked to them, joked around, flirted.
I couldn’t just aim the camera at my dick and call it a day.
That wouldn’t satisfy anyone who could easily look at dick shots for free on the Internet.
I had to bring something special—something real—to the experience.
I held the ice to my face and walked into the bathroom. Turned on the lights. Lowered the ice.
A red splotch was spreading across my jaw, already bruising.
“Damn it,” I whispered to my reflection.
If I didn’t come up with the money by next week, this would be the least of my bruising.
I picked up my toothbrush holder and flung it across the room. It hit the shower door with a clatter.
“Fuck!” I shouted at my reflection, face twisted with rage before crumpling into fear. “I’m fucked!”
Tears spilled over my cheeks, hot and scalding, but there was no one there to hold me while I cried.
I was alone and vulnerable.
An easy mark.
And I didn’t know what to do about it.