Chapter Eight #2
Part of him wanted to delete the email and pretend like he’d never seen it.
It didn’t matter that Plantinum360 was footing the bill for the web episodes.
The thought of giving Landon Dwyer a single cent to listen to his lies turned Asher’s stomach.
Still, a little voice in the back of his head argued that, even if he didn’t like what was being said about him, it was better to know.
Talon certainly seemed to think so since he’d marked the email as “URGENT” in the subject line. Sighing, he clicked the link .
The video started playing at once, and Asher idly bobbed his head at the production quality. It was actually much better than he’d anticipated. He had kind of assumed it would be filmed on an iPhone in front of pictures of him altered to look like some demonic deviant.
In actuality, the lighting was good, the video quality excellent, and the streaming seamless without any buffering.
Instead of some gross caricature of Asher, the backdrop was a simple but tidy room decorated in warm, neutral tones of beige and brown.
Several bookshelves lined a wall behind a couple of leather chairs, all of Asher’s books on prominent display right in the center.
Against his will, he found himself impressed.
After a brief introduction by Landon, the video cut to Kyle Anders, who smiled charmingly into the camera.
Gone were the wrinkled and baggy clothes he’d worn when he’d first arrived in Dallas.
His plain white tee was clean, crisp, and it fit snuggly across his broad chest. He’d shaved for the interview, and his dark hair had been pulled back at his nape, the locks shiny and healthy rather than stringy and unkempt.
There were no dark circles or bloodshot eyes.
No sickly pallor to his skin. No crazed gleam in his steel gray eyes.
He looked, for lack of a better term…normal.
His appearance was such a stark contrast to how he’d looked the last time Asher had seen him, he almost couldn’t believe it was the same man .
As the video continued, Kyle and Landon spent a little time talking about the events that had led up to Kyle becoming a homeless teen living on the streets of New York City.
He’d come from a broken, abusive home. His father had been an alcoholic.
His mother had left when he was seven. It wasn’t anything Asher didn’t already know, but he still felt sorry for the boy Kyle had been.
Eventually, the conversation turned to Mitchell Faraday, and by association, Asher.
“There were five of us,” Kyle told the camera. “I was the youngest. Asher the oldest.” His smile slipped a little, but he hitched it back into place quickly. “He was the first, and he was Mitchell’s favorite.”
“So, he had a certain level of influence?” Landon asked.
“You could say that. He could always get out of the really bad jobs.” He released a long, heavy breath as his face twisted with emotion. “Which meant, someone else had to do it. That usually meant me.”
Asher gritted his teeth. He’d had no more influence over Mitchell Faraday than he did the man in the moon. Suggesting that he had purposely and willingly put the other boys in the house in danger simply because he could was more than just a lie. It was fucking offensive.
“When you say ‘jobs,’ you’re referring to sex.”
“That’s right,” Kyle confirmed with a sharp nod. “The really gross guys, or the ones that were into weird, kinky stuff. Those were the worst. ”
“Kyle, let me ask you something.” Landon sat forward in his chair, leaning toward Kyle as he pitched his voice low and solemn. “Are you attracted to men?”
“No.” A dark chuckle bubbled up from Kyle’s lips as he shook his head. “I’m not gay.”
Asher closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose.
No matter what Kyle had done to him or said about him, his confession caused a deep ache in Asher’s chest. Being gay didn’t make what had happened to them okay.
He imagined not being attracted to men, however, added an entirely new level of shame and confusion.
Frankly, the situation with Kyle Anders confused the hell out of him.
It was so damn hard to reconcile both hating and pitying a person.
Every time he’d get to the point where he thought he could put Kyle firmly in the villain category, he’d learn something new that made him question the role he’d assigned the guy in his head.
“You’ve never talked openly before about the trial or that period in your life. Why is that?”
Kyle shrugged. “I’m not rich or famous like Asher. No one has ever cared about what I have to say.”
And Asher was right back to hating him. If it wasn’t for Kyle, no one would care what Asher had to say, either. If it wasn’t for Kyle, Asher would have never said anything.
“How old were you when the trial began?”
“Sixteen.”
“Did you go back home to your father after that? ”
“No.” Kyle shook his head and chewed his bottom lip for a moment before he continued. “My dad was deemed unfit, and I was sent to a group home.”
Landon smiled sympathetically. “I’m sorry to hear that, but it must have been a relief to not end up homeless again.”
Kyle shook his head, his eyes devoid of any expression. “I probably would have been better off on the streets.”
The interview continued in much the same way, alternating between lies that pissed Asher off and bits of information that knocked the breath out of him. So, when his phone rang twenty minutes into the video, he was more than eager for the break.
“Hello,” he answered on the second ring. “Cameron?”
“Hey.” He didn’t say anything more, but the heaviness in his voice spoke volumes.
Asher moved his laptop to the coffee table and sat up straighter. “What happened?”
“I lost an account today.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” His words felt grossly inadequate, but he didn’t know what else to say.
“I lost the Braxton and Nash contract, too.”
“What?” Guilt crashed over him, forcing him up from his seat to pace the floor in front of the fireplace. He had a pretty good idea, but he had to ask, “Did they say why?”
“They’re concerned my life has become too high-profile, and that it might influence the case in some way.” A long, breathy sigh drifted over the line. “They’re right, of course. I’d do the same thing.”
Asher froze, his legs heavy, his feet rooted to the floor. “Cam, I’m so sorry.”
“Stop it. You didn’t do this.”
Beyond the daily inconveniences caused by the press, he hadn’t thought about how the continuous coverage might affect Cameron’s business.
If he hadn’t been so focused on himself, maybe he would have seen this coming.
As it stood, he was a selfish prick, and he owed Cameron a lot more than an apology.
“If I hadn’t dragged you out to dinner—”
“You didn’t drag me, and I’m not sorry it happened.” A long pause followed, but when he spoke again, he sounded calmer, steadier. “Am I disappointed I lost the account? Sure. There will be other clients, though.”
True, but gaining a client in the future didn’t negate what he’d lost that day. “Yeah, but—”
“Some things are more important,” Cameron interrupted. “I’m not going to hide just because some people are narrow-minded. That’s no way to live.”
Damn, he was amazing. Asher doubted he could have been as strong or optimistic after experiencing such a blow. It wasn’t right, and it wasn’t fair. Cameron hadn’t asked for the shitstorm that had rained down on him. While he might not fault Asher for it, Asher couldn’t help but blame himself .
He wasn’t sure how yet, but he’d find a way to make it right. “When are you coming home?”
“Ryder just texted that he’s on his way up. So, with traffic, I’m guessing about half an hour.”
“Do you want me to order dinner?”
“Yes, and dessert. Lots of chocolate. And pull out a bottle of wine.”
He really wasn’t as okay as he claimed if he wanted both chocolate and wine. “I’ll take care of it.”
“All right, I better go. I’ll see you soon.”
“Be careful.”
It wasn’t until fifteen minutes later while he was selecting a bottle of wine that Asher realized he’d referred to his house as Cameron’s home . Placing the bottle on the countertop in the kitchen, he rubbed at his chest, right over his heart where it had started to ache, and sighed.
What the hell was happening to him?