16. Isaiah #2
“You sure you don’t want to stay with us instead of Mum and Dad?” Elliot asked. They’d been over this multiple times already.
Isaiah sighed. “It’s easier for work if I stay with Carl. And he’s got better lighting.”
Jackson let a laugh escape. “You have to come visit, at least, spend a weekend.”
Isaiah grinned. “Don’t worry, I’d never abandon my favourite gay uncles.”
Elliot spluttered. “I am not old enough to be your uncle.” At the same time, Jackson chided Isaiah jokingly for bi-erasure.
“Bi-Pan cousins just doesn’t have the same ring to it.”
They got stuck in the traffic jam from hell as they approached the M25 interchange and Isaiah gathered the remaining courage he held deep down, the tiny bit of bravado that hadn’t been snuffed out from a year of constant blows to it.
“So, you know my cam show?” he started.
Jackson barked out a laugh as Elliot coughed, “Yes, we’re aware of it.”
“Right. Well, can I…can I get some advice?”
“We haven’t watched it!” Elliot exclaimed.
“Not that kind of advice.” Isaiah laughed. “I’d probably die of mortification if you ever did.”
“Good, because bleh.” Elliot crinkled his nose. “Not that we have anything against porn in general, but you’re my cousin. My baby cousin.”
Isaiah laughed again. “That’s actually…well, that’s kind of why I wanted to talk to you about this. I’m considering showing my face. I haven’t decided yet, but it could blow back on you if anyone links us, so I won’t if it’s a problem.”
“Blow back.” Jackson sniggered.
Isaiah arched a brow at Elliot, who shrugged helplessly at his fiancé’s immaturity, but then the fondest look passed across his face as he looked at Jackson, and Isaiah wasn’t sure if he wanted to coo or retch.
“What’s brought this on? Is it a money thing?” Elliot asked.
Isaiah hesitated. “Not entirely, though I’ll admit funding for my research is hard to come by, and I’d likely bring in enough to self-fund if I showed my face.”
“You probably would,” Jackson said. “You’re almost as pretty as Ell; people would go wild.”
“Focus on the road and let me handle the advice, Jennings.” Elliot twisted around, facing Isaiah fully over the middle console. “So why else?”
“There are a few reasons, really. I’m writing my thesis on ethics and agency in digital sex work, and I think it would be better for my research to experience both the anonymity and the lack of it first hand.”
“Fuck, you’re so smart,” Jackson said. Elliot agreed, and Isaiah would have been lying if he’d said he didn’t preen, just a little bit.
“It would give me better credibility and trust from the community when conducting research with other sex workers, as well. My supervisor somewhat suggested that, actually.”
“Your supervisor knows about your channel?”
Isaiah nodded. “Yeah. Not the most enjoyable conversation of my life. And that’s the thing—the worst has already happened. Schmidt knows now, and though the rest of staff don’t, it’s not likely they’d go looking…and if they did, I doubt a mask would protect me.”
There was a twinge in his heart at the slight dishonesty, because Schmidt finding out wasn’t the worst thing that had happened.
Chris Green was by far the worst thing that had happened to Isaiah this year.
57 Funny how he considered losing Flash worse than the near implosion of his academic career. Isaiah was a bloody fucking idiot.
He wondered briefly what Chris was doing, if he was training again.
Reconciling everything Flash had told him with the image he had of Chris Green was hard.
It was heartbreaking, if he was honest, and part of him despised the man, but he also hoped he was alright, because that would mean it was possible—coming back from the edge.
“I’ve got nothing to lose except…” he said after he realised he’d let the silence carry on too long.
“Except what?” Elliot asked.
“What if people connect us? Headlines about you being related to a gay porn star or something?”
“Oh, so you think you’re a porn star now?”
Isaiah rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“You can’t make decisions based on how they might impact me,” Elliot replied slowly.
Isaiah caught Jackson’s nod of approval from the driver’s seat as the car inched forward in the traffic.
“And it would hardly be the first time I was dragged in the press. Besides, Dad’s got some solid media folks on staff—if you need him to spin something, he will.
And my agent is a damn shark. She’d just find a way to get me, like, a sex toy sponsor out of it or something. ”
Jackson snorted. “If you get that before me, I will never forgive you.”
“Maybe we can look into it together.” Elliot winked.
“You’re really fine with it?” Isaiah asked, annoyed by how small his voice sounded.
“If it’s what you want to do.” Elliot shrugged. “I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that once something’s on the internet, it’s out there forever.”
“I know, Dad,” Isaiah joked, then froze. Most days, he could get away with not thinking about his parents at all. He could keep himself busy at Oxford and let himself forget that he didn’t have a home to go back to anymore. His eyes burned though, as that one stupid word tripped him up.
Elliot caught it immediately. “You shouldn’t worry about what they think.”
“I know. I just wonder sometimes… If they’re even curious what happened to me. If they give a shit at all.”
Elliot swallowed. “They know you’re staying with my dad. I…I overheard him shouting down the phone at them ages ago. But other than that…”
“Is it bad that part of me hopes I go viral and it all comes back to bite them in the arse when their precious golf buddies ask why their son’s shooting porn?” The idea made him smile, but it didn’t dull the ache.
Elliot snorted. “Nah, I think that sounds like karma in action.”
“Odds are one of their golf buddies has seen your channel already.” Jackson laughed.
Isaiah grimaced. The thought wasn’t a particularly pleasant one, and all it did was remind him of the moment when Chris had pulled the mask off and shattered Isaiah’s world.
Two months later, Isaiah sat in his uncle’s house, his bags packed, ready to move back to Oxford. Funding secured, if precariously, through a series of grants, alumni support, and bursaries.
He opened his stream and watched the subscribers pour in, trying his best not to think about the name sitting on his block list.
The tips pinged.
“Fuck it,” he whispered to himself, and pulled off the mask.