The only person that was right by his side through it all, even knowing that Chris was at fault, was Michael. Their friendship was unconditional and unwavering. In fact, Michael and his boyfriend, Max, were the only shining light in Chris’s otherwise dark life. Michael left for college in New York not long after the trial and convinced Chris to come with him. Chris quickly agreed, knowing there was nothing left for him in Alabama. Truth be told, he didn’t really feel like he belonged anywhere, was still convinced his life should have ended the night he killed his girlfriend. Michael was his strength, the brother he never had, and he helped Chris find some semblance of a life in New York while Dr. Shwarma worked on the pain and suffering he kept locked inside, a festering wound he allowed no one around him to see. Thank God the Judge presiding over his case showed him leniency, and Chris didn’t have to jump through hoops with the legal system in order to leave the state as long as his community service hours were completed prior to moving.
Music and flashing strobe lights within the building he was passing pulled Chris out of the misery of his memories. It was very alluring, the elaborate dancing colors pouring through the windows that were synced perfectly with the bass of the song, and he was drawn in. Showing his ID to the big, burly guy at the door that winked at him, Chris entered the club.
Inside, slowly circling the perimeter, Chris was amazed by what he saw. Darkness surrounded the outer edges and corners of the large room, with cages of various sizes separating the circular dance floor. The DJ booth was opposite the entrance, with more cages on either side that held nearly naked men in various stages of undress. They were dancing, kissing, groping, and in one cage, Chris was certain they were fucking. As he slowly made his way through the crowd he was just now noticing were all men, he saw several chairs and couches lined up along the rear wall, and there was a man between another man’s legs, his head bobbing up and down, keeping time with the beat of the music.
He stood frozen in place for a minute, staring at what was obviously a stellar blowjob—judging by the look of ecstasy on the recipient’s face—right there, out in the open. How was it that these men were so brazen about what they were doing, and the place wasn’t swarming with cops? And how was it that Chris lived just a few miles away and had never noticed this place before? Michael and Max would be in heaven here, he thought.
A small, waiflike young man with slicked-back black hair breezed past him wearing nothing but a jockstrap, knee-high tube socks, and a pair of Converse. Since he was carrying a tray full of empty bottles and glasses, Chris followed, certain his next stop would be the bar. His relationship with alcohol, shockingly, was one of the few he’d made amends with since that night. In fact, it was only in the past year that he’d started allowing himself to drink again, and always in moderation. He ordered a rum and coke, then turned and leaned against the counter, enjoying the music and the atmosphere.
“Well, hello there, gorgeous. Haven’t seen you ’round these parts before.” A petite blond grinned up at him, openly appreciating Chris from head to toe, with a rather naughty gleam in his eyes.
Chris laughed out loud, smiling down at him. “So gay men’s pick-up lines are just as bad as the ones us straight guys use, eh?”
Chris thought he might have offended the little guy for a minute, but he threw his head back and barked out a high-pitched laugh, then straightened and smacked Chris on the arm, hard. Chris mock-flinched—“Ouch!”—and grabbed his arm, chuckling.
The little guy shoved his hand toward Chris’s chest, and he took it before shaking. “Name’s Colby, and who says I’m gay?” He winked at Chris before turning toward the bar and ordering a cosmo.
“That right there, little man, that says you’re gay.” Chris laughed.
“Oh ha ha, and what is your beverage of choice, jolly? Jack and coke? Budweiser?” Colby was trying hard to come across as serious, Chris could tell, but the smile never left his eyes, so Chris knew he was messing with him.
“Close. Rum and coke. Jolly?”
“You know, Jolly Green Giant.” Colby winked at him again.
“Funny. I’m Chris. Nice to meet you, Colby.” They both turned and watched the mass of bodies dancing, writhing, kissing, and touching on the dance floor. Chris didn’t know what else to say, so he remained quiet, contemplative. He kept stealing glances, out of the corner of his eye, at the man that stood next to him. Colby sipped the pink drink, head bobbing to the beat of the music, smiling and watching the scenery.
Just about the time the silence bordered on awkward, Colby nudged Chris’s arm with his elbow. “So.” Colby leaned closer, speaking loud enough for Chris to hear him over the music. “Are you really straight? Or are you bi? Oh, is it my lucky day and you’re bi-curious?” Colby waggled his eyebrows.
Chris shook his head. “Nope, sorry man, I’m as straight as a board. But don’t worry, I got no problem with the lifestyle; my best friend and his boyfriend live together, so I’ve spent a lot of time around gay guys and couples. Doesn’t bother me in the least.”
Colby nodded his head as he tipped back the pink drink and took a large swig. The silence was creeping in on them once more until Colby nudged Chris’s shoulder again. “Can I tell you a secret?” Chris nodded. “My name is not really Colby; it’s Colton.”
“So you use a fake name just in case you don’t like a guy or something?” Chris asked.
“Or something,” Colby—no, Colton said. “Gay Boy 101. When you live in the Big Apple, never use your real name unless it’s family or someone you know you can trust.”
“And you think you can trust me?” Chris asked, attempting to leer at his new friend. Colton cackled, his bright-blue eyes dancing with mirth. Colton frowned when Chris set his empty glass on the bar and ordered a glass of water instead of another drink. “You driving?” he asked. Chris shook his head. “Then why the water?”
“I have a one-drink rule, and before you ask, don’t. Let’s just say alcohol and I have a history, an ugly one, so I consume in moderation when I drink.” Chris paused for a reaction.
Colton eyed him for a few seconds before grinning and shrugging his shoulders. “Ah, well, more for me, then!”
Chris snorted, unabashedly happy for the first time in…God, he couldn’t even remember how long. After a few more rounds of water, cosmos, and some pleasant conversation, he asked Colton where the bathrooms were, and they headed off in that direction. More than once Chris had to hold Colton up, the cosmos working their magic, turning the poor guy’s legs to jelly. When Chris was washing his hands afterward, he noticed a stack of flyers sitting on the counter. Grabbing one, he skimmed over it then turned to Colton. “What’s this place? Do you know?” he asked.
“Ah yes, All Cocks, the hottest gay porn site on the web.” Colton sort of sang the words instead of speaking them. “I thought about it once; it’s good money, but I have this fear of public speaking, so I don’t think I could even be on camera…much less have sex on-camera. Jesus, but the models on that site are h o double t…hot!” Colton fanned himself with his hand.