Page 4 of Mad for Madison

“Thank you,” I singsonged as I plucked the envelope from the director’s hand. That was going straight into my savings. I stuffed it into my backpack and glanced around the room. You’d never guess the mess we’d made all over this place for the scene just by looking at it.

Jett was called away to make a decision about some task that didn’t matter to me.

“Are you down for drinks?” Ricardo asked.

I looked at him, my gaze sliding over the hairy chest and stomach, muscles and fat evenly distributed to take an edge off his firm physique. His beard was cropped short, but hismustache was a little thicker, and his dark hair was specked with silver. He was a sweet muffin, alright, but I didn’t mix work and life. “I think I’ll take a rain check,” I said.

“I’m not trying to get into your pants, Nico,” he said in that deep purr that could send chills down my spine if only he used the right words.

I threw my head back and laughed out loud. “Is that so?”

Ricardo gave a deep nod, assuring me he wasn’t trying to sleep with me. Then, relaxing a little, he said, “I’ve been doing this for a long time. I know what making friends is like when you do this sort of work.”

“I have friends,” I said, hoping no flicker of doubt crossed my face.

“I’m sure you do,” Ricardo said without the trace of sarcasm I was expecting. “But hey, some things you can’t talk about with your outside friends.”

So I could talk to the guy who’d spent three days inside of me for the pleasure of strangers? I didn’t think so. But I thanked him politely anyway because Ricardo was a genuinely nice guy, and I hoped to do a scene with him again someday. Not everyone knew how to strike a balance between rough—and rough was the entire brand for Eros Edge—and attentive. One had to appear on camera and be believable; the other needed to remain between us. Ricardo knew how to do that.

“I guess I’ll see you around,” Ricardo said. His brow furrowed. “Are you going to the gala?”

I snorted. “My contract says I am.”

“Figures.” Ricardo scratched his beard and nodded. “See you there, then.”

I saluted him with two fingers before pulling my beanie down my head and walking away. The cold evening air seared my lungs until I got used to it, and I headed for the subway. Although I had a very clear destination in mind, it crossed mymind that Bradley had asked me to come to the party at Neon Nights. Or had come as close to asking as Bradley would. He always floated the idea as a theoretical possibility. I wondered if he was just gathering people to make the party bigger for Mama Viv or if he wanted me there.

I didn’t do parties at Neon Nights for the simple reason of wanting to separate my life and my work. A glitter bash at a gay bar was the likeliest place to be recognized, although stray glances came from the unlikeliest of places throughout my daily life. Still, I didn’t want my roommates, Mama Viv, or Bradley, getting dragged into conversations about my choices. I’d done enough of that in my life.

Instead of going back to Hudson Burrow and debating whether or not to show up at Neon Nights, I went to a shabby studio on the top floor of a defunct residential building. I was not reckless with my money. This studio was given to me as a favor from a scene partner. Otherwise, I never would have rented a place like this. My money went into savings with rigor and strictness that my parents never would have understood. It simply didn’t exist in my mind.

There were, however, things I spent my money on. Peeling Palace, for which I split rent with four other guys, stylish clothes, and various equipment for my solo videos. Oh, and my canvases and paint that were scattered around the studio.

It was my slice of heaven. I flicked the lights on, filling the space with the radiant orange-yellow glow of the industrial Edison bulbs hanging from the ceiling. The warmth from the heater took its time, but half an hour later, I changed into my painting rags and picked a canvas for the night’s work.

The studio’s bare brick walls were covered with paintings. Portraits, predictably. Figure paintings of all sorts and kinds: young men rolling in grass fields on summer afternoons, other young men jumping off jagged cliffs into deep seas, fictionalscenes of times long gone in a world that never was. This was my indulgence. This was where I came for pleasure. This was what I did to feel things that I couldn’t feel in the real world.

So I picked up a notebook and examined my studies for a long time before bringing the pencil to the canvas. And when the tip of it touched the taut linen, every wrong in the world felt put to right again.

Bradley

I turned the key quietly and stepped inside the apartment. The part had gone on until late, and the work after closing had been significant, but these things reflected on my paycheck, and not much else mattered. Besides, I would sleep in tomorrow before our big day out.

My grandmother was fast asleep, no doubt. The apartment was dark and quiet. It was so warm that I had to take my scarf, beanie, and jacket off quickly and make my quiet way down the hallway, past my grandmother’s door, into the living room, and to the other side, where two rooms faced one another. My door was shut, but Lily’s was slightly ajar, a soft night-light pouring through the crack and casting a gentle beam into the hallway.

I pushed the door a little and looked at the sleeping angel. She had pushed the blanket off herself, so I tiptoed across the room, avoiding the minefield of Transformers and Barbie dolls that cluttered the floor, and stroked her golden hair before pulling the blanket up and tucking Lily in.

She had Ava’s hair, her big green eyes, and her Cupid’s bow. In fact, every unique feature of Lily’s face had come from Ava, which was lucky because I didn’t have any unique features forher to inherit. And Ava was beautiful, or had been when I’d last seen her four years ago.

Lily gave a tiny, childish snore as she settled into the folds of the blanket, and I ran my hand over the back of her head again. “We’re gonna go to the zoo tomorrow,” I whispered. “We’ll see lions, the kings of the jungle. And penguins. They’re way cuter than lions, you’ll see. Oh, and Pudding, Tristan’s panda bear. We’ll have the whole day together, just you and me, baby.”

She slept peacefully; I hoped images of penguins waddling along filled her dreams.

As quietly as I could, I snuck out of Lily’s room without stepping on LEGO or tripping over a toy tractor. Lily wanted to be a farmer and a princess and an astronaut, all depending on the time of day and the person asking. And I always promised that she would be precisely what she wanted.

Lily was the reason I got out of bed every morning. God knew my life was far from perfect. It was barely passable on most days. My place was behind the bar, looking at people living lives I couldn’t have. But it was for Lily and her future, so it wasn’t hard.

Ava had been my first and only girlfriend. She’d been my best friend in school. Our relationship had been a natural progression of that friendship, combined with our parents’ expectations. When we got together, it was to everyone’s delight. But we had been a doomed couple from the start. I’d gone into it hiding a secret that was eating me alive, eating my soul from the inside. The final piece of proof I needed to stop my mind’s denial gave us Lily, but it also ended our relationship.

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