Page 25 of Painter's Obsession: Volume II

Nothing greater for a man than his firstborn to be a son... a mini him.

But my daddy couldn’t have a son who likes men.

I was a disgrace in his eyes. I don’t even think I’m gay. I’m just confused. But I guess I need to figure that out soon because Dad expects me to perform. A woman comes from behind the club dressed in a skin tight black dress and fishnets, her red curls bouncing with every step. And my heart sinks, the air around me turning thick, suffocating as I realize that it’s my best friend’s mother, Yolanda, walking toward me with a smile tugging on her red lips,eyes knowing, unreadable, like she understands exactly what this is.

“About time,” she says as she walks up towards me, voice smooth, too casual, like this is just another night. My dad slaps her ass, and she winks at him as she wraps her arms around me, her perfume too strong, too sweet, making my stomach twist. My mouth begins to open to speak, words forming but failing before they leave my tongue.

I couldn’t do this.

Not with her, of all people.

But from the corner of my eye, I see the smile on my Pop’s face, his pride settling into the lines of his face like cement—thick and permanent—and I swallow my shame. Cupping her ass and pulling her to me, my hands tremble despite my best efforts to keep steady. Her soft lips crash against mine, and suddenly, all I see is her son.

My dick comes alive at the memory of that night, the softness of his lips as they slowly pressed into mine, warmth and heat, something forbidden and unspoken.

“No one has to know,” he whispers into my lips as my hands ball into fists at my side, the ghost of hisbreath still lingering, still haunting me. Closing my eyes, I let her tongue slide into my mouth, her soft hands moving inside my shirt, the guilt pressing harder, sinking its claws into me, dragging me deeper.

Harder...harder... and I push her off.

“I’m sorry, I can—“ My words are cut off by a strong blow. I don’t register who hit me until I’m on the ground, mouth full of blood and the taste of her tongue. My father’s hands bury themselves in my curls as he pulls me up, his fingers twisting too tight, yanking my head back so I have no choice but to look at him. “Open up, Yolanda. Let him taste a fucking cunt.”

Tears sting my eyes, blurring my vision as I watch her lay on the leather booth and spread open, legs parting like this is nothing, like I’m nothing.

“Da—“ I choke out, slapping his hand away, the sting lingering on my palm. Does he know that she is the mother of my friend?

“Grow the fuck up, Byron. BE A MAN,” he says, his voice sharp, venomous, as he presses me into her cunt,but I couldn’t.

I can’t.

I have a girlfriend... that I hide from everyone.

My sister.

And Yolanda’s son.

Armando.

I try to get out of his grip, but my dad is like a madman, his fingers digging into my scalp like he’s trying to rip me from myself. I look around the club, but it seems like everyone is too blasted to care, too busy inside someone to see.

“LOOK, THIS IS HOW YOU DO IT.” My dad’s voice booms over the music as he tosses me to the side, my body hitting the seat hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs. “Sit.”

And then he walks over to Yolanda, his belt undone, the leather sliding through the loops like a slow, deliberate threat, and the bile rises in my throat as I think of him at home.

Does Mom know?

Does Gabriela?

He isn’t like this with her—will he ever treat her that way?

I couldn’t force myself to look at my father as he fucked another woman, and I couldn’t contain the bile clawing up my throat. Pushing myself off the seat, I run.

Run as fast as I can, stumbling into the bathroom, shoving open the green graffiti-covered stall, and emptying the contents of my stomach into it.

Suddenly, I feel a sharp pat on the back.

“Why are you puking?”

Ren’s voice is stern as I open my eyes, but I guess he’s behind me because all I see is the digested food he fed me earlier, bile and acid mixing into something foul on the floor. The smell of bleach and herbs fills the air, sharp and suffocating, burning the inside of my nose as I breathe in.

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