Page 11 of The Chemist

Anders and Diesel had shared a bedroom wall ever since Isaac moved intoCock Manora few years ago. At the time, Isaac had requested a room swap, claiming that the morning sun coming in from his window was murderous on his pale Irish skin.

Worst. Excuse. Ever.

In actuality, the little perve just liked listening to Jared beat off on the other side of the wall.

Diesel knew it. Isaac knew it. Jared was too into his muscles to notice.

Walking over to his bedroom mirror, Diesel ran his fingers through his hair and double-checked that nothing awkward was on his face. In their line of work, you never knew what might end up stuck to your face… or body. Always safer to do a quick status check.

Once, he walked out onto the patio for dinner with a used condom stuck to the back of his thigh. Granted, he was high at the time and half a bottle of whiskey in, but still, it was awkward when the rubber fell to the floor in front of Matteo and the guys. He could still hear the squishy, wet sound it made as the lubed condom hit the stone tile.

No one was impressed that day, and the guys didn’t stop their relentless teasing until Isaac ended up getting a squeaky sex toy stuck up his butthole a few weeks later. Don’t ask how it got stuck up there. Even the doctors were baffled by the positioning of the toy and the length of time it remained clenched between his butt cheeks.

Needless to say, everyone stopped talking about thecondom heard ’round the world.

“Mornin’, Bruno,” Diesel said to the smiling demon face inked to his chest.

He flexed his pec muscles and watched as the creepy demon did a little dance for him, moving its face to the beat of the drums.

He loved his little Bruno. The crazy dude kept him company and kept his secrets. The two of them had been through some crazy shit together, and through it all, the little dude never judged.

In addition to the creepy-ass demon face, running along the right side of his torso were three rather large stab wounds inked just below his ribs. A reminder of the three people who had betrayed him: his mother, his stepfather, and his stepfather’s son. If there was a cause for him turning out the way that he did, it was them.Thank you, motherfuckers. Hope you die a painful death.

Moving away from his emotional wounds, his eyes landed on the mantra that had become his words to live by, “Never Again.” Those chilling words were scribbled just above his belly button. Those two words were a stark reminder of the weakness he fought so hard to forget.

Lost in his own mind, his thoughts drifted to the painful memories of his past.

It was autumn. The leaves were just beginning to change color, and the evening wind was starting to bring a chill that only a light jacket could satisfy.

They were at Great End Skate, a local roller rink that kids and families used to pass the time while waiting for their lives to pass them by.

Coming to Great End Skate was not something that Diesel and his younger stepbrother, Jordan, did, but his stepfather had promised to take them for Jordan’s eighth birthday.

Diesel had been looking forward to it all week. He had never been roller-skating, and he hoped that his stepfather would teach him how to skate once they got inside. He knew that it was a long shot, but he hoped that perhaps Jordan’s dad would teach them both like all the other dads did.

“Can we go inside?” Jordan whined, tugging on his stepmother’s hand.

“No, your father will be back here any minute. He has the money for the tickets, and then we can go inside and skate for your birthday,” his mother answered.

“But I want to go inside now!” his bratty little brother argued, yanking her arm and sticking out his lower lip in a pout. For eight years old, the kid was still a big baby.

“Joe, you do as your momma says, or else I’ll slap you upside the head,” Diesel’s stepfather growled, opening the pack of cigarettes he had just purchased and striking a match as well.

“Finally,” his little brother gasped, charging off toward the arena with his mother dragging her feet behind.

Diesel stood up from where he was sitting on the hood of his father’s car and took a step toward the arena as well.

“Where do you think you’re going?” his stepfather asked, pressing a hand against Diesel’s chest and stopping him in his tracks.

Diesel stood there for a moment, confused. Were they supposed to use another entrance instead?

“Did you bring extra money for skating?”

Money? His stepdad knew that he didn’t have any money. Most kids got an allowance, but not them. His parents didn’t believe in paying their kids to do chores.

“That’s what I thought. Lesson learned, kid. Always make sure you are able to pay your way in life; otherwise, you will miss out on everything.”

Diesel stood there, seconds away from tears.

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