Page 61 of For the Fans
“It’s really not, though.” He tosses my phone at me. “That’s what it boils down to. You’ll make triple what you’re bringing in from your little jerk-off videos if I come on camera with you, and I’m telling you right fucking now, that’s not gonna happen.”
My brow furrows. “How do you know I’m jerking off in the videos…?”
“You just handed it to me,” he hisses.
I can’t help but smirk. “Why did you look at the videos? I was only showing you the DMs…”
“That’s not the point.” He stands up fast like he’s about to storm out, so I stand up too. “The way I see it, you owe me some cash, Vega. Frankie split her profits with us, but you didn’t.” He purses his lips. “You’re a greedy little bitch.”
My jaw clenches. “Fine,whatever. I’ll share it with you…” He rolls his eyes. “But you know how muchmoremoney we could make doing this. Swallow your fucking ego for two seconds and think about this rationally. You’re about to lose everything you’ve been working for… The fucking championship.” He’s vibrating, eyes scorching, neck tight in his rage. But it’s becausehe knows I’m right, and I can see that realization on his reddening face. “This is the only way we both get to stay here. The only way you get to keep being the superstar Eagles quarterback.”
He goes quiet again, fuming with swirls of green and gold fury shining at me. “That’s a great idea in theory, bro, but there’s a hole in your genius plan.” My head tilts. “I’m not fucking gay. I have no desire to hook up with dudes,especiallynot my dumbass stepbrother.”
I shrug. “I don’t want to hook up with you either. But for that kind of money, I couldpretendyou’re not the most obnoxious asshole I’ve ever met. I did it at Frankie’s party…”
“Yea, well… you enjoyed that a little too much.” He rakes his fingers exasperatedly through his hair.
My mouth curves into a wicked smirk as I lean in. “So did you.”
His eyes snap to mine. “I assure you, I didn’t.”
Choosing not to keep calling him out, I shrug again. “I just wanted to let you see for yourself how much these fuckers are fiending for this shit.” Easing around him, I go to the kitchen and grab my bottle of Fireball. “There’s a way, Kyran… a way for us to stay in school and not have to slink back to Somerville with our tails between our legs. You just have to have the balls to do it…”
Opening the bottle, I take a sip, wincing at the sugary cinnamon burn. He stays planted in the living room, staring at nothing for long enough that I rip two more shots from the bottle, waiting for him to process what I’m saying.
I don’t exactly have high hopes for him agreeing to this… And I’m still not even sure Iwanthim to agree. It’s not like I’m as excited over the idea of us fooling as my fans are… But it’s the only thing I can think to keep their attention. Otherwise, it’s back to the drawing board.
And yes, maybe I could find someone else to hook up with… Another guy to bring into the fold, to satisfy the demand for dude-on-dude content. But that seems like a lot of work. Kyran is already involved. Plus, he’s just as desperate for cash as I am, so there’s no way he’d ever tell anyone…
And then there’s the tension. The hate that flows between us like a magnetic force. Apparently, it’s the key ingredient, and I just don’t think I’ll find that with anyone else.
Finally, Kyran moves, but it’s not the movement I was hoping for. He stomps over to the door, reaching for the handle while I sigh out of disappointment and shake my head. But then he stops, his shoulders slumping as he lets out a long breath of audible frustration.
Slanting his face in my direction, his eyes fall to the bottle I’m holding. I say nothing, simply hold it out to him. And he slinks over slowly, grabbing it from me and taking an awfully large swig.
Grumbling, he rubs his eyes. “No bullshit, Avi… I want a concrete answer.” I blink at him as his gaze lifts to mine. “How many videos would it take to make enough for housing for the next two years?”
God, that’s a complicated fucking question.Thinking about it for a second, I murmur, “It depends on the content… At least a few. But we could start with one and see how they respond to it. And the more we market it, the more it’ll work. We might even be able to just record a bunch at once, then spread that shit out over the course of—”
“Fuck…” He cuts me off with a groan of despair, chugging from the bottle again. “This is so fucked. I can’t believe I’m letting you talk me into this…”
My brow arches. “Maybe you should slow down… And excuse you.Talk you into it??I’m notcoaxingyou, Kyran, this is afucking means to an end.” He gulps from the bottle again, and I grab it from him. “Okay, that’s enough for now.”
“I need to get completely blasted if this is gonna work…” He grips the back of his neck, staggering around the kitchen.
“Wait a second…” I follow him anxiously. “You want to do itnow??”
“I don’twantto do anything.” He shoots me with a hazy glare. “But I’m fucking here, so we might as well just get it over with.”
Jesus fuck…My heart is jumping so aggressively it might actually manage to pop up my throat. I was not at all prepared for this…
“Okay… uh, sure. I guess we could…” My thoughts are swirling and twirling like a carnival ride as I take a big sip from the bottle myself, hoping to steady the trembling in my limbs.
And why are my hands suddenly so sweaty??
“We need to make some terms.” Kyran shuffles over to the couch and drops down.
He seems defeated, like a broken man in a way, but he’s still the one moving forward with this, at a much more rapid pace than I expected.I mean, shit… I expected him to punch me in the face and storm off. Now he’s sitting on the couch, talking aboutterms??
