Rentboy (13 page)

The young man began to make strange neighing sounds that would have made Edward laugh under other circumstances but in that moment only aroused him further. One hand held the rein, pulling it tighter. With the other he instinctively landed hard slaps on Fox’s hip as if he were using a riding crop.

Every movement Fox made, every cry pushed Edward’s pleasure higher and higher. Fox’s neighing became grunts coming from deep in his chest, and his hips rocked back and forth in a frenzy of movement like an unbroken horse attempting to throw its rider. Everything culminated at once in a crashing climax that rushed through Edward’s buttocks and belly. Wild as the ersatz horse he rode, he pumped sperm up Fox’s arse as he orgasmed. A feeling he could only describe as spiritual flooded his body, filling his head until it felt fit to burst. He was overcome with an intense love and an urgency to enfold Fox in his arms, to protect him.

“Oh fuck, oh shit,” Fox muttered over and over again.

Edward released the bridle. Fox spat out the bit and fell forward onto the straw, panting loudly. Gently Edward lay on his back. They were both slick with sweat, suctioned together by the moisture pouring from their bodies. Joined like the twins were joined, by an immutable force.

“Dear, did you come?”

“Like the fucking clappers, mate.”

Edward chuckled. “Can’t you ever be romantic? Can’t you say, ‘Darling, that was splendid’ or something like that?”

“I can only be myself, Eddie,” Fox said quietly.

Himself? Yes, that was all Fox needed to be. Himself was wonderful. Himself was stupendous, beautiful. “You’re perfect just as you are, dear. Absolutely perfect.”

“Fox, are you going home with the twins, or are you coming to my place?”

For at least half the journey back to London, Fox had been wondering how to work this. Eddie could not be allowed see the million-pound house they lived in in Finchley. Why the hell would a bloke who lived there be stealing computers to sell for a few quid? Anyway, he was supposed to be a rentboy living on the street. “Drop us at the nearest tube station on the northern line. St. Pancras will do. We’ll change trains a couple of times. They’ll like that.”

Looking anxious, Eddie said, “I’ve had such a wonderful birthday weekend. I don’t want it to end yet. Let me drive the twins home; then you can come back to my flat. I’ve got the car until this evening.” He looked sideways at Fox.

“Eyes on the road, Eddie, and no, that’s okay. The twins like the tube. They’re not crazy about all the people, but they like the trains. It’s an outing for them.”

Clearly disappointed, Eddie asked, “Will you come over later after you’ve dropped them off?”

“Not sure, mate. I’ve got to get them home, then make some money.” The implication was that he was going out to prostitute. He had to keep up the ruse. Eventually even Eddie would get fed up with a boyfriend he thought was selling his arse to other men.

The street outside St. Pancras was extremely busy when Eddie pulled up. “There’s NO STOPPING signs all over the place here. The traffic wardens will be on top of me in a second.”

“No worry, mate. Pop the boot.” Relieved to avoid a protracted good-bye, Fox jumped out to grab their bags before ushering the twins out onto the street. The noise and people closed in on them quickly, and they gripped each other’s hands, their bodies pressed close together. That the twins liked trains was a complete lie. They were terrified, and getting them home from there would be hell, but the sooner he got rid of Eddie, the better off Eddie would be, especially now Fox knew that Nik was his sister.

“Right, then,” he said when he had his backpack on and the twins’ overnight bag in his hand.

Eddie got out of the car, gaze darting left and right for traffic wardens and police. “Thank you for coming, dear. It was a lovely weekend. It’s over too fast.”

“There you go calling me dear again,” Fox said, trying to make light of the moment. But he felt like hell. This had to end before Eddie found out how profoundly he had been duped.

Tenderly Eddie put his hands on Fox’s cheeks. “Fox.” He seemed to be fishing for words and having difficulty. After a couple of false starts he said, “I’ve never had a valentine from anyone, and I hope next Valentine’s Day you and I will be able to exchange cards.”

“Is that your weird way of saying you want this to last?”

Cheeks growing pink, Eddie said, “I’m hopeless at expressing myself.”

“You’re just a bit shy, that’s all.”
Oh shit, Eddie, there’s nothing I want more.

“It’s not shyness. I’ve always had a hard time identifying my feelings. But I know what I’m feeling for you.”

“Lust,” Fox said. He had to lighten the moment and get out of there.

“That’s part of it. Fox, I…”

“You’d better go.” He pointed at a traffic warden in a fluorescent yellow tabard who was bearing down on them with the look of a predatory animal.

“Oh God!” After plopping a quick kiss on Fox’s lips, Eddie hugged him hard before diving into the car. “Fox, I love you,” he screamed through the window as he drove off.

Why did he have to say that? They hardly knew each other. Yet Fox had said the same thing to Eddie’s mum. And that was another thing that rammed home to him how dysfunctional his own family was. Annika might have been uptight and preoccupied with what everyone in the village thought, but at least she was sober, and she was kind to the twins. She loved her kids. Eddie’s dad had turned out to be a good laugh. Imagine having a dad who didn’t wear army fatigues and demand you call him sir. Imagine having a dad you weren’t terrified of and who didn’t beat the crap out of you just for being in the same room with him. They were all uncomfortable with the gay thing, except Nik, but deep down, they were decent people.

The sight of the small car driving away made tears of frustration and loss burn his eyes.

The traffic warden glared at Fox, looking as if someone had ripped a prize bit of prey from him. “You are blocking the pedestrian footpath!”

“Fuck off, dude,” Fox said into the officious little man’s face. “Come on, aliens.” He took the twins by their hands and ushered them into the tube station. “You can pick some sweets to eat on the train. That’ll keep you occupied. You were really good this weekend. I was so proud of you.”

Why couldn’t their fucking life just be normal?

* * * *

Hands on hips, a look of pure rage on his face, William Baillie stood on the doorstep watching them as Fox walked up the wide driveway. The twins were exhausted from the stress of the train journey and an overnight stay with strangers. The fact that they had not had a meltdown at any point over the weekend was miraculous. But if they didn’t get into a dark, quiet room soon, they’d start screaming. He’d seen it many times before when they got overstimulated.

All three of them approached Baillie as if they were walking the plank toward shark-infested waters. The closer they got, the more the twins lagged until they stood not beside Fox but behind him, pressing close to his back.

Spittle sprayed Fox’s face when his father screamed, “Where the fuck have you been?”

The twins began to whimper.

Avoiding eye contact the way one would with a dangerous dog, Fox said, “I left a note.”

“You went to stay with a friend?” The sarcasm in his father’s voice made it clear he didn’t believe Fox had any friends. “And you took them morons with you? Making me look bad for fathering three idiots.”

Baillie’s tall, broad frame blocked the doorway. Fox and the twins had their mother’s slender build. They would never be as tall as William Baillie. “I’ll just get the twins upstairs, sir.” Habitually, when addressing his father, he spoke in a neutral, nonconfrontational tone.

“You’ll come into my office now. All of you.”

“Yes, sir.”

Baillie walked in ahead of them and went straight into his office. As soon as his father was out of sight, Fox said, “Up the stairs and into my wardrobe. Wait for me there. Run!” Instantly obedient as they always were to Fox, the twins took off up the stairs while Fox hurried into his father’s office.

“Where’s the twins?”

“They’re tired. I sent them upstairs.”

With one foot Baillie kicked the office door closed and in the same movement felled Fox with a fist to his cheek. He leaned over Fox, screaming into his face. “You are not allowed to leave the house without telling me where you’re going. And I don’t want them fucking morons out in public anymore.” He punctuated his words with the toe of his boot in Fox’s belly.

Curled up like a caterpillar that someone had poked, Fox remained on the hardwood floor at his father’s feet. Baillie sank down into an armchair, a sneer on his face. “Is that a skirt you’re wearing? I’m going to kill you just for that. Now where have you been?” When Fox did not answer, he said, “You were with that fucking daft scientist, Atherton, weren’t you?”

There was no point in lying, because someone in a black car exactly like Maputwa’s had been following them. All the more reason not to see Eddie again. Eddie might be able to do karate on an unsuspecting ASBO, but William Baillie would kill him before he could say
dojo
. “Yes, sir.”

“You are a queer, aren’t you?”

Slowly, holding his ribs with one arm, Fox sat up, still avoiding eye contact with his father. “It was you who told me to be a gay prostie and pick him up.”

“That was to get into his fucking flat, not to enjoy yourself. Are you a queer? Is my son a frigging arse bandit?”

He’s going to smack me either way.
“Yes, sir; I’m gay.”

Fox wrapped both arms around his head and ducked to the floor as his father jumped to his feet, slamming his fist down on the desk. “What did I do to deserve this?” he screamed. “My son is a nancy boy, my twins are idiots, and my wife is a fucking alchy. What did I ever do to bring this on? I’m a decent man with years of military service behind me. I come from three generations of military men, and not one of my children is fit to be a soldier. This is what I get, a queer and a couple of morons? It’s not right. It’s not fucking right. I’m a good man. I’m a good father.”

With both hands he beat Fox across the head and shoulders, slapping repeatedly. Fox felt nothing. Whenever he was beaten he went into a kind of trance where he didn’t feel anything until later when the bruises started to come out. But what always left him shaking his head in wonder was that no matter what William Baillie did, the man always saw himself as the victim.

“Stay away from Atherton unless I tell you to see him again. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And if I find out you’ve been bending over for another man again, I’ll cut your dick off, and then no one will want you. Now get out of my fucking sight, you little queer.”

“Yes, sir.”

Fox got quickly to his feet, ran from the room and straight upstairs. In his bedroom he found the twins fast asleep in the wardrobe, snuggled in each other’s arms on the pile of blankets and pillows. After closing the wardrobe door quietly, he tiptoed out of the bedroom. No room in the house had a lock. Baillie would not allow anyone to shut him out of any room in his house.

Fox opened the door to his mum’s bedroom and crept in. It had been years since his parents had shared a bedroom. His father had the big master bedroom for himself, and his mum had a smaller room.

As expected, she was stretched out on the bed, snoring, stinking of alcohol. An empty wine bottle sat on the bedside table. It wasn’t even good wine. When you drank the quantities his mum drank and your husband wouldn’t give you any significant amount of money, you drank the cheapest plonk you could find.

The curtains were open, and as the early evening light fell on his mum’s face, he saw the fresh bruises, still red in some places, already turning purple across her jawline. Guilt made his stomach sick. Baillie had done this because Fox had disappeared with the twins overnight. Whenever he was not in complete control of his surroundings and his possessions, his father reacted with violence. And his family was his possession. He owned them. Fox sat down on the bed and shook her gently. Slowly she regained consciousness. When she saw him sitting there, she screamed and began to fight, slapping at him with both hands, pure terror on her face.

“Stop it, Mum. It’s me, Fox.”

The blind fear began to leave her face, replaced with recognition. “Sorry, Afton. Sorry, luv. I thought it was him. Where have you been?”

“I took the twins with me to a friend’s house for a visit. I couldn’t leave them here by themselves. They don’t eat if I’m not here. They’re afraid to go into the kitchen in case he sees them.”

“They’re a terrible disappointment to him,” she mumbled, struggling to sit up.

“Yeah, so am I.”

Fox piled the pillows up behind her, and she fell back on them, reaching out a hand to touch his cheek. “I’m sorry, Afton. You’re such a good lad.”

In frustration he burst out, “Why can’t you get sober, for Christ’s sake? Look at the state of your face. Look what he’s done to you. To both of us. And he beats the twins. Did you know he belts them? What the hell could they do to deserve that?” More quietly he said, “Why didn’t you leave him years ago?”

Releasing a long sigh, she looked into his eyes. They all had the same blue eyes— Fox, the twins, his mum. “I tried to once, when you were all little. Do you remember? You were about seven, and the twins were a year old. We were in Germany at the time, living on the army base near Oldenburg.”

“Was that after he smacked the hell out of the twins for crying?”

Looking away, she nodded. In her sober moments he knew she was ashamed that she had allowed her husband to beat her babies. “We got as far as the airport to get home, and he found us. He said he’d kill me and make it look like an accident, and then he’d get custody of the three of you.”

“Now he’s got custody of the four of us,” Fox said, bitterness making him want to hurt her. “You can’t leave because you’re drunk all the time. I can’t leave because the twins would die without me, either from starvation or he’d kill them accidentally by beating them. The twins are disabled, Mum. Why were they never diagnosed with anything? They could get help. I can only do so much. You don’t do anything to help them.”