FLOODLIGHTS
Chapter 1 of 2
Captured perfectly on the screen of a digital camera was the cloned figure of a boy in his late teens, illuminated in the dark, from below the metal stairwell of the industrialized parking lot where a woman stood watch. She had peroxide blonde hair that was pinned up in a neat and stylish bun, wearing black thick-rimmed designer glasses that faintly conveyed her identity. Dressed in a tight dark pantsuit that outlined her slim and slender figure to perfection, the white seashell-haired woman smirked in reaction to hearing the electronically motored sound of photos being developed. On her shoulder was a strap to a case that sustained her laptop computer. First glances of her and anyone would have thought she was a businesswoman - but she was something far more dangerous. A derisive smile crept across her lips as she held on to the stairwell's railings and observed the energetic crowd before her. The metal studded stairs she stood on led to the warehouse's rooftop, where smoke rose from chimneys and fumes poisoned the crisp midnight air.
The blurred luminescence of glowsticks being waved, and that of car headlights from people dogging, were the only sources of light that brightened the docks, situated in L.A.'s less glamorous side. Ravers jeered in synchronicity to the furious Techno-Industrial hybrid that roared from the sound system, making the speakers rattle and shake. It was the prime location for whores to seek out those who acquired their services.
"F*ck me!" An exclaim passed 19-year-old rentboy, Carl Olsen's lips, upon seeing a scantly clad woman in her mid-to-late twenties brush past him, during her ephemeral quest to find something alcoholic. He wore a dark hoodie underneath his jacket with the hood thrown over the back and faded blue jeans that were worn and frayed at the knees. Oblivious to the fact that they were just that - worn out - anyone would have wrongfully assumed that they were the latest style and purchased that way. He was dressed hip and had a real urban quality about him. He was someone who, despite not having a great amount of money, made an effort to look his sharpest. Image was everything to Carl. He believed it was the only thing that he had going for him.
21-year-old prostitute, Nina Rhodes, tilted her head to the side to fully appreciate the woman's perfectly sculpted body. She could tell that the anonymous woman looked after herself, her skin was tanned and her personage incredibly toned. "Nice ass."
Nina was dressed quite different from Carl. She had an unzipped pink hoodie pulled over her black waistcoat and brandished Punky Fish sneakers that were covered by her Cyberdog flares. Platinum blonde hair was tainted by traces of fuchsia. She was the epitome of rave.
"I could get lost in those sweet buns." Carl sleazy remarked. Azure eyes accompanied Nina's piercing green ones as the pair both watched in unison at the woman diminish from their view.
"Tell me about it." Nina sighed in wonder.
"Maybe we should call her back," Carl joked. "We could share."
A light chuckle escaped Nina's lips at her on/off boyfriend's typical boyish behavior. "I thought I was supposed to be the naughty one." She'd be a liar if she said she wasn't tempted. That's why she remained silent on the matter. Being a hypocrite was fine, but being a known hypocrite? Nuh-uh.
"I guess it's contagious."
"Something like that." Nina inched closer toward her toy boy and kissed him hotly on the mouth, her hand playfully resting on the inside of his thigh. Thoughts of that woman had got her worked up.
Nina was the same age as Carl is now when she was kicked out of her home by her parents. It was after she had a violent breakup with her then girlfriend, and dealer, Kari, that her life spiraled out of control. Much like her drug habit. She unintentionally destroyed everything and everyone she touched, wrecking her already damaged relationship with her parents, who weren't impressed with their daughter swinging both ways. Not to mention her unique dress sense and style that was yet another reason they almost always clashed. Luckily, due to Nina's connections with the underworld of drugs, she knew people who could set her up temporarily. For a couple of nights a time she moved from dealer to dealer, until eventually she ran out of money to pay for their hospitality. She ended up working at an escort agency until she could afford her own apartment, which wasn't exactly the dream home that she had hoped for. It was a cockroach-infested hellhole located in the city's rougher side. Money, once again, became a problem, as any scraps of luck she struggled to get a hold of rapidly slipped from her grasp, like sand pouring through her fingers. That was the point when she had little option but to turn to prostitution if she wanted to stay off the streets. It was as a common hooker, a whore, that she met Carl.
They hadn't have found each other if it wasn't for an incident at a youth hostel that made Carl feel even less about himself. He was 17 at the time and the place was packed one night, so some people had to double up. It went without saying that the boys had to share with the boys, and the girls with the girls. He had no idea who he was with, but ended up sharing a bed with a heroin addict, who kept his addiction secret and to himself. Not even the workers at the hostel knew. He and Carl got along as well as two strangers under those circumstances could. It wasn't until the lights went out and it was time for them to sleep that Carl panicked and subconsciously latched on to the other boy, who was older than him by no more than 3 years max, and had deep hazel eyes and dark shaggy hair. He was a reasonably good-looking young man, which if it were not for him being roughed up by his Smack habit, he would've almost positively had been handsome. Carl didn't know him, going without saying that he didn't know his name either, and was too nervous to ask, so referred to him as Kyle in his head. He didn't know why, but it seemed to have fit. He looked like a Kyle to him. Kyle, unlike how most boys would've reacted, didn't seem to mind that Carl had cuddled up to him. In fact, he welcomed it. It made him feel just as safe as the younger of the two. So much so, that Kyle cupped the side of Carl's face and looked him square in the eye, searching the very windows of his soul. Two sparkling orbs of beautiful cobalt blue. Carl didn't know what came over him, he was straight, he always knew who he was sexually, but there was something about Kyle he just couldn't resist. It wasn't until Kyle kissed him that Carl felt conflicted and confused, especially seeing as he reciprocated it. It made him feel a sudden rush of guilt. Due to his good looks, he had always been referred to as Nancy Boy or Faggot by his foster parents. Now he began to wonder. The two boys never spoke to one another other than the brief apology after their embrace, and fell asleep. For the first time since Carl could remember, he slept peacefully with Kyle's arm draped over his sideways waist. It wasn't until he woke up that he realized just how much of a jinx he really was. The reason Kyle was so immobile and still was evident in the morning when Carl turned over to face him; an empty syringe protruded from Kyle's tourniquet-bandaged bicep, his eyes stared back at him, milky and dead-like. He had unintentionally overdosed on a fix while Carl was sleeping. Kyle had died sometime during his high. Carl, being told repeatedly just how awful he was by those who were supposed to care for him, blamed himself and took off before the police could even get a statement. He took to the streets where he remained; his self-inflicted punishment for what he had believed he was responsible for. His soul lamentable, Carl cut himself up. Rarely literally. To his mind, it was no more than he deserved.
He was just 12 years old when he lost both of his parents in a car crash. Thereafter, Carl was instantly placed in foster care, where he remained until he was adopted by Erin and David Jacob when he was 15. They were in their mid thirties, married and couldn't have children of their own. Something that tormented and shaped them into the deranged people they grew to become. It wasn't until a couple of months after Carl had just began to relax and settle in that the abuse started. It initiated with David cracking jokes about his sexuality and telling him that he had jinxed his parents and was responsible for their deaths. The psychological meltdown progressed into something far more damaging, when David upped the ante with violence, even going as far as to order his easily persuaded wife, Erin, to toy with Carl's hormones and be a real headf*ck. He told Carl that it was what he had to do to prove his masculinity, but the real reason behind it was that David liked to watch. After he and Erin had discommoded intercourse, it was then Carl realized that he had to get out of there. He sneaked out of his bedroom window with his things packed and took to the streets, where he found himself a pimp at the age of 16. He didn't have a clue whether or not the pimp was male or female, or even their name, due to no face-to-face contact and always being dealt with by lackeys. Thankfully, his time with them was short-lived when he failed to come up with the substantial amount of cash to stay at the safehouse. Soon after, he suffered a severe beating before being thrown back on the streets, where it was then he stayed at youth hostels, something he deeply regrets doing now. If he had just lived on the streets and been a man, Kyle would've still been alive. He'd never show it, but he hated himself for that. For everything.
Carl was working one of the city's many subways when he met Nina. Both of which were cautious of one another at first. It wasn't until Carl's steeled exterior shattered that Nina approached. He had broke down a sobbing mess in her arms as she hesitantly held him. The cracks had started to show the minute they shared glances. He knew what she was doing there, that she was also a whore, and it all suddenly dawned on him. Everything he had wanted to believe was some kind of twisted dream was very real. He had no escape or hiding place to flee from it all now. It was in his face.
Nina invited him back to her place - glad that she still had some humanity left in her after the degradation and heartache she suffered. Carl offered to help pay the rent with whatever money he had managed to earn, after having stayed with her for well over a week. She didn't ask, she was just happy to have his company more than anything else. It didn't take long to realize that there was a mutual attraction between the two of them and they soon knew each other inside out. They were the perfect fit to one another. Soul mates.
It wasn't until they shared a bed that Nina found something out about Carl that broke her heart.
Despite being the alpha male of the two, she had always seemed to look after him. Most of the time it was instinctual, like that of a big sister. But not at night. Due to Carl's abusive upbringing, he was one who suffered vivid and loathsome nightmares. In his disrupted sleep, he wrapped his arms around her waist tightly, as means of finding safety, something to cling on to. Nina would look down and watched on regrettably, apologetic and feeling useless at not being able to help, as she watched his otherwise artificially happy facial expressions contort into a restless frown. Sweat bedewed his forehead as panic and fear washed over and resided inside of him. She would kiss his soft blonde hair, appreciating the natural yet cologne scent that boys always seemed to have, and hold him as gently and close as possible, doing anything she could to calm him down. Nina was his anti-depressant. She was also the Yin to his Yang.
Nina ran her hand through the back of Carl's hair as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in close. Their bodies locked in intimacy. He smiled faintly to himself when he read her body language, she was distracted. "What you lookin' at?"
"That fella." She nodded halfheartedly to a man in his late twenties stood opposite up against a wall. Carl broke away from the embrace slowly, tearing apart like velcro, to see who she was talking about. "He's been checking you out for a few minutes now." He glanced over at the man who he had clearly caught the attention of, and understood why Nina held her gaze. He was far more attractive than a lot of the people Carl had compromised himself for in the past. He wore a simple white vest that clung to his body as though drenched in water, outlining his muscular and buff physique, and had black trousers on that looked more like jeans. The man in question nodded Carl's way, accompanied by a brief smile. That was enough to indicate that he was interested. One way or another.
Carl grinned slyly as he resumed focus back on Nina. "You reckon he'll pay?"
Nina fought back the urge to roll her eyes. She understood perfectly well why Carl would be interested despite being straight. Clients of that caliber didn't happen by everyday. This was an offer he just couldn't pass up. "More than likely."
"Right." Carl breathed a deep sigh to brace himself for what he was about to do. "Well, I better go get him off." He shot the man a mischievous look as a sign to say that he was up for it before turning his attention back on Nina once again. He looked at her ruefully. "Meet me back at the flat?"
A disheartened chuckle passed Nina's lips. "Count on it." Her smile grew as he leant to the side to kiss her passionately on the cheek before going on his way. She smacked his ass playfully, prompting him to face her one last time. "Don't do anything I wouldn't!" He flashed her a broad grin before disappearing into the crowd. Nina's shoulders sunk down into her chest and made her entire appearance seem mundane. She'd be glad once it was over and both were back at the flat. It was going to be a long night.
