Page 25 of Troy

Troy chuckles next to me. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t stress. I used to feel like that, but they are great guys, and so humble and down to earth. They don’t talk about themselves like that, they were just doing a job. Did you know Ryan was in the Army and went through some terrible experiences? He rescued Ben from a Taliban stronghold, and has been decorated for his bravery.”

I shake my head, “Shit, I did not know that. No wonder he’s so cool and calm. Y’know, you’ve gone and made me more apprehensive now.” I shake my head but Troy merely laughs and lays his hand on my thigh, stroking my inseam, his fingertips nonchalantly dragging over the fabric. My body tingles as the electricity sparks between us. “Pack it in, babe, or you’ll be over your desk at lunchtime.” I hiss but the sharp intake of breath from him makes me think he might like that.

“That would sort out your stress levels.” Troy chuckles.

So, two hours—and a perfect blowjob—later, I walk into the room I’d set up on the first floor; the lighting and backdrops are all in situ, ready for the first model. I stand behind my camera as Ben leads them in. We decided to do it in batches of five so no one hangs around for too long.

My nerves quickly disappear as my instinct takes over and, as Troy advised, the guys and girls are great fun, laughing and joking—there is no talk of the horrors they experienced—and I find myself enjoying the sessions.

Clapping my hands, I look at the people still around. The camaraderie between them is amazing. We are down to our last few candidates; we’re running behind because one guy got stuck in traffic. “Okay, guys, that was awesome. I think we are going to make something really special here. If we can have some quiet while I terrify the last poor fools who signed up for this carnival?”

Everyone laughs, cheering and applauding as the last five come in, but my mirth dies in my throat as the air in my lungs disappears. NO! NO FUCKING WAY!!!

Vomit rises but I manage to swallow it down. Standing frozen in front of me, with a state-of-the-art prosthetic, full length, left leg under his running shorts, is the boy I last saw crying as he watched me through the balustrades of a garish, ornate staircase. Now a full-grown man, a man who bears a massive resemblance to me, stares at me. I’m not even sure he identifies me. But his eyes narrow as he seems to see through my tattoos, my tied back, long hair, and my beard.

Then recognition hits and his eyes widen in shock. For a moment, a smile appears. The genuine pleasure of seeing me wavers at his memory of us and disappears.

“Sawyer?” The pain in his voice is real, but I can’t deal with this. I need to carry on hating him—the cause of my pain and betrayal, the loss of my home because of one cocky, pre-teen comment. I know I would never have been able to stay once my sexuality was discovered, but I had hoped to be in college, away from my father’s vitriolic tirades as well as his belt.

Scanning around, I encounter confusion on everyone’s face and then I find Troy. He strides towards me. No, I can’t deal with this. I turn and walk away, only barely remembering to whistle for my dog. Then, without a word to anyone, I leave the room. What would I say? Who would I say it to? To my brother: the hero, the champion? To Troy: my man, the love of my fucking life? I can’t think of anything to say—my head is blank and my body feels numb, hollow and disconnected from my thoughts. I can vaguely hear my name being called, not only by Troy but also by Ben. Maybe even Ryan, too? I have to get out of here.