Vice, Virtue & Video: Revealed (The Vice, Virtue & Video Series) Read online

  We flop down on the couch in the living room, and I laugh when he turns me sideways so I’m resting against the arm of the couch with my legs over his lap. We always used to sit like this when we’d watch movies late at night in my basement.

  “So how’s school going, kid?” he asks warmly. “You got finals coming up, right?”

  “Yep. Just a couple weeks until I’m officially done with high school.”

  “Well, finals will be a breeze for you. You were always a good test taker.”

  “Thanks, James.” I smile at the compliment. “I’m not nervous for anything except Spanish. I know there are going to be a lot of subjunctive tense questions, and it’s so hard! I know the verbs, but sometimes the conjugations throw me and I second-guess myself.”

  “Let me help you,” he volunteers eagerly. “That was always the only class I was good in.”

  When James was a little kid, his two best friends, Rueben Medina and Enrique Cortez, both spoke primarily Spanish with their families at home. James used to hang out at their houses a lot, and in addition to learning how to make Abuelita Medina’s fresh tortillas, he picked up Spanish very quickly. He’s practically fluent now.

  “I’m psyched that I get to help you with school shit instead of the other way around. You were responsible for some of my best grades. I remember when you peer-edited my history paper and helped me turn it into something besides a total piece of shit.”

  I laugh and nod. That paper was pretty bad, but it was only because he didn’t put any effort into it. School was never a priority for James. He was always more concerned with girls than grades.

  “You pumped for prom?” he asks.

  “Eh, kind of.” I shrug. “I mean, I’m not really going for real, you know? The whole thing just seems too lame to get excited about, so it totally worked out that Marcus and I made our little arrangement. I feel bad because he keeps saying his parents will freak out if he tells them he’s gay, but I keep telling him that they’ll love him no matter what and he should just be who he really is. He says he’s just not ready yet, and I respect that, so I told him I’d cover for him.”

  “Mother Theresa,” he teases, and I playfully kick him in the shoulder. “You’re right, though, he should just tell them. There were so many kids who were out in our school. I don’t think his parents would flip their shit over it.”

  “But, then again,” I say, raising an eyebrow, “you’re hiding a pretty big secret from your parents, too.”

  I’ve known about James’s adult film career since he shot his very first sex scene last year. He thought it would totally freak me out when he told me, but I really couldn’t give two shits what he does for a job. He’s still my best friend, and as long as he’s not killing kittens or bombing Planned Parenthood, what he does for work is no big deal to me.

  “Yeah, but that’s different because doing porn was my choice. Marcus is gay and he’s always been gay. I was always kind of…popular with girls—” he smirks “—but I opted to do porn, I wasn’t born a porn star.”

  “That’s valid. Though, according to legend, you were made for the big screen. The big, big screen.”

  He laughs loudly. “Legend, huh?”

  “Legend or myth, I’m not entirely sure which,” I tease.

  “You wanna find out?” he says, pretending to go for his zipper.

  “Ah! No!” I laugh and I can feel the rosy hue spreading across my cheeks.

  James pauses for a minute and looks at me with a big, warm smile. “God! I missed you so fuckin’ much, Lo!”

  He reaches out to me, and I sit up and wrap my arms around him.

  “You’re the only person who calls me out on my shit and keeps me in check,” he says into my hair.

  “And that’s a twenty-four-hour-a-day job.”

  “Honestly, I don’t know how you have time to study when you’re so busy calling me a hypocrite.” He snickers.

  I sit back, giving him a pretend scowl.

  “What?” He grins. “I’m not saying I’m not a hypocrite—and actually, it’s probably a good thing that you call me out on it.”

  “Admission is the first step to recovery,” I tease.

  We playfully bicker like that for a while as if we’re making up for lost time. James and I have always challenged each other, which was part of the reason we became such good friends. There’s a mutual respect and appreciation that gives us a bond like superglue.

  We’re watching TV on the couch when my mom comes home from work. She seems a little startled to see James sitting beside me, but maybe her surprise is because he has his arm around me and I’m all cuddled into him. I can’t help it; I like being close to him and I always have. Still, she knows his rep as an über-player, and I think it kind of freaks her out to see how affectionate we are with each other. I can’t really blame her. I’d probably be a little uneasy if my teenage daughter was so physically affectionate with a guy who’s slept with almost every single girl in the tri-county area.

  He stands up and goes right over to my mom to give her a big hug. She’s little, like me, and she has to stand on her tiptoes to reach him.

  “Theresa, it’s so awesome to see you!” he says sweetly.

  “Aw, thanks, honey. It’s good to see you too. I think somebody’s been hitting the gym,” she teases, standing back to look at him.

  He chuckles and gives her that modest smile I like so much.

  “How’s the whole acting thing going?” she asks. “Booking anything interesting?”

  “Auditioning a lot,” he lies. “And I’ve done a few commercials that are airing in, like, Europe and stuff, so I have enough to pay the bills.”

  I nearly snicker at this cover story.

  “Well, that’s great,” she says, giving him a parental pat on the arm. “You already look like a movie star, kid, so you’ve got that going for you.”

  He laughs, and I think maybe, just maybe, he even blushes.

  “Now comes the part where you have to start using more than those looks,” she teases. “So just work hard and believe in yourself, and you can do it.”

  My mom and James have always gotten along really well. She thought he was a crack-up when he was younger because all the girls in the neighborhood would go crazy for him like he was Leonardo DiCaprio. Our physical affection isn’t really a huge problem for her because she knows how much James puts me on a pedestal. He’s been really protective of me since the day I met him, back when I was playing in the front yard while his family was moving into their house next door. He saw me and wandered over. He was nine and I was only six, but he didn’t treat me like a baby and said he’d look for arrowheads with me while his parents were dealing with the movers. We were instant best friends, and there’s nobody in the world I’m closer to than him. For that reason, my mom has been willing to overlook some of James’s “indiscretions” with various girls and unconditionally accept him into our home.

  “Can you stay for dinner tonight or are your parents expecting you to have dinner with them?” my mom asks him.

  “I’d love to have dinner with you guys! My parents can wait. I’m staying there, so I can go home later tonight.”

  “Great!” my mom says as she takes a few steps toward the kitchen before turning back to us. “I was going to make stuffed shells. Does that sound good?”

  “Of course! Let me help you out,” James replies cheerfully.

  James is a man of many talents, though none as obvious as his ability to charm the pants off of girls. He’s been a phenomenal cook since he was about fourteen, and his recipes have even impressed my Italian grandmother, Nana Lucia.

  I sigh and get up, heading to the kitchen to offer assistance, support, words of encouragement, or whatever I can contribute to tonight’s meal with my limited culinary skills.

  Once dinner is ready, the three of us sit down at the table and catch up some more. My mom seems approving of my plan to make a quick appearance and then bail on prom to hang out with James. She knows
all about the Marcus situation and that I don’t really want to do the whole prom thing anyway, so she’s fine with me passing on all that to spend time with my best friend.

  After dinner, James and I retreat to the basement, which was always our domain. We’ve got the TV on, though neither of us is paying much attention. Instead, we’re having a conversation about his movies. He tells me that he went back and forth from Skinemax style soft-core movies to real porn, but settled on the real deal when he saw how much more money he could make.

  “I mean, you have actual sex in a lot of those late night movie channel ones too, but they don’t show close-ups or penetration,” he explains. “I figured there really wasn’t that much of a difference, except for the money.”

  “Was it weird? Doing your first one?”

  “Not really.” He shrugs. “At first, it’s kind of bizarre to have all these people standing around, but I’ve done it in public before, so it didn’t really faze me.”

  James has done it just about everywhere, but I remember a particularly sordid story about him being fellated by two girls at the same time right in front of everyone at a party. I was about thirteen when he told me, and I thought it was the single most scandalous thing to ever happen in our town. Of course, he shattered whatever scandal record that might have set with some of the crazy stuff he got up to later.

  “I did one last week for this series called Horny Housewives,” he says. “It cracked me up because it was like a fuckin’ biography of my life.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I giggle.

  “You remember how I used to do landscaping with my dad?” he asks.

  “And you used to bang the housewives or their daughters while your dad and your brother broke their asses out in the yard?” I smirk.

  “Exactly!” he laughs. “I was telling Rick about it the other day, and he said he wanted me to do a movie like that. So, in the movie, I play a pool boy who’s cleaning this woman’s pool. She gets all horny looking at me, and she fires up her vibrator and watches me. Then she takes me inside and offers me a drink, but we end up fucking on the kitchen counter.”

  “That’s just so porno!” I laugh. “Like, ‘Oh, hi, you’re the pool boy? Can I offer you a glass of lemonade or maybe some pussy?’”

  He laughs loudly and nods his head. “That’s pretty much the exact plot, yeah.”

  I smirk and shake my head. Oh, James, James, James.

  “I did one where I was supposed to be a student failing math and I have this hot teacher, so I bang her to get a better grade.”

  “Oh, please!” I laugh. “Is this based on Mrs. Peterson?”

  “It totally is.” He snickers, knowing I’ve got his number.

  For most of his life, there’s never been a problem James couldn’t fuck his way out of. Getting a bad grade? Romance the teacher until she decides to let you pass. Want to earn money while doing minimal work? Let your brother and your dad do all the work for the family landscaping business while you go inside and screw a bored housewife. His dick has gotten him out of countless tight spots—no pun intended—and he’s been able to lead an easy life because of his sexual proficiency.

  He ends up chilling out on the couch with me for a couple hours before he decides his parents will get mad at him for not coming home to see them. After all, his car’s been out front since about four o’clock and they can clearly see it from their front door.

  I walk him out, and he grabs my face and plants a big old kiss on my forehead, which makes me feel warm and adored.

  “See you tomorrow, kid.” He smiles as he turns to cross the lawn to his house.

  I shut the door and go back into my house, feeling content and happy again. When James isn’t around, everything feels…off. Now I’ve got a spring in my step and a twinkle in my eye. My best friend is back, and I want to spend every waking minute with him in case I don’t see him again for another big chunk of time.

  Chapter 3

  James

  “WELL, I WAS WONDERING when you were going to come home!” my mom says with a cheerful smile as she reaches out to hug me. She kisses my cheeks about a zillion times, and I laugh and rock her back and forth. She’s five-foot ten, so I don’t have to bend down as far as I do when I hug Lola and Theresa.

  “I missed you, Mom,” I admit, feeling like anything but the cool, suave dude I usually am.

  “Oh, sweetheart, we missed you so much!” she says warmly, taking my face in her hands and looking at me in that way that always makes me feel like she’s proud of me.

  When my mom was younger, she could have been a model. She’s tall and thin with dark brown hair and light green eyes. My dad said she reminded him of a cross between Lauren Bacall and Sophia Loren, and she literally took his breath away the first time he saw her. She said the same thing about him, and jokes that the reason she likes watching The Lord of the Rings is because my dad looks like a brown-eyed Viggo Mortensen.

  She holds my hand when she leads me in the house. “Your father will be so happy to see you, and Jonathan’s here.”

  Ugh. I get the honor of being in the presence of my superb, amazing, golden-child brother. Jonathan’s four years older than me and everything he does is perfect, according to my dad. Jonathan got good grades, he was captain of the football team, he dated Lisa, the head cheerleader, and he was even prom king. The dude’s like something out of a fuckin’ high school movie, and he’s been pretty cocky about it forever.

  After trying to keep up with him for most of my childhood, I just gave up and accepted my role as the black sheep of the family. I got into trouble sometimes, yes, but I know I had more fun than him. Mom and Dad knew I’d never do anything really bad, so they usually laughed it off.

  They weren’t too keen on me dropping out of college to move to California, but they changed their tunes when they saw that I was making bank. Of course, they had no idea just how I was making bank, but I managed to convince them that I was getting some good acting jobs every now and then and not slingin’ dick on porn sets all day long.

  “Hey, bro,” Jonathan says as Mom takes me into the living room.

  He gets up from the couch and gives me a hug. I hug him back, but both of us know that this whole brotherly display is mostly a performance for our parents. We’re more rivals than brothers. He was always telling me I was a shit-starter and looking down on me when I’d get caught fooling around with girls. He thinks I’m a fuckup—but whatever, because I think he’s a Goody-Two-Shoes.

  “Son,” Dad says as he walks over to me and hugs me, “good to have you home.”

  “It’s good to be home, Dad,” I reply.

  “Missed having you around.” He nods with a smile. “Your mother’s been starting all these projects to keep her busy, since you’re not around to spend time with her. We’ve got scrapbooks up to our ears and she’s gotten into decoupage now, so there’s glue on damn near everything in this house.”

  Mom rolls her eyes, and I laugh.

  I might have been a little shit in school, but I do love my family and I miss them sometimes when I’m by myself in my apartment. There’s just something comfortable and soothing about home that makes you feel loved instead of lonely.

  “Have you eaten? I could heat you up something,” Mom volunteers, coming over to put her arm around me.

  “No, thanks. I actually ate over at Lola’s,” I reply.

  “Oh, you did?” she says with a smile. “Couldn’t wait to see her, huh?”

  “No,” I chuckle, and I feel shy all of a sudden.

  Mom knows that Lola is special to me, but she also knows that our relationship is platonic. Still, I think both my parents secretly want me to be with someone smart and sweet like her instead of the fast women I hang out with. When I was in school, my mom would say, “I wish you would go out with someone like that Caraway girl. At least she doesn’t spend her weekends getting drunk down at the reservoir.”

  “How’s she doing?” Dad asks. “I saw her mother the other day, but I know Lola’
s got finals coming up, right?”

  “Yeah, she and her mom are both great. Theresa got promoted, so she’s pretty psyched about that. Lola’s doing great in school, as usual, and she’s psyched to move out east for college.”

  “You must have had a nice visit if you didn’t stroll over here until ten o’clock,” Dad comments with a vaguely snarky tone.

  He’s annoyed, but I don’t really care. He’ll just have to chalk this up to another disappointment from his youngest son. He’s never really been proud of anything I do, and if I wasn’t so successful with women, I’m pretty sure he’d consider me a total failure. He and Jonathan always thought I was a slacker because I didn’t want to work for the landscaping company during the summers. When I did go with them on jobs, I laid a lot more than sod and I know they thought I was lazy for spending so much time inside while I was supposed to be working. But both of them can kiss my ass because that was how we got so much repeat business. Shit, we did Mrs. Landry’s yard about seven times because she wanted an excuse to fuck me again and again.

  “Jon, he was spending time with his friend. He hasn’t seen her in a while, and he wanted to visit with her. You know how close they are,” Mom defends me. She’s usually the one to have my back, and I’ve always liked her more than my dad.

  “All right,” Dad says, “but be good, you hear me? That Lola’s a good girl and I don’t want you distracting her from her schoolwork or getting her into any trouble.”

  “Jon!” Mom says sternly. “The boy’s just come home and you’re already accusing him of getting up to something!”

  Of course, my perfect-child older brother is sitting here snickering at all this. Jonathan never gets into trouble.

  “It’s okay, Mom.” I smile at her.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she says, putting her hands on my shoulders and giving me a big smile. “He’s just a cranky old man!” she playfully shouts toward Dad.