Fic: Illicit Exploits of an LA Rentboy Entry 141-151/151 (Entourage, NC-17, Vince/E, Vince/Others)
Title: Illicit Exploits of an LA Rentboy
Entries: 141-151 of 151
Status: Complete
Fandom: Entourage
Word Count:~4,800
Disclaimer: I don't own Entourage or anyone who has ever appeared on it.
Pairing: Vince/Eric, Vince/Pretty much everyone else except Turtle, Johnny, and the Golds (seriously)
Rating: NC-17 for lots and lots of sex
Warnings: AU, prostitution, mentions of past childhood physical abuse, BDSM, gay sex, straight sex, group sex, rape fantasy, fisting, wax play, a foot fetishist, mentions of daddy-kink, extremely brief mention of watersports. If any of the particular warnings are squicks for you, send me a private message and I'll tell you which entry to avoid!
Betas and helpers: guest_age, justabi, allyndra, ariadne83, pesha and deepad were all completely indispensable. Thank you so much.
Authors Notes: This inspired by Belle de Jour's blog/books/TV series but doesnt crossover in anyway. But it is a hookerfic so I know there are a lot of warnings but I hope you guys will give it a try anyway. Minor characters from canon have links to their pictures if you need a reminder. This fic is complete, and I will be posting a coda/epilogue tomorrow.
Summary: Entries from the private journal of Vincent Chase, a high paid male escort living in Los Angeles.
Entry 1-20
Entry 21-40
Entry 41-55
Entry 56-58
Entry 59-70
Entry 71-85
Entry 86-105
Entry 106-120
Entry 121-126
Entry 127-140
Entry 141
I'm at lunch with Johnny when my phone rings. It's an unlisted number, which means it could be work. I duck away from the table and answer in a quiet corner.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Sunshine."
It's amazing what his voice does to me. Even after E and Billy and fucking everything. I smile and sink against the wall in sheer, physical relief. I don't have to be anyone but myself with him. No judgment, no recrimination, no expectations.
"Freddy."
"The one and only. How are you, love?"
"I'm…" I can't think of an honest answer that won't run up his phone bill from wherever he is. "I am hanging in there." I laugh.
"I insist you give me all the details of whatever it is you're hanging from. But I've got to go in about five minutes. Listen, Vince, I just wanted to call and let you know I'll be in L.A. for Boxing Day through New Year's."
"Boxing Day's the day after Christmas, right?"
There's an amused sigh. "Americans," he says fondly. "Let me know when you're free and I'll clear my schedule."
"I'm free as soon as you get here."
"Brilliant. I've got Christmas presents for you, beautiful boy. I'll call you as soon as I get in."
"Awesome."
"Take care of yourself until then, Vince. Ciao, lovely."
I smile and fold my phone closed. I pocket it as I walk back to Johnny.
"What're you so happy about, bro?"
"Nothing, Johnny. Friend's coming into town for Christmas is all."
Johnny considers that for a second and then asks the really important question. "Do I need to get a bigger ham?"
~*~*~
Entry 142
E's got a red-eye out of LAX on the 23rd, so we meet up two days before. There's something in the air between us, but I don't know what it is. I can't put my finger on it.
We're on the bed in our underwear, a bottle of Cristal between us. It's comfortable. It's easy. It's the grown up version of hanging out in Turtle's basement.
We're talking about old times. PS 154, the girls we liked in high school, and the shit we used to get up to.
"Remember when I tried out for the basketball team in third grade?"
"No, but I know you were shit at it. You've never been good at basketball, Vince."
"Yeah and you never let it go. You got all up in my face, 'Hey douchebag, you're too pretty for basketball, go try a school play!' I joined the Drama Club like, two weeks later."
E rolls the mouth of the bottle between his fingers. "I said that? Really?"
"Yeah."
"I was just an asshole kid, I guess."
"And a lot taller, too."
Eric laughs, then shakes his head. "I wish you hadn't given up on it. You were great in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest."
"I was shit."
"No, you weren't. You were fucking great as Billy."
"Yeah well, I still can't believe you managed to keep playing baseball all the way up through college."
"Yeah well, the players in Boston weren't as good as the guys in Queens. I got lucky."
Ain't that the fucking truth. E won the life lottery once he got out of New York. And he deserves better than this. He deserves someone like Sloan, only a little taller and with a dick, who can be everything he wants. Bottom line, he deserves better than me.
"Speaking of lucky, do you want to do gifts now?"
I grin at him. "Who the hell says no to presents? Me first though, okay?"
"Ok. Hit me."
I lean backwards over the side of the bed and grab my bag. Years of experience have taught me it's better not to leave any hotel you stay in for more than six hours in the same clothes you arrived in. You owe the staff who are going to clean the sheets you just stained with come, lube, and various other sex extras the illusion of class.
It only takes me a second to find it. Johnny helped me wrap it so the corners are obsessive-compulsive levels of neat. The paper is a holiday-neutral gold and white snowflake pattern.
"Not everyone celebrates Christmas, bro. Gotta look out for my multi-ethnic peeps," Johnny had declared.
I had blinked at him. "Peeps?"
He'd shoved the gift into my hands and kicked me out of his apartment. All the while yelling at me, asking what the fuck I was doing still torturing myself with seeing E. I didn't answer-I was way too busy running from Johnny the Christmas Nazi.
I pass it over and E opens it like my mom. He's careful with the edges-my mom was always talking about reusing the paper, but E can more than afford to get his own damn wrapping paper.
"It's stupid," I blurt as he pulls the rest of the paper away. "I mean, I'm sure you've got more than enough photos but-"
"I love it. Jesus, Vince."
He drags his fingers over the picture. It's an eight by ten framed picture of the two of us. We're up on Rufus' roof, lit by the flash and red and blue fireworks. My head is on his shoulder, his arm is around my shoulder, and his hand in my hair. It's profile shot, but we look happy and content.
"Kelly's kid brother is kind of camera happy."
"He's got a good eye," E says. "And some serious talent. He did this with just a little digital camera?"
"From what I could tell."
"He's got serious potential," E continues, still staring at the picture. "Listen, if you talk to Kelly again, tell her that I know someone who could give him some lessons while he's still in school."
"So you like it?"
"Yeah, Vince. I-yeah. Makes what I got you seem kind of… well, 'shallow' is kind of generous."
"I'll be the judge of that." I hold out my hands and he grabs a bag of his own from under the bed. It's a little smaller than a pillow, with lots of give.
"Look, a friend gave it to me so if you don't like it-"
There's black leather in the bag, cracked and faded. It smells vaguely of cigarettes and beer. I pull it all the way out and the jacket hangs from my hands, definitely bigger than should fit me and showing its age-I'd guess twenty-five years, probably more. But it's familiar. I've seen this jacket before, on album covers and a poster that used to hang over my bed in the corner of the room I had to share with Ricky growing up.
"E."
He's grinning, smug. "Yeah?"
"This isn't his. Tell me this isn't his."
"It was."
"Get the fuck out."
E laughs. "Sorry, I can't."
"How did you get this?"
"Terrence, Sloan's dad, he's a close friend of the family, and he had some memorabilia. I told him how much you worshiped Joey, so…"
I press my face into the leather and breathe deep. The cigarette smell is stronger, and the booze smell, but there's something else, too. It's probably just the last traces of decades old sweat in reality, but to me, it smells like desperation and hope, and the determination of a man who just didn't fit right, so he built himself something new.
"E, this is too much."
His smile turns gentle and warm. "It just cost me shipping so technically, no it's not. No one'll love it like you will. You should have what you want, Vince."
I kiss him, the jacket wedged between us. My hands are in his hair and I suck the air out of his lungs, desperate and needy, because it's so fucking clear now. It's clear like glass and just as sharp. It cuts through the bullshit to the reality.
This isn't going to work. It's cruel and it's dishonest, and I love him enough to not do this to him anymore. He should have so much better.
I sit in his lap and I ride him. Our foreheads are pressed together even as we move. His hands skate up and down my back and I hold him behind his neck to keep me anchored to him.
"Love you. Love you, E, fucking love you."
It's a litany that I can't control or stop, and it has E pushing up to me meet me. He takes my face between his hands and breathes, "I love you so fucking much, Vince," into my mouth as we move.
And then there is no talking. There's just panting and choking air between our brushing lips until we shatter into tiny pieces together.
We curl together afterward, clinging to each other, face to face, limbs tangled tightly. We don't sleep and I know he can feel it, too, that thing in the air.
He has to leave first. He gathers his clothes and the picture and then crosses the room quickly, kissing me hard and deep.
"I love you, Vince."
I smile and stroke his cheek with the back of my hand. "I love you, too. I always have," I say and God, it couldn't have been easy before? It couldn't have just come out like water out of a faucet any day before this one?
"I know." He kisses me again, slow this time. When he pulls back, there's something bright in his eyes. "I know, Vince."
And he does. Better than anyone ever has or ever will.
I don't know how he walks out the door. I don't know how I don't take off after him. But he does, and I don't. I walk out of the hotel feeling so hollowed out that I'm surprised the concierge can't see right through me.
~*~*~
Entry 143
I can't cook and I can't drive, so I get put on clean up duty with Kelly. Johnny's cooking and Turtle's on recon, so she and I get to watch It's A Wonderful Life while they do all the work. It's not a bad bargain. Besides, even if we wanted to, Johnny wouldn't let us help.
"Stay out of my kitchen or I'll cut your fingers off," is the decree, and he's not kidding. He's got a butcher knife eight inches long.
Johnny's Christmas is the best kind of organized chaos. He treats it like a military campaign, and it's good to be a part of something. It's loud, warm, busy, and pretty much exactly what I need.
Plus, the ham is slow roasting in the oven and I can smell it as George Bailey tries to lasso the room. I wrap the jacket tight around me and try not to compare it in my head.
Ramones' memorabilia is not the same as a celestial body. It's not the same thing. It's not.
Kelly flicks my ear.
"Stop it."
"What?"
"It's Christmas. Let it go. Just for today. For Johnny?"
Damn her. Woman's gonna be an awesome wife and a scary as hell mom. I flick her back and she grabs a couch pillow to retaliate, and I stop thinking about E because it's fucking on.
Johnny runs in, butcher knife in hand, shouting at us to stop about thirty seconds from a collision with his perfectly decorated tree. We stop-giggling, panting, and feeling all of ten years old-less than a foot away from the delicate glass ornaments, and we don't really have it in us to even look guilty.
I do keep myself out of sight when Kelly shows the bruise on her cheekbone to Turtle when he gets back with cranberry sauce and like, three different types of nog. It was just an innocent, errant elbow, all in the Christmas spirit. He threatens to kick down the bathroom door and kick my ass, and for about two minutes, he really means it. It's going to get him hella laid tonight.
He's calmed down in time for dinner, though. We give him shit, but Johnny is a ridiculous cook and it's smaller than some Christmases he's organized, but one of the best, just the four of us. Johnny talks about a pilot he's auditioning for and Kelly talks vaguely about wedding plans.
It's family, my family. And they make me feel completely normal for the first time since the shit with E started six months ago.
If that's not a Christmas miracle, I don't know what is.
~*~*~
Entry 144
I'm waiting for Freddy at his hotel, in his hotel room, naked, when he arrives.
"Hello, beautiful boy." Freddy smiles at me. "I must say, this is by far the best thing I have seen in the last few months."
"This isn't a spectator sport, Sherlock."
He drops his bag and his smile grows, slightly crooked from a childhood even broker than mine. He drops his bag and his coat, and is working on the buttons of his shirt as he walks towards me. "Oh, I know, Sunshine. But you can't blame a man for enjoying the view."
"Just so long as you're not planning on standing there all day. You'll give a guy a complex."
Freddy's shirt lands on the floor. He looks good for any age, but for a guy over forty, he's fucking fantastic. "You could do with one."
"Well, get your tea-drinking ass over here and give me one."
He steps out of his shoes and toes off his socks and finally, finally, fucking finally joins me on the bed.
"With pleasure, love. With utter fucking pleasure."
~*~*~
Entry 145
I'm close. I'm so fucking close. My arms gave out on me a few minutes ago; the comforter is bunched under my knees. My knuckles are white on the pillow under my chest, and I'm so Goddamn close.
"Fuck me harder. Fuck, Freddy, please, fuck me harder."
He laughs, bent over with his chest pressed to my back. "I fuck you any harder and I'll break you in half."
"Fuck-fucking-break me."
He groans in my ear, but he obliges me-pushing deeper, moving faster, gripping my hips tighter, and slamming me back and forward harder. His teeth dig into the side of my neck and I come so hard that my knees give out on me.
Freddy wraps his arm around my chest and holds me up while he finishes. It's a familiar, objectified feeling that's softened by the gentleness in his hands. He lays me down carefully, face first in the pillow, and strokes my back as he pulls out and lies down beside me.
"Oi, Vince, you all right?"
Well-fucked, warm, and sleepy so, yes, more than. If I could just get a towel between me and the wet spot, life would be perfect.
"Mm-hm."
"Hey, come on now, Sunshine, you know better than to lie to me."
"You get a sex change overseas you didn't tell me about Freddy? 'Cause you sound like a chick."
"It's nothing so serious." He chuckles at that and tugs me onto my back so that we're on the far side of the huge bed, my head on his shoulder. He cards his hand through my hair and waits until we're readjusted.
"Can't we just sleep?"
"We could," Freddy concedes, combing through my hair again, setting a rhythmic pattern. "But you've never been desperate like this before, Vince. Hungry-deliciously hungry-but never desperate."
"I'm not desperate."
"Aren't you?"
I sigh. "Freddy."
He gives my hair a gentle tug. "Come off it. If you can't tell me, who can you tell?"
He has a point. Talking to Freddy is like talking to a shrink. It's not that he's got the answers, but he's blunt, his only bias is that he likes me, and he doesn't know, well, anyone I know.
I heave another sigh. "I got in deep and I got stupid."
"Happens to the best of us."
"Not to me. Not in fifteen fucking years. I'm not this guy."
"What guy?"
"I don't know. That's part of the fucking problem."
Freddy is quiet for a long time, just stroking my hair and thinking. He's a calculated man, Freddy. It's how he managed to pull himself up from a buyer to an executive-he knows what he's doing. And the fact that he has to spend so much time thinking this over makes me twitchy.
"I used to know," I add, hoping to elicit a reaction. And it gets one, just not what I wanted.
"And who did you used to be, Vince?"
"I was a professional. And I was a good guy. I was fucking grounded. There was the job and my boys, and then there was everything else, and I knew exactly where I fit."
"And now you don't? Now you're not a good guy?"
"No." I haven't been able to think of myself as a good guy since I started lying to E months ago. And it's not something I enjoy feeling. "And I don't fit."
"You know, love, sometimes it's not the peg, it's the hole."
"What the fuck's that supposed to mean?"
"You're looking down the barrel of thirty, beautiful boy. You're not a child anymore. Maybe it's not you that doesn't fit, maybe it's this town."
I say nothing. Instead I pick at the hem of the sheet covering us.
"I'd never tell you what to do, Vince, and if the job still makes you happy, then keep right on doing it. You're the best."
I am. I'm the very fucking best. I'm the highest earner the Gold Standard has ever seen. I have all of Hollywood in my little black book. And I've never had anyone leave unhappy.
"But if you're looking for other options, there're opportunities out there for you, Vince."
"Like what? Freddy, my only marketable skill is an ass like a black hole and a mouth like a Hoover. It's not like there's a big demand for that anywhere else."
"Oi, it's a gorgeous arse and a fuckable mouth. Not to mention you've got eyes forever, a body I can't keep my eyes off of, and a face like a bloody sculpture, beautiful boy. You've been selling yourself for years, brilliantly I might add. If you don't want to do the job anymore, you should try using that smile to sell something else."
"I'm not cut out for retail, Freddy."
"I've said it before and I'll say it again, you're not too old to walk the runway. Male models have a much longer shelf life than those anorexic empty spaces."
"Come on. We both know I'm not cut out for that."
"No we don't. For fuck's sake, I've been offering you another option for the last five years. I know. I've known since I saw you in that restaurant ten years ago, I just didn't have enough pull to get you in the door."
"You got me in the door with, Ari."
"To hold you over, a layover on the way to making you the next Tyson Beckford." He pushes himself up so that he can look at me. "I've been holding the door wide fucking open for you for half a decade, Vince. All you have to do is walk through it."
It's far from his first offer. But this is the first time I've felt like I could even think about it.
"How would I do that?"
Freddy's smile cracks his face so wide that it looks ready to split in half. There's a hint of something mercenary, but this just crossed into business and Freddy's a shark in his industry.
"I showed Gloria at Armani a few pictures before I left Paris, and she loved your look. I'll get in touch with her before I leave L.A. and if you decide that you'd like to try and fit your peg in a different hole, I'll book you a ticket on my flight out on the 2nd."
"You're serious."
"I've always been serious about your potential, Vince. Question is: 'Are you?'"
I don't say anything, and he lies back down.
"Think about it. You don't have to decide today. But you should let me know as soon as you can."
I nod against his shoulder and stare up at the ceiling. He keeps stroking my hair and I eventually drop off, thinking about square pegs and round holes, and the idea of looking for a new board entirely.
~*~*~
Entry 146
"Would you be okay if I left?"
"You headin' somewhere, Vince?" Johnny asks. "Because if someone offers to buy you an island, you call a lawyer first, you hear me?"
"I'm looking at maybe changing things. And I may have to leave."
Johnny stops and looks at me across the table. We're at lunch. After twenty-four hours with Freddy, I need air and family to figure out what the fuck is going on with me.
"Whatever you wanna do, baby bro, I got your back."
Something loosens in my chest. "Thanks, Johnny."
"No problem. Hey, pass the hot sauce, will ya? Thanks."
~*~*~
Entry 147
Bob's booked this date for a month in advance. He reserves me on the twenty-ninth and has since he first became a client. It's a tradition.
We celebrate the New Year early. He doesn't want to inconvenience me, he says. But I don't know if I believe that. I've never pressed before, but things are different now. I'm different. So this time, I ask.
"Our anniversary," Bob admits this time.
"Wedding?"
"First fuck," Bob says with a smile, and I grin back.
"Do you want-"
"No, Chase, I'm fine. I just get a bit…morose if I'm alone in this big old house. I just appreciate the company is all."
I scoot closer and rest my head on his shoulders. He's old enough to be my grandfather, but he's been a better man to me than my father ever could've been, so it's no struggle at all to wrap my arms around him and mean it. "Well, you're not alone."
"And neither are you, Chase." He wraps his thin arms around me in return and just like that, there it is that safe feeling. The one that I've always gotten from Bob, and used to get from E.
The one I want to have all the time. Maybe I deserve that, even if I don't deserve E, and I think that's when I make the decision. I'm pretty sure it is, because the next thing out of my mouth is not what I was planning on when I sat down on the couch with Bob.
"It's Vince," I say softly. "Vincent Chase."
"Vince. That's a good name."
"Thanks."
"Thank you for sharing it with me. You wanna tell me why?"
I shrug. "It's been more than half a decade. You deserve to know."
"Bullshit."
"No, Bob, it's not." I sigh and turn to press a kiss to his cheek. "It's really not. I think-I think I'm gonna retire, and I'd kind of like you to know who I am."
"I know who you are. You want me to tell you? Is that something you might be interested in?"
I shake my head. "No, Bob. I don't wanna know."
"Well you're gonna find out one day, like it or not. You mark my words." Then he pulls back and smiles at me. "But I'm proud of you, Vince. You're better than this."
I don't know about that. But I just nod and move back in for another hug. I feel so fucking young, a little kid lost and tired, and Bob holds me tight.
"Just drop me a line every now and then, let me know you're all right."
"I'll be fine."
"I know. But do an old man a favor, anyway."
"You got it Bob," I say into the fabric of his suit.
"Thank you, Vince." It's three words but they sit on me, hard and heavy. I wrap my arms as tightly as I think he can handle around his chest and hang on. Things are moving too fast around me.
"No, Bob, thank you."
~*~*~
Entry 148
"You've still got a key to my apartment, right, Turtle?"
"Yeah. You forget something?"
"No. I just wanted to be sure."
"You sure? Cause I'm in West Hollywood, anyway."
I actually do need a toy for work. But I'm not going to ask Turtle to get that for me.
"No, thanks. I'm good."
"A'ight. I'll call you later. Kelly's goin' out with her girls tonight and the Hack just hooked me up. I'll pick you up."
"I'll see you then."
~*~*~
Entry 149
Ari is not happy. In fact, he's been yelling for the last hour solid.
"Do you want to buy my contact list from me or not?"
"Chase, baby, you've got at least ten more good years in you. You're not done playing yet!"
"I'm a big believer in folding and walking away from the table when you're ahead."
"Don't you quote Kenny Rogers at me, you emo bitch. I built a life for you from the ground up and this is the thanks I get? Baby, you're a gold mine and you've got at least ten years before your traffic even slows."
"I'm trying to do you a favor, Ari. You've been good to me and you know I don't want to take my client list anywhere else. So just make me an offer."
He lowballs me by half. Then his intercom beeps and Mrs. Ari yells at him for 15 minutes through the phone and after she hangs up, he gives me exactly what it's worth.
"Take care of yourself out there in the real world, kid. Me and the missus, we're here if you need us."
"I know."
Ari curses and then rises from behind the desk. "You wanna hug it out?"
I laugh. "Ari-"
"Come on," he says, holding his arms out. "Let's hug it out, bitch."
"I'm not a bitch," I say, accepting the hug anyway.
"Nope. Not anymore, Chase. Good luck. You're going to need it."
~*~*~
Entry 150
I tell the guys on New Year's. It's last minute, pushing it hard, but it's the only time I can do it face to face. And they deserve that.
Johnny takes the news that I'm leaving well. He's been dying for me to quit the business for years, so he doesn't care where I'm going so long as my job doesn't involve sexual favors of any kind. He hugs me tight and tells me to call when I get to a phone, collect if I have to.
Kelly doesn't say much. She just sits on Johnny's ridiculous leather couch and keeps her eyes locked on Turtle, who won't look at me.
"You couldn't tell me sooner?"
"I didn't know if I was going to do it."
"But now ya are. Jesus, Vince, you could've waited a little longer to tell us, but you'd have had to call from the fucking plane."
"I-Turtle, I'm sorry, but I have to do this."
"I know you do. But that don't mean I have to stop being pissed off at you being a douchebag just because I'm glad you decided to stop sucking dick for money."
"It's better as a hobby, anyway."
"Shut the fuck up. Look, man, it's good that you're quitting, but do ya gotta fly halfway 'round the world to do it?"
"No. But, Turtle, there's nothing for me here but you guys." And after everything, it's not enough of a reason anymore. "I gotta go, man. You know that, right?"
Turtle says nothing for the longest time. And if he says he doesn't, maybe I'll just cave. I've been sitting on this balloon of hysteria that's just waiting to pop and send me screaming back to my nice, safe, come-covered life.
"You're coming back for my wedding, right? 'Cause I can't get married without a best man."
"Jesus, Turtle, like I'd be anywhere else."
"All right. Well…fucking…have fun, I guess, man, shit. Bang a French broad for me or something," he finishes lamely, and Kelly actually lets it slide.
"Love you, too, Turtle." I laugh, slapping him on the shoulder. "Hey, my lease is paid for the next year. You and Kelly can stay there, if you want."
I hand him the copy of the key I made for Kelly this morning and my hand only shakes a little bit.
~*~*~
Entry 151
I am sitting on a bench at LAX. I have one carry-on and two suitcases that are already checked. My passport-new, a rush job Ari helped facilitate-and wallet are both deep in the zippered pockets of Joey's-of my jacket. And my leg won't stop bouncing. I haven't flown since that first flight from New York to L.A.
Freddy's hand lands on my knee, stopping the bouncing. "Don't be nervous. You'll be brilliant. Need anything? Drink? Valium?"
I laugh and take him up on the Valium. It's a long flight to Paris.
(end)
Entries: 141-151 of 151
Status: Complete
Fandom: Entourage
Word Count:~4,800
Disclaimer: I don't own Entourage or anyone who has ever appeared on it.
Pairing: Vince/Eric, Vince/Pretty much everyone else except Turtle, Johnny, and the Golds (seriously)
Rating: NC-17 for lots and lots of sex
Warnings: AU, prostitution, mentions of past childhood physical abuse, BDSM, gay sex, straight sex, group sex, rape fantasy, fisting, wax play, a foot fetishist, mentions of daddy-kink, extremely brief mention of watersports. If any of the particular warnings are squicks for you, send me a private message and I'll tell you which entry to avoid!
Betas and helpers: guest_age, justabi, allyndra, ariadne83, pesha and deepad were all completely indispensable. Thank you so much.
Authors Notes: This inspired by Belle de Jour's blog/books/TV series but doesnt crossover in anyway. But it is a hookerfic so I know there are a lot of warnings but I hope you guys will give it a try anyway. Minor characters from canon have links to their pictures if you need a reminder. This fic is complete, and I will be posting a coda/epilogue tomorrow.
Summary: Entries from the private journal of Vincent Chase, a high paid male escort living in Los Angeles.
Entry 1-20
Entry 21-40
Entry 41-55
Entry 56-58
Entry 59-70
Entry 71-85
Entry 86-105
Entry 106-120
Entry 121-126
Entry 127-140
Entry 141
I'm at lunch with Johnny when my phone rings. It's an unlisted number, which means it could be work. I duck away from the table and answer in a quiet corner.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Sunshine."
It's amazing what his voice does to me. Even after E and Billy and fucking everything. I smile and sink against the wall in sheer, physical relief. I don't have to be anyone but myself with him. No judgment, no recrimination, no expectations.
"Freddy."
"The one and only. How are you, love?"
"I'm…" I can't think of an honest answer that won't run up his phone bill from wherever he is. "I am hanging in there." I laugh.
"I insist you give me all the details of whatever it is you're hanging from. But I've got to go in about five minutes. Listen, Vince, I just wanted to call and let you know I'll be in L.A. for Boxing Day through New Year's."
"Boxing Day's the day after Christmas, right?"
There's an amused sigh. "Americans," he says fondly. "Let me know when you're free and I'll clear my schedule."
"I'm free as soon as you get here."
"Brilliant. I've got Christmas presents for you, beautiful boy. I'll call you as soon as I get in."
"Awesome."
"Take care of yourself until then, Vince. Ciao, lovely."
I smile and fold my phone closed. I pocket it as I walk back to Johnny.
"What're you so happy about, bro?"
"Nothing, Johnny. Friend's coming into town for Christmas is all."
Johnny considers that for a second and then asks the really important question. "Do I need to get a bigger ham?"
~*~*~
Entry 142
E's got a red-eye out of LAX on the 23rd, so we meet up two days before. There's something in the air between us, but I don't know what it is. I can't put my finger on it.
We're on the bed in our underwear, a bottle of Cristal between us. It's comfortable. It's easy. It's the grown up version of hanging out in Turtle's basement.
We're talking about old times. PS 154, the girls we liked in high school, and the shit we used to get up to.
"Remember when I tried out for the basketball team in third grade?"
"No, but I know you were shit at it. You've never been good at basketball, Vince."
"Yeah and you never let it go. You got all up in my face, 'Hey douchebag, you're too pretty for basketball, go try a school play!' I joined the Drama Club like, two weeks later."
E rolls the mouth of the bottle between his fingers. "I said that? Really?"
"Yeah."
"I was just an asshole kid, I guess."
"And a lot taller, too."
Eric laughs, then shakes his head. "I wish you hadn't given up on it. You were great in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest."
"I was shit."
"No, you weren't. You were fucking great as Billy."
"Yeah well, I still can't believe you managed to keep playing baseball all the way up through college."
"Yeah well, the players in Boston weren't as good as the guys in Queens. I got lucky."
Ain't that the fucking truth. E won the life lottery once he got out of New York. And he deserves better than this. He deserves someone like Sloan, only a little taller and with a dick, who can be everything he wants. Bottom line, he deserves better than me.
"Speaking of lucky, do you want to do gifts now?"
I grin at him. "Who the hell says no to presents? Me first though, okay?"
"Ok. Hit me."
I lean backwards over the side of the bed and grab my bag. Years of experience have taught me it's better not to leave any hotel you stay in for more than six hours in the same clothes you arrived in. You owe the staff who are going to clean the sheets you just stained with come, lube, and various other sex extras the illusion of class.
It only takes me a second to find it. Johnny helped me wrap it so the corners are obsessive-compulsive levels of neat. The paper is a holiday-neutral gold and white snowflake pattern.
"Not everyone celebrates Christmas, bro. Gotta look out for my multi-ethnic peeps," Johnny had declared.
I had blinked at him. "Peeps?"
He'd shoved the gift into my hands and kicked me out of his apartment. All the while yelling at me, asking what the fuck I was doing still torturing myself with seeing E. I didn't answer-I was way too busy running from Johnny the Christmas Nazi.
I pass it over and E opens it like my mom. He's careful with the edges-my mom was always talking about reusing the paper, but E can more than afford to get his own damn wrapping paper.
"It's stupid," I blurt as he pulls the rest of the paper away. "I mean, I'm sure you've got more than enough photos but-"
"I love it. Jesus, Vince."
He drags his fingers over the picture. It's an eight by ten framed picture of the two of us. We're up on Rufus' roof, lit by the flash and red and blue fireworks. My head is on his shoulder, his arm is around my shoulder, and his hand in my hair. It's profile shot, but we look happy and content.
"Kelly's kid brother is kind of camera happy."
"He's got a good eye," E says. "And some serious talent. He did this with just a little digital camera?"
"From what I could tell."
"He's got serious potential," E continues, still staring at the picture. "Listen, if you talk to Kelly again, tell her that I know someone who could give him some lessons while he's still in school."
"So you like it?"
"Yeah, Vince. I-yeah. Makes what I got you seem kind of… well, 'shallow' is kind of generous."
"I'll be the judge of that." I hold out my hands and he grabs a bag of his own from under the bed. It's a little smaller than a pillow, with lots of give.
"Look, a friend gave it to me so if you don't like it-"
There's black leather in the bag, cracked and faded. It smells vaguely of cigarettes and beer. I pull it all the way out and the jacket hangs from my hands, definitely bigger than should fit me and showing its age-I'd guess twenty-five years, probably more. But it's familiar. I've seen this jacket before, on album covers and a poster that used to hang over my bed in the corner of the room I had to share with Ricky growing up.
"E."
He's grinning, smug. "Yeah?"
"This isn't his. Tell me this isn't his."
"It was."
"Get the fuck out."
E laughs. "Sorry, I can't."
"How did you get this?"
"Terrence, Sloan's dad, he's a close friend of the family, and he had some memorabilia. I told him how much you worshiped Joey, so…"
I press my face into the leather and breathe deep. The cigarette smell is stronger, and the booze smell, but there's something else, too. It's probably just the last traces of decades old sweat in reality, but to me, it smells like desperation and hope, and the determination of a man who just didn't fit right, so he built himself something new.
"E, this is too much."
His smile turns gentle and warm. "It just cost me shipping so technically, no it's not. No one'll love it like you will. You should have what you want, Vince."
I kiss him, the jacket wedged between us. My hands are in his hair and I suck the air out of his lungs, desperate and needy, because it's so fucking clear now. It's clear like glass and just as sharp. It cuts through the bullshit to the reality.
This isn't going to work. It's cruel and it's dishonest, and I love him enough to not do this to him anymore. He should have so much better.
I sit in his lap and I ride him. Our foreheads are pressed together even as we move. His hands skate up and down my back and I hold him behind his neck to keep me anchored to him.
"Love you. Love you, E, fucking love you."
It's a litany that I can't control or stop, and it has E pushing up to me meet me. He takes my face between his hands and breathes, "I love you so fucking much, Vince," into my mouth as we move.
And then there is no talking. There's just panting and choking air between our brushing lips until we shatter into tiny pieces together.
We curl together afterward, clinging to each other, face to face, limbs tangled tightly. We don't sleep and I know he can feel it, too, that thing in the air.
He has to leave first. He gathers his clothes and the picture and then crosses the room quickly, kissing me hard and deep.
"I love you, Vince."
I smile and stroke his cheek with the back of my hand. "I love you, too. I always have," I say and God, it couldn't have been easy before? It couldn't have just come out like water out of a faucet any day before this one?
"I know." He kisses me again, slow this time. When he pulls back, there's something bright in his eyes. "I know, Vince."
And he does. Better than anyone ever has or ever will.
I don't know how he walks out the door. I don't know how I don't take off after him. But he does, and I don't. I walk out of the hotel feeling so hollowed out that I'm surprised the concierge can't see right through me.
~*~*~
Entry 143
I can't cook and I can't drive, so I get put on clean up duty with Kelly. Johnny's cooking and Turtle's on recon, so she and I get to watch It's A Wonderful Life while they do all the work. It's not a bad bargain. Besides, even if we wanted to, Johnny wouldn't let us help.
"Stay out of my kitchen or I'll cut your fingers off," is the decree, and he's not kidding. He's got a butcher knife eight inches long.
Johnny's Christmas is the best kind of organized chaos. He treats it like a military campaign, and it's good to be a part of something. It's loud, warm, busy, and pretty much exactly what I need.
Plus, the ham is slow roasting in the oven and I can smell it as George Bailey tries to lasso the room. I wrap the jacket tight around me and try not to compare it in my head.
Ramones' memorabilia is not the same as a celestial body. It's not the same thing. It's not.
Kelly flicks my ear.
"Stop it."
"What?"
"It's Christmas. Let it go. Just for today. For Johnny?"
Damn her. Woman's gonna be an awesome wife and a scary as hell mom. I flick her back and she grabs a couch pillow to retaliate, and I stop thinking about E because it's fucking on.
Johnny runs in, butcher knife in hand, shouting at us to stop about thirty seconds from a collision with his perfectly decorated tree. We stop-giggling, panting, and feeling all of ten years old-less than a foot away from the delicate glass ornaments, and we don't really have it in us to even look guilty.
I do keep myself out of sight when Kelly shows the bruise on her cheekbone to Turtle when he gets back with cranberry sauce and like, three different types of nog. It was just an innocent, errant elbow, all in the Christmas spirit. He threatens to kick down the bathroom door and kick my ass, and for about two minutes, he really means it. It's going to get him hella laid tonight.
He's calmed down in time for dinner, though. We give him shit, but Johnny is a ridiculous cook and it's smaller than some Christmases he's organized, but one of the best, just the four of us. Johnny talks about a pilot he's auditioning for and Kelly talks vaguely about wedding plans.
It's family, my family. And they make me feel completely normal for the first time since the shit with E started six months ago.
If that's not a Christmas miracle, I don't know what is.
~*~*~
Entry 144
I'm waiting for Freddy at his hotel, in his hotel room, naked, when he arrives.
"Hello, beautiful boy." Freddy smiles at me. "I must say, this is by far the best thing I have seen in the last few months."
"This isn't a spectator sport, Sherlock."
He drops his bag and his smile grows, slightly crooked from a childhood even broker than mine. He drops his bag and his coat, and is working on the buttons of his shirt as he walks towards me. "Oh, I know, Sunshine. But you can't blame a man for enjoying the view."
"Just so long as you're not planning on standing there all day. You'll give a guy a complex."
Freddy's shirt lands on the floor. He looks good for any age, but for a guy over forty, he's fucking fantastic. "You could do with one."
"Well, get your tea-drinking ass over here and give me one."
He steps out of his shoes and toes off his socks and finally, finally, fucking finally joins me on the bed.
"With pleasure, love. With utter fucking pleasure."
~*~*~
Entry 145
I'm close. I'm so fucking close. My arms gave out on me a few minutes ago; the comforter is bunched under my knees. My knuckles are white on the pillow under my chest, and I'm so Goddamn close.
"Fuck me harder. Fuck, Freddy, please, fuck me harder."
He laughs, bent over with his chest pressed to my back. "I fuck you any harder and I'll break you in half."
"Fuck-fucking-break me."
He groans in my ear, but he obliges me-pushing deeper, moving faster, gripping my hips tighter, and slamming me back and forward harder. His teeth dig into the side of my neck and I come so hard that my knees give out on me.
Freddy wraps his arm around my chest and holds me up while he finishes. It's a familiar, objectified feeling that's softened by the gentleness in his hands. He lays me down carefully, face first in the pillow, and strokes my back as he pulls out and lies down beside me.
"Oi, Vince, you all right?"
Well-fucked, warm, and sleepy so, yes, more than. If I could just get a towel between me and the wet spot, life would be perfect.
"Mm-hm."
"Hey, come on now, Sunshine, you know better than to lie to me."
"You get a sex change overseas you didn't tell me about Freddy? 'Cause you sound like a chick."
"It's nothing so serious." He chuckles at that and tugs me onto my back so that we're on the far side of the huge bed, my head on his shoulder. He cards his hand through my hair and waits until we're readjusted.
"Can't we just sleep?"
"We could," Freddy concedes, combing through my hair again, setting a rhythmic pattern. "But you've never been desperate like this before, Vince. Hungry-deliciously hungry-but never desperate."
"I'm not desperate."
"Aren't you?"
I sigh. "Freddy."
He gives my hair a gentle tug. "Come off it. If you can't tell me, who can you tell?"
He has a point. Talking to Freddy is like talking to a shrink. It's not that he's got the answers, but he's blunt, his only bias is that he likes me, and he doesn't know, well, anyone I know.
I heave another sigh. "I got in deep and I got stupid."
"Happens to the best of us."
"Not to me. Not in fifteen fucking years. I'm not this guy."
"What guy?"
"I don't know. That's part of the fucking problem."
Freddy is quiet for a long time, just stroking my hair and thinking. He's a calculated man, Freddy. It's how he managed to pull himself up from a buyer to an executive-he knows what he's doing. And the fact that he has to spend so much time thinking this over makes me twitchy.
"I used to know," I add, hoping to elicit a reaction. And it gets one, just not what I wanted.
"And who did you used to be, Vince?"
"I was a professional. And I was a good guy. I was fucking grounded. There was the job and my boys, and then there was everything else, and I knew exactly where I fit."
"And now you don't? Now you're not a good guy?"
"No." I haven't been able to think of myself as a good guy since I started lying to E months ago. And it's not something I enjoy feeling. "And I don't fit."
"You know, love, sometimes it's not the peg, it's the hole."
"What the fuck's that supposed to mean?"
"You're looking down the barrel of thirty, beautiful boy. You're not a child anymore. Maybe it's not you that doesn't fit, maybe it's this town."
I say nothing. Instead I pick at the hem of the sheet covering us.
"I'd never tell you what to do, Vince, and if the job still makes you happy, then keep right on doing it. You're the best."
I am. I'm the very fucking best. I'm the highest earner the Gold Standard has ever seen. I have all of Hollywood in my little black book. And I've never had anyone leave unhappy.
"But if you're looking for other options, there're opportunities out there for you, Vince."
"Like what? Freddy, my only marketable skill is an ass like a black hole and a mouth like a Hoover. It's not like there's a big demand for that anywhere else."
"Oi, it's a gorgeous arse and a fuckable mouth. Not to mention you've got eyes forever, a body I can't keep my eyes off of, and a face like a bloody sculpture, beautiful boy. You've been selling yourself for years, brilliantly I might add. If you don't want to do the job anymore, you should try using that smile to sell something else."
"I'm not cut out for retail, Freddy."
"I've said it before and I'll say it again, you're not too old to walk the runway. Male models have a much longer shelf life than those anorexic empty spaces."
"Come on. We both know I'm not cut out for that."
"No we don't. For fuck's sake, I've been offering you another option for the last five years. I know. I've known since I saw you in that restaurant ten years ago, I just didn't have enough pull to get you in the door."
"You got me in the door with, Ari."
"To hold you over, a layover on the way to making you the next Tyson Beckford." He pushes himself up so that he can look at me. "I've been holding the door wide fucking open for you for half a decade, Vince. All you have to do is walk through it."
It's far from his first offer. But this is the first time I've felt like I could even think about it.
"How would I do that?"
Freddy's smile cracks his face so wide that it looks ready to split in half. There's a hint of something mercenary, but this just crossed into business and Freddy's a shark in his industry.
"I showed Gloria at Armani a few pictures before I left Paris, and she loved your look. I'll get in touch with her before I leave L.A. and if you decide that you'd like to try and fit your peg in a different hole, I'll book you a ticket on my flight out on the 2nd."
"You're serious."
"I've always been serious about your potential, Vince. Question is: 'Are you?'"
I don't say anything, and he lies back down.
"Think about it. You don't have to decide today. But you should let me know as soon as you can."
I nod against his shoulder and stare up at the ceiling. He keeps stroking my hair and I eventually drop off, thinking about square pegs and round holes, and the idea of looking for a new board entirely.
~*~*~
Entry 146
"Would you be okay if I left?"
"You headin' somewhere, Vince?" Johnny asks. "Because if someone offers to buy you an island, you call a lawyer first, you hear me?"
"I'm looking at maybe changing things. And I may have to leave."
Johnny stops and looks at me across the table. We're at lunch. After twenty-four hours with Freddy, I need air and family to figure out what the fuck is going on with me.
"Whatever you wanna do, baby bro, I got your back."
Something loosens in my chest. "Thanks, Johnny."
"No problem. Hey, pass the hot sauce, will ya? Thanks."
~*~*~
Entry 147
Bob's booked this date for a month in advance. He reserves me on the twenty-ninth and has since he first became a client. It's a tradition.
We celebrate the New Year early. He doesn't want to inconvenience me, he says. But I don't know if I believe that. I've never pressed before, but things are different now. I'm different. So this time, I ask.
"Our anniversary," Bob admits this time.
"Wedding?"
"First fuck," Bob says with a smile, and I grin back.
"Do you want-"
"No, Chase, I'm fine. I just get a bit…morose if I'm alone in this big old house. I just appreciate the company is all."
I scoot closer and rest my head on his shoulders. He's old enough to be my grandfather, but he's been a better man to me than my father ever could've been, so it's no struggle at all to wrap my arms around him and mean it. "Well, you're not alone."
"And neither are you, Chase." He wraps his thin arms around me in return and just like that, there it is that safe feeling. The one that I've always gotten from Bob, and used to get from E.
The one I want to have all the time. Maybe I deserve that, even if I don't deserve E, and I think that's when I make the decision. I'm pretty sure it is, because the next thing out of my mouth is not what I was planning on when I sat down on the couch with Bob.
"It's Vince," I say softly. "Vincent Chase."
"Vince. That's a good name."
"Thanks."
"Thank you for sharing it with me. You wanna tell me why?"
I shrug. "It's been more than half a decade. You deserve to know."
"Bullshit."
"No, Bob, it's not." I sigh and turn to press a kiss to his cheek. "It's really not. I think-I think I'm gonna retire, and I'd kind of like you to know who I am."
"I know who you are. You want me to tell you? Is that something you might be interested in?"
I shake my head. "No, Bob. I don't wanna know."
"Well you're gonna find out one day, like it or not. You mark my words." Then he pulls back and smiles at me. "But I'm proud of you, Vince. You're better than this."
I don't know about that. But I just nod and move back in for another hug. I feel so fucking young, a little kid lost and tired, and Bob holds me tight.
"Just drop me a line every now and then, let me know you're all right."
"I'll be fine."
"I know. But do an old man a favor, anyway."
"You got it Bob," I say into the fabric of his suit.
"Thank you, Vince." It's three words but they sit on me, hard and heavy. I wrap my arms as tightly as I think he can handle around his chest and hang on. Things are moving too fast around me.
"No, Bob, thank you."
~*~*~
Entry 148
"You've still got a key to my apartment, right, Turtle?"
"Yeah. You forget something?"
"No. I just wanted to be sure."
"You sure? Cause I'm in West Hollywood, anyway."
I actually do need a toy for work. But I'm not going to ask Turtle to get that for me.
"No, thanks. I'm good."
"A'ight. I'll call you later. Kelly's goin' out with her girls tonight and the Hack just hooked me up. I'll pick you up."
"I'll see you then."
~*~*~
Entry 149
Ari is not happy. In fact, he's been yelling for the last hour solid.
"Do you want to buy my contact list from me or not?"
"Chase, baby, you've got at least ten more good years in you. You're not done playing yet!"
"I'm a big believer in folding and walking away from the table when you're ahead."
"Don't you quote Kenny Rogers at me, you emo bitch. I built a life for you from the ground up and this is the thanks I get? Baby, you're a gold mine and you've got at least ten years before your traffic even slows."
"I'm trying to do you a favor, Ari. You've been good to me and you know I don't want to take my client list anywhere else. So just make me an offer."
He lowballs me by half. Then his intercom beeps and Mrs. Ari yells at him for 15 minutes through the phone and after she hangs up, he gives me exactly what it's worth.
"Take care of yourself out there in the real world, kid. Me and the missus, we're here if you need us."
"I know."
Ari curses and then rises from behind the desk. "You wanna hug it out?"
I laugh. "Ari-"
"Come on," he says, holding his arms out. "Let's hug it out, bitch."
"I'm not a bitch," I say, accepting the hug anyway.
"Nope. Not anymore, Chase. Good luck. You're going to need it."
~*~*~
Entry 150
I tell the guys on New Year's. It's last minute, pushing it hard, but it's the only time I can do it face to face. And they deserve that.
Johnny takes the news that I'm leaving well. He's been dying for me to quit the business for years, so he doesn't care where I'm going so long as my job doesn't involve sexual favors of any kind. He hugs me tight and tells me to call when I get to a phone, collect if I have to.
Kelly doesn't say much. She just sits on Johnny's ridiculous leather couch and keeps her eyes locked on Turtle, who won't look at me.
"You couldn't tell me sooner?"
"I didn't know if I was going to do it."
"But now ya are. Jesus, Vince, you could've waited a little longer to tell us, but you'd have had to call from the fucking plane."
"I-Turtle, I'm sorry, but I have to do this."
"I know you do. But that don't mean I have to stop being pissed off at you being a douchebag just because I'm glad you decided to stop sucking dick for money."
"It's better as a hobby, anyway."
"Shut the fuck up. Look, man, it's good that you're quitting, but do ya gotta fly halfway 'round the world to do it?"
"No. But, Turtle, there's nothing for me here but you guys." And after everything, it's not enough of a reason anymore. "I gotta go, man. You know that, right?"
Turtle says nothing for the longest time. And if he says he doesn't, maybe I'll just cave. I've been sitting on this balloon of hysteria that's just waiting to pop and send me screaming back to my nice, safe, come-covered life.
"You're coming back for my wedding, right? 'Cause I can't get married without a best man."
"Jesus, Turtle, like I'd be anywhere else."
"All right. Well…fucking…have fun, I guess, man, shit. Bang a French broad for me or something," he finishes lamely, and Kelly actually lets it slide.
"Love you, too, Turtle." I laugh, slapping him on the shoulder. "Hey, my lease is paid for the next year. You and Kelly can stay there, if you want."
I hand him the copy of the key I made for Kelly this morning and my hand only shakes a little bit.
~*~*~
Entry 151
I am sitting on a bench at LAX. I have one carry-on and two suitcases that are already checked. My passport-new, a rush job Ari helped facilitate-and wallet are both deep in the zippered pockets of Joey's-of my jacket. And my leg won't stop bouncing. I haven't flown since that first flight from New York to L.A.
Freddy's hand lands on my knee, stopping the bouncing. "Don't be nervous. You'll be brilliant. Need anything? Drink? Valium?"
I laugh and take him up on the Valium. It's a long flight to Paris.
(end)