“Oh, God. NowthoseI want to see.”
He beams as he takes the laptop from me again. “I can’t believe I’m showing you this.”
He pulls up an image, and it’s three men fucking, but they’re in a beautiful bedroom, something I sincerely doubt was the case when he pulled this photo from whatever porn he was watching.
“You filthy bastard.”
He laughs. “I know, right?”
“I wish you wouldn’t give a shit what your dad thought about this.”
“Me, too.”
“So your dad has no idea how long you’ve been doing this and how much it means to you?”
“Not really.”
“If you told him that, I don’t think he would be so dismissive of it.”
“What? Show him these pictures? I’m sure that would go over well.”
“No, but seriously. I can’t imagine that he could know how deep you are into this and still give you shit about getting a real job. Like the way you talk, he thinks this is some flighty thing you just one day woke up and decided to start doing. This is kind of like how I was with engineering. I’ve been doing it forever. It’s second nature to me. I’m an expert, and I know it. You are, too.”
“Well, yours led you to a much more socially acceptable career.”
“You have a career with this. If you can pay bills, then you’re good, you know what I mean?”
“Yeah, but it goes a little deeper than that with Dad. When he was younger, he was a photographer. I don’t mean that it was just a hobby for him. He was featured in some big magazines. He still has this scrapbook with all of these awards he won and publications he was in. He doesn’t talk much about those days, but he says it wasn’t enough to pay the bills, and when my mom wound up pregnant with my first brother, he realized he had to settle down and get a serious job—one that could support a kid and a family. So he gave up his dreams. Didn’t even touch photography when I was growing up. Not just artistically. He wouldn’t even take a picture of us going on trips or anything. So, considering he had to give up his dream…”
“You think he wouldn’t consider it responsible of you to go off and do something creative rather than get some job that’s considered normal… or like him and your other siblings?”
“Pretty much.”
“Sounds like a tough life.”
“Doing something creative?”
“Trying to live up to your father’s expectations.”
He frowns.
“Sorry.” I wrap my arm around him. “I don’t mean to make tonight so serious. The whole point was that you could relax and chill. And I’m enjoying getting to see these sides of you that you haven’t shown me before.”
“It’s nice showing them to someone else. Now pull up some more of these bad boys. We can go through the whole Scott Wintry catalogue if you want.”
“I don’t know if we have time for that, considering we have to be up bright and early.”
“Your boss won’t mind if you come in a little late.”
“Well, Mr. Bradshaw, I think we can work something out. Maybe if I show you some pictures, you can do something for me.”
“Fuck that. I’m getting in you again tonight, even if you refuse to show me anymore pictures.”
My dick hardens just at the thought of another go, and I kiss him, excited about sharing this part of his life with him.
31
We sit at the kitchen table eating the lasagna Dad made for tonight’s family get-together. Miranda chats with Dad about an issue she’s struggling to figure out with an account at her job. They’re so engrossed in the discussion, I think I might escape Dad’s usual rambling since he hasn’t focused any attention on me since I arrived.
