Excerpt for The Lies Your Father Told Me by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

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Copyright © G.A. Hauser, 2017


Copyright © G.A. Hauser, 2017

ISBN Trade paperback: 978-1548-6215-5-1

© The G.A. Hauser Collection LLC

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First The G.A. Hauser Collection LLC publication:

August 2017


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Chapter 1

“Wow.” Twenty-five year old Noah Garrett enlarged a photo on his phone. As he sat in a waiting room to be called for an audition, Noah already had his lines memorized, so…he read his newsfeed. A hot guy had added him to his Twitter account.

The name associated with the handsome man’s picture was ‘luvstocatch’. While Noah read the details, which were sparse, he noticed the man had few followers and even fewer tweets. But, he had reached out to him in a private message.

It read, ‘you look really hot.’

Just as Noah was about to send a reply, his name was called. He pocketed his phone and headed to the open door.

A woman with a clipboard checked his name off the roster and invited him in.

Noah entered the small space, seeing a video camera set up to record his audition, as well as several people seated at a table.

He reached out to shake hands, “Hi. I’m Noah Garrett.”

“Nice to meet you, Noah.”

“Charlie will be reading with you.” The woman gestured to a young man holding a script.

Noah smiled amiably and took his place, standing on a piece of tape on the floor. He inhaled deeply and was as ready as he could be.

The role he was reading for was tiny, but in the battle for speaking parts in Hollywood, Noah would take anything he could get.


With his laptop on his legs, Bryce Douglas worked on locking down locations for a new film he had been just been hired to work on. At the moment he was engrossed in his present production. He was seated on a folding metal chair while grips scurried around him, setting up lighting for the next scene.

Being a film producer was like being a fireman, Bryce’s main job was getting things to actually lineup and function, to create a trouble-free environment for the cast and crew.

Seeing yet another glitch in the schedule, Bryce got on his phone and called a city department he had requested a permit from. When he got a maze of telephone options, Bryce took a deep breath and tried not to scream.


He split his attention from his phone, to his laptop, to his director, Nika Brandt. “What?”

“Dennis is late. Call him. His scene is next.”

It didn’t matter that he was already on the phone to handle another crisis, Bryce disconnected the line and called Dennis.


“Where are you?” Bryce asked.

“On line getting coffee at a drive-thru.”

“You’re late.” Bryce spoke to his director, “On his way, getting coffee.”

The director screamed, “We have PAs for that! Tell him to get his ass here!”

“Get your ass here.” Bryce rolled his eyes as Nika stormed off.

“Be there in five…or ten.”

“Bye.” Bryce disconnected the line and tried to remember what he had been doing a second ago.

“Bryce! Where’s the stylist?” was yelled.

Bryce set his laptop on a second chair and jogged to the wardrobe department. He found their stylist tapping her phone and sipping a latte. “You’re needed on set.”

She nodded, not making eye contact, and left the room, her phone in front of her face.

Bryce returned to his chair and flopped down on it, picking up his laptop and battling once more to figure out what he had been doing before he was interrupted.


Noah left the audition not knowing how they felt about his performance. But that wasn’t unusual. All he could do was try, and wait and see. He didn’t have an agent, so he was stuck searching audition sites on his own. He didn’t mind.

He was working as a waiter, like so many other LA actor wannabes, and had time during the day to go on auditions.

Noah had walked to the studio instead of driving, since the parking situation was miserable in this area of West Hollywood, and he lived around twenty minutes away.

August in Los Angeles; hot and dirty, with a warm Santa Ana wind that made little difference in the heat. Noah checked his phone before he walked to Santa Monica Boulevard. He remembered the private message on Twitter and stood in the shade of an elm tree for a moment to answer it.

you look hot too. where do you live?

He had never hooked up with anyone from that particular social site, but he was open to it. Especially with a man who looked like this guy did. He then added, ‘What’s your name?’ since his own profile picture was a recent selfie that he had taken and he used his real name; it seemed only fair to ask.

A phone number appeared instead of a reply. Noah figured it was easier to text than use the app. He took a look at his surroundings, seeing scantily clad people wearing sunglasses and hats in the boiling sun.

Noah sent this stranger a text. ‘Hey.’


Noah added the phone number to his contacts. ‘Name?

You’re so hot I wanna lick your hole.’

“Ohh-kay.” Noah chuckled. ‘I take it you don’t want to give me your name.

R U into kink?

Before he answered, Noah stepped closer to the tree trunk located on the verge to avoid being in the way of pedestrians. He had another look at the profile photo. Damn, he’s hot.

He sent back a text, ‘I can be. What do you like?’ Noah started walking down the boulevard, craving an iced coffee drink.

Tie me up. push things in my ass.’

“Dirty boy!” Noah chuckled and kept walking, spotting a café. While he entered the shop and stood on line, a photo, appearing to be a selfie, showed up. It was an erect dick surrounded in ropes, making it blush purple. The balls were also tied up.

“Damn, man.” Noah hadn’t been too adventurous before, but he was game for anything between consenting adults.

He made his way in line to the barista. “Um…grande iced mocha.”

“Anything else?”

Noah took a look at the pastries. “Yes. How about that blueberry scone.” He felt his phone vibrate with a text.

“Your name?” the barista asked.


The barista wrote it on a cup.

Noah paid for it, received his scone, and stood on a second line, waiting for his drink. While he did, he texted, since nearly everyone in the coffee shop was doing the same thing. Texting.

He read the last text. ‘make me drip.’

Noah glanced around, not wanting these texts to be read by anyone around him. No one appeared interested.

Dude. U got a name?


“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Noah muttered to himself. ‘Are you in LA?

What will you do to me? anything you want.’

Is that really you in the profile pic?’ Noah looked up when a customer’s name was called.

A photo of the same man, but a different photo than the one on the Twitter account, showed up.

This man was a knockout. At the suggestive messages, accompanied with the dick-pic and photos of this stunning man, Noah was intrigued.


He perked up and took his iced coffee. Noah noticed an employee clearing a small table, so he waited and then took a seat at it. He sipped his coffee drink and ate his scone while he kept texting. ‘Wanna meet?’

I’m on a bed, bound up. do something to my ass.’

Noah glanced around the noisy shop and then added the handsome man’s photo to his contact list, so it came up when this stud sent him a message or called. He then, sipped the drink through a straw and texted at the same time.

I’d shove my hand up your ass. you want it?’

Yes! fistup my ass!

Noah crossed and uncrossed his legs, the coffee drink was getting sucked down quickly as his pulse rate rose. ‘ya like fisting?

A photo of an ass with a hand pushed in, up to its forearm, came through.

“Jesus.” Noah winced and then had a closer look. ‘is that you?

yeah. love assplay. do me.’

Finishing his scone, Noah slurped his drink to the ice and set it aside. ‘are you local? I’m in weho.’ The communication stopped.

Noah exhaled loudly, feeling as if he had been lost in this wild fantasy for a brief moment.

Once more he looked at the pictures of this man and hoped it was indeed the guy he was communicating with. A man that gorgeous wanting him to play-hard was enticing.

At least he had his phone number. That was promising.


Bryce waited in a downtown government office. His phone continued to chime with messages as he lingered in the lobby. He looked up when a door opened. “Hey, Dad.”

“What do you need?”

“I’ve been waiting on that city permit I requested. We’re on schedule to shoot this afternoon, and I need the permit now.”

“Come in.”

Bryce entered the well-lit offices of cubicles and closed doors, florescent lights and plastic plants.

He followed his father, who was wearing a suit and tie, behind a counter.

“Christy, find out where Bryce’s paperwork stalled.”

“Yes, sir.”

Bryce handed his father’s secretary his forms to make it easier. She tapped computer keys while he waited.

Bryce glanced at his dad, noticing he appeared tired or preoccupied. He was staring into space or so it seemed, either his focus was somewhere on Bryce’s body or he was looking right through him.

“Here it is.” The secretary pointed to the screen.

“Print it and let me sign it.”

“Yes, sir.” She stood from her desk.

“Thanks, Dad. I hate to bug you, but I submitted this application two weeks ago.”

“We get bogged down in the summer because of vacation schedules.”

Bryce watched as his father checked his cell-phone, then he pocketed it. His mother and father had divorced nearly a decade ago, and his fifty-nine year old father had remarried for the fourth or fifth time, (Bryce had lost track) to a thirty-five year old woman. Bryce was slightly aloof with the man who had deserted him. But, his father held a government office, so, he needed him at times like this.

Christy gave his dad the forms and he signed them.

“Thanks.” Bryce took the paperwork and tucked it into his shoulder bag.

“How’s Jill?”


“Do you want to stop by this weekend?”

“We’ll let you know.” Bryce gave his dad a stiff hug. “Thanks again.” He sent his director a text letting him know he had the permit to film on the city street- in hand.

Bryce rushed down the cement stairs and jogged to his car in the parking lot. He headed to the location, frustrated with the congestion of the LA traffic, but at least he had the legal right to film in public.

He finally made it to the location, parked, hitting the curb in his haste, and dumped his shoulder bag on the passenger’s seat. He took the permit with him and just as the cast and crew arrived, he posted the permit on the window of the café he and his team were using for the shot.

He finished taping it up, and then wiped at his forehead from the sweat.

One more crisis averted.

Since he had two seconds, Bryce sent his girlfriend a text, ‘into seeing my dad this weekend?

I have plans already. I’m going shopping with my sister on Saturday and the spa on Sunday with gal-pals.’


Bryce felt as if he had to pay back his father, since if he hadn’t given him this permit, they couldn’t shoot the scenes and would be thrown off schedule. He took a moment to make sure he had things settled for the next hour, then sent his dad a text. ‘what time do you want me there tomorrow? I may be able to make it for lunch.’

I’ll let you know.’


Noah changed into black trousers and a white cotton shirt for work. Being a struggling actor who was also a waiter was cliché but it paid the rent. He stepped into his shoes and then picked up his phone.

Bryce had sent him another photo.

“Oh, geez.” Noah laughed but the photo was a little extreme. It was of a man getting an enormous dildo up his ass, the pucker of the man’s rim was spread wide. ‘Did it hurt?

hurt so good.’

“I’ll bet.” Noah brushed his hair and checked his face in the bathroom mirror. He used a little more gel on his hair and washed his hands.

His phone chimed. He picked it up.

send me a pic of your dick’

“Well, sir…I just happen to have one…” Noah scrolled through old photos and attached one. It was a picture of his cock, erect, while he held the base. He had taken it as a joke, but, he didn’t see the harm in sending it. It didn’t include his face. He attached it to a text which read, ‘here I am!

A string of emojis followed; fists raised, which now had a different meaning to Noah, as well as other symbols of delight.

Gotta run. work.’ He pocketed his phone and wallet, then grabbed his house key. He shut off the lights of his one-bedroom apartment, and left, locking up. He headed down the stairs to the lobby door and made his way to work. The restaurant he was employed at was also within walking distance, and that was another bonus.

Feeling the heat and dry breeze of the August evening, Noah felt his phone continue to buzz with text messages. He had a feeling his new admirer was going to keep him busy.


By ten pm on this Friday night, Bryce came through the door to his home. He tossed his keys on his kitchen counter and undressed as he walked to his bedroom. He stunk of sweat and stress, working on the scorching streets under the hot sun.

Bryce left a trail of clothing and turned on the shower. He didn’t want it to warm, so he got in, cooling off under the spray. He decompressed and thought about the one day off he had this weekend, and spending a few hours with his dad.

Once he washed and shampooed, Bryce shut off the taps and was about to drop from exhaustion. He stepped out of the tub and wrapped a towel around his hips, then shaved over the sink, staring at his blue eyes in the mirror.

After he cleaned up, he felt slightly more human, and gathered the items he’d dropped and tossed them into the washer.

He slipped on a pair of gym shorts and then opened the refrigerator to inspect the food he had available. He removed a container of leftovers and ate the cold Chinese food right out of the carton while leaning against his counter.

He was famished from not eating all day, and stuffed his face, eating too quickly for his own good. He threw away the empty container, grabbed a cold beer and flopped to his living room sofa, propping his feet on the coffee table.

He aimed the remote at the TV and turned it on, finally feeling as if he could relax.

His phone chimed with a text. Bryce set the TV remote down and found his phone on his dresser. He read a message from his mother asking him how his production was going.

Bryce brought the phone to the living room, where the TV was broadcasting the news, and particularly weather, which is why he had been watching it.

Dad asked me to stop by tomorrow.’

that’s nice.’

how are you?’ Bryce caught the weather forecast and perked up, knowing their outdoor shooting schedule depended on sunny days.

good. don’t work too hard.’

ha.’ He tossed the phone on the coffee table, and even though he should be working on his laptop until he couldn’t see or think straight, he left it alone for now.

Then, he had another thought. He sent Jill a text. ‘Were you coming by tonight?


“Good.” Bryce wanted to sleep, not socialize. He set his phone on the coffee table once more, and stared at the TV, slowly dozing from his exhaustion.

Chapter 2

Saturday morning, Bryce didn’t want to wake up. He lay in bed most of the morning and into the afternoon.

When you worked six day weeks, fourteen to sixteen hour days, no matter what shape you were in, or how old you were. You slept when you could.

As the hours slipped by, Bryce opened his eyes and stared at his bedroom walls; the movie posters and framed prints. He’d loved film since he was a child and his parents financed his studies, encouraging him.

It had paid off.

No, he wasn’t the most celebrated producer in LA, but he made a decent living. So far, his reputation was untarnished and he continued to enjoy the process even though the days he spent during production, and pre-production, were taxing.

For his day off, he had to do a load of laundry and run a few errands before he went to his dad’s place for lunch.

Lazily, he reached for his phone, which he had turned off for the night. He read his missed messages, which included the chaos he had to deal with for the film in progress, as well as a text reminding him to come to his dad’s.

Bryce sent Jill a text, ‘Ya sure I can’t tempt you to come with me to dad’s?

I don’t really want to go.’

“Neither do I.” He grumbled and managed to get out of bed.

After food shopping, laundry, and gassing up his car, Bryce pulled into his father’s driveway at his home in Westwood. He parked and checked his phone, then figured he’d spend an hour here, maybe two, and head home.

Tomorrow was Sunday, but he had to work.

Bryce climbed out of his ten-year old Porsche, and walked to the front door. He rang the bell and checked the doorknob. It wasn’t locked. He pushed back the door, and called out, “Hello?”

Able to see through the house to the back, Bryce spotted his dad and his wife, Julie, in the backyard by their pool.

Bryce closed and latched the front door, and on his walk through the expensive home, he spotted food prepared and ready for heating. Bryce opened the sliding door and stepped outside.

“Hi, Bryce.” Julie waved at him from her lounge chair.

His dad was wearing shorts, skimming the pool.

“Hi.” Bryce gave her an air kiss to be polite, and approached his father. “Thanks again for getting me the permit.”

“No problem.”

Bryce thought his dad was showing his age. Even his chest hair was graying.

“Did you bring your bathing suit?” his father asked.

“Abe,” Julie said, “We have bathing suits he can wear.”

“You didn’t mention it.” Bryce noticed beer in an ice chest and removed one, uncapping it. He sat in the shade of an umbrella and sipped it.

“How’s Jill, Bryce?” Julie asked, adjusting her sunhat.


“Was she busy today?”

“Yeah. She’s hanging with her sister.” Bryce noticed his father had stopped cleaning the pool and was holding his phone. It appeared he was pointing it at him. Bryce laughed. “You takin’ my pic, old man?”

Julie chuckled. “That’s a dad for ya. You’ll always be his baby boy.” She climbed off the chair and tugged at the one-piece bathing suit she wore, covering her bottom modestly. “I’ll check on the food.”

“Do you need help?” Bryce asked.

“Nope. It’s all prepared.” Julie entered the house.

Bryce sipped the beer and stared at the pool. “It does look refreshing.”

“Swim.” His father gestured to it.

“You have a suit I can borrow?” Bryce stood up, chugging the beer.

His father opened the slider. “Julie, get Bryce that suit I bought yesterday.”

“I know the one!” Julie answered.

“I don’t want to wear a new bathing suit, Dad. Just a crappy pair of shorts will do.”

“Go see what she has.” Abe gestured for him to enter the house.

“Okay. Are you swimming?” he asked.

“I probably will.”

“Okay.” Bryce followed Julie into her and his dad’s bedroom. His and his sister’s baby pictures were hanging on the wall, as well as his dad’s wedding photo with Julie.

She removed a bathing suit from a drawer, and it still had tags on it.

“Dad was going to wear a bikini?” Bryce winced comically and then laughed.

“I don’t question your father.” She laughed as well, handing it to him.

“Yipes. Tiny.” He held it up.

You, have the figure for it.” She pointed to their walk-in dressing room. “Feel free to change there.”

“Thanks, Julie.”

“No problem.” She left the room.

Bryce entered the large well-lit room, where his father’s business suits hung, as well as Julie’s dresses and evening gowns. He tossed the bathing suit on a bench, taking off his clothing.


After working last night until two a.m. Noah slept in. Since he didn’t have anything other than a few errands planned, he lazed in bed.

As the day grew long, Noah motivated himself to get up. He sat with his feet on the floor and yawned, scratching his chin and then rubbing his eyes. Getting to his feet, he picked up his phone to see his friends had invited him to the beach…hours ago.

He sent his friend Dillon a text, letting him know he was free for dinner. He got a reply, telling him where they were getting together to dine.

Noah was expected at work at eight tonight, so he agreed to meet his friend Dillon at the beach before he had to go to work.

He was about to set the phone aside and shower, when another text came through. Noah opened up the attachment and a photo of Bryce wearing a black bikini, sitting on a lounge chair, came through. It even had a timestamp on it, which was proof it had just been taken.

“Damn, man.” The thought of this hunk being heavy into kinky anal play was enticing. ‘you hot fuck!

Noah wanted them to meet, but he knew, many guys liked texting to get to know each other first. He pulled his briefs away from his body, aimed the phone at his dick, and took a picture of it. Then, after adding a timestamp, Noah sent it. He chuckled and headed into the bathroom to shower.


Bryce hauled himself out of the pool and stood beside it, the water running down his skin. He wiped his face and admired the view, which was of a neighbor’s mansion; one with a large pool and manicured property. He shielded his eyes in the glare.

“I’ve put the food on the table,” Julie said, leaning out of the sliding door. “Abe?”

Bryce looked for a towel and spotted his dad holding his phone again. “You’re attached to it too?” Bryce took a towel from the foot of a lounge chair, wiping his face. “I thought it was just millennials.”

His dad lowered the phone and stared at him. “It’s for work, you know how it goes.”

“Huh. I thought your city office is shut down over the weekends.”

“Abe, do you want a martini?”


Bryce rubbed the towel over his hair and back, then tossed it over the chair to dry. He stretched his arms over his head and then made a move to go inside. “Are you taking my picture?” His father was holding the phone up in front of him, and it appeared to be aiming his way.

“No. I just need my glasses to read it.”

Bryce walked closer to him. His father lowered the phone.

“Then, get your glasses.” Bryce gestured to the sliding door. “Julie has lunch on the table.”

Abe nodded and gestured for Bryce to enter first. He did, walking to the master bathroom to rinse off and change into his clothes.

He shut himself into the large bathroom, one with an inner door to the commode, and yanked off the wet bikini. Bryce rinsed quickly and shut the taps, drying off. He stepped onto a bathmat and hung up the towel and wet suit, then ran a brush over his wet hair. He tossed the brush on the vanity and it fell to the floor.

When he went to pick it up, he spotted a magazine tucked behind the wicker trash basket. Bryce picked it up. It was a ‘girly’ magazine, but more pornographic than the usual mainstream selections. He flipped through the photos of women, seeing how raunchy the poses were, and many had dildos inside their asses. “Damn.” He winced at the idea of his dad being kinky.

Bryce shook his head and replaced it, then got dressed in the clothing he had arrived in. Once he was decent, he returned to the kitchen to see a martini glass waiting as well as fixings for tacos.

Julie placed a platter of nachos on the table, and the aroma was appetizing.

“Where’s Dad?” Bryce took a seat at the table.

“I don’t know. Would you like a drink?”

“Just water. I need to drive home.”

“Here you go.” She set a glass of water in front of him. “So, how’s the new film going? Abe said you needed a last minute permit.”

“I applied for it weeks ago. I guess that’s one of the perks to having a father that works for the city.” Bryce looked around. “Should we start without him?”

“Abe?” Julie called out. “Go ahead.” She gestured for Bryce to eat.

His father returned, dressed in clean clothing. Since Bryce was in the master bathroom, he wondered where his dad had changed, but if he and Julie were sleeping in separate bedrooms, it wasn’t his business.

His father sat down with him at the table and picked up the martini. “So, what film are you working on?”

Bryce took a helping of the nachos first, then built his taco with the beans, cheese, vegetables, and chicken strips. “Uh…it’s with the studio but low budget. I’m begging them to up the cost because it’s murder reining everything in.”

“Julie, get Bryce a drink.”

“He didn’t want one.” Julie sat down and began to help herself to the food.

“Get him a glass for the martini.”

“Dad, it’s fine. I’m just having water.” Bryce held up his glass.

“That’s absurd. You don’t have to go anywhere.”

“Actually, I was going to head home after I ate.” Bryce munched on the nachos.

“Have some salsa and guacamole.” Julie put the relish dish in front of him.

Bryce nodded, and took two scoops, one of each.

“So,” his father said, “Jill is doing her thing?”

“Yeah. I don’t mind. I need to chill for one day. I’ll be back at it tomorrow.” Bryce wiped his mouth on a cloth napkin.

“Good. You’re too young to get serious anyway.”

“I’m twenty-nine.” Bryce narrowed his eyes at his father. “You got married to Mom at twenty-three.”

“Believe me. Wait. You don’t want a divorce.”

“Do you want children, Bryce?” Julie asked.

“I don’t know.” He caught his father staring at him and kept eating, not interested in arguing about his life with his father. The man had gotten married and divorced so many times, he wasn’t about to take advice from him.


Noah spread a towel on the sand next to his canvas bag. He relaxed on the towel, took off his shirt, and removed sunscreen from the bag. As he spread it on his arms and chest, he watched the sunbathers bobbing in the waves. “Dude.”

Dillon was lying on his front, his arms under his head. “What?”

“Do me.” He tapped Dillon with the sunscreen bottle.

Dillon sat up and took the bottle, applying the lotion on Noah’s back. While he did, Noah rubbed his hands on the towel. “Thanks.”

“No prob.” Dillon sat upright beside him, handing him the bottle and wiping his hands off.

They quietly absorbed the scenery when Noah heard his phone chime. He smiled and removed it from his shorts’ pocket. As he was treated to another photo, Noah held his phone up to Dillon. “Check this out.”

Dillon had a look. “Nice. Who is he?”

“Some guy who messaged me on Twitter.” Noah scrolled to another photo. “How hot is that?”

“Damn. Did you meet him yet?” Dillon dug his toes into the sand.

“Not yet. He’s heavy into anal play. Have you ever fisted someone?” Noah showed Dillon the photo Bryce had sent of an ass getting penetrated by a hand.

“No.” Dillon took the phone. “Is that him?”

“I have no idea.”

“Is he local?” Dillon gave the phone back to him.

“I’m not sure.” Noah sent a text, ‘At the beach. wanna come?

A text came back, ‘I wanna cum’ accompanied by a ‘gif’ of dick in climax, shooting out ribbons of cream.

Noah chuckled and showed Dillon. “He’s a nasty fucker.”

“Have you spoken to him yet?”

“No. This all started yesterday. Do you think he’s hot?” He showed Dillon a photo of Bryce in a tiny black bikini, soaking wet.

“Hey, that’s time-stamped today.” Dillon used his fingers to enlarge the photo. “It must be him.” He scrolled through more photos. “Yes, he’s hot. Wow. Call him. Tell him to come here.”

“I asked him to come here just now in a text.” Noah sent another message, ‘come here. @ santa monica.’ He waited and then tucked the phone into his pocket.


Bryce helped Julie clear the table. While she wrapped the uneaten food, Bryce stacked the plates into the dishwasher.

“Do you want the leftovers, Bryce?”

“It’s fine. Thanks, though.” He wiped the counter and when he stepped back to clean the table, he bumped into his dad. “Sorry.”

His father set the martini glass on the counter and didn’t comment.

Bryce wiped off the kitchen table and placed the sponge down near the sink.

“You and Jill are welcome to use the pool any time, Bryce.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Bryce checked the time. “I should head out.”

“It was lovely to see you, Bryce.” Julie smiled, starting the cycle of the dishwasher.

“You too.” He kissed her cheek and patted his pocket for his key.

Abe walked Bryce to the front door. “So, are you all set with city permits now?”

“I think so. I find it frustrating that I get the applications submitted during preproduction and they still need to be rushed through weeks later.”

“I’ve told you before, just bring them to me directly.”

Bryce stood in front of his father. He was slightly taller than his dad, and in Bryce’s opinion, he didn’t think they resembled each other, although he had been told he did. His mother claimed they sounded exactly the same on the phone.

His father had dark hair and eyes, had a bald spot growing on the back of his head, and a slight paunch to his belly. Abe had been a beefcake in his youth, but hadn’t aged very well.

Bryce figured it was booze, stress, and too many divorces sapping his bank account.

“I know. I just hate to take advantage.” Bryce stood at the screen door looking at his car.

“How’s the Porsche running?” Abe put his hand on Bryce’s low back as they both stared at it.

“I can’t complain.”

“Don’t be a stranger.”

“Okay. See ya.” Bryce opened the screen door to leave and felt a brush on his bottom. He glanced back and saw his dad shutting the door between them. Bryce entered his car, starting it, and before he backed out of the driveway, he called Jill.


“Hey. Are you still busy?” Bryce asked. “I was just leaving my dad’s place. I can spare an hour or two.”

“I’m sorry. Maybe later?”

“Are you still with your sister?”

“Yes. It’s her birthday.”

“Oh. Did I know that?” Bryce turned the A/C on high as the vents blew cool air.

“Ha. I don’t know.”

“Okay. Wish her a happy birthday for me.”

“I will. Bye.”

“Bye.” Bryce disconnected the call and drove home.


After he and Dillon took a dip in the ocean to cool off, Noah dropped back down on his towel and wiped his face. Dillon stood next to him, rubbing a towel over his hair and back.

Noah looked at his phone to see the time. He had several missed text messages from Bryce. More photo attachments were sent of Bryce in a tiny bathing suit, soaking wet and standing near a pool. Noah held the phone up to Dillon. “Check it out.”

Dillon took the phone. “They aren’t selfies.”

“Huh. You’re right.” Noah took the phone back. “I wish he’d agree to meet.”

“What if it’s not him?” Dillon sat down on his towel.

“I thought of that. But, it must be. These were taken today.”

“Whatever…Do you have any more auditions to go to next week?”

“One.” Noah sent a text to Bryce, ‘Meet me! You’re making me crazy!’ “Maybe I should give up on acting. I can’t seem to get anywhere.”

“Don’t. Keep trying. Something may happen.”

When Noah’s phone rang, he grew excited. “It’s him!”

“He’s calling?” Dillon laughed.

“Fuck. What should I do?”

“Answer it!” Dillon whacked him.

Noah cleared his throat and did. “Hello?”


Noah expressed his ecstasy to Dillon. “Hi…”

“So, you like my pics?”

“Do I ever.” Noah stared at Dillon as he spoke.

“Talk dirty.”

Noah cupped the phone. “He wants me to talk dirty.” He made a face of terror.

“Do it!” Dillon scooted closer.

“Um…do you live in LA?” he asked, staring at the waves.

“Do you want my ass?”

“You know I do.” Noah leaned closer so Dillon could hear both sides of the conversation.

“Tell me what you want to do to me.”

Dillon expressed his excitement and put his arm around Noah so they could both listen.

What do I want to do to him?’ Noah mouthed.

Fuck his brains out,’ Dillon mouthed back.

“I wanna fuck your brains out.” Noah shrugged and stifled a giggle.

“Yeah…what else?”

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