A/N: Okay, I didn't want to post this. This is basically a short little part that was going to be just the beginning of Chapter 2. The only problem is...well, I got hit by an epic case of writer's block. I swear to you, I've written the rest of this chapter at least five different ways, and I'm not satisfied with any of them just yet. The writer's block even spread to my other story, Expressing My Love, so it's been a really frustrating week of writing. Anyhow, I DID manage to write this before my skills went to crap, so I hope you enjoy it. It's really not much, and it might even seem random, but I promise it's gonna mean something in the long run. Thanks, guys!

BLAZE THE NIGHT
CHAPTER TWO
A GUEST IN THE GUEST HOUSE

Look for James Diamond on a Saturday afternoon, and you'd most likely find him covered in sweat, his hair stuck to his forehead, and his heartbeat racing like he was in the Tour de France. His feet were moving, and his arms were flailing. His eyes opened and closed in rhythm, and his hips gyrated like a maniac.

He was dancing.

Shortly after returning from Pomegranate Point, James had turned up his stereo (with surround sound speakers, of course) and gotten into some sweats, and he danced his ass off. This was probably his most favorite hobby in the entire world. He'd close all the blinds and curtains so that it was nice and dark, and it would be just him and the music. There was nothing in between to kill the mood as he moved to the beat of every feeling conveyed in every song. Britney, Rihanna, Beyonce...Kylie, Gaga, Kesha...even old favorites like Donna Summer, may she rest in peace. These women gave him life every Saturday, and he didn't know what he would have done without them.

He had to take a break every now and then, though, because as much as he loved to jump around to the music, he also liked living, and a heart attack would not have been a cute way to die. He turned the tunes down a little so that he could hear himself think, and he went to the refrigerator for a water. He leaned against the counter and drank slowly, letting the cool, refreshing liquid work its way down his throat and into his body.

As he drank, he reflected on the events of the day so far. He was proud of himself for what he'd done, driving to the hood and offering to pay off that guy's car repairs. Even if he had refused to accept, James had still made the offer, and he gave himself a mental pat on the back. No ordinary "rich boy" would have done that.

He thought about the guy's parting request. Don't be a stranger. Ha. Would they ever even breathe the same air again? Not likely.

Just as James finished the last of his water, he was startled by a knock on the door.

Here it goes, he thought to himself, knowing exactly who was knocking and what the purpose of the visit was.

Sure enough, it was Cameron, his mother's boyfriend.

"Hey there, tiger," the newly 27-year-old greeted in the most obvious way. He stood shirtless with a pair of mesh shorts and running shoes on. He was just as sweaty as James, but his enormous pecs glistened.

"Hello, Tits," James replied. James had been calling him that since the first time he'd seen that chest.

"Nothing much," Cameron answered. "I just got in a really good workout. Is that Britney I hear?" He tried to peek inside the house.

James didn't even answer. He just stepped out of the way and let him on in.

Even though Cameron was a fresh twenty-seven with a young, taut body, he could have very well passed for forty. He lived a serious life, always shut up in his "writing room" trying to churn out the next great romance novel. Brooke constantly had him on her arm at parties and banquets, and it left little time for Mr. Cameron Stewart to cut loose and act wild. But he definitely got to have a little fun every once and a while courtesy of the added bonus that came with being Brooke Diamond's boyfriend - Brooke Diamond's son.

"I was looking for you at the party last night," he said, grabbing his own water from the fridge. "I should have known better than to expect you there, though."

"Yeah, it really wasn't my type of shindig" James said. He checked his phone on the coffee table. A missed call from Kerry. He put it down without even thinking about calling her back. She deserved to suffer for a while.

"It wasn't your cake, either," Cameron pointed out, "but you ate it anyway."

"Yeah, well, I do what I want," James said rebelliously. He went to the stereo and turned it up a little bit, hoping to drown out Cameron's awkward attempts at conversation.

Cameron stared hard at James as he moved around the room, picking up odds and ends and doing some general tidying. Every time James bent over to pick something up, Cameron's cock got harder.

"Your mother's gone 'til morning," Cameron called out over the music.

"So?" James asked as he bent over again, this time for no reason at all. He loved the rush he got from teasing men.

When James came into the kitchen to toss the trash away, Cameron cornered him, easing up right behind him and whispering in his ear. "We can be as loud as we want, and no one's gonna hear us." He put the water on the counter and had both his hands tracing the shape of James's torso.

James snickered, turning around in the small space to face him. "You're a mess. You're twenty-seven, you're dating a woman who's thirty-nine, and you're having sex with her nineteen-year-old son. You can't find anyone your own age?"

"No one my age can ride my dick the way you do," Cameron said in a totally serious voice. He grabbed James's ass and squeezed hard, putting his wet lips on James's face. "And you know I wouldn't dare do anything with Brooke. 'Real love waits,' and 'I'm saving myself,' and all of that BS."

"You really don't have anything left to save," James smirked.

"I got something saved for you."

And for a second, James would have totally done it. He would have escorted his mother's boyfriend to his bed and let him inside, no condom. He would have screamed his name and all of the dirty words men like Cameron liked to hear, and he would have laid there as Cameron emptied inside him. Cameron would have pulled his shorts up and left him there, too, while James felt pathetic and stupid and horrible and weird. They'd done it numerous times before. But today, he just didn't feel like it.

"I'm not in the mood," he said, pushing past Cameron.

"Not in the mood?" Cameron asked, dismayed. "Tiger, I'm in enough of a mood for the both of us!" He pulled the waistband of his shorts down, and his truly impressive meat flopped out. "Come on. Why don't you come suck on my birthday cock? I'll let you lick the icing off."

"Do you want me to get Delores to take care of it for you?" James asked in the most deliciously dismissive tone. Delores was the maid. Delores was also 72 years old.

Cameron put his dick away and followed in awe as James went back into the living room and turned the music off. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"That's right," James said. He opened the blinds and curtains to let the sunshine in. "I'm not giving you head today, Cameron. I don't feel like it, and, plus, you're too sweaty."

"So are you! And you know how it is. The wetter, the better, tiger."

A scowl came across James's face, and he made sure Cameron saw it. "I'm tired."

Cameron scoffed. "Right. You're tired. Tired from what? You don't do shit! You sit around here all day, drinking and watching those awful teen dramas on DVD. The only time you do any real work is when I'm ramming you from behind."

"Oh," James rolled his eyes, "but if it's work, then I guess you're not doing it right, huh?"

Cameron rolled his eyes right back. "I saw you leave earlier. Where'd you go?'

"None of your business."

James turned on the TV and, partly to piss Cameron off, put in a disc from the second season of Dawson's Creek. He plopped down on the sofa.

"Probably went to go get fucked by some confused high school football player," Cameron said as he stood pouting at the door.

"That's your fantasy, not mine," James retorted as he curled up into a comfortable ball on the sofa.

A flicker of hope went through Cameron's head. Maybe, just maybe, if he cuddled up next to James on that sofa, he could have gotten his dick wet, but instead, he threw his hands up in the air. "Whatever. I'm done. You're nothing but a spoiled little bastard. When your mother finally kicks you out of her life, you're gonna go from old man to old man, letting each one plow you in exchange for money and booze. You're going to be a whore."

"Don't worry. I'll always look back at you as my very first old man."

Cameron was extremely sensitive about his advancing age. "Fuck you," he spat, and he went for the door, slamming it hard on the way out.

After Cameron left, James snuggled up with himself as the DVD began to play. He really couldn't stand that jerk. Sure, his dick was huge. Sure, he knew how to fuck. But wasn't there more to life than just great sex?

And to make it worse, now that Cameron had brought it up, James was again thinking about Carlos. What a cute little brown boy. Yes, he lived in a bad part of town. Yes, he was probably poor. Yes, he probably had horrible taste in music and fashion and all of the things that mattered.

But I betcha he could make me happy. Truly happy.

But alas, straight boys from the hood don't date gay boys from the hills, and so James wallowed in his misery as Dawson's theme song began to play. His phone rang, though, and he reached for it, already knowing who it was.

"He finally answers," Kerry announced rather loudly on the other end. "Where have you been all morning?"

"None of your damn business!" he yelled back at her, though he was more upset with the fact that people kept asking him that than he was with her. "I mean...girl, I was not trying to answer the phone this morning. I was sleeping."

"Oh," Kerry replied. She tread lightly, because she knew a mad James Diamond was a vicious James Diamond. "Well...are we cool?"

He sighed. He kept sighing, but he kept coming into contact with such sigh-able people. No, he wasn't mad at her, but he kinda hated how easily he could forgive her. The cycle would just keep going on and on. "Yeah, we're cool," he finally said with a smile.

"Look," she continued, "I'm sorry, okay? I know that you didn't want to go, and I know that it was awkward dealing with that random guy, and I know that I almost got us killed, and I know that you hate being called rich, and I know...eh...I just know, okay? I know that I get to you sometimes."

James felt bad. "You don't get to me, Kerry."

"Yeah! I do! But I swear I'm gonna start changing, okay? It's a promise."

"Ew, no, don't do that. If you change, then I might have to forget all about you when I go to UCLA!"

"Oh, you asshole!" she laughed.

Now that things were back to normal between the two of them, Kerry felt free to go on and on about how she hated her stepmother and little half-siblings. She complained about her new neighbors, and she bitched and moaned about being on "the freaking rag." James listened and provided all the appropriate "Mhm"s and "Yeah"s, but he'd heard it all before, and nothing was new.

Nothing in my life is new, he realized. It's the same old shit on a different day.

And since it was Saturday, he knew what Kerry was going to talk about next.

"So...you feel like doing Indian Treasure?" she asked in a small voice. "It's been a while..."

Indian Treasure was a gay bar, one of the trashiest places on the face of the earth, and Kerry loved it. She was a fag hag, plain and simple, and being surrounded by gay boys who bought her drinks and obsessed over her boobs was heaven. Oh yes, every weekend, a gaggle of gays would descend upon Indian Treasure with their skinny jeans, button-downs, and boots. Everyone was looking for some action and really didn't care who they got it from as long as he was cute, skinny, and could dance.

James hated it.

"Yeah, I guess," he said. He wished he could just chill in his house all day and night, watching Dawson and the gang, but he knew Cameron would be a constant pest, and he wasn't sure how long he would have been able to abstain from rolling around in bed with him. "Yeah, we can go," he answered again.

"Good," Kerry oozed. "We couldn't find you some pot last night, but we'll at least get you a cute little boytoy tonight! We can go shopping before, too, to find you a cute little outfit to get your cute little boytoy with!"

James just chuckled at her enthusiasm and listened as she went on and on about something else that made her life suck. First world problems, indeed.