Second Story

(Saturday Afternoon, September 21st)

Chad counts his pills. He's running low. If he'd been smart, he would have made them last longer; however, they're his only relief. It's the only way he can sleep. "Looks like you're due for a refill," Hayden examines.

"Shut up," Chad orders.

"Was it that bad?" he questions. "What did he make you do for them?"

"I told you," Chad comments, "the only way you're getting the full story is if you give me permission to give you a demonstration."

"And I said I'm not doing that," Hayden reminds him. "I'm not a cocksucker."

Chad lays back on his bed. The truth is it probably wouldn't have been half as bad were he not so frickin' inexperienced. Brushing the back of your tongue with a toothbrush is supposed to help, but the memory is so ingrained into him, he can't help but vomit each and every time. It's okay. You can try again in a minute, he'd said, but the hour felt like an eternity. He never knew the human body could carry so much bile. It's disgusting. It's also left him more visually shaken than he'd thought possible. It's the nerves. It has to be the nerves. He can't let himself believe that it's withdrawals, that just one more pill could fix it. One more pill could kill him. He opens the drawer, puts the pills back inside, and takes out the note. Xander.

"Hey." Chad rests his arms on the bar counter. "Is Xander here?"

"That's me." He wipes the glass and then sets it aside. "Chad, right?"

He pulls the hoodie further down his forehead. "Yes."

The blond man outstretches his hand. "It's nice to meet you." Chad shakes it. "What would you like for dinner?"

"Oh. Um." Chad unsurely says, "People say I'm picky."

"Is skinless chicken okay?"

"Yeah." Chad nods.

"And your drink?" he inquires.

"Non-alcoholic?" Chad makes a face, and Xander grins. "I know. This is a bar, but I'm already mixing two medications that aren't supposed to be taken together."

"Here." He fills a glass with yellow liquid and sets it before him. "Apple juice."

Chad grabs a straw. "Thank you."

"Bar closes at one," he informs. "Would you mind staying around until after?"

Chad sips the juice. "Yeah. I can wait."

"Okay. Good." He instructs, "When you're done with dinner, I'll let you upstairs. You can rest there until I'm finished."

Chad eyes past him and up the stairs. "He's not up there, is he?"

Xander laughs. "No. I promise you, he isn't."

After Chad reaches the second story, he glances around the large room. The kitchen is on one end, and a double bed with a sheet curtain is on the other. The only other room is a small, dark cube, and when Chad turns the light on, he sees a single-tiled shower like the private ones the school had invested in. The only difference is that this one isn't walled off by a lockable stall. To the side there's also a toilet, dirty sink, and a brick of toilet paper. He shuts off the light and turns back into the room. It's hard to believe Hawthorne would send him here to see how great of a future he might have, if only he plays by his rules. Chad squeezes Dino's hand, but the red t-rex isn't there. He left him at home. He's not even sixteen, yet. Bringing a stuffed animal into a bar would have attracted too much attention.

His phone rings, and he takes it out of his pocket. "Hello."

"Chad." His father remarks, "I'd like to see you."

"Why?" Chad takes a seat on the bed. "I'm fine."

"Then turn on your camera."

Chad rests his back on the firm mattress. "Why?"

He takes a moment. "Where are you?"

"Where am I?" Chad repeats. "I'm in the waiting room at Paradise."

"Okay," his father accepts. "Show me."

"No." Chad denies, "I don't think so."

"You're getting more drugs, aren't you?" he accuses.

He sits back up. "And how the fuck would you know that?"

"I know you're still using," he bypasses. "Where are you? Really."

"At a bar." Chad peeks past the sheet to examine the stairway. "I'm desperate for a good fuck. Someone invited me to their room."

"That's illegal," his father angers.

Chad hums. "No. I'm not paying him."

"You're underage," he argues. "The age of consent is sixteen. You shouldn't be having sex at all."

"In a month and a half, I will be," Chad dismisses. "And anyway, you weren't this upset when you thought I lost my virginity at Paradise."

"Those places have rules and regulations."

"Which is exactly why I can't go there," Chad explains.

"You don't even know who this man is," his father reminds him. "For all you know, he could have HIV. Or he might be one of those radicals who kill the sexually deviant."

"I know you're using the word 'deviant' to mean different," Chad comments, "but there's negative connotations attached to that word."

"I'm telling you this is dangerous." His father instructs, "Tell me where you are so that I can come get you."

Chad hears the squeaky steps and stands up to see the bartender moving up the stairs. "I'm sorry, but I can't."

"Chad!"

He ends the call and shuts the power off. "Who was that?" Xander inquires.

"My father." Chad frowns at him. "Apparently, searching for a one-night-stand is dangerous and reckless."

He smiles. "Is that what you think this is? A one-night-stand."

Chad shrugs. "If I play my cards right." He glances around. "I don't see anything here that says you have a girlfriend."

He places a hand on Chad's shoulder and guides him to the side of the bed. "Come on." They sit and face one another. "You're right about one thing. When I was in high school, the thought of trading sex for money was very appealing to me. The problem was you need to be eighteen before starting legal sex work." He glances down. "And, you know, I complained about it to Professor Hawthorne." He faces Chad again. "To my surprise, he didn't tell me I was too young. In fact, it prompted him to proposition me."

"Proposition you?" Chad slowly asks.

"You might not know this, yet, but Professor Hawthorne has a sort of mental disfunction."

"No." Chad asserts, "I'm quite aware of that."

"What I mean is," he pauses, "is that he likes ruff sex. He likes hurting people." Chad's frown deepens. "Now, obviously, that's not something he wants to take out on his wife."

"If that's what this is about," Chad interrupts, "then why guys? If he loves his wife, then he's attracted to girls. Right?"

"Maybe he's attracted to both," Xander solves. "Maybe the kind of proof pregnancy would offer is too much of a risk for him to take."

Chad looks around. "I don't get it." He meets his brown eyes. "I was told that Hawthorne's favorite students are given everything they want out of life. The life you have, I can't believe he'd want me to meet you."

"My life doesn't look like a lot," he explains, "but it's more than I ever thought I'd have." He takes a deep breath. "I tried going to college, but I couldn't keep up. Eventually, I asked Hawthorne if I could trade it for this place instead. He bought the place for me, paid for my first batch of supplies, and every now and again, I still trade favors with him."

"But why?" Chad emphasizes. "If he's hurting you—"

"The pain is temporary," he interrupts, and Chad silences. "You're young. I get that, but one day you'll realize that we all have needs." He releases the breath. "The life I got now is permanent. The way I got here was temporary." He questions, "When do you graduate?"

"After next year." His heart thuds. It's a lot longer than he'd thought.

"You seem like a smart kid," he comments. "If Hawthorne offered you the same deal he made me, I know you will get even more out of it than I did. Two years of your service and you're set up for life."

Chad mutters, "What's the catch?"

He frowns. "The catch is you change. Sex work really did sound like a dream job, getting paid to have sex with a different girl every day… but now I see it as a chore. It's rare that I'll actually have sex with anyone now."

Chad eyes away. "I think I've already changed."

"Then you might as well take the deal."

Chad looks back at him. "Hawthorne hasn't offered me any deal. Not yet. I've been asking him for drugs."

"And he's giving you them?" Xander's faces scrunches.

"I mean." Chad backtracks, "It's something I was already addicted to. Before him."

"Still." Xander says, "He prides himself on helping people. I find it hard to believe he'd be okay with that sort of trade."

"You asked for the bar," Chad points out.

"As a source of income," he reminds him. "What he gave me helps me live. What he's giving you could kill you."

"He's a genie," Chad compares. "My wishes are just different from yours."

He eyes over him. "If you really had a genie, what would you wish for?"

"Honestly?" He takes a deep breath. "I'd wish Hawthorne never targeted me." His face wets, and he heaves a sob. Xander's hand moves onto his back, and the warmth sinks into him as he rubs back-and-forth. "I'm so stupid. I knew what he wanted, and I went back to him anyway. And for what? Drugs?"

Xander whispers, "You're not stupid."

"I told my parents I lied," Chad cries. "They'll never believe me again. I'm stupid."

"You're not stupid," Xander reinforces. "He's taking advantage of your addiction."

Chad heaves another sob, and he feels it: the acid at the bottom of his throat. "I need to throw up." He hurries into the bathroom and gets on his knees, preparing for the inevitable.

A shadow moves over him. "It's anxiety. I have antacids if you need some."

"How about a spare toothbrush?" Chad asks.

He pauses. "Why?"

"I can feel it," Chad answers. "I want it over with."

He takes a moment. "Are you wanting to throw up on purpose?"

"No." Chad scoffs, "I wouldn't do that." He gulps. "I just want to hurry the process along." He inhales deeply. "I can't breathe."

"It's been a minute." The man kneels beside him. "I don't think it's coming." Chad closes his eyes tight, trying to prevent tears, and Xander hugs him. "It's okay." He promises, "You're going to be okay."

"He didn't consent," the man spats, and Chad's eyes weigh heavy as they open. "Oh, is that so? Because I got a different story last night." It's like his eyelashes are glued together. "What hospital visit?" Whatever this is, it doesn't sound good. "No. Look. You can't assault an underage royal and pay him off with drugs. Let me speak!" Chad sits up from the bed. "I don't care if he talks. If you don't want me to talk, then you'd better give him the same offer you gave the rest of us. No. Better yet—the royal treatment." He steps out of the obscured view and watches Xander nod. "Good." He wets his lips, and his voice softens, "Yes. I still want the third story built." He rubs his arm. "A week?" He eyes the floorboards. "Yes. A week's fine." He looks up again. "Yes. You too."

When Xander slips the phone back into his pocket, Chad asks, "What was that?"

He turns towards him. "Oh. Hey. I didn't see you there."

"It was Hawthorne, wasn't it?" Chad guesses.

Xander's smile slips. "Yes. I was telling him to take better care of you."

"Care of me?" Chad rejects, "He's not my sugar daddy."

"Yeah. Whatever." He grabs a button up and pulls it over his tank top.

Chad eyes over him. "What was that about a third story?"

"Nothing," he dismisses. "Don't worry about it."

"You're adding another floor, aren't you?" Chad accuses, and Xander pulls on his shoes. "What's the price, huh? You get to have a one-night-stand with Professor Nobel Bitch?"

"A week," he corrects.

Chad's expression falls. "What?"

Xander faces him. "The construction's going to take a week. In the meantime, he's going to be paying for my hotel room."

"And you're okay with that?" Chad disbelieves.

Xander fidgets with the items on the door-side dresser. "Maybe he'll be busy. He'll only visit once or twice." The keys clank in his hand, and he turns towards him. "Come on."

"Come on, where?" Chad gapes.

He frowns at him. "Auradon Prep. I promised your father I'd get you back safely."

Chad's eyes widen. "You talked to my father? What did you do, steal my phone?"

He tiredly replies, "He's a royal. I called his business cell." Chad reaches for his pocket, and Xander holds up a small bag. "Looking for these?"

Chad marches up to him, but he holds them up out of reach. "I haven't had a dose since last night. I need one."

"It's a fifteen-minute ride to Auradon Prep." Xander negotiates, "If you come with me, you have fifteen minutes to convince me to give these two, small pills back to you."

"You think I'm pathetic, don't you," Chad assumes.

"No," he answers. "But clearly you do." Chad quiets, and Xander shows him the remnants of the drugs. "You have a choice here. You can either give up the drugs and free yourself from Hawthorne or you can send yourself into an early grave." Chad glances from the baggie to him, and Xander hands it back to him. "All I ask is that you think about it. Hard." Chad nods, and Xander instructs, "Get your shoes on."

When the car stops, Chad watches him open the door. "Hold on." Xander turns towards him. "Hawthorne. How do you handle him?"

He examines him. "Are you asking specifically or in general?"

Chad shakes his head. "Either."

"Well, in general, you need to know what you're worth to him. It takes time groom a student. He's not going to want to lose you. That gives you the power." He pauses. "Specifically, Hawthorne will always use a condom, but if you're new to anal, I highly recommend that you lube yourself before the visit. It takes time for the muscles there to… get used to it."

"You said he likes hurting people," Chad recalls.

Xander nods. "You might end up with some bruises."

Someone knocks on Chad's window, and he sees his father standing on the other side. Xander gets out of the car, and Chad follows his lead. His father hugs him. "Chad. You had me so worried."

"I know," he whispers.

His father walks over to Xander, outstretches his hand, and Xander shakes it. "Thank you so much for keeping him safe."

Xander smiles. "Well, a fifteen-year-old royal in my bar wouldn't be good publicity." He looks at Chad. "If you find yourself in any more trouble, call me." He hands Chad's father a piece of paper. "My number, if you need it."

He nods. "Thank you."

It seems like an eternity, the witty banter about children's inexperience. He hadn't realized until now just how much closer in age Xander is to his father than him. He's probably only five years younger than Hawthorne. "Dad." His father takes notice of him. "I'm not feeling very well."

"Right. Of course." He smiles at Xander. "Have a good day." He places a hand on Chad's back, and they walk towards the front doors. "You don't know how lucky you are that he found you instead of someone else."

"Believe me," Chad murmurs. "I know."

"No. You don't know." He steps out in front of him. "Ruby's still missing, and she hasn't even sent a letter or email to let anyone know she's okay." Chad looks down. "I wish you'd take this a little more seriously."

Chad peers up at him and evenly expresses, "Maybe I'd have an easier time taking it seriously if my stomach wasn't cramping."

He eyes over him. "You don't look like you're in pain."

Chad's frown deepens. "How do you think I got away with it for so long?"

His father releases a breath. "I take it, you don't have any more." Chad's eyes lower. "Come on. Let's get you to the nurse."

Chad lays on his back, as he feels the two pills in the baggie. He can either stop using the pills and think of Hathorne every waking minute, or he can take the pills and be hurt by Hawthorne every other week. It's not exactly what he'd call a choice. Anger swells in him, and he mutters, "What fucking choice do I have? Really."

"Lots," Hayden jumps onto his bed. "You can take the drugs with your meds and overdose. You can stop taking the drugs and probably faint and crack your head open." He grabs the baggie from Chad. "Or you could grind it into a powder and kill someone with it."

"Give them back!" Chad reaches for them, and Hayden holds a knife to Chad's neck.

"No." He contemplates, "I think I'll be holding onto these."

"I need them."

"It's just two," he excuses. "You were going to run out anyway." He removes the knife from his neck. "No. I'll be keeping these two."

When he gets off the bed, Chad outrages, "You have knife. You don't need my drugs to kill someone."

"Yeah." Hayden sighs. "Unless I want to get away with it."

"And who'd you want to kill?"

"Oh. No one." He puts it in his pocket. "Not yet."