Blackmailed
by Victor Thomas
Chapter 8
Javier
I stripped my jeans off, not the way Kenny had done dozens of times in our bedroom, but the way I had done hundreds of times before football practice. The fact that it was again mine and not our bedroom was disappointing.
I pulled off my shirt and bent over to get my football jersey and pants from my backpack. Just when my fingers had touched it, I felt someone's hands on my hips and crotch against my butt. It wasn't hard to guess who it was.
"I hope I don't make Kenny jealous," Jason whispered.
He leaned closer and gave my butt one last push before sitting down in front of his locker.
"I don't think he'll mind."
"I would if someone touched my girlfriend."
He flashed his broad smile.
I didn't have time to say anything before the locker room door opened and more of my teammates came in. One of them was Bryan, who quickly scanned the room. His face froze when he saw me.
"I hope we didn't interrupt anything," he said, trying to hide his disappointment when his friends didn't laugh.
"Nah," Jason said. "We finished already."
"Please, save me from the details."
"If I'm not mistaken, it was you who started this discussion."
"And now I'm finishing it."
Coach Barrett cleared his throat in his office on the other side of the hallway, and the locker room got silent. No one wanted to mess with him. The choices were athletic and respectful behavior or spending the practice running around the football field. Bryan cast me a fair amount of glares but kept his mouth shut.
I was holding my uniform in my hands when Chris came into the locker room. He gave a quick nod to Jason, but his nostrils flared when his eyes met mine. It wasn't necessarily the look that could kill, but it was close enough. In a flash, he had taken hold of my shoulders and pushed me against my locker.
The metal door was cold, hard, and intimidating against my bare back. His face was so close we could have kissed, but I knew that we wouldn't. not that I wanted to. Chris was hot, but there was only one guy in the universe I wanted to kiss, so desperately that it hurt even more than his elbow against my chest.
"Are you seeing someone else?" he growled.
His stare was sharp and relentless.
"Wow! I didn't know you two were fuck buddies or something," Bryan said.
"Shut up, asshole," Chris barked. He shifted his focus back to me. "Answer me."
"I'm not seeing anyone."
My voice was hoarse and suppressed, not just because his arm squeezed me against the locker with all his weight. The omnipresent guilt burned my lungs and darkened my mind. Kenny deserved so much more.
"Why?" His glare drilled through my skull. "Why did you dump him?"
"Um, it's… it's complicated."
"Don't you think he deserves to know the reason? What the hell is wrong with you? You sent him a goddamn text message?"
"I said it's complicated."
"Bullshit," he snorted. "Where are your balls? Kenny skipped classes yesterday because you're such a coward, and now he's in detention."
All potential words vanished from my throat. My empty eyes looked ahead, but I barely saw anything other than my teammate who had pinned me against the metal door. I closed my eyes and imagined Kenny sitting in detention.
He'll never forgive me.
His hands let go of me, and I found myself sitting on the bench, naked except for my boxer briefs, still squeezing my green and white football jersey. I didn't even notice that the coach was there before he kneeled in front of me.
"Javier, are you okay?" Coach Barrett asked.
"Huh? Yeah, I guess so," I replied slowly.
"Chris." The coach stood up. "I thought I made myself clear last time. You're not on the team anymore."
I saw the shock on Chris' face, heard the desperate plea for mercy, but the coach stood there, firm as an oak, and pointed to the door. One more time, Chris tried to explain and one more time the coach told him he'd heard enough excuses. His face red with anger and embarrassment, Chris picked up his backpack and marched toward the door.
"Wait!" I said. Everyone, even Chris, turned to look at me as I now stood there almost naked, with some bruises on my chest. "It's my fault. Chris did nothing wrong."
"That's not what I saw," Coach Barrett said.
"I screwed up and treated my… boyfriend badly." I blushed, but continued. "Chris had every right to be angry."
"Whatever you did, I don't tolerate violence in my locker room."
"Please don't punish him for what I did."
The coach looked at Chris, then me, and finally Chris again. He scratched his head and pursed his lips. I was sure the verdict was final, but small sparkle of hope awakened when the coach shook his head.
"Chris, this is your absolute final warning," he said. "And Javier, get the hell out of my locker room and fix whatever you screwed up."
"Yes, sir," we both said at the same time.
After the coach had left the locker room, Chris walked back to me. This time it was his finger that was pushing my chest. The expression on his face was softer, but only a little. I didn't expect an apology and didn't even believe I deserved one.
"You owe Kenny an explanation," he said. "And make sure it's a damn good one."
I nodded. What else should I have done? It went without saying that he was right in theory, but in real life, things were more complicated. I had done everything I could. Or had I?
At least I had kept Kenny safe. And what was the result? He was sitting in detention and all my teammates hated me.
Well done, Javier. Fucking well done.
I picked up my jeans and got dressed. I was in no mood to practice, even without the coach asking me to leave. How could I even look Kenny in the eye and tell him what had happened? Just thinking of him sitting in detention made my stomach feel sick.
"Get yourself a girl like real guys," Bryan hissed on his way to the football field.
"Yeah, like you, right?" I shouted back.
As far as I knew, he had never dated anyone.
"Don't listen to him," Jason said.
The look on his face indicated he wanted to say something more.
One by one the guys left the locker room and soon it was just me sitting on the bench with my thoughts racing left and right inside my head like traffic that didn't have any rules. I even heard the cars honking, and wherever I tried to go, there was always someone blocking my route.
On my way out, Coach Barrett stopped by the door, nodded, and let out some kind of grunt. Perhaps it was his way of wishing me good luck for sorting out the mess. And maybe there was still something I could do.
I can't let Jorge win.
An idea sprang into my mind. It was probably stupid, but I would try it anyway.
Twenty minutes later, the tires screeched on the cracked driveway as I sped up to my house. Without turning my car off, I dashed up to the house, unlocked the side door, and grabbed the single key hanging on the hook next to the washing machine. I held it in my hand like a treasure, hoping it was what I had been looking for.
Just then, mom walked into the room. Our eyes met. I hoped she didn't notice me hiding the key in my pocket or the empty hook on the wall. I took a step forward to block her line of sight.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
I looked around.
"Um, I forgot my jersey."
"Let me find it."
She opened the closet nearest to her and began searching, even checking behind the bed sheets, but unsurprisingly, didn't find the jersey. Then she opened the next closet, full of winter clothes. The longer she searched, the faster I breathed and jiggled my feet. Finally, she closed the closet doors.
"I'll check your room," she said. "Maybe you left it there."
"Actually, I should be going already. Coach should have one I can borrow."
I ran back to my car, reversed just as fast as I had pulled up, and floored the car down the side roads. If I did this quickly, I would be there waiting at the lockers when Kenny's detention was over. We would talk and hopefully he would forgive me. There were plenty of ifs, but I felt nothing could go wrong.
Ten minutes later, I parked behind an untamed hedge. I walked around the corner, crossed the street, and checked that my car couldn't be seen from here. Everything was perfect, just as I had planned it during the short drive from home. Well, the only missing piece in the puzzle was that Jorge had not been slouching on the couch as I had expected, but since I didn't see his car anywhere, I was ready to proceed with the mission. The lazy ass wouldn't miss dinner time.
I grimaced at the old building in front of me, and at the two broken chairs on his front porch. It was hardly big enough for two people to sit out there, which didn't matter as my brother probably smoked inside anyway. Holding the key in my hand, I approached the dark wooden door, covered with graffiti. Apparently, the owner of the building didn't care enough to cover it.
The door wasn't locked, so I got inside to a narrow, gloomy stairway where most of the lights were broken and joyless piles of dust covered every corner. There were even boxes and blankets below the stairs, like someone lived there. I had never been to his apartment, and I didn't feel like I wanted to visit this place anytime soon. I jogged up the steps to the second floor and put the key into the lock.
Fuck!
The key didn't turn in the lock. I tried the handle, but the door stayed closed. I yanked one more time, and the whole wall creaked. Every time I pulled, the low budget door frame budged a bit. A few strong kicks might have broken the entire door, but I didn't want to bring too much attention, assuming anyone here would care.
I froze when the front door opened, and a dark-haired guy stepped in. Our eyes met, and for a moment, I thought it was my brother. Apparently, all losers looked alike. The guy grunted something, and I smelled alcohol and months of unbrushed teeth.
"Do you have some weed?" the guy asked, holding out his hand.
I shook my head, hoping he would leave me alone.
"Booze?"
"Sorry, man," I said, showing my empty hands.
"Shit. You're useless. Why don't you go home?"
In most circumstances, that would have been a great piece of advice, but before going home, I wanted to first find the video. If I didn't find it, I could bury my hopes of getting Kenny back. And that wasn't even the worst part. It had become evident that as long as Jorge had the video, he would keep blackmailing me. It would be favor after favor, indefinitely.
The guy seemed to lose interest in me and continued toward his apartment. He pushed the key into the lock and wrenched until the door opened. My eyes sparkled when I realized the key looked exactly the same as the one I had taken from home.
I rushed back to the door and turned the key that was still in the lock. Nothing happened. Fearing the key would break off, I used more and more force until I heard a loud snap. I turned the handle and couldn't keep from grinning when the door opened and the view in his apartment opened in front of my eyes. How was it possible a room that had so little could look so crowded?
Inside the apartment, it was even messier than in his bedroom back home. Smoke from cheap cigarettes reeked everywhere. The shabby curtains on the south window had lost the battle to the sunbeams that bombarded the dirty plastic floor mat, and in the corner of the room there was the backpack.
"Fuck!"
The words escaped from my mouth, and my heart began beating faster as I approached it. Jorge hadn't told me what he had done that night, but it would have been naïve to assume it hadn't been some sort of burglary. Why on earth would the neighborhood have been so full of police cars?
The backpack was now empty. It had been heavy, too heavy for cash, so whatever had been there he had probably sold already. I dropped the bag and took a few steps back. If the police found it, I didn't want them to find my fingerprints. Sadly, the damage was already done.
It was time to focus on why I had come here. I wouldn't leave before I found his laptop. I started from the alcove, trying to think about what all my brother had done there. Getting down on my knees, I looked under the bed but found nothing but dust bunnies and empty liquor bottles.
I stepped on the unmade bed, not bothering to take off my shoes, and pulled out the ceiling tiles. They all looked secure, but the one in the far corner moved slightly. I stretched as far as I could and felt around the inside until my fingers grabbed onto the edge of a box.
Game over, loser!
Kenny's beautiful blue eyes, his soft skin, and the lips I cold kiss endlessly, all of them would be one more step closer. I would just destroy the video, and he would be mine again. Prepared to declare victory, I opened the box. What was inside wasn't exactly what I had expected.
I stared at the mound of cash. What a major disappointment. My frustrated fingers stuffed a few bills into my pocket before I put the box back. I placed the tile carefully to cover the hole so that my brother wouldn't notice I had been here. If I ever needed money, at least I knew where to get it. Better than nothing, but it wasn't time to give up yet.
I kept looking for the computer in all possible and impossible places, and the longer I searched, the heavier the tightness in my chest became. After ten minutes, a small doubt gnawed at my mind. After fifteen minutes, I was almost sure, and after twenty minutes I knew this was a wild goose chase. Disappointed, I leaned against the wall and stared at the opposite wall.
The loser doesn't have a laptop.
The sound of a car nearby almost brought my heart to a stop. It sounded like his old mustang. I peeked out the window but only saw a random car driving very slowly. Not sure if that car had made the sound, I decided it was best to leave.
I was about to open the door to the hallway when I remembered the internet router in the corner. I had seen it before, but only now realized that it meant he had to have a computer.
Blood started to rush faster in my veins as the urgency set in. This was my last chance to find the video and get rid of it. I just wished I knew how much time I had before my brother would come back.
My eyes scanned the room. I had already looked everywhere, at least so I felt, before I noticed the small space under the refrigerator. There were just enough marks in the dust that I was sure the laptop was there. I pushed my fingers into the opening and soon I was holding the laptop in my hands.
I sat on the couch and opened the lid. The sound of my heart beating was competing with the rustle of the hard drive as the operating system loaded. After waiting almost a minute, I shook it to encourage it to work faster. There were more sounds of cars, but my eyes were glued to the screen. Finally, the desktop full of icons appeared.
The moron didn't use a password!
I started to browse the folders; porn, more porn, pirated movies, and, of course, more porn. It really didn't surprise me, mostly because it reminded me too much of the content on my own laptop. To my credit, I had some school stuff there, especially the projects I had done together with Kenny.
Sadly, there was no evidence of the computer being connected to any cloud storage. Pushing the disappointment to the back of my mind, I read the folder names. At least I could search and delete the copy of the video.
It didn't take me long to find a recently added folder named '123'. I opened it and found a video. It's impossible to describe how much relief seeing a small icon can cause. Wasting no time, I watched the first few seconds to make sure it was the right one, deleted it, and emptied the trash bin.
"See you later, sucker!"
I slammed the laptop shut and put it back under the refrigerator.
The file was officially gone, and soon Jorge couldn't hold that over my head anymore. No more blackmailing, no more robbing, and what was best, no more breakups with Kenny. As soon as I got Jorge's phone, I would finally be free.
I heard a sound from the stairway and rushed to the door. All my muscles tensed when I saw the door opening. The apartment was too small for me to find a hiding place, and there was only one person who would be coming in.
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
"I… was just…"
I didn't know what to say. I stared at the phone in his hand and calculated my chances of getting it. Unfortunately, he put in into his pocket before taking the baseball bat, which had been carefully placed on top of the coat rack.
"Answer me!" he yelled.
"I needed money."
I took the money from my pocket quickly, fearing my head would soon become the baseball.
He grabbed the money from my hand and tossed it on the bed.
"The fuck you do!"
"I'm sorry."
"You'll pay for this, but for now, get lost!"
I didn't have to be told twice. Without glancing behind my back, I exited the apartment, jogged down the stairs and ran to my car. As soon as I was in my car, I locked the doors. My hands were shaking, and my pulse was racing.
The mission had backfired big time, and now I just wanted to go home. Jorge hadn't followed me. He didn't have to, as he was still holding all the aces, or at least enough of them.
Later that evening, I lay on my bed. I was too angry to do my homework, watch TV, or even jerk off. I just stared at the ceiling, my arms furiously crossed on my chest, trying to think of my next move.
If I had any luck, the file on Jorge's computer was the only copy of the video, and he was stupid enough not to notice I had deleted it. If he wasn't, I didn't want to even think about how many people would soon be jerking off while watching me cum prematurely. I could never ever go to football practice or school again.
Fuck, fuck, fuck! My life is ruined.
As if my day hadn't been miserable enough, a few minutes later he walked into my room. He didn't bother to knock, what a surprise, but walked straight to the desk and sat on the chair. The metal frame squeaked under his fat ass.
"What now?" I asked.
"You seem to have difficulties understanding our agreement. All you had to do was break up with the little nerdy fag and help me out once, and everything would be okay."
"Bullshit!"
"Well, anyway, now you're going to help me out one more time to make up for breaking into my apartment."
I grabbed the first item I reached, my pillow, and hurled it toward him. It missed, but hit the lamp on the desk which fell down onto the floor. The sound made it quite obvious it was now broken.
"There's no chance in hell I'm helping you ever again," I shouted.
I glared at him.
"Listen, you little bitch. You owe me a debt. You will pay it back by doing exactly what I fucking say."
"I'm going to tell mom and dad everything."
He clapped his hands on his cheeks.
"Everything? Do you want mom and dad to know what you've done with that fag under their roof?"
The idiotic smirk on his face annoyed me, but I pushed it to the back of my mind. I repeated his words silently to make sure that I had heard them correctly. Was he really that stupid? He could hardly tell our parents anything they didn't know already, while I could tell them plenty of things my brother did to get his money, or blackmail me.
"What makes you think that they don't know that Kenny and I had sex," I said with a cocky edge in my voice.
"You're a sick perv."
"And I loved every moment."
His face was worth seeing, but I definitely hadn't wanted to see what my brother did next. I blushed when I recognized my own panting coming from his phone. The bastard even turned the screen so that I would have seen our action if I hadn't closed my eyes. Kenny started counting, and I knew I would cum soon, in the video of course.
"Is this what you love?" he asked.
I looked down, unable to meet his gaze.
"Put it away," I muttered.
My breathing got heavier as I approached the point of no return. The moment that had been sweetly embarrassing and massively arousing became my ultimate humiliation. He increased the volume, like I hadn't known otherwise what was going on. Now sitting on my bed, I pressed my knees together and wrapped my arms around them when I realized the traitor in my pants was swelling.
Not fucking now!
He walked over to the window and looked out over the front yard. It was already dark, so he probably couldn't see much, but I saw his reflection on the window. He tapped his phone, and the idiotic smirk grew on his face. I prepared to cover my ears, in case the bastard wanted to torment me again.
Unfortunately, he had something even worse on his mind.
"I'll ask this one last time. Will you help me tonight?"
"And I'll answer you this last time; fuck off!"
"Fine, but you have only yourself to blame."
When he switched his phone over, I saw a little blue bar moving toward the right edge of the screen. I froze as I saw the video in the background. Was the bastard sending it somewhere?
"Stop," I cried out. "Okay, tell me what I need to do, but please delete the video."
He laughed.
"Oh, you changed your mind."
Terror in eyes, I watched the progress bar moving. The operation was nearly completed, and he didn't make a gesture to stop it.
"Please, I'll do whatever you want," I begged.
He didn't move. He just stared at me like he was enjoying all this. The progress bar reached the right edge of the screen. For a moment it just stayed there, but then the phone beeped, and a status message indicated the message had been sent.
My throat was so dry I couldn't form any words. I was powerless, defeated, speechless. When I finally got my mouth open, my voice was hoarse.
"Who?"
"Don't be such a drama queen," he said. "It was your boy toy's mom. She might even like it."
"You've got to be kidding."
"Be ready by midnight or your football team gets it next."
He walked out of the room, his face full of arrogant and grotesque satisfaction. I slammed the door and locked it, knowing that I would need to be available whenever he needed my services. I didn't want my teammates to get the video. Ms. Sherman was bad enough.
If she watches the video, I'll never see Kenny again.
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