Chapter 21

Twenty-One

Titus took Pedro home. They drove through the gate, went into the house, and straight to the bedroom. Roz was quiet when she saw them, unlike her usually quippy self, allowing them their space.

They both undressed. There was nothing at all sexual about it. Both remained in their underwear and got into bed. There, Titus held Pedro close, enveloping him with his presence, calming his occasional tremors and keeping him warm.

At one point, when Titus heard Pedro softly snoring, he tried to slip out of the bed for a quick break, but Pedro awoke, grasping for him.

"Where are you going? Are you leaving?"

"No," Titus said, slipping back under the covers and whispering in his ear. "Never. I got you. I'm not going anywhere. You rest. I'm here for as long as you want."

Things got better, as they do when time passes. They had their meals with Roz and the kids, sat around the pool, or watched movies.

Daily, Pedro scanned the paper for job opportunities. Titus told him he needed to stop obsessing, that he needed to just recharge and get some well-earned rest.

"Leave everything to me," he said.

Pedro accepted the care-taking, but it was difficult. He had never been one to sit back and wait for things to happen. His work ethic had always been sound, and he was good at setting goals and working toward them. He understood how the immigration process worked, and that citizenship was not just handed out; it was earned. Whenever complications or self-doubt surfaced, he just put his nose to the grindstone and worked even harder, trusting that one day his efforts would pay off.

He had never expected to fall in love, though. That wasn't part of the plan.

Titus had blown into his life like a summer storm, swift and tumultuous. And like a storm, following the disruption was a soothing tranquility, one Pedro was growing used to, and could no longer imagine his life without. Titus was more than a lover. He was a caring, giving, and nurturing partner.

Support of this nature was new to him. Often, Pedro questioned whether he deserved it. He knew the reason, but it wasn't until the third morning following his arrest that he found the courage to broach the topic.

"There's something I need to tell you."

Titus rolled over to face him, groggily. "You're gonna tell me how good looking I am, aren't you? Even with some serious bed-head and the sleep still in my eyes, I'm still a ray of pure fucking sunshine, ain't I?"

Pedro chuckled. "You are. Even though I know you're joking. It's kinda true."

"What's going on?"

Pedro heaved an enormous sigh. When the trailing exhalation faded, he began: "Remember that time I said I said I'd done things I wasn't proud of? I guess I kinda glossed over it."

"I do, and you did. Do you remember me telling you that when or if you ever told me, it wouldn't make a difference? I still stand by that."

"You promise?"

"Yeah. I mean, I'm hoping you haven't killed someone. That might be a red flag. But, honestly, the way I feel about you, P. I'd probably just ask your reasons and if you hid the body well."

Pedro smiled, blinking languidly. "It's not that bad. It's not great, though."

"Try me."

"I told you that after my father died, it was up to me to help support my mother–our household."

"Still applies, right? I assume you're sending her money."

"I am. It's just, there, landscaping is not very lucrative. I had to find other ways to make money. Holbox Island, nearby–"

"I remember. You said it was touristy."

"Yeah. Lots of beaches, nightlife, bars… strip clubs."

"Wait a minute. Holy shit. You were a stripper, weren't you?"

"My mother would die if she ever found out. She thought I was out late waiting tables."

"Well, it certainly explains some of those sexy moves you made that first time you mowed my grass–the water bottle. Damn!"

Pedro blushed.

"I kinda like it now that I think about it–dating a former stripper. Visualizing you out there strutting your stuff for the ladies kinda turns me on."

"There were men too. Women and gay men predominantly. Lots of closeted gay men. You know–on vacation, away from their normal lives. The owner of the club was gay."

"Makes sense."

"Often, I slept with these men for money."

Titus gave Pedro a sweet, acknowledging smile. "I figured that might be the case. I mean, in that environment, it sounds like a logical side hustle to make more money. Dangerous, maybe. But it's OK now, P, as long as you're OK. That's all that matters. You did what you had to do to put food on the table. I would never hold that against you."

"Sometimes it was more than one at a time. Sometimes, the club owner would arrange parties and there were more men than I could count."

Titus fidgeted, uneasy with this tidbit. But, to his credit, he continued playing Pedro's revelation down. "It's all in the past," he said. "I'm glad you told me, though. Now, there are no secrets between us. That's best, don't you think?"

"I was underage."

Titus grimaced, exhaling long and loud. He rolled onto his back, palming his eyes. "Jesus Christ."

"I can leave if you want."

"No. NO." He turned back. "That's not what I meant at all. I just don't see how–how is that legal?"

"It's not. There was a lot of shady stuff happening, remember? I told you. It's why I'm here–in the States—why I want to get my mother here, too."

"Are you on the run from this man? This–"

"Escobar was his name. Hugo Escobar. Here? No. If I was still in Chiquilá, maybe. I came here to make a better life, to get away from the sex and the drugs."

"He had you on drugs, too?"

Pedro shook his head. "No. Not me. The sex didn't bother me so much, being gay. But some of the other boys were straight. He would give them stuff to make them more submissive ."

"You know, the more you tell me, the more I want to catch a flight to Mexico and murder this man myself."

"Hold me instead. Please?" Pedro turned and Titus complied, spooning him from behind. "It wasn't that bad, at first. I was a teenager, after all, getting paid to have sex. But when I saw what the drugs were doing to the others, how they were getting addicted..."

"He was turning them into sex slaves."

"Basically."

"So, how did you fit in? Obviously, you had an advantage being clear-headed."

"He was tailoring me for management. He wanted me to recruit. I couldn't do it. So, I just pretended to be bad at it while secretly looking for a way out. Nearly three years in, I didn't show up one day because I was on a plane to Georgia."

"Thank God. Does he know who or where your mother is?"

Pedro shook his head. "No. I was careful. I used an alias, and he only paid in cash."

"Because he's a fucking criminal. Pimping underage boys–"

"I was only underage that first year. And to be fair, he didn't know. I lied about my age. I needed the money."

"Still."

"Still," Pedro echoed. They were quiet for a while–so quiet that, at one point, Pedro thought Titus may have fallen asleep again.

"You still with me?" he asked.

"Always," Titus answered.

"When I was sitting in that jail cell, I felt like a criminal. I knew then that I needed to tell you everything. It doesn't feel right having secrets. Not now. I don't ever want anything between us. I'm sorry if you're disappointed in me."

"Stop. I'm not disappointed. As much as it pains me to hear that you were taken advantage of, I saw it happening here, too. You're not a criminal, P. No matter what kind of mind games Silas is playing with you. And that's exactly what he's doing. Whether or not you see it yet–he's a lot like Escobar. Instead of recruiting poor boys from the street, he gets his workforce from abroad for the same reason. Because he knows they're vulnerable . It's deplorable."

"I don't know how, but he got Carlos deported. I'm sure of it."

"Others, too, I bet. Hopefully, INS will take care of him."

Pedro rolled back to face Titus. Their faces were so close that Pedro could feel the heat from Titus's breath. "And we're OK?" he asked.

"Always," Titus said again. "I may be a little reluctant with the dom-play now, though. Knowing now what you went through."

"Don't. Please. I know it's hard for you to understand, but I need you to be a little rough with me. Forceful. It's psychological, I know. Those men before, on Holbox, they didn't matter to me. You do. By showing your dominance—I don't know. It somehow reassures me that you care."

"It's play-acting, you know?"

"I do. But it also pushes my buttons."

Titus grinned. "Me, too. A little. It's starting to, anyway."

The conversation was veering toward their usual morning play. Pedro was grateful for it, taking the wheel. "Daddy had to get me out of jail. I should probably pay him back somehow. Wonder what I should do."

Titus reached between Pedro's legs, stroking the half-moon of his crevice, a stray middle finger exploring just a bit further. "I think you should lie on your stomach and relax. Maybe spread your legs a little."

Pedro did as told, but glanced back, briefly catching Titus's hungry gaze in dawn's light. He was creeping low, squeezing and parting Pedro's cheeks.

"Oh, the lube's in the bathroom," Pedro said.

"Don't worry. You just turn around. Leave everything to me."