The people in Joey’s life were so offensive and vocal with their disdain for homosexuality, he worried he’d drown in the shame and guilt their words caused him. Other times, he was almost thankful for their honesty. Knowing he would never be accepted meant he never had to torture himself with the question of acceptance.
Luckily, Joey never had to worry about the truth slipping out like most gay teens did. Being the son of a pastor may have given him a mountain of issues, but it also gave him the perfect front when he needed one. Over the years he had become a master at dodging questions and changing subjects, and on the rare occasion he couldn’t deflect, he just blamed all his sexual reluctance, reservations, and ignorance on his family’s faith.
Joey had also become a master at suppressing his physical desires. He’d known he was gay since middle school but put off the idea of fooling around with another guy like it was a trip he’d take someday in the future; sex was something for the bucket list, not his immediate agenda. It was increasingly difficult to postpone the older he got and the stronger his hormones became. His sexual urges were no different from other guys his age—it was like a big horny Hulk was caged inside of him, desperate to be unleashed. But unlike his straight peers who made jokes and talked about it constantly to relieve the pressure, any outlet Joey used would only lead to suspicion.
The feeling came to a peak in his senior year of high school. He felt like he might explode if he didn’t have a physical experience—it wasn’t just sex that he craved, but something—anything—that made him feel alive and not compressed in his own skin. It was unlikely he’d get his rocks off with anyone at Oklahoma Baptist University, so he needed to do it before he left for school. If he just had that one experience—that one memory he could take to college—he might be able to suppress his feelings for another few years.
The summer road trip was the best opportunity he was going to get. He and his friends would be so far from home, if he hooked up with a guy along the way they would never know who he was, and it would never get back to his family in Downers Grove. It was perfect, and he set a plan into motion.
“Yeah, Daddy! Yeah, Daddy!” Joey’s phone chimed with new notifications from ManNip.
I’ll message you tomorrow with a plan to meet up.
See you then, sexy. XO Brian
Knowing he was hours away from (hopefully) losing his virginity made Joey’s heart race. The front of his pants became tighter and tighter as his eagerness grew inside and out. It was almost time to meet up with his friends, but Joey needed some release before hitting the road.
Joey opened his laptop and clicked on a folder marked SCHOOL. Like he was navigating a digital labyrinth, he traveled through a series of strategically labeled folders—COLLEGE APPLICATIONS, ACCEPTANCE LETTERS, etc.—and finally came to a password-protected folder marked OBU. The folder was filled with pictures of actresses in bikinis and topless photos of models, but this was just a smokescreen in case one of his brothers managed to get this far into his hard drive. What Joey was after was in a second password-protected folder marked SINFUL.
SINFUL was an erotic treasure trove with photos of shirtless actors, athletes, and male models—including pictures of Cash Carter and Tobey Ramous from Wiz Kids. There were videos and stills from professional and amateur gay porn Joey had saved from the Internet. Whatever he could possibly want to fantasize about was at the fingertips of his free hand.
Joey was glad he had managed to conceal his collection so efficiently, but going to such lengths to hide it was painfully disheartening. The dishonesty he lived with every day weighed on him like a ball and chain. Each time he opened SINFUL, the weight got heavier and heavier. Joey had carried it for so long, he couldn’t imagine life without it.
Just like the pornography on his computer, Joey was also hidden under a series of misleading layers, and it would take a very skilled hacker to bring him to the surface.
Chapter Six
THE FIFTH PASSENGER
“The engine likes to play possum, but it always starts after the third or fourth try,” Shelly Collins explained as the keys of her 1994 Chevrolet station wagon dangled from her fingers. “The headlights take a few seconds to click on, so don’t panic if you don’t see them right away. The windshield wipers are broken, so just pull over and wait for the rain to stop if you get caught in a storm. Also, the gas gauge only works when it wants to. Make sure you fill up the tank every three hundred miles regardless of what it says—Topher, are you listening to me?”
Topher was so lost in thought he hadn’t heard a word his mother said. The only thing he could think about was the message he had received the night before from CashCarter.com.
“I totally comprehend,” he lied. “Relax, Mom. You’ve had that car longer than you’ve had me. I know what works and what doesn’t.”
Topher reached for the keys but Shelly yanked them away as if she was taunting a kitten.