The Eye of the Beholder (2)

[Edith Glass]

Preston dropped Cary off at his place, wishing him a safe trip before pulling back into the minimal late night traffic to head to his own apartment. From the drop in temperature since he’d left the apartment earlier in the day he suspected that it was going to be snowing by morning. He hoped it would be light, he really hated driving in a storm and he had things he had to do, like get a new set of pictures that he could mail to some of the modeling agencies he knew of on the east and west coasts.

He and Cary had been friends since they’d met in high school, long before either of them had come out. Cary had finally admitted in his senior year that he was gay. His parents had accepted that fact with ill-grace but they hadn’t done anything drastic, allowing him to live at home until graduation while prompting him to choose a college far from their small town, and from them.

While Cary was handling the fall-out Preston stood behind him, letting him vent and whine at how ‘unfair’ life was while supporting his decision to stay in the closet as far as school was concerned. Even though Preston had known since he was thirteen that he was more interested in boys than girls his folks had wisely cautioned him that he should keep that to himself. As soon as he was sixteen and had his license he had begun going to the city to sate his needs. Other than his parents Cary was the only one in town who knew that he was gay.

Despite, or perhaps because of their friendship they had never taken things beyond that level. As Cary had said in a moment of openness as he was packing to leave for college, “A good friend is much more important than a good fuck.” Preston had laughed and agreed.

They had stayed in touch through the four years Cary was studying for his business degree and afterwards when he accepted a job in Winterfield, a medium sized city in the mid-west. Being at loose ends, foot-loose and fancy free, Preston had decided to move there too. Since high school he’d crisscrossed the country, picking up odd jobs, mainly modeling for small agencies. He wanted to make it big but that bolt of lightening had never struck. He was honest enough with himself to admit that if he wasn’t always moving on, looking for the big chance somewhere else, he might have gained at least a small modicum of recognition.

Once he’d settled in in a small apartment a mile or so away from Cary’s, Preston had begun doing the rounds during the day and hitting the local gay clubs at night. It was at the latter that he’d met Fulton. They’d talked; Fulton had seemed impressed and offered him a job acting in his independent films. It wasn’t until Preston had gone to Fulton’s office the next day that he’d discovered what sort of films they were. It had taken a lot of fast talking on Fulton’s part but he’d convinced Preston that this was the perfect way to get his face out there where it would be seen by more than just someone watching a late night TV ad for a local department store.

After three years Preston had had it. He was tired and bored of the whole thing and of being under Fulton’s thumb. He’d tried, unsuccessfully, to walk away despite his contract but a few well placed words from Trace, Fulton’s bodyguard cum enforcer had kept him toeing the line.

Now however his contract was up, and with Cary gently but firmly telling him it was time for him to get out of the business he’d finally given Fulton his notice.

He smiled as he parked his car and headed up to his apartment. Freedom, at last.