Page 2 of Santino (The Camboy Network #4)

CHAPTER

TWO

SANTINO

My stomach swoops and I can’t tell whether it’s just the change in altitude from the plane descending toward JFK or if I’m nauseous because I’m nervous. Both. Both. It’s probably both.

I’ve never really liked planes—they’re thin metal tubes catapulting through the air, just waiting to fall out of the sky. But I’ve also never done anything like this before—take off to the other side of the country all by myself, without telling my family, to work with a porn studio.

When Bellamy called me up months ago with this idea, I thought he was joking. Me? Go to New York? Work for The Camboy Network? Did he mix me up with someone else?

But nope, apparently he’s getting married and the whole thing is getting filmed and turned into a movie and he wants me to be his best man.

Me , plain old Santino Baldoni from a small city in the middle of California, who hasn’t done anything worthwhile in my twenty-five years on the planet.

Like, what? We’re not even that good friends.

I mean, we lived together for a few years in San Francisco, and we get along well and everything, but we’re definitely not best friends or anything like that. Hell, he was fucking Noel on the DL for months before I found out on social media. The dude didn’t even tell me himself.

But like, whatever. If Bellamy wants to fly me out to New York for a few weeks, all expenses covered, be in a movie, and get paid, then, hell yeah, I’ll pretend to be his best friend. I’ll be the best fucking friend he’s ever had.

But it’s more than that.

I managed to move out of my parents’ house and into San Francisco after high school.

I was going to do big things, make a life for myself, be somebody.

But all I managed to do was odd jobs like being a porter at a hotel, selling ferry tickets at Fisherman’s Wharf, and delivering other people’s food orders on the side. Some life I’ve been living.

My mom’s been bugging me for ages to move back home and join my dad’s pool maintenance company. It’s the last thing I want to do, but it’s becoming harder and harder to say no. What excuse do I have? “No, Mom, I can’t because I’m making the big bucks washing dishes at some random restaurant. Yay…”

So yeah, when Bellamy offered me this chance, I jumped at it. And maybe there’s some teeny tiny part of me that’s hoping something will happen in the few weeks I have here—something that will get my life back on track.

To be honest, though, I’m terrified. It’s silly, I know. A fully grown man scared of being on the other side of the country from his family. But I’ve never been this far away from home before. Completely on my own. Without my parents or my older sisters just a phone call away.

I know. I know. I’m desperate to get out of the shadow of my family, and yet I’m afraid of being so far away from them.

It doesn’t make sense. But it’s normal to be scared of something you’ve never done before, right?

It’s normal to be nervous when it feels like my entire life rides on the success of this trip.

And like, the crazy thing is that I kind of want to call my Mom about it?

Like, I want her to tell me it’s okay, I should go have a good time, everything will turn out fine.

But I know she won’t say that. She’ll flip out and demand I come home.

She might even lock me in my room. I know, it’s extreme, but my mom’s been through some shit and she’s not good at dealing with people leaving.

Besides, how would I even explain what I’m doing? “Oh, hey, Mom, I’m working with this porn studio, but don’t worry, I’m not in a porno. It’s a documentary about two porn stars who are getting married? How do I know porn stars? Oh, you know, I used to live with one of them.” Yeah, not happening.

The plane lands with a jolt and my stomach lodges itself in my throat.

I grip the armrests and hold my breath, willing my organs to settle back in place instead of projectile vomiting out of my mouth.

When the seatbelt sign blinks off, I let everyone else elbow each other off the plane first. I need a minute to make sure I won’t be sick.

Except the nausea doesn’t fade when it’s my turn to shuffle down the narrow aisle toward the exit.

Actually, it gets worse as I follow the flow of passengers through the airport.

By the time I collect my suitcase and make it out to the pickup zone, I feel like I’m up in the air again and the plane is about to plummet to earth.

The heat doesn’t help. The second the sliding doors open and I step outside, I’m hit with a wall of humidity. It’s so much hotter here than it is back in San Francisco.

I’m in the middle of taking my hoodie off when a shiny black Range Rover comes barreling around the corner. I jump backward just as it screeches to a halt right in front of me. “What the fu?—?”

The passenger door flies open and Bellamy jumps out. “Yo! Dude!” He rushes over and pulls me into a full-body hug.

It takes my brain a second to react and tell my body I’m not being attacked, then I relax into the embrace. It’s nice, actually. Grounding. I don’t feel like I’m being tossed around a tin can at thirty thousand feet anymore.

“Man, I’m so stoked you’re here! How was your flight?” Bellamy grabs my suitcase and stores it in the trunk.

“Bro, I fucking hate flying. I thought I was going to die.”

Bellamy laughs and the sound takes me by surprise. I’ve heard him laugh before, of course. We laughed all the time back in San Francisco. But I’ve never heard him laugh like this. Like he’s high on something, but also like, totally sober at the same time. Like he’s really, genuinely happy.

He slams the trunk shut, then clasps a hand on my shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re here. You’re going to love New York. Trust me.”

I want to trust him. I really want to love it here. I’m not sure what I’ll do if I don’t.

The backseat of the giant SUV is as big as a fucking living room. The seats feel like a full-sized leather couch and there’s so much leg room, I can’t touch the front seats with my feet.

“Hey, Noel! Thanks for picking me up!”

From the driver’s seat, Bellamy’s fiancé throws a bored look at me through the rearview mirror. “Yeah, sure.”

Oookay. Honestly, Noel’s a weird guy and I never really got what Bellamy saw in him.

I mean, yeah, he’s got that whole bad boy vibe going for him, but every time I’ve tried to actually talk to him, he’s been kind of a jerk.

Who wants to spend the rest of their life with that? But whatever, not my problem.

The second Bellamy’s door closes, Noel floors it. The car catapults forward and I’m thrown back in my seat. Jesus Christ. Maybe I should be more worried about this drive than I was about the plane.

“Hey, so, we’re taking you to Hayden’s place right now. You’ll stay with him while you’re here. He’s a great guy, super sweet, amazing cook, happy all the damn time. It’d almost be annoying if he wasn’t so nice.”

“ Almost annoying?” Noel chimes in a second before he slams on the brakes.

I practically get clotheslined by my damn seatbelt.

Bellamy’s arm flies out to give Noel a back-handed smack on the arm. It doesn’t look very hard, but Noel flinches and rubs the spot with a pout. “Ow.”

“Don’t be an asshole, babe,” Bellamy says like he’s asking Noel to pass the salt. “And this isn’t Grand Theft Auto. Tone it the fuck down.”

In the rearview mirror, I see Noel’s lips twitch like he’s trying not to be smug, but surprisingly, his driving actually does calm down a little.

Bellamy turns toward me again. “So, after we drop you off, you can chill out for a bit. Then we’re all going out for dinner and you can meet Sebastian and the rest of the gang. Sound good?”

“Totally.” It sounds great, actually. I love meeting new people, learning about who they are, and what they’re all about.

But this is a little more high-stakes than just going out to dinner with a bunch of new friends.

I’ll be working with these people. I want to make a good impression.

I want them to like me. If they like me, maybe they’ll want me to work with them again. Maybe they’ll let me join their group.

Thirty minutes later, Noel turns down a narrow street and parallel parks in a spot that should’ve been too small for the massive car. But he squeezes the damn thing in without a scratch.

I climb down from the car and when my feet hit the sidewalk, I take a deep breath of the thick, hot air.

It smells different here—richer, warmer.

Maybe it’s the humidity, or maybe it’s just my imagination playing tricks on me.

Walk-up buildings line both sides of the street with trees pushing up through the sidewalk concrete every few yards.

The wind rustles through the full green foliage and piles of black trash bags sit next to the curb.

I’m in New York now. This could be the start of the rest of my life.

Bellamy pushes the buzzer on the intercom and a couple seconds later, the door unlocks for us. I follow him up the stairs to the fourth floor, dragging my suitcase behind me. Noel takes up the rear, but he doesn’t offer to help me with my bags.

On the fourth-floor landing, Bellamy knocks on a door and we stand there awkwardly, waiting for it to open.

Except it doesn’t.

Bellamy and Noel share a look that I don’t understand and Noel raises his hand to knock again. It’s another minute or two before the door flies open.

Okay, confession time. I might’ve looked up Hayden Summers when Bellamy first told me I’d be staying with him.

Can’t blame a guy for being curious, right?

And like, I might’ve gotten a little obsessed and watched every video I could get my hands on and stalked him on social media.

I mean, just a little. Because the dude is really hot.

Tall, built, strawberry blond hair that’s a hint more strawberry than blond.

And eyes so green they look like actual emeralds.