Page 13 of The Trailer Park Twink
My fucking everything.
That day, I gave Shelly the tongue lashing to end all tongue lashings, telling her in no uncertain terms that if she ever tried to silence him over his sexuality again, I’d take my boy, and we’d high-tail it out of there. I loved her once, maybe a part of me still does, but . . . Austin? Austin is mine.
And now he’s theirs. The “fans” as he calls them. Fuckin’ perverts getting off to a doe-eyed twink who ain’t lived enoughlife to know it ain’t all sunshine and roses. There’s real evil out there. Men who would hurt him, given the chance. Men who would take liberties they have no right taking.
Hell, the only reason I know he has the profile is because he absentmindedly forgot to close the tab when he borrowed my computer. If he hadn’t, I wouldn’t know he’s in constant danger. When I first saw his cheeky little smirk in the profile picture, I got curious, so I went snooping when I should have just closed the browser. When I saw the word OnlyFans, I thought it meant he’d finally started playing his guitar again, and he was trying to build a following. Oh, he was plucking at strings, alright. Plucking at the strings of sad, horny old men who probably planned on taking advantage of him. They’ve probably sent hundreds of filthy fuckin’ messages to him.
After I found it, before I knew the truth of what the site is for, I told him I was proud of him. He just blinked at me and said most dads wouldn’t be proud of their son masturbating for strangers. After he explained it to me, it took everything in me not to break his phone so he couldn’t log on anymore. Instead, I told him no son of mine was going to beat their meat to earn a quick buck. Not in my house, he won’t.
He don’t have to worry about bills or anything, so I have no idea why he keeps using the damn website anyway. I pay for his school. I buy his food. I give him everything I can, but he still feels like he has to sell himself for pocket money. Doesn’the know I’d give him my last dollar if he asked? Fuck, I’ll get a second job if I have to.
Closing the browser, I bring up our text chain. The left side of the screen is filled with one-sentence messages I’ve sent him, and the right side is filled with picture after picture of his gentle smile. I guess we’re adding another, because I type out the same message I always send him.
Me: You better not be jacking off for those freaks again!
Within seconds, a picture of Austin pops up on my screen, and thank the Lord, my boy is fully dressed, indicating he ain’t been stroking it for creeps. My heartbeat steadies the longer I stare into his big brown eyes. Though his smile is locked in place, something is different. His eyes are red, and his cheeks are wet like he’s crying.
I normally just call him on the phone to scold him, but the sight of his tears is breaking my heart, and I need to see them gone. I do the only thing I can. I initiate a video call.
He answers on the first ring like a good boy. “Hey, Dallas.”
“What the fuck are you crying for?” I blurt out, skipping pleasantries. He’s staring down, his eyes refusing to look at me. Yeah, I’m not having that. “Eyes on me, boy.” His eyes snap up, locking with mine. “Did she say something to you again? Do you needme to handle it?”
“I’m fine,” he whispers, but clearly, he isn’t. Clearly something’s got him upset.
“Don’t lie to me,” I say, bringing my voice down because I know he hates to hear agitation in my tone. Do I get a little animated in my delivery sometimes? Yeah, but we both know it ain’t ever directed at him. I can’t stand to see him like this. “Please, don’t lie to me, baby. I ain’t mad at you. I ain’t gonna make anything worse, I just need you to talk to me. I can’t fucking focus if I know you’re sitting at home, sad to the point that you’re crying.”
“Daddy?” he whines, stopping me in my tracks. Jesus Christ, he sounds so fucking broken.
“I’m right here. I’ve got you, and I ain’t letting go. So, whatever it is, it’s okay. Just talk to me.”
He’s quiet for a while, and I don’t push him to fill the silence.
“She said that word again.” He sniffles and looks away. “Last night at the table. Then she said it again when she found me sleeping on the couch this morning. She told me you were sick of me. That you didn’t want a filthyfaggotfollowing behind you like a shadow. I’m sorry if I—”
“Don’t you dare apologize to me. Not for this.” My blood is boiling. It was already steaming when I called, thanks to how fucking hot it is, but knowing she’s called our son that filthy fuckin’ word again has pushed me past the boiling point.I’ve had enough. I may have loved Shelly once, but all she fuckin’ does is wreak havoc on those around her. She mists out misery like a can of Dollar Store air freshener, stinking up the goddamn room with her filth.
“Please don’t be mad at me,” he whispers into the phone.
“Never. I’ll never be mad at you. I’ll finish my shift and then me and you can go do something special. Then, I’ll handle it.” It’s all I can say. It’s all I can think. This man—this sweet, gentle soul—has been the biggest, brightest part of my day since the day I met him. He’s half my fuckin’ heart, and no one gets to hurt him again. Not even family.
He shakes his head rapidly, his beautiful brown hair rippling around like waves. “Don’t. Please? I don’t want to make things worse. Just . . . come home. Okay? Just come home and then me and you can go somewhere until she calms down.”
Fuck.
If I leave work early, she’s going to give me an earful. The second she hears my truck’s exhaust roaring into the trailer park like a level four tornado, she’ll be out the door, raising hell on the porch for the whole damn trailer park to hear. But what’s gonna happen if I stay at work and leave him there alone? She ain’t gonna hit him, I know that much, but I’ve seen her mood swings before. One second, Shelly will be the sweetest, kindest soul you’ve ever met, but it can change on adime, leaving us with a hellhound, come to bring about the end times. I ain’t leaving my son to listen to that.
“Give me twenty minutes. Just let me tell my boss, and then I’m on my way.”
Relief washes across his face and his head seesaws up and down slowly. “I’m sorry to drag you into all this.” He sniffles, and the sound of it sends my blood boiling again. “I know I’m just making things worse. Maybe next semester I should stay in the dorms.”
“The fuck you are,” I bark, panic spiking in my chest. He shudders the same way he does every time I raise my voice. “If you think I’m letting you loose on a college campus, just so you can snort cocaine off a grown man’s dick, you’ve got another thing coming.”
“Huh?”
I’m sure my cheeks must be redder than a stop sign, because they’re burning something awful at the moment. “I saw it in a movie. That ain’t the damn point, though. You ain’t moving, so you can get that thought out of your head.”
“I’m twenty-two. It’s not as if you can stop me.”
