Love, Lance - 4. Freak

Bobby: < good luck today! x >

He'd read that message half a hundred times now. Good luck today. Bobby remembered what today means to me, and he wished me luck. And, more than that, he sent me an x! Bollocks. He's only being friendly. But... what if he's not? Janey was of little help. She was busy working out her own potential fling with that cutie David. Well, good for her, Lance thought sadly. I just wish I knew what the hell I was doing. The only time a boy has ever touched me is when they've come to give me a slap for being so gay. Bobby was not coy at all about his attraction to the violet boy. He sent a lot of photos and requested many in return, but Lance was not confident enough to text a topless picture the Serbian-descendent boy wanted from him.

He looked into the mirror and grimaced. Yes, years of competitive dancing had given him a healthy, lean body, but it was ugly. I'm damaged goods, he thought miserably. Angrily. Why the hell would Bobby want to see this? Why would anyone? He examined himself from several angles, but he only managed to convince himself moreso that it was all a waste of time. I'm auditioning to be a model today. Today! And this is what everyone will see when they make me take off my shirt. Bugger it!

He moved from his mirror to admire the posters of his favourite professional wrestler stuck to his wall. Diego Silva. Beautiful Brazillian man. His body was perfect. Even though he wrestled and took some savage hits, he always looked his best. He reached out and picked up one of the action figures he'd bought with money he earned from the competitions he won in the past. Chiselled. Handsome. Perfect. Like Bobby and David. Not like me. He looked across to James Vause's poster next. The giant man had the best body Lance had ever seen. So muscular and athletic. Whiter than Lance was, and never marred by bruises and welts.

"Ay Lance," Garth knocked on the open doorway, and Lance felt a flash of horror as he realised he was not hiding his recent collection of bruises underneath a shirt. He mustn't have shut his door correctly. Shit.

"Hello," Lance replied, his voice muffled by the tanktop he haphazardly threw on.

"It's back-to-front," Garth grinned at him, the gold fillings visible in his toothy smile. "And inside-out."

"That explains why it's itching me," Lance offered a shy, half-hearted smile but did not attempt to fix his shirt while he had someone's eyes on him. Especially his father's.

"Who did that to you, kid?" Garth's mouth twitched as he asked that question. "That Cole fucker giving you a hard time again?"

"Drop it," Lance told him, looking away and meeting his gaze in the reflection of the mirror. "It doesn't matter who it was."

"The hell it doesn't!" Garth put a comforting hand on his son's shoulder. "Don't be afraid to tell me, Lance! If he's putting his hand on you, I'm gonna break his arm."

"I don't need you going to the bird again!" Lance swept his long violet bangs behind his small ears. "Just... forget it, okay?"

"How can I forget that someone's treating you like that?" Garth pushed the issue, and Lance bit his cheek to avoid saying something he would regret. This man would deck the living shit out of anyone who even looked at his son the wrong way, but he would turn a blind eye every time Nicky and Lola said something awful to him. It was confusing.

"Do you need something?" Lance asked, desperate to change the subject. "What's up?"

"I saw your door open, so I thought I'd see how you were travelling before your big day today," Garth squeezed Lance's firm bicep with his hands. "Check out these guns!"

"Stop!" Lance pulled away shyly, but Garth's teasing managed to elicit a smile from him. "They're never going to shoot me when I look like crap."

"You look like a million bucks, mate!" Garth exclaimed, shutting the door behind him so nobody else would peek. "You're a handsome young lad, and I'm not telling porkies just because you have my mug. And how many lads your age have those abs you keep hiding? I never had a body half as nice as yours and if I did, I'd make sure everyone saw it."

Is it any surprise, Lance thought to himself. Garth wasn't overweight by any means, but Sue's cooking had done a number on him over the years. Nicky was getting chubby around the belly too, his metabolism beginning to fail him as he finished his growth spurt. I learned the food pyramid when I was six. I can't fathom why that simple lesson has missed the rest of my family entirely.

"I dunno," Lance sighed, looking again over at Diego Silva. He'd had his first orgasm looking at that picture, and many more after that. He blushed, the thoughts embarrassing him. "You saw how ugly I am right now," his voice cracked.

"Battle scars or not, you're a beautiful kid," Garth pulled him into a hug and kissed the top of his head. "Don't you be looking at them wrestlers and thinking you're not perfect the way you are. You're still a little tacker, and those blokes are twice your age - and you think they don't airbrush those posters?"

"Nobody airbrushes anymore!" Lance smirked his pink lips at his father showing his age. "It's all Photoshop."

"Maybe, but that don't change my point!" Garth turned Lance back to his mirror, and the boy sighed, uncomfortable and unhappy. "If you don't want to go today then I won't force you, lad, but I don't want you to give up a chance like this and regret it later on. You can be gay, you can wear makeup and you can wear women's clothes all you want, and I'll always be your biggest fan, but I don't know what I'd do if you started letting the ASBO arseholes take away the opportunities you worked so hard for. The worst thing that can happen at the audition today is that you don't get picked. No matter what happens, Mum and I will be proud of you. Always."

And that was precisely what Lance needed to hear. He's right, he realised. Maybe Cole McNally and his brood of bitches can catch me walking home from Janey's house, but none of them ever won anything. None of them work as hard as I do. None of them ever earned anything! If I chicken out today, then he wins. I've put too much into getting my name on peoples' lips to stop now. To prove the point to himself, he tugged his tank top off and let the sunlight from his window touch his pale body.

"I don't know why you don't curb stomp the bastards when they come for you," Garth chuckled. "Look at these muscles! You'd take Nicky down in a fight!" He playfully prodded at Lance's tummy and chest, making him double over in ticklish agony.

"Stop! Stop! I'm going! I'm going, oh my god!" Lance squirmed away from him, putting his back against the wall and letting giggles escape him. "You'll be there with me, right?"

"Course!" Garth nodded. "Then we'll watch KADA when we get home! Get your clothes on and save the pecs for the agency, will you?" He winked and left the room having successfully cheered his little boy up.

It was great to know that his father was behind him a hundred per cent. Many gay teenagers he'd spoken to on the forums had trouble with their dads. Some of them had been kicked out just for liking boys! My dad would never do that, Lance thought. No real dad would do that! Maybe Garth wasn't perfect, but there was a lot Lance was grateful for. Although the family sometimes struggled to make ends meet, Garth and Sue never let their children go without. Lola made it to all of her sessions on the school's debate team. Lance had been learning how to dance since he was barely out of nappies. If Nicky had an ambitious bone in his body, they would have sacrificed to make sure he could pursue a hobby that fulfilled him. Besides, Lance smiled to himself as he gently brushed his violet hair to rid it of knots, I've won enough money to pay my parents back five times over. If only they'd accept some of it as a gift and buy something they wanted. They deserved as much. When I'm older and famous, I'm going to spoil them, he vowed. It's the least I can do.

The teenager took great care in picking out his clothes. With the winnings his parents allowed him to spend for himself, he'd bought a few designer numbers that he rather liked the look of, but he despaired when he was how effeminate he looked in the deep purple satin shirt and skin-tight black jeans. They want a boy, he told himself. A masculine boy! They want some handsome teenage guy to sell briefs to other handsome teenage guys! Argh.

Lance: < Does this look okay?? >

He sent a panicked text with a selfie attached to both Bobby and Janey and waited impatiently for their review.

Jane: < Hottie! Nail it today babydoll! >

Bobby: < ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ >

Well... alright then, he thought with a blush on his bare cheeks. Bobby was... sweet... but... Lance was shy. Insecure. He didn't know if the older lad was honest or if he saw Lance through lenses of teenage hormones. He could trust Janey, though. She was not scared to warn him when his makeup or attire looked like shit.

"Man you look weird," Nicky so helpfully told him when he finally left his room to get ready for the drive.

"I knew it!" Lance grimaced and clutched handfuls of his hair. "Ugh."

"No, I didn't mean that!" Nicky surprised him by backpedalling. "I mean it's weird to see you look like a guy. Well, as close as you ever get to looking like a guy, I mean."

"Nicky darling I have no bloody bollocky idea what you're trying to tell me!" Lance panicked. "Do I change?"

"No, why do you have to be such a freak all the time?" Nicky scowled, returning to his cereal and whatever he was watching on his phone. "Just go like that. Okay?"

Lance screwed his eyes shut and strode through the homely kitchen towards the foyer, where Garth was lacing up the combat boots he liked to wear. Such a man, he thought. Where did it all go wrong with me? Why is my Y chromosome so shy?

"Dad... don't take this the wrong way, but would you consider wearing something a bit... nicer?" Lance meekly asked his father, who shrugged.

"You're the one they're interested in, not me," Garth told him simply, unashamed of his home brand blue tee and faded jeans. "I only have one suit, and that's for court and weddings."

Oh my god, Lance rolled his eyes. We're such chavs. He was dreading what Garth might talk about within earshot of the employees at the modelling agency. "Yeah sure," Garth might say. "I don't have a full-time job because I'm a frequent guest of Her Majesty's. My son gets picked on, so I like to get rough with the lads who do it and spend a few weeks in the nick." Lance spent most of the car ride terrified into silence while his father sang off-key to the songs of the '80s and '90s on the radio in their junkheap of a car. McDonald's wrappers and half-drunk bottles of water littered the car floor.

"What?" Lance asked irritably when Garth began chuckling at him.

"You look so much like Nicky when you're in a mood," Garth giggled, one arm hanging out the window as he drove. "Purple hair don't fix that!"

"Ew Dad, how could you say something so horrible to me?" Lance could have been offended, but he chose to see the humour in his father's words instead.

"Hey now, Nick's a handsome lad under all that face fuzz and unwashed hair," Garth shrugged, and he took his son's hand. "You need to chill out, kid. Even if you don't get the job this time, I bet they'll keep your number. They didn't ask you all the way out downtown for shits and giggles."

True, he thought, looking at his reflection in the mirror. He barely recognised himself. The truth was that while everyone and their dog preached the value of natural beauty, Lance didn't believe in it so much. When he used contours, highlights, eyeliner and eyeshadow to express himself, he felt natural. Nobody seemed to understand that - least of all his brother and sister, who always used that "F" word. Not fuck. Not faggot. Those words didn't worry him. Freak. It was "freak" that got under his skin.

"Yeahhhhh! I'm a freak of nature!" Garth sang loudly and obnoxiously to the song, doing his best to cheer his son up. Lance had to smile. "Yeah, I'm a freak! If only I could be as cool as you. As cool as you! Body and soul, I'm a freak! I'm a freak!"

You don't know what being a freak means, Dad. You have no idea. Lance slipped his fingers under his shirt and pressed on his abdomen, wincing at the pain. When Garth pulled into a park a block away from the building, Lance felt weak. He tied his long, violet hair up from his shoulders into a tight bun behind his head. This is as masc as it gets, he thought, looking into his purple contacts in the side mirror. Almost. My eyes have to stay purple.

"You look so Hollywood!" Garth remarked as the two exited and began to walk along the footpath. "You were born for this sort of stuff, Lancey."

"Hollywood is the only industry that will have me," Lance groaned, but Garth wasn't having it.

"You have all the time in the world to be a misery guts at home!" His father scolded him gently. "Smile, alright? Look glad to get an opportunity as big as this one! For the next hour or so, you're going to be the happiest damn kid in London, or I'll clip your backside."

"Okay," Lance peeped and shoved the insecurities, nerves and despair to the back of his throat, letting his pink lips curl into an insincere smile.

Upon entering, Lance was amazed at how hyper-modern the interior of the brick building was. Everything was smooth and silver steel with curved edges - the desk, the room and the furniture.

"Lance Lovecraft," a woman identified him immediately and rushed over to him, a clipboard in her hands and oversized glasses on her youthful face. "I'd recognise that face anywhere!"

"What? Really?" Lance was overwhelmed by her sudden friendliness. "Yes, that's me."

"You're one of Andrea's!" She beamed at him, and all of the doubts that tainted his heart simply melted away. "We've always been like this!" She crossed her fingers and laughed. "I'm Alicia, hon. If you're one of Andrea's, then trust me, you always have a friend here at Tedesco! You're here for the audition, yes?"

"I am, yes," Lance brushed a loose lock of violet hair over his ear. "This is my dad, Garth."

"Pleasure to meet you both!" Alicia shook Garth's hand, then Lance's. "Come on through! You're almost right on time. Now I know you don't have a portfolio, but don't you worry about that! A few guys are auditioning for the first time today, and Andrea's already sent me in a few pictures from your last recital - is that alright?"

"Ahh-oh!" Lance was beet red, understanding how little he knew of the industry. "I did not know I was to bring a portfolio today. She didn't say so on the phone. Balls!"

"Probably assumed that you already knew how to do everything," Alicia rolled her hazel eyes and shook her head. "They do that all the time. Don't worry though hon, we've got everything we need! All you have to do today is to go in when you're called up, take off your shirt and be as confident as you are on stage!" Take off my shirt? Lance already knew he wouldn't get the job today. "Follow me, hon! Garth, do you want to come in or do you want to wait out here?"

"Out here, please," Lance begged, both embarrassed by his father and scared of letting him down.

"Suit yourself, lad!" Garth didn't seem offended at all. "I'll read my book. Good luck, Lance!"

"We shouldn't be more than half an hour today," Alicia promised with a grin. "Not a lot of boys got the call for this one."

She waved Garth off and took Lance into the next room behind a tall metal door. The boy gasped. Lights. Models. Photographers. It was beautiful. This is what I want, he thought immediately. I need this.

"Through here," Alicia had little time to spare, it seemed, and she rushed him along before he could properly soak everything in. "Wait in here until they call you in, okay? Send for me if you need anything, and remember to be open, confident and happy! Let them see the real Lance Lovecraft! Good luck, babe!"

The door closed behind Lance, and a few of the two dozen teenage boys, many with a mother present, looked up at him. The rest continued reading their book or texting on their phones. Lance averted his eyes. Everyone in here was gorgeous! Fourteen to eighteen years old, and all of them fit and attractive, with skin all colours of the ethnic rainbow, the latest in designer clothes and hair impeccably styled. Here I am looking like I just got out of bed, Lance thought sadly, taking a vacant seat on his own. I'm just a basic gay boy with cheap hair dye.

Lance was around the sixteenth or seventeenth name called. He took a moment to get his breathing under control and rubbed his hands together. Confidence is vital, he reminded himself. Pretend you're auditioning for a recital. You can dance circles around these clowns. He got up and followed the stern-looking middle-aged man into the interview room as a gorgeous young Asian boy walked out, a smug smile on his stupid face. Confidence.

"Hello," Lance flashed the smile he wore when he danced for a crowd and shook hands with the man who called him in, an older, heavy-set woman with pink hair and an open, happy face, and a young black man with a lot of jewellery and piercings. "It's my pleasure to meet you all."

"G'day Lance!" The woman had a cockney accent much like his mother's, and Lance immediately felt more comfortable with her. "I'm Maureen, and here we've got Connor and Bryan. Thanks for taking the time to be with us today!"

"Thank you for having me," Lance sat awkwardly in the chair opposite the three adults. "I've wanted something like this for a long time."

"So what do you know about Silver?" Connor asked, his dangly earrings swaying with the movements of his head. Lance furrowed his brow. Silva? Diego Silva? "Silver Boxer! The brand," he added when the boy paused to think.

"Oh, sorry!" Lance shook his head. "I'm just nervous!" He slipped his fingers underneath the tight-waisted jeans and tugged his briefs so that they the tag that identified them was visible. "Well, I'm a long time customer! I know you do shoes and swimwear as well, and you've been up and running for... hmm, eight years? And you sell your merchandise in about twelve different store chains - guilty, I'm a shopaholic!"

"So am I!" Connor giggled. He was gay on a very noticeable scale, and Lance immediately felt better about him. "Well, you know about us, so that's a good sign. We're not a big company - at least, not yet! Why do you think you're the young man who will help us make that leap?"

"I... I..." Lance's words didn't make it out of his mouth. "Well... I'm hoping-- I mean, I think I'm the perfect build for the campaign. I'm 5'5 right now, and I'm a little over nine stone on a good day - but most of it's muscle!"

"So what? I can see from here that you're fit," Bryan's sour face matched his personality, it seemed. "So are thousands of kids your age. Why should we pick you and not them?"

"..." Lance had no idea how to answer that. "I don't know..." he stammered after a pause. "I suppose... do you mind if I say something personal?"

"Please do!" Maureen encouraged him, her spiky pink hair frozen in place with wax. "We're here to learn about you, Lance. Speak from the heart. I'm sure it's a beautiful heart. Don't mind Bryan. He's good at being the bad cop."

Connor giggled once more, and Lance took a deep breath.

"At school and home and stuff, I don't fit in. I know, shocker, right?" Lance offered a shy grin as Maureen, Connor and Bryan looked at each other, then back at him with pity. "I don't know. Maybe those other boys are all better suited for your campaign than I am. But I want to do this. It's not just for myself... I mean... I want to succeed for all of the gay boys and girls and everyone in between! This isn't me... who you see right now. I tried to be as manly as I could be because I thought that's what you guys wanted, but... I put the masc in mascara."

Both Maureen and Connor found that amusing, and even Bryan gave a brief grin.

"I wanted to do this because if I can do it, so can anyone else in my position, you know? And they might see me and have faith that they can do it too. I dunno..." Lance trailed off, but it was clear his words gave Bryan the answer he was looking for.

"That's terrific, Lance," Maureen spoke for him and smiled. "Would you mind taking your shirt off for us? Just for a peek."

"Oh..." Lance nodded and stood, unbuttoning his silk satin shirt and nervously slipping it off his shoulders.

"Oh, lord!" Connor remarked. "What happened to you?"

"It's embarrassing," Lance prepared to lie. "I took a tumble down the stairs at home. I'm hoping it'll go away soon." Connor did not look altogether convinced, but he accepted Lance's story.

"Do a slow spin for us," Bryan instructed him, twirling his finger to make his point. Lance did so, stretching his arms over his head and moving his hips to an imagined rhythm and making his potential clients laugh. Even lemon-lips Bryan. "Thank you. You can put your shirt back on."

"Well Lance, we can't exactly put a bruised apple on top of the crate," Maureen said gently, but as Lance screwed his eyes shut in despair, she continued. "Now now! We look for someone to shoot as early as this coming Monday, but we intend to shoot several times over the next month. I don't think we can hire you for Monday, but I think you're a great fit for us. We're very impressed! You've got a beautiful, symmetrical face and all that dancing has given you a strong body - both things we hold in high esteem at Silver Boxer. And of course, you're sweet and sincere. I like that."

"Oh, good!" Lance covered his mouth with his hands when he finished buttoning his shirt back up. "That's amazing!"

"That goes for me too, Lance," Bryan nodded, his face as solemn as ever. "You get a thumbs up from me. Once the bruising has healed and you're not clumsy enough to fall again, we'll definitely be interested in having you model for us. We'll call you up soon!"

"On top of that, I have a few contacts in the industry who work with LGBT support groups," Connor beamed, and Lance's heart pounded like a drum in his chest. "I'm sure they'll be very interested in meeting you. They'll be thrilled to get their hands on a fellow like you!"

"I... don't know what to say," Lance threatened to weep with joy and gratitude. This went far better than he'd been fearing. "Thank you!"

"Stay away from the stairs!" Maureen cautioned him, a glint in her eyes telling him that she wasn't talking about the stairs. "And keep your phone charged over the next few weeks! Thanks for coming to see us."

Three handshakes and a dozen thank yous later, Lance left the interview room as Bryan called in the next young man. He crossed back to the reception almost in a daze. Not this job, Maureen had told him, but there will very likely be something for you when the bruises heal.

"How did you go?" Alicia asked the moment she set eyes on him, rushing over to take him by the hand. "You look like you're about to be sick!"

"It went so well!" Lance gushed, and Garth looked up, pride setting in on his face. "Not this job, but they liked me, I think! They told me they'd be in touch for another shoot!"

"What did I tell ya?" Garth was quick to smother his boy in a big embrace. "Everyone in the world wants to see my kid!"

"Great job, hon!" Alicia winked at him. "You're a natural! I'm betting I'll see your face here a lot in the future."

"I hope so! I do," Lance's head was spinning, and he barely heard the conversation Garth and Alicia had before he was back in the car. The stars were aligning for him.

"Can't wait for those other brats to go green with envy," Garth giggled. "What do you reckon? KFC for a treat? Or Pizza Hut? What do you feel like?"

"I just want to go home and watch KADA," Lance admitted, not as fond of trans fats are the rest of his family. "Is that alright?"

"Whatever you want, kiddo! It's your day!" Garth turned on the radio and happily sang his tunes once more, but Lance was on his phone like every other teenager in the world.

Lance: < GIRL I THINK I LANDED SOMETHING DOWN THE LINE >

Janey: < GIRL YOU SNATCHED MY WEAVE TELL ME EVERYTHING >

Lance: < I'll tell you everything tomorrow okay? Omg kween I can't even! >

How could he possibly fit the whole tale into a text screen? No. He wanted Janey with him so she should see how happy he was. He wanted to see how happy she would be for him. If she's not, I'll drop that hoe, Lance thought with an audible giggle.

Bobby: < they loved you right? > 

Lance flushed. He forgot about Bobby.

Lance: < I think so! I slay like cray! >

Bobby: < you got the contract?? >

Lance: < Not this one, but Silver Boxer wants me later on, and one of the guys is recommending me to another agency! >

Bobby: < awesome sauce!! so your free to come on a date with me then?  >

Lance's eyes bulged. He covered with mouth with his hand and bit his lip. He'd dreamed of hearing those words since he was old enough to find Bobby attractive in a whole new way. But now that he was reading them, the nerves started all over again. How the hell do people date?