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Fall Line
Cole Denton
Prologue
Shawn
Five Years Ago
I stared down at my cell phone as I trudged into the living room. Without looking up from my screen, I knew my parents were there waiting for me.
“When’s the show start?” I asked in the most uninterested voice I could muster as I flopped down on the couch and scrolled on Instagram.
“Honestly, Shawn Skyler Gardner,” my mom said. Her scolding tone made me peek up from my phone. She was definitely annoyed, which I’d come to expect, but the pinched set of her eyes and harsh exhale told me I had reached the last straw of her patience.
My dad barked, “Would it kill you to show some respect around here, Shawn? The world doesn’t revolve around you.”
Here we go with this song and dance. Again.
“That’s right… It revolves around you and your job,” I mumbled.
“We’ve had it, Shawn. Your mother and I can’t tolerate your careless partying anymore.”
With an exasperated sigh, I leaned against the cushions and propped my feet up on the coffee table as my father paced. I was prepared for a show that I’d seen many times before.
Actually, it was more of a rant than a show. But being the son of an actress, I mockingly called everything a show. This included “talks” that were nothing more than my father reminding me that my behavior wasn’t acceptable, and how important it was for his and Mom’s careers that I was mindful of how I conducted myself when in the public eye.
Absolutely nothing I did was good enough.
“Put that damn phone down!” Dad yelled.
I tossed my phone onto the cushion beside me and clasped my hands behind my head.
“There. Now, can we get this over with? Tell me how I’ve disappointed you and what a terrible son I am?—”
“No, Shawn, honey, you aren’t,” Mom said as she sat on the chair across from me.
“You know, you two could have had other kids. You would have had a greater chance of having one who made you happy and proud.”
“Shawn, you do make us proud, sweetie.”
“We didn’t want any kids!” Dad yelled at a volume I hadn’t heard from him before, which caused my heart to pound wildly.
“Steven!” Mom scolded, shock evident in her high pitch.
Stunned into silence, I kept my eyes on my dad as he looked at Mom.
Dad scrubbed his hand over his face then looked at Mom with a pained expression. “It was supposed to be good for our careers, Camy. Remember? When I first got into politics, the campaign advisors suggested looking like the average family.” His voice was much quieter now, as he exposed their secret.
“Damn,” I said as I stood. “Well, the show’s over. I hope I helped your climb up that shitty ladder.”
“You didn’t.” Dad tossed a folder onto the coffee table. “Go on, smart guy. Open it. Tell me how you think that helped.”
I picked up the folder and opened it. Inside were naked pictures of me at a party a few weekends ago, doing scandalous, lewd acts with other guys that would surely humiliate any parent. I tried not to smirk as I recalled the metal bite of the cuffs that were bound tightly around my wrists, which was a stark juxtaposition to the soft leather collar that had adorned my neck. I flipped to the next picture and noticed a man in the background who was cuffed to a spanking bench, his bright red ass on display for all too see. Around him stood voyeurs with paddles, crops, and bare hands. Seeing those images made my dick twitch. To prevent me getting a full erection, I closed the folder to get the hot visual reminders of that night out of my head. This was the kink scene of Hollywood, after all.
I cleared my throat and said, “I’m sorry.” This wasn’t me saying something that I thought they wanted to hear.
“You’re sorry? Sorry isn’t going to cut it this time, Shawn. You’re nineteen years old?—”
