Page 102 of Back Room Host

“I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You’re not. Trust me, I’m even grateful to you.”

Noé remained lying on the sofa, grinning, as Alex hurried down the hallway and disappeared into a room next to a red lamp.

Does he have his own darkroom here?

“Sorry about that.”

“No problem,” Noé said, getting up as well. “He’s been ready to go for half an hour.”

“Does he work on Sundays?”

“The weather’s so good, he wanted to take some photos of new buildings. I stopped him.” His mischievous grin was heartwarming. “You must be hungry. Let’s cook something.”

While I drank half a liter of water, Noé started making his infamous Spaghetti Aglio e Olio.

“I’m off!” Alex exclaimed, giving Noé one last kiss before hurrying out the door.

After eating, exhaustion crept up on me again, so I retreated to Noé’s room. Despite the absence of a TV and Noé still having my phone, I found solace in my thoughts of Luca. Though I kept contemplating our stuck situation, trying to piece together what had happened, a wave of panic repeatedly hit me. Despite everything, I couldn't bring myself to let him go.

I was angry with Luca, not just because he had filmed me, but also because he was partly to blame for what happened to me on Friday. It was irrational, of course, yet it seemed as if he had deactivated my radar and muddled my instincts. Before Luca, Iwas sure I would have sensed that something wasn’t quite right with Thomas and would have backed off.

It wasn’t the first time I’d been raped and beaten, but this time it felt different. It took me longer than usual to get back on track. Luca had softened me. He’d shown me something I never thought life could offer me. I couldn’t even be mad at him for it; I just wished I could have done without the bittersweet pain in my chest.

The sudden break with Luca had thrown me back into my old life overnight. And in just a few days, it had shown me that it was high time to stop. It was hard for me to put on the mask of the callboy and play the role I was paid for. I couldn’t deny to myself that the last month had changed me. It was impossible to continue where I left off. It just couldn’t be done.

I’ll just clean toilets for a living. I don’t care. But I can’t keep doing this job any longer.

That thought finally brought me peace, and I fell asleep again.

By Monday, my body had recovered even more, and for the first time, I felt confident about finally being able to take new paths. The apartment was quiet, but when I came out of the room, Alex was sitting at the dining table with his laptop, and Noé was squatting on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, scribbling some notes in his songbook.

“Hi,” I said, sitting down on the couch next to him.

“Hey. How are you?”

At that moment, Alex’s phone rang. He answered and got up. He took the call in the hallway, a bit further away from us.

“I need my phone,” I said.

Noé turned his head to me.

“I finally have to find a job and my laptop is at home.”

“Are you looking for another apprenticeship in the kitchen?” he asked, sitting down next to me on the sofa.

I shrugged. “Maybe my former chef is actually my last hope. None of the recommendation letters my clients sent me have brought any results so far.”

Noé pulled my phone out from under a stack of magazines. “Here. I’ve set your profile picture to black and canceled all appointments until the end of the week.”

“Thanks.”

“This Luca guy has tried to reach you several times already.”

I held my breath for a moment and pressed my lips together.

“Did he do that to you?”

---