Page 19 of Back Room Host

My heart started racing, a tingling sensation spread through me, and my limbs grew heavy. The lack of oxygen triggered panic, but also a euphoric sensation. Still better than getting high on drugs. Noé’s mother was the best deterrent and reason for my rule not to consume more than twice a week. Self-strangulation helped me relax just as much.

Eventually, my muscles gave out, and I slumped to the floor, gasping for air. For a while, the world was okay again.

7

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Juri

Wednesday night was party time. And even though my buddies all had to work the next day, it was the best night out you could get for free. I enjoyed dancing to the Dark Wave tunes or the hard industrial sounds, completely zoning out and forgetting all the crap from the past week. Kevin was hitting it off with a goth chick, Sandro was at the bar getting refills, and Clé was trying to cheer me up.

“You’ll definitely find another apprenticeship. I’m sure of it.”

“I’m too old,” I replied.

“You’re twenty-three. That’s not old.”

“I can’t do anything,” I retorted.

“That’s not true,” he argued vehemently. “You have plenty of experience in customer service, great people skills, and know your way around customer care.”

“Urgh …” I shook my head incredulously. “Sounds great coming from you.”

My former school friends knew what I had been doing to make money in recent years, and they didn’t hide it anymore. In our group of four, being a callboy wasn’t much different from being a polymechanic, salesman, or screen printer, like Clé was.

“I’ll ask around at the company to see if they’ll be taking on apprentices again next year,” Clé said, putting his hand on my shoulder. “So, what else is new?”

“Well,” I said loud enough for him to hear. “I followed your advice, but it backfired.”

“My advice? What crazy idea did I put into your head?”

“You know exactly what!” I retorted, pushing him away affectionately.

Clé squinted his eyes and scratched his neck. Suddenly, it dawned on him. “No! You didn’t … You weren’t out with someone your own age, were you?”

“We went for drinks, but just briefly.”

Clé looked puzzled. “What does that mean?”

“Briefly, just that.” I shrugged.

“Then spill it! Was it a guy? I hope so. Because I wouldn’t accept a woman.”

“A guy,” I admitted.

Just then, Sandro returned with three whiskey colas and placed them on the standing table next to us. “Here you go, guys!”

We clinked glasses, and Clé filled him in on the news.

“And? Was he cute?” Sandro asked, who didn’t fancy guys any more than Clé did.

Luca’s face still lingered in my mind. “Oh yeah,” I admitted. “He was really hot.”

“And what was the problem?” Clé asked in a suspicious tone.

“He wanted … I don’t know exactly … to be inspired … I think.”

“And how?”

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