Page 20 of Back Room Host

My gaze fell on Clé's studded collar. The way he looked at me, with his puppy eyes and brushed back dark brown hair, had something to it. Reaching for my phone, I took a picture of him.

“Quit being distracted!” Sandro called impatiently.

Clé put his arm around Sandro’s shoulder and grinned at me. It wasn’t the first invitation to a photo shoot I had received from them today, and the pictures were great.

“Did he tell you how you should inspire him?” Clé asked as I glimpsed at the pictures.

“No,” I replied reluctantly, putting the phone away.

“So he didn’t want you as an escort?”

I shrugged. “He didn’t say exactly. He mentioned something about a project. Film.”

“He probably wants to shoot a porno with you,” Sandro said.

“I doubt it. He doesn’t know how I make my money.”

Or maybe he suspected something?

There are people who have an eye for that sort of thing. And if he’s studying film, he might have already figured me out. No one can be that naive, given the hourly rate I quoted him.

“And why did it backfire?” Clé asked. “Did you screw up or did he?”

“You have to ask?”

Clé sighed and shook his head. “Let me guess. You gave him a price.”

“Yeah. Why?”

“You know that earnings don’t always have to be money, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I can see you’re thinking about it and wondering if you shouldn’t have said yes after all.”

“He almost had me there,” I admitted. With his embarrassment and sweet look, Luca had almost convinced me to say yes. Not because I wanted to inspire him but because he interested me. Luckily, I came to my senses in time. “But why should I have done that?”

“For a change? To be inspired yourself?”

I struggled to understand Clé and furrowed my brow.

“Come on, dude! You just lost your apprenticeship and need to figure things out. It’s completely normal to feel a bit lost. A little inspiration would do you good too.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I don’t need inspiration. If the guy pays, I’m up for anything. Except for filming.”

“We’re friends, aren’t we? You don’t ask us for money.”

“That’s different. I don’t even know the guy.” I kept to myself the fact that I wanted to get to know him.

“This would be the opportunity to get to know someone your own age better. Maybe he’s nice. And who knows, maybe something will come out of it.”

“Like what?” I grumbled.

“No idea! A friendship? Through connections, maybe a chance at a new job? That’s what you want, right? Otherwise, you wouldn’t have tried being a chef.”

“It wasn’t the right fit,” I muttered, sipping my new whiskey cola.

“Just keep telling yourself that,” Clé said, putting his arm around me and patting my shoulder.

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