Page 21 of Back Room Host

I’m not kidding myself. But the fact was, Luca’s storm-gray eyes just wouldn’t leave my mind. They had sparkled so beautifully that I would never forget them. His hidden enthusiasm when he had asked me to be his muse had almost sparked something.

Not a single one of my clients had ever looked at me like that.

Not that I wished they would; after all, they were my clients! They paid me! It was my job to look at them like that. Still, the thought saddened me a little that I was deprived of such a thing.

Right on time, my inner guardian spoke up. After all, I was lucky if the clients went home satisfied and soon contacted me again. I earned a good income, enough so that I even paid a small portion in taxes. But I mostly set it aside. My fear of hard times was too great. I could never have lived the lifestyle Noé had chosen. He could do it and was strong enough for it. But if all else failed, he still had the option to go home to his mother. Sure, it was a crappy option, but at least he had it. Unlike me.

And ultimately, I didn’t need to think about it anymore. Luca was gone. I would never see him again. So I could stop mourning him for no reason.

“If only I were into guys,” Clé said next to me. “Then I would have hooked up with you ages ago.”

The way he grinned at me, he had just noticed that I was drifting into darkness. He knew this side of me too well. He had often nursed me back to health after a client had flipped out. He had taken care of my bruises and contusions, without trying to convince me to change jobs. He accepted it as it was, but when he looked at me like that, it was hard for me to ignore the pain in his gaze. The best remedy to bridge these peculiar moments was to smile at him.

“You don’t earn enough to afford me,” I said mischievously, gesturing with the glass in my hand toward the dance floor. “Are you coming too?”

I didn’t wait for him because I had the urge to move. Besides, I didn’t want to think about Luca anymore, although I had been doing it the whole time. I knew full well that nothing would ever come of it, even if I had agreed to inspire him—whatever that meant.

Even though my friends didn’t distinguish between our jobs, I knew that mine was completely out of the norm. In the circles I moved in, it wasn’t a problem. The people who knew me and booked me considered me a service provider. But as soon as I had dealings with outsiders, this shame rose in me, which I couldn’t dispel with a charming smile or a big mouth.

As if in a trance, I moved to the industrial sound booming loudly from the speakers. I liked dancing because it allowed me to forget everything around me. It was like being in another dimension. Weightless and free. Away from all the jumbled thoughts, from the things I couldn’t have anyway.

Clé wrapped his arms around me from behind and hugged me. We moved together to the rhythm of the music, and I felt his warmth on my back. He had the ability to make me feel, if only for a brief moment, like I was enough. I knew my price. I wasn’t priceless.

Before succumbing to the dark whirlpool, I managed to suppress the thought and gulped down the drink in large swallows. Today was party time and the urge to get wasted was undeniable. That felt justified, especially after losing my apprenticeship. Too bad I didn't have anything else to throw in.

With another gulp, I conquered the melancholy, and my mood improved again. We joked around and enjoyed the evening. And when my glass was empty, Clé took it from my hand.

“It’s my turn,” he said and went to the bar to get more.

8

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Luca

Running a bar wasn’t rocket science. With my experience in cafes and restaurants, I landed a job at Xtra within a few days of losing my last job. Just five days after being let go, I was already back behind the bar. And it wasn’t even the only job I had landed. From now on, I also worked every Saturday at Exil. I definitely considered that a success.

Although the loud music and the crowds posed the risk of overstimulation, as long as I focused on my work, the repetitive motions, and handling the cash, everything else could somehow be managed.

It was already midnight, and for a Wednesday, there was a lot going on here. And the people were all so … I don’t know … friendly? Despite that, they roamed around like a horde of undead. They danced like that too, moving to the hard industrial beats like vampires on drugs. When the evening started, 80s music was playing, and then the DJ switched to Dark Wave. While the audience was, on average, older than me, that was precisely why I probably felt so comfortable here. The metallic sounds with the gloomy vocals and equally dark synthesizers were something entirely new to me, but I must admit, it had something to it. And when fog was sprayed onto the dance floor, I felt like I was in a cemetery scene from a Stephen King movie.

“That’ll be thirty-two!” I called over the counter and placed two whiskey colas in front of the guy with the dog collar.

“How much?”

“Thirty-two,” I called louder.

I was already reaching for the card terminal when he handed me a fifty.

“Okay, make it thirty-five.”

“Thanks!” I said, searching for the change.

The guy took the drinks and disappeared into the crowd.

With no patrons awaiting service at the bar, I allowed my gaze to drift across the club. My attention snagged on a man dancing with graceful, rhythmic motions, with his back turned to me amidst the pulsating music. The guy who had just ordered two whiskey colas made his way over and extended a drink to him. Nodding with gratitude, the black-haired dancer reached for the glass while the guy whispered something in his ear. Shortly after, the black-haired guy put his free hand on the other guy’s nape and kissed him on his lips. Taken aback but laughing, the guy with the dog collar pushed him away. Then the dancer turned in my direction, and a warm smile spread across his pale face.

Wait, that’s … Juri.

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