Page 3 of Back Room Host

“Thanks.”

As much as I longed for my soul brother, I was also happy for him. He had finally found a band where he could show what he was capable of. I knew how hard he worked for it. Another message from Noé came in. It was a photo of himself, his head half cut off, drawing my attention to his dark gray long-sleeved shirt.

Smiling, I wrote,“I said a sweater, Stoney! ;)”

“It’s nice! And warm! Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

At least he had bought something to wear with the fifty I had slipped him and not bass strings. As much as he had resisted the money, I would help him out again anytime. The guy lived solely on the fee he earned with his other band every Friday at Hyde. I really hoped his situation with the second band would improve.

But now I have to take care of a few jobs.

I scrolled through the messages and photos, answered a few escort requests, added my prices and conditions to new contacts, and filled my schedule for the coming days. Since I no longer had to stand in the kitchen on Monday, I also accepted a request for Sunday and Monday evenings. It was rare for me to be booked for an entire night, but this job helped me cover the rent for the next month.

For tonight, I chose a client I already knew. Considering my circumstances, it was better that way. People who didn’t know me tended to perceive me as choleric, which didn’t make things easy for me in this industry. Fortunately, I had become a good actor by now.

Although there were still a few hours until the meeting, I took the wallet out of my coat pocket and counted the change for the coffee. I had to go home, shower, and change into fresh clothes beforehand.

Suddenly, a loud clatter startled me. I flinched and turned my head. Behind the counter, the blond waiter dropped the tray into the sink.

What the …?

“I warned you!” an older employee snapped at him.

The boss?

“But … Gregor! I was just trying to …” The waiter appeared visibly shocked and struggled to finish a whole sentence.

“My name is George! And now get out of here! I’ve had enough!” the boss yelled, showing him the way to the back office.

Frustrated, the waiter ripped off the black apron from his waist, threw it onto the counter, and disappeared into the kitchen.

Okay. Looks like I’m not the only one having a bad day. Somehow comforting.

Leaving some cash next to the empty cup, I slipped into my coat and exited the café. I stopped right under the awning andlit a cigarette. It was still raining, and I preferred waiting here rather than at the bus stop out front. A few steps away, a door swung open and the blond waiter emerged. As he stepped out, he stumbled over the threshold and dropped his keychain and a pack of cigarettes on the damp ground.

“Fuck …” he muttered, picking everything up. He reached for his last cigarette out of the pack, but it had become too wet to smoke. Frustrated, he returned it to the pack and crumpled up the soggy cardboard in annoyance. When he noticed me, he grimaced. “Hi.”

I grabbed a pack of cigarettes out of my coat pocket and held it out to him, even though he didn’t seem like a smoker at all. He accepted my offer and gracefully pulled a cigarette out with long fingers, placing it between his full lips. Before I could give him a light, he took out his own lighter and lit it.

“Thanks,” he said, exhaling smoke into the rain.

For a moment, he appeared lost in thought and introspective, as if he were escaping from reality. I realized I had been staring at him for too long, but there was something fascinating about him, even more so than before, because the ease with which he had brought me the hot chocolate had mysteriously disappeared.

How can someone look so good but be so absent?

Once he noticed my gaze, his expression turned serious. He swiveled his head and glanced at me. I knitted my eyebrows as I witnessed him snap back into the present moment. But he said nothing and grinned at me.

“Did you just lose your job?” I asked bluntly.

The guy laughed, emitting a dismissive, grunting sound that brought a smile to my face too, and made a sweeping gesture toward the café. “Gregor can kiss my ass. One more hot chocolate won’t make a difference anyway! Why does it matter?”

“You have … because of me?”Seriously?“Uh, I think the man’s name was George.”

“I’d bet my tip that he introduced himself to me as Gregor on the first day.”

I laughed. “You’re taking it pretty easy.”

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