Page 31 of Back Room Host

“So what? It’s better than what you have.”

“What about your guy?”

Yeah, man! What about me?With a quizzical expression, I glanced at Juri, only to be met with an apologetic look.

“Sorry, really, but I have to take him home.”

“You’re just leaving me here? We had …”

“Yeah, sorry.”

Dumbfounded, I watched as he grabbed the backpack and made sure Noé didn’t stumble over his own feet. He draped an arm over his shoulder, and they were off.

What the fuck?

For a while, I was unsure what to make of this abrupt ending. Only when Juri and Noé turned the corner did I realize thathe was serious. I followed the two through the narrow streets. When they stopped, I stayed in the shadows and watched as Juri lovingly embraced Noé.

What the hell …? Is that guy crying?

His mother passed away last week, I immediately reminded myself.

The two continued on their way. I kept enough distance so they wouldn’t notice me. Not far from the bar, in a small side street, they disappeared into a building. My jaw dropped when I saw the sign.

Erotic World?

Juri … lives here?

Hesitantly, I approached the mailboxes. Indeed, out of eight, only three were labeled.

Erotic World

R. Rodriguez

J. Vinzens

Really?

At first, I didn’t know what to do. But when I remembered that I still didn’t have Juri’s phone number, I instinctively pulled the door open. The evening had been too nice to end like this. There was something between us, and I was sure Juri had felt it too. I didn’t even care that I was entering a brothel—for the first time in my life.

Shit, and the guy with the cool name really lives in a brothel? Juri Vinzens. That must be him. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have said he was taking Noé home. And no label had an N.

I ascended the stairs with hesitation, the sounds of activity seeping from behind the assorted doors I passed. There was no elevator, so I continued upward. Voices drifted to my ears once I reached the third floor, prompting me to halt and linger in anticipation.

“He’ll pay eventually,” I heard Juri, clearly annoyed.

“If you don’t have money, you can pay me another way,” the man spoke with a Spanish accent and sounded sleazy.

“No, I’m not gonna screw you, and I’m not gonna let you screw me,” Noé slurred. “I don’t do that kind of thing.”

“Oh, Guapo, we both know you’re not a saint. And we both know what you do.”

“But I don’t do it for money.”

“No, you do it for a warm bed. Isn’t that right? Your false pride is out of place here.”

Juri let out an annoyed tone. “How much do you want? Here! A hundred should be enough for now. And now leave us alone, Romero.”

“Rest well, Guapo,” said Romero. A door creaked open.

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