Page 40 of Back Room Host

“What’s this?”

I snapped out of my thoughts and glanced at Alex, the photographer I had exchanged numbers with last night when he was concerned about Noé’s disappearance.

He pushed an empty pill packet across the kitchen counter to me. With a hint of irritation, I held it in my hand and examined it more closely.

“Some kind of benzos,” I replied, stubbing out the cigarette in the ashtray.

“Should he go to the hospital?”

“Just let him sleep it off.”

“He’s running a fever.”

“He’ll be okay,” I said laboriously, pushing back a few strands.

Finally, the toaster spat out my food. I carefully placed the toast on a plate with a knife. With honey in hand, I walked past Alex into my room.

Luca had left at two, but I returned to the club and continued partying with Clé and Sandro. On the way home, I happened to run into Noé. He stumbled out of a bar not far from Erotic World and was even worse off than me. When I dragged him up the stairs and asked if he had taken something, he mumbled something about benzos. Even though I knew Alex was eagerly waiting for any sign of him, I brought Noé to bed and hung out in my room. I had only been awake for an hour, but after I let Alex know, he was at the door within ten minutes.

My whole body ached as I sat on the bed. I turned on a series on my laptop and ate my toast. Pizza or a kebab would have been more satisfying for my hangover, but I just couldn’t bring myself to venture out onto the street. Fat flakes fell from the sky, and the day was dark gray. Just like how I felt.

The last whiskey cola was definitely too much.

I must have drifted off, as I awoke to a noise, only to find the series still playing, and my sense of time lost. Struggling to rise, I pushed open the bedroom door. A wave of dizziness hit me, prompting me to lean against the door frame for support. In the hallway, I spotted Noé and Alex.

“You’re leaving?” I asked, although it was obvious.

“Yeah. Thanks, Juri-Rock,” Noé said, taking two steps toward me.

Considering how he seemed last night, I was taken aback to see him already up and about. Nonetheless, I gave him a hug.

“It’s okay, Stoney. See you.”

It was hard for me to let him go, but I knew he was better off with Alex than with me. I was even happy for him. He deserved nothing less. And the way the photographer eyed him, it was obvious he would do anything for him. I kissed Noé on the cheek and let him go.

“See you later,” he said, running his fingers through my tousled hair. “Be careful out there. And call me if anything happens.”

I nodded and escorted them to the door. He knew me so well, and it was reassuring to know he was there for me in his own way. Once I was alone in the apartment again, feelings of melancholy began creeping up, which wasn’t good. It was time to pull myself out of this rut. The best way to do that was to focus on my work. If I hadn’t taken time off because of the concert, it would have been a normal work weekend anyway.

But first, a shower.

Shortly after, I went through my messages and answered a few inquiries. As always, I kept Wednesday free. Although I wasn’t so sure if going to the Gothic Party was a good idea, Clé insisted. He raved about some DJ and said the evening would be legendary. I didn’t know much about it. As long as the music was good—although in my current state, even thinking about a party was demanding after a shower.

Luca is there.

The thought alone triggered something in me that I couldn’t quite name. We hadn’t talked much after what happened—at least not about important things.

I should cancel with Clé.

And yet I had to admit that part of me could hardly wait to see Luca again. I glanced at my schedule. Monday and Tuesday were already booked, but today was still empty. It wasn’t my intention to work today, but fixing bookings wasn’t enough to distract me.

A message suddenly popped up.“Hey! How’s it going? Made it home safely?”

Luca?

Why is he texting me?I threw the phone next to me on the bed and rubbed my face.This can’t be true. If only he were a customer!

Wait a minute.

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