Page 54 of Back Room Host

“And what else does he do?”

I looked at Dario, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well, he’s your muse, isn’t he?”

I knew exactly what Dario was getting at. “We went out for drinks together. Spent the whole evening talking about movies and stuff. He’s into film noir. It’s not like I know nothing about him.”

“And that’s it?”

“What’s this, an interrogation? He’s totally fine. The guy is decent. And if it turns out he’s not, he’ll have to deal with me.”

“Call me before you throw him down the stairs again.”

“Yeah yeah.” I grabbed my gloves and fist-bumped Dario. “See you around.”

“Until then! Merry Christmas!”

I headed to the locker room for a quick shower, then gathered my belongings before leaving the studio. On my way to the supermarket, I glanced at my phone. Sure enough, there was a message from Daniel. Following yesterday’s incident, I had expected an official termination notice via text. However, it appeared I still had the job.

At least something.

As I ended the chat with Daniel, I noticed that Juri had a new profile picture. It resembled the previous one: dark and barely discernible. Above it, in white letters, it read: “currently out of service.”

19

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Juri

Though I hadn’t spent the entire day in bed as anticipated, after canceling my appointments and informing Noé and Clé of my whereabouts and condition, I had dozed off on the couch. I was roused from my slumber by some noise, and to my surprise, I found Luca in the kitchen with wet hair, preparing the rice cooker. The flat-screen TV quietly played the final minutes ofShutter Island,which I vaguely recalled putting on.

Luca joined me on the couch with a protein shake and propped his feet up. “How are you feeling?”

“Looks like I’ve slept through the afternoon,” I replied, rubbing my face. It was already dark, and Luca had turned on a few lamps. “How was training?”

“Great! My trainer finally signed me up for a competition again.”

“Oh really? Sounds like you’ve been banned or something.”

Luca grimaced and sipped his shake.

“I don’t really know what you do exactly.”

“Kickboxing,” he replied shortly.

“That explains a lot,” I muttered, sitting up straight.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, your grip was solid when you …”

“That was a move from Krav Maga.”

“That’s self-defense, right?”

“Yeah.”

“How did you get into that? I mean, you don’t strike me as someone interested in martial arts.”

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