Page 59 of Back Room Host

“No!” he exclaimed. “Not at all. I think it’s cool that you found something to pass the time here. Must be tough being stuck here.”

I could only nod.

“I have to go soon,” he said, putting out the cigarette. “Gothic Party.”

At that moment, there was a rattle at the entrance door, and shortly after, Hector entered the apartment.

Fuck …

“Oh! Hello!” he said, stopping in the hallway.

Luca greeted him. “Hi. What are you doing here? I thought you were in the mountains.”

Hector set down his bag and hung his coat in the closet. “I’m here for just a few days. My family is still there. I have some work here.”

With a nod, Luca made his way to his room. “I have to go to the club.”

Hector stood there for a moment, and our eyes met. I only managed a weak hello, while he pursed his lips in acknowledgment. He then disappeared down the hallway, and shortly after, I heard a door open—I had no idea if it was his office or bedroom.

This isn’t good. What does he want here? To work? I want to work too!

“So, then,” Luca said, buttoning his jacket as he emerged from his room. “Do you need anything else? Well, now that Hector is here, you could also ask him if you need anything.”

Internally, I shook my head. He really had no clue.

“See you later!” With a raised hand, Luca left the apartment.

I don’t know why my heart suddenly started racing. Actually, I did know. But that couldn’t be, could it? Hector had been a regular customer for four years now, but why was seeing him throwing me off so much? I knew he was a decent guy.

And here I am, sitting in his apartment, in sweatpants and a hoodie.

The image of the groomed young man he had of me was clearly shattered. I had intended to work, but what was I supposed to do now? Read? Watch a movie?

Fuck!

I nervously shifted around on the chair and cursed the situation I was trapped in. My foot was already feeling a bit better, but nowhere near well enough to put weight on it, yet I felt an urge within me to move. Annoyed, I pushed myself up against the backrest and hopped the chair back toward the table. An icy wind blew in as I opened the patio door and lit a cigarette. The need for a drink awakened in me, and I wistfully looked over to the other side of the living room where the minibar was.

Maybe I’ll settle for a beer for now.

They were in the fridge, just three feet away from me. By now, my hand had also recovered, so I could easily hold onto the window, lean back, and grab a beer from the fridge.

It was this inner nervousness that was getting to me—and had been for a week now. I couldn’t shake it off with sex chats, photography, movies, alcohol, or cigarettes. It was constant and even made falling asleep difficult.

I need to find an apprenticeship.

Having an apprenticeship would have relieved some of the pressure on me. Walter, one of my clients, had assured me back then that he would write me a recommendation letter and send it by email, but with Christmas in between, it must have slipped his mind. And I didn’t want to beg too much for it.

Dread churned inside me. The idea of being stuck doing escort work for the rest of my life made my stomach twist in knots.

Damn, man! I could even go clean toilets. What difference would it make?

I leaned with my forehead against the window frame and blew out the smoke. Once again, my situation reminded me of what scum I was. Even all the money didn’t make a difference. I could easily afford a hotel room for two or three weeks, but my fears of existence were too great for me to refuse Luca’s offer of compensation. Besides, I would have had to buy a nurse right away, because even now I still couldn’t bathe alone without Luca’s help.

It was all so absurd! If I had kept at it as a callboy for two more years, I could have done a four-year apprenticeship afterward without having to work on the side. But just the thought that all my savings would be gone afterward panicked me.

Yes, I was a hustler, and I would have given everything to stop doing it. Not because it disgusted me but because I had no future in that business. I knew I would break down before long. It was only a matter of time before I lost control, and that scared the hell out of me. That’s why it was all the more important for me to follow my rules. Maximum of twice a week on hard drugs. No love. And no performance without payment.

While it wasn’t unusual for me to go a week without consuming anything—it wasn’t even difficult for me—since Icouldn’t distract myself otherwise, I drank even more and nearly strangled myself almost every day.

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