Page 92 of Back Room Host

Probably was. Ultimately, I supplied the idiot with material. All he had to do was piece it together, and he had his final project—a completed film. All achieved through fraud.

I rested both elbows on the table and rubbed my face. When I noticed the cigarette between my fingers, I stubbed it out and sighed, then covered my face again.

“And?” Clé asked. “Did he get enough inspiration from you to create his work?”

I peeked through my fingers with a grumpy expression, shooting a glare at Clé. He wasn't foolish, and his current tactic was another ploy to coax me into talking. Unfortunately, his question unearthed emotions he likely hadn't anticipated. I grimaced, feeling tears welling up unexpectedly. Hastily, I rubbed my eyes and sniffed.

No problem. When he asks, it’s the coke. I’m not usually this weepy.

“Juri,” Clé’s voice turned gentle. “Just tell me what happened so I can understand.”

“What’s to understand?”

I didn’t even understand it myself.

“This?” He made a sweeping gesture. “You’re completely out of it. Did something happen? Between you two?”

Coldness spread through me, and my body felt numb. I took a sip of beer and lowered my head. “We had sex.”

“Well, that was obvious.”

“Huh?”

Clé shrugged. “What? Wasn’t it obvious when you moved in with him?”

I rolled my eyes and pursed my lips. “I never told you about the thing at Exil.”

“Ah! So that’s where it started.” A sly grin spread across his face, and he nodded knowingly.

I shook my head in confusion. “That didn’t mean anything at all.”

“Oh, come on. For years, you only had old geezers in your bed. And I’m not blind. Even I can see that Blondy is totally hot. It was obvious what would happen if you moved in with him.”

I sat motionless, staring blankly at Clé.

“Oh, oh … You’ve fallen for him.”

“Nonsense,” I said, reaching for my cigarettes.

“Yes, you have. And wow! Who would’ve thought? Juri Vinzens falling in love.”

“Don’t go broadcasting that. It’s over.”

“I assume so. I can hardly think of any other reason why you’re so messed up.” Clé tapped his cigarette into the ashtray and leaned back. “What happened?”

“He didn’t stick to the agreement.”

“What did he do?”

I pressed my lips together and shook my head. It still puzzled and angered me that I had been so blind, not noticing him filming me. “It was supposed to be just audio recordings. But instead …”

“Oh no, he filmed. Shit. That’s really nasty. During sex?”

“No!” I hissed. I covered my face with one hand and sighed. “I feel so stupid.”

“Understandable. Your boundaries weren’t respected.”

We both lapsed into silence for a while. I found solace in the quiet, grateful that Clé wasn’t teasing me as he often did. He was typically the one to crack a joke in moments like these. ThoughI avoided meeting his gaze, I sensed his scrutiny. I must have appeared terrible. Perhaps that’s why he chose to stay silent.

---