Chapter 4 #2
I shrug. “It’s what my handler calls me.”
“What’s your birth name?”
“I… don’t know. He gave me his last name, which is Rivera. I’m clearly not Puerto Rican, which my handler is.” I leave off the fact that I was bought when I was an infant, or that Tito first fucked me when I was seven, when he started training me.
I had a family somewhere. Probably. Maybe.
I was taken from someone, but from where and by whom, I have no idea, not that Tito’s ever enlightened me.
He only bragged about how much he paid for me.
At least he had someone teach me my letters, how to read a little, and basic math so that I could count dollars.
“Jesus,” he says, running a hand through his curls. His bruised fingers are long; his hands are strong. They’re manicured, expensive hands, unlike mine, which are brittle and broken. I paint them to hide the damage. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea. You’ve clearly been hurt, and—”
“No! Please. If I don’t go back with the money after telling my handler about it, he’ll…” I leave the words hanging.
Julien thinks for a moment before nodding. “Okay, let’s go eat.” Before he walks off, he looks up and down the street again. “I’ve never hung out in this area of town before. Any restaurant that’s close by, and won’t give me food poisoning?”
I nod down the street. “There’s a place a few blocks away, Hollywood Diner.”
He rolls his eyes. “How original.”
“They got amazing burgers.”
“Burgers. God, I can’t remember the last time I had something greasy. Let’s do it.”
“Uhm, you can eat, but I shouldn’t. You want to fuck, right? I shouldn’t eat something heavy.”
“Eat first. Sex is for later.”
Julien grabs my hand, threads our fingers together like we’re some fucking couple, and heads in the direction of the diner.
What’s going on? I’ve never had a client want to feed and spend time with me without jumping right into sex.
As we walk the three blocks, he asks. “What are your rules? Boundaries?”
“No hitting,” I blurt. I don’t care what Tito said.
“I’m not fucking hitting you. Christ.” He stops and turns to face me without letting go of my hand. “I’m not snapping at you. Beating you is not okay. It pisses me off to no end that your handler wants that, and I don’t even know you. You realize how wrong that is, right?”
I simply nod. What else is there to say?
“Anything else?” he asks.
“No kissing.”
“No deal. I’ll pay extra for kissing.”
I think about it for a moment. Kissing is too intimate, and if we’re going to spend two weeks together, I don’t want him developing feelings for me. Then again, I could use the extra money to leave for good. Five thousand is a lot, but I could use more.
“An extra thou a day for kissing.” I may have overplayed my hand, but we can negotiate.
Julien doesn’t even hesitate. “Done.”
Holy shit. I slowly add the math in my head. That’s an extra fourteen thousand bucks. I can get really far from here with nineteen thousand. Perfect. Tito and his goons won’t ever find me.
Julien starts walking off, tugging on my hand again, but I pull him back. “Wait. Is this for real? I mean, you look kinda young and… banged up to have so much money. No offense and all, but I don’t wanna get scammed. If I do, I don’t even wanna think about what my handler will do to me.”
“I promise I have the money. When we get to the restaurant, I’ll pay you for the day.”
When he tugs on me again, I pull him back again. He rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t complain. “Uhm, can I get the nineteen thousand in cash?”
He frowns and narrows his eyes, and I don’t blame him, but I don’t take it back. “Why?”
“All the money I earn goes straight to my handler from the Venmo app. It’s his account. I’ll only see what I make in food and clothes, and barely that. He leaves me with nothing else.”
“Okay, Romeo. I’ll pay whatever I owe your handler for the day, along with one thousand in cash for kissing directly to you.”
I can’t help but smile. Things are finally looking up; the pain in my body is quickly forgotten. “You need to work on your negotiation,” I tease.
He chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. It sounds sad. “I don’t have time to negotiate.” His words sound vague and ominous. What does he mean? I don’t ask, though. It’s none of my business. I’m just a hole—a hole who’s about to have a new life when the two weeks are up.
When we reach the diner, he opens the door for me, like a perfect gentleman. Inside smells of coffee and bacon, since they serve breakfast all day. 1950s music plays softly on the speakers, and the walls are covered with black-and-white framed photos of famous actors from back in the day.
We find a corner booth away from people. It’s easy since it’s after lunch, so there isn’t much of a crowd.
I notice he winces as he sits. He must be hurt elsewhere, but I’m afraid to ask.
Julien opens the menu resting in a little clip on the table and starts to read it.
“I’m dying for food. I haven’t eaten since…
” He pauses, looking at the ceiling as he thinks.
“The night before last. I had a party. There was some food, but mostly I filled my stomach with alcohol and my nose with coke.”
He’s such a strange person and hard to figure out. It’s vital that I understand my client so I not only know how to please them but also to survive. Sometimes clients are unpredictable, and I worry Julien will be too.
When I don’t open my menu, he looks at me.
“You can have whatever you want. While you’re with me, you’ll eat regularly.
” His eyes travel down my face to my chest and arms. “Do you need to grab some clothes?” Before I can answer, he says, “Never mind. We’ll get you some.
Yours look threadbare. And there will be some places we’ll go that won’t accept what you’re wearing, not that there’s anything wrong with your clothes. ”
I tug on the hem of my T-shirt, feeling self-conscious about it. Tito spends hardly any money on us. What’s the point if we’re naked most of the time? I’m pretty sure if it were legal, he’d make us sell our bodies on the street naked just to save a buck.
Our server comes to our table and pours us two glasses of water. “Can I get you started on something to drink? An appetizer?”
Julien looks to me to order first. “I’m fine with water,” I say.
“What do you like to drink, Romeo?”
“Uhm, root beer?”
Even ordering a simple soda is out of my realm of what’s normal. Maybe when I’m alone, but never with a client. Usually, they don’t care if I’ve had a meal in days, let alone have a soda.
“He’ll have a root beer, and I’ll have an unsweetened iced tea. We’ll also start with an order of fried pickles with extra ranch.”
After our server takes our order, she walks away.
“What are you in the mood for?” he asks.
I have no idea what to order. I don’t feel comfortable at all. While I’m hungry, I don’t want to eat a lot, even though he said we aren’t having sex yet. I’m really craving a burger, though.
“I’m having a side salad,” I say instead.
“No, you’re not.”
Julien says the words so forcefully that I cower, grab my paper napkin, and start shredding it into little paper balls.
He notices my reaction, and the hard edges of his face soften. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to sound so… aggressive. I don’t want you to order what you think will please me. You’ll order the burger that I know you want. I’ll have one, too.”
He reaches across the table and touches my arm. “I’m sorry I scared you.”
I only nod. My world has suddenly shifted, and I don’t know what’s going on or what’s going to happen. I hold on to the thought that I’ll soon have tons of money, and I can finally run to start a new life... As long as he’s not scamming me.