Chapter 8
Romeo
After Julien puts on a fresh green T-shirt, he holds up a sapphire-blue one against my skin, scrutinizing the color. “This color is perfect for you,” he says. “It pops beautifully against your pale skin and bleached hair.”
While he’s focused on the shirt, I’m still reeling over the blow job.
I’m an emotional wreck, and I feel like a fucking moron for blubbering in front of a client.
My first blow job was messy and awkward, but fuck did it feel good.
Julien tried so hard to please me. I keep trying to steer my brain away from mistrust. What’s his game?
Is he manipulating me? It’s hard to trust, but god, I want to.
I’m desperate to live my life on my own terms.
He rolls it over my head, and I slip my arms through the sleeves. I run my hands across the cotton. You can tell it’s expensive by the thickness, softness, and the way it’s fitted. It’s the nicest thing I’ve ever worn, and it’s only a T-shirt. How sad is that?
Tito always chooses what I’m going to wear for the day. Everything he buys is from Goodwill. Sometimes, if he’s busy, he’ll give us a little budget, but he will look at everything we’ve bought. Still, I don’t mind Julien dressing me. He’s only trying to make me feel comfortable.
He digs around in his suitcase and pulls out a pair of linen khaki chino pants. “It’s going to be chilly out tonight, as always, but especially by the water.”
I nod and slide them on. They’re a little big, so he puts on a belt, cinches it tight, and buckles it. He then drops to his knees and rolls up the cuffs a little.
“There. Perfect.”
Julien stands back and scans my body. “You look so good. Hot. Not that you weren’t before.”
“I’m terrified I’ll get something on them or ruin them.”
“They’re just things. What does it matter?” he replies, digging in his suitcase again to pull out a hoodie and some flip-flops.
“It matters to me. ‘Stuff’ for me is hard to come by.”
He sighs and looks sheepish. “I’m sorry. I only meant that if you do get something on them, for me, it’s not the end of the world, okay?”
“Yeah, okay.”
I still don’t trust myself, and I’ll do whatever it takes not to mess them up.
Julien drops the flip-flops onto the floor. “Try those on. Cowboy boots won’t go with this outfit, but my feet are a little bigger than yours, so my other shoes are out.”
I slide my feet into them, and while they’re a little big, I can wear them fine.
“Yeah, you look fucking hot.”
Many people have told me I’m beautiful or gorgeous throughout my life, but this is the first time I’ve believed someone.
“I’ve got a hoodie for you, in case you get cold.”
I stare down at my feet and mumble my thanks.
Julien lifts my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Can you put on that lip gloss for me?”
It’s such a small thing, but I’m glad I can do something for him for a change. I feel like I haven’t done shit for him yet.
I grab my gloss, sitting on top of the nightstand, and smooth it on.
He watches me intently, and when I’m done, he grabs my face and kisses it right off.
His tongue swipes along my lips before he thrusts it into my mouth.
Even if I have little experience with kissing, he’s amazing at it.
It’s like he wants to kiss me, and I want to, too, which is another reason why I have a no-kissing rule.
“Yum… sugar,” he says with his breath ghosting across my lips.
Between Julien being my meal ticket out of this life, feeding me, going down on me, telling me to be myself, dressing me, and kissing me, I’m quickly becoming obsessed with him. And that’s bad.
“Ready to go have some fun?” he asks.
I put on my game face and smile broadly, but hide my ugly teeth. “Yeah, definitely.”
He grabs the bottle of liquor and chugs so much of it that I’m surprised he doesn’t choke. Then he offers me the bottle. I take it and pour some down my throat, but not nearly as much as him.
After I pull on the hoodie, Julien puts on a black one, then takes my hand and tugs me out of the room.
Santa Monica Pier is only a short walk. I take in all the ocean smells, the happy noises from people who are having a good time, and the bright neon lights. It’s dark out now, so the pretty colors explode against the black sky.
Julien tightens his hand in mine almost protectively when we meander through a thick crowd of tourists and locals. It’s loud and bright. I’m overstimulated, but I’m also filled with a sort of thrill I’m not familiar with. In the past few hours, I’ve experienced so many new emotions and sensations.
I’m glad I wore the hoodie because the breeze coming off the water makes it chilly.
Julien and I weave our way through the people until we come to a little souvenir shop.
We look through the cheap jewelry, shot glasses, coffee mugs, T-shirts, and more.
He stops in front of a case filled with snow globes.
He lifts one that has the Ferris wheel inside and shakes it.
We watch the glittery flakes swim around before they fall to the bottom.
“It’s cheap and stupid, but for some reason, I want it,” he says.
“Then you should have it.”
“Yeah, but I can’t take it with me.”
“What do you mean? It’s small. Just put it in your suitcase.”
“That’s not… Never mind. It’s not important.”
It’s not the first time he’s been vague in his answers. Other times, he’s detailed in making sure I understand where I stand in all this.
I rest my chin on his shoulder. “You only live once,” I say.
He smiles briefly. “You’re right. I’ll get it.”
After he makes his purchase, he shoves it into his hoodie pocket, and we head toward some carnival games. He picks a stand where you throw beanbags to knock the clown’s heads over.
“Have you seen a game like this before?”
“No, I’ve never been here in my entire life.”
“Some friends and I once snuck into a carnival that blew through town, and we hit all the games to win prizes for our girls. This one’s called a cat rack. Don’t ask me why they call it that. I think once upon a time the game used to feature cats instead of clowns.”
He tosses money at the guy who’s running the game, and the man hands him several bean bags.
“Pick out a prize,” Julien tells me with a crooked smile and a wink that says he’ll have no problem winning.
I cover my mouth and giggle while I scan the prizes. Some are small, and some are huge. I could choose a small one to make it easy, but he’s being cocky and a dork, so I pick the biggest one. It’s a white, glittery unicorn with rainbow hoofs and a horn. It’s pretty cute. I point at it. “That one.”
“Ah, going straight for the balls, eh?” My face blooms in heat, and my jaw drops as I stammer my apologies, which only makes him laugh. “I’m teasing you. One giant, glittery unicorn it is.”
He tosses one of the beanbags in the air, catches it, then gets into position, eyes what he wants to hit first, aims, and throws the bag hard.
The clown is knocked back, and now my heart beats faster.
Does he play baseball or something? No, he said he’s a swimmer, right? I bet he’s good at everything he does.
Julien does the same thing with the next beanbag, tossing it, catching it, and throwing it.
I’m starting to see a pattern he uses, like he’s superstitious.
That clown gets knocked down, too. He doesn’t rush it, though.
He takes his time analyzing and gauging where to hit the clown, which appears to be right on the nose, to knock them over.
“One more,” he says.
With the two clowns down, we’ve already won, but now he’s going to go for the big prize.
Julien leans forward, grinning at me again. “Give us a kiss for luck.”
God, it’s so embarrassing. It shouldn’t be. I fuck for a living, but this is different. Still, I want to give it to him, even if luck doesn’t exist, not for people like me. If I can get away from Tito, I’ll rethink that.
I press my lips to his. When I pull away, he beams a smile at me that leaves me breathless for some reason, like I’m the cause of his happiness. I’d like to be. I have nothing else to give beyond my body.
Once more, he tosses the bag into his hand, catches it, aims, and throws it. I hold my breath, but there’s no need. It lands squarely on the clown’s nose.
“Yes!” he yells. After a clap, he lifts and spins me around.
The giggle slips out of me again as I start to grasp what happiness feels like. It doesn’t always have to be something big. It can come in the form of winning a stupid game and a giant stuffed unicorn.
The man who runs the game pulls down the stuffed toy and hands it to Julien, who then hands it to me.
I don’t reach for it. “Oh, you should keep it. You won it.”
He presses it against my chest. “I won it for you.”
My arms wrap around the large toy, and I press my nose into its pink mane. “Thank you.”
Julien reaches for me and tucks a strand of fallen hair behind my ear, kissing me again. “You’re welcome.”
Some people stare at us. I’m not ignorant. I know there are people out there who find two men kissing weird. They probably don’t like gay people.
Am I gay, though? I think so, but it’s hard to say what’s really me and what Tito made me to be.
Before we run off, he pulls out his phone and aims it at me. “Can I take a picture of you?”
“Oh, okay. Yeah.”
I press my cheek to the unicorn’s head and smile with my mouth closed to the camera. He takes several shots, then stands next to me to show me the images. “You’re so pretty, Romeo. Beautiful. Can I get one of us together?”
“Sure.”
He pushes a button, so the camera faces us, and he snaps a couple of selfies. I don’t know why he wants my picture at all, but I humor him since it makes him happy.
Julien takes my hand again and leads me to another game. It’s a ring toss, and though he has several chances to win, he doesn’t get one ring around the bottle. I’m starting to think that particular game is rigged.
When my phone suddenly buzzes in my pocket, I’m gut-punched. I hold my breath, wishing I belonged to Julien rather than my handler. Unfortunately, the only people who have my number are Tito and a few other boys I live with, but they rarely text me.
“What’s wrong?” Julien asks, noticing my mood shift.
I dig my phone out of my pocket, and sure enough, it’s Tito.
In just a few short hours, I’d almost forgotten what I am and who I belong to.
In just a few short hours, I’ve been having fun with this cute guy I hardly know.
But if Tito’s good at anything, it’s reminding me of my place in the world, which isn’t much more than a rock.
Tito: Got the money. Make sure he pays first thing tomorrow
morning.
Me: Okay.
Tito: Did you tell him your extra services?
Me: Yeah
Tito: Good. If he does, I wanna see pics. Tell him making you
bleed is extra.
Tito doesn’t care how his words gut-punch me down to my soul. I hate how my pain turns him on. My eyes water as I respond to him. All that fun I was having is quickly forgotten.
Me: Okay.
I don’t dare say more than that. He doesn’t like me talking at all unless it’s making him money.
“What the actual fuck?” Julien hisses behind me. My heart leaps up my throat. I didn’t even realize he read the messages over my shoulder. “Is he seriously okay with hurting you?”
I’m gripping my phone with a shaking hand while I’m desperately trying not to cry, staring at the black screen. I rest my head on my unicorn as if it can bring me comfort. “He likes it.”
“What he needs is a good beating. Not the other way around. Or even better, someone needs to just yeet him off a cliff.”
The visual has me snorting a laugh, feeling better already.
Julien turns me around by my shoulders and looks at me. “Don’t let that fucker ruin your time with me. We’re going to live life to the fullest. Fuck him. I wouldn’t dare hurt you. Ever. So don’t worry about that, okay?”
I tuck my hair behind my ears and nod. “Okay.”
“You know, maybe I should be sending you all the money instead, so that you can leave him.”
I take a step back, shaking my head. “No! I c-can’t take his money.
He’ll hunt me down! He’ll kill me!” I’m making a scene, and people are staring again, but I have no control over the sudden panic.
It’s one thing to leave with money that Tito doesn’t know exists, but it’s a whole other thing to take everything Julien plans to pay him.
Tito will never forgive me. He won’t let me live.
If I only run with what Julien is paying, Tito may look for me, but he won’t invest time and energy like he would for nearly $35 thousand.
“Shh, it’s okay.”
He pulls me into a hug and holds me with the damn unicorn pressed between us.
“I just thought… It’s fine. I didn’t mean to scare you.
But I’m not gonna lie. This shit pisses me off to no end.
I’m sick and tired of people using others or hurting them for their enjoyment or because they have no empathy or morals.
Fuck them all. For the next two weeks, it’s only you and me. ”
He’s told me that countless times already, but I like the reminder.
I could hold him like this forever. Julien’s arms are strong and comforting. His words are safety and validation. I want to cry again, but I choke it all back. Julien didn’t hire me for my fucking tears. So, with a deep and shuddering breath, I pull away.
“Can I have some cotton candy?” I ask to ease the tension of the moment.
“Only if I can kiss you after you eat it to taste the sugar on your lips and tongue.”
I gnaw on my bottom lip and nod. “You like sugar, huh? I should start calling you ‘Sugar.’”
“Only on you,” he says, winking. “I like the way you taste and smell. In fact, we’re going to have to find some sugary body wash for you, so I can always inhale your sweetness. Now, let’s get you some cotton candy, and we’ll go for a ride.”
“Sounds good, Sugar.”
He laughs and drapes an arm around my shoulders. “Sugar, it is, then.”