43. Silas
43
SILAS
I can’t believe this is Jericho’s wedding. Of all the places—shit, of all the weddings in the city happening tonight, the one I’m being paid to attend has all my estranged friends in attendance, casting occasional suspicious glances my way while I try to focus on my client.
Although—it’s hard to think of Lilah as a client anymore. For going on five months, I’ve gotten to know her. I’d even consider her a friend. I’m certainly closer with her than I am with Drew, Christian, or any of their crew.
It’s been more than a year since the video came out that drove the final wedge into my relationship with my old roommates. While I haven’t been a complete stranger—I’ll return the occasional text and small talk my way out of it—I haven’t seen any of them since my life fell apart.
Gibson Hayes gave me a pity job, which I’m sure Chris had something to do with now that they’re officially together, but working part-time at The Eastmoor is a job I took to maintain my health insurance. It certainly doesn’t pay the bills. Fortunately, I have Delilah and Gilbert Montgomery for that. Every two weeks or so, they pay me to attend an event as Lilah’s date and then come home to take care of Gil.
It’s an arrangement I have mixed feelings about, but now that mom’s gone and Trixie is living in a fancy retirement village in Florida, I’ve got plenty of bills to pay.
They’re not my only clients, but they’re my priority because they pay well, and I have a soft spot for Gil.
“How much longer are you expected to be here?” I murmur in Lilah’s ear.
“At least through the toasts and a few dances,” Lilah whispers back. “Why? You not feeling good?”
“I know a lot of people here. I generally try to avoid them.”
“Yeah…I know, and I’m sorry, but Joe’s our cousin, so…”
Not leaving any time soon, then, seeing as Joe is the groom.
Thankfully, I must be putting out enough fuck off vibes to keep Drew and Chris from approaching me. That, or they’re too caught up in their own happy marriages to drag their good time down by interacting with me. No doubt they have questions about why I’m hanging all over a woman like I’m enchanted, but let them think what they want. For my part, I’m just glad I don’t have to lie, or worse—try to explain who she is to me.
Throughout the entire scandal with Graham, one miracle of it was that no one discovered the work I do for Katia. They found out I was his doorman, briefly his trainer. They dug Ben out of the woodwork to prove I was, in fact, gay.
I’m not sure whether anyone really bought the AI lie Graham and the Lawthers tried to spin, but no one could prove it wasn’t a fake video, and they stuck to their story like glue. It didn’t flashback on him at all as far as I can tell. The last time I checked, Graham remains a senator in good standing, but I got fired from the gym and Hanover Gardens for fucking him.
Fair, right? We believe him, but we don’t believe the gay doorman .
It was Avery who identified me in the video to the press, and I have a special reservoir of hate in my soul for her for that. She’s fucking married now, too. Everyone came out of this mess smelling like a rose except me.
I’m bitter, but I’m managing. I drink some more champagne and pretend to listen to the conversations at the table, occasionally sharing a look, a whisper, a light kiss with Lilah while we put on our show for Daddy—Cord Montgomery—the multi-millionaire owner of a Wall Street investment firm. He’s a rich prick who uses his kids to make him look like a well-rounded family man when he’s really a soulless womanizer who only cares about amassing wealth and keeping his dick as wet as possible.
He’s got no clue Lilah’s a lesbian, and even less of a clue that Gil hasn’t been a virgin for months now. Knowing them the way I do has made me immensely grateful for my own family. I miss my mother every day, but in some ways her quiet death last winter was a relief. She got the flu from one of her caregivers, which led to a pneumonia she never recovered from. She was able to pass in peace at home with me and Trixie holding her hands. Years of suffering ending on one, long, rattling breath.
Trixie and I kept busy over the next month, getting the house ready to be sold. I always assumed she’d want to stay, but she wanted a new beginning instead. A really fucking expensive one, but it’s not like I was going to stop her. She’s been through enough. We both have.
She and I talk nearly every day. I love and appreciate her now more than ever. After meeting Lilah and Gil’s family, I’ll never take the kind of love I have for granted again. Lilah is summarily ignored by all the guests at the table, which eventually leads to her asking me to dance.
“Yes. Please.”
We dance to a few songs, carefully steering clear of anyone I know. She gossips, and I take in all the information she has on the some of the guests in attendance. I only stop her when she gets to Gibson Hayes.
“I know all I need to know about him,” I say.
“Oh, that’s right. You work at the Eastmoor.”
“Yeah.” I leave it at that. If I feel like telling her about his role in the blackmail scheme later, I might. The champagne is doing a number on me, but it depends on what kind of mood Gil is in.
When my thoughts drift to the troubled twenty-one year old, I ask her how he is.
“He was surprisingly upbeat when we left tonight. Made me wonder if he has a big tournament to play or something.”
I grin. “Maybe. Is he still talking to that Z-som guy?”
“Yep.”
“Ah.”
The majority of Gil’s life outside of Lilah and me exists on the internet. Z-som isn’t the name of the guy he’s been talking to, but his actual handle is nonsensical. All I know is it starts with a Z.
“Do you think they’ll meet?”
“I don’t even think they know each other’s real names,” she says. “How did he seem with you last time?”
Last time was last weekend. “Quiet. I was actually surprised when you said he wanted to see me tonight.”
She frowns. “He does. He asked.”
“Okay.” If she says so. I won’t get a straight answer out of him, so her assurance is as good as it’s gonna get.
“So, Silas. I was wondering something.”
“Okay…”
“I realize we met under unusual circumstances, but I feel like we’re pretty cool, right? Unless you’re pretending.”
“Is that your question? Whether I’m pretending to like you?”
She nods.
“I’m not.”
She gives me a bright, perfectly white smile. Her unremarkable brown hair is pulled back tonight revealing her pale, freckled cheeks and her high forehead. “Really? You can be honest. I won’t take it too personally.”
“And you won’t take it out of my paycheck?”
She laughs. “I promise.”
I do like Lilah. She’s a breath of fresh air. She reminds me of the Broadway actress I used to train in that other life I used to have. Effervescent. Bold. Occasionally adorable. She’s short, but she’s a good dance partner, and an amazing sister to Gil. Although, I guess, some people would question her sisterly choices.
“It’s hard to consider you a friend because you pay me, but I do trust you to whatever extent I can these days. And, yes. I like you.”
“What if I want to be your friend?”
“Why would you want that ?” I ask, wrinkling my nose, teasing.
“Because I trust you, too. As much as I can.”
“So, if we become official friends, what does that look like for me?”
She snorts another laugh. “I don’t know. Maybe we text each other memes we think will make each other laugh from time to time. Is that how friends work?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“It’s a start?”
“You could be my running partner.”
She lifts a perfectly micro-bladed brow. “Yeah?”
I shrug. “I run early.”
“So do I.” She says it like a challenge.
“I run fast.”
Another snort. “Oh yeah? I could totally take you.”
I grin down at her, adding an extra adoring factor for any onlookers. “You might learn more about me than you bargained for. I think out loud when I run.”
“Sounds fascinating. But I probably won’t notice because when I run, I listen to sick beats. ”
“Perfect.”
She gives me a hug, and we sway like that for a minute. “Can we not just slip out the back?” I ask. “I hate being here.” Drew and Olivier are too close for comfort, and Drew isn’t being subtle about checking out me and my date. My phone has buzzed twice since I’ve been here, and I’d bet my pay for tonight it’s him.
“Fine, but Gil isn’t expecting us until eleven.”
“Then let’s grab a drink and a slice, friend . My treat.”
“Deal.” She slides her palms down my arms and takes one of my hands in hers. “Elevator’s open. Let’s make a run for it.”
I was Gilbert Montgomery’s 21 st birthday present from his sister, which isn’t to say he didn’t ask for me. He, like someone I used to know, wanted to lose his virginity. And not unlike the senator, was unable to go about it in the usual way.
He’s a beautiful mess, and easily the most rewarding client I’ve ever had. I know I’m not a doctor or nurse or what I used to think I wanted to be—a physical therapist, but as an escort, I do offer a service that makes people feel good—at least in a moment. I’m not delusional—they probably leave me feeling like shit about themselves half the time, but not Gil.
Gil has a terrible stutter which led to being bullied, which led to severe social anxiety. Like way worse than anyone I’ve ever met. His preferred form of communication is online. Some of his online friends are even local, like the Z guy, but he won’t meet them, afraid of being mocked or rejected.
He doesn’t talk about his past much—he doesn’t talk much at all. I get it. No one likes to dredge up their painful pasts. I would know since ninety-nine percent of the time I pretend I don’t have a past at all.
My broken and his broken fit together in a nice way. Not in the kind of way where I could fall for him—he’s too young and not my type. But in the way that makes sex feel less like a transaction and more like a mutually satisfying experience. He’s usually the one I think of now when I’m with other men. I imagine I’m here in his dark, moody bedroom, that those are his hands around my hips. His cock inside me, although, in reality—we don’t usually have sex that way.
The few times he’s topped were magnificent, though. Exactly what I needed.
If you didn’t know him, you might think Gil was in a band. He’s tall and lean—all sinew and muscle. He dyes his long hair black and wears black nail polish. He dresses in flannel, jeans or baggy loungewear. Almost exclusively black. He has no discernible scars or tattoos, but he does have a tongue piercing. Lilah’s gift for his 18 th birthday, I’m told.
I like it.
Especially when he hooks it through my nipple rings.
Lilah calls me his sex nanny, and I can’t argue with the implication. A good nanny is paid to look after the children and usually bonds with them. Just because it’s a job, doesn’t mean I can’t like the person I’m being paid to take care of.
Gil is safe for me, and we’re attracted to each other. But that’s it. If he decided to end our arrangement tomorrow, I’d miss him, but I’d survive. I certainly wouldn’t feel like my life was over or my heart would never recover.
In fact, I’d wish him well. Not for him to burn in hell.
I come on his abs after tossing the condom aside, mixing my release with his. He drops his feet heavily onto the bed and eventually opens his cool, blue eyes. His eyeliner is smudged halfway down his cheeks and his sweaty hair is plastered to his head.
“Ouch,” he says with a smirk.
“Too rough?”
“Was the wedding that b-bad?”
“Yeah. ”
He grabs his discarded t-shirt to wipe up our jizz. I move out from between his legs and look for my underwear. “Come on,” I tell him. “Let me clean you up.”
I shower him, massaging his expensive soap into his skin, working his shoulder and back muscles as I go. I kiss the scar from his collarbone surgery—one of the bones the bullies broke. He also suffered a broken arm and broken nose in his teens. I clean all the makeup off his face before shampooing and conditioning his hair.
He’s capable of all this, of course, and I’m not being paid to fuck him and clean him, too, but we both enjoy it.
I’m aware that there’s some transference happening with him. He lets me take care of him, and I’ve realized I need that. We met a few months after my mom died. I’d bathed her and dressed her, helped her to the bathroom and made sure she took her medication. I’d kept her room clean and her nails trimmed. I’d taken care of her every day for months before she finally passed.
Once she was gone, I was at a loss. I won’t talk about the similarities between Gil and someone else I used to know—another man who suffered broken bones at the hands of mean kids who wouldn’t accept him—but it fucks with me, regardless.
So yeah. I like washing Gil up and tucking him in. I like making sure he has everything he needs before I leave. And I like it even better when he asks me to spend the night.
I still hate sleeping alone, but it’s my fate, I guess.
He doesn’t ask me to stay tonight, though.
I take a Lyft to my tiny apartment. I’m living in the East Village again, but this apartment compared to the one I once shared with the guys isn’t much more than a closet. Six-hundred square feet, which the realtor said “feels bigger than it sounds” isn’t much. But I don’t have much, either. Luckily, I know the neighborhood.
I read Drew’s texts from the wedding when I get into bed. It’s nearly four a.m., so I don’t reply. He knows I’m alive, so I consider us all checked in.
Overall, I count this as a good night, despite the unexpected wedding guests. I fall into a dreamless sleep, not caring what tomorrow brings.
I stopped caring a long time ago.