Thirteen
ZAK
The beginning of February brings frigid weather that hangs on throughout the month. There’s such a thing as too cold to snow. We’ve hit that. It’s that stupid cold when your nose hairs freeze together while you breathe.
Once again, as I trudge my way to Gravity’s apartment, I ask myself for the millionth time, why I live here. What does New York have to keep me here?
My friends. Yes, that’s a big one.
Owen Vincent.
My heart pangs but I shove that thought aside and internally firmly say, my friends! They are what keep me here. I wish there was a way to pick them all up and drag us like three states south of here.
And Owen.
He’s never far from my mind. If I dared carry his number around with me, I would. If I were brave enough to wear his hoodie all the time, I would. But I was sure if I did that, I’d convince myself to give into my weakness and call him.
I want to. I never stop thinking about calling. What would he say when I tell him it’s Zak?
“Finally.”
“Where are you? Come over.”
“I need you.”
“I’ve missed you so much.”
But then I remind myself that it could very well be the opposite kind of call.
“Zak who?”
“Why are you calling me?”
“I’m married—don’t call again.”
Yeah, I think they’re a far stretch, but my fear and insecurities don’t leave those options too far from my thoughts. Too many days have passed now. No matter how badly I want to call him, I can’t. I’ve lost that window.
When I step into Gravity’s building and finally pop my head out from where I was burrowed into my jacket, I’m impressed that I’m still holding onto the brown paper bag in my arms. Not that I can feel it. My arms may very well be frozen like this.
I don’t run up the stairs this time, but only because I don’t want to make a mess of the contents in my bag. Letting myself in, the apartment is quiet. I set the bag down, peel off my ninety layers, and quietly move around inside.
Gravity is laying on the couch, covered with blankets. His skin is sallow, slightly green.
“Hey,” I whisper.
His eyes blink open. They’re bloodshot, with dark bags under them. His smile is weak. “Hey,” he croaks.
“I brought you soup,” I tell him, setting the bag down on the coffee table.
“You really don’t need to spend your money on me,” he says. There’s zero of the normal emotion in his voice right now.
I sit across from him and smile. “Edgar made it. I tried some and it’s really good.”
He sighs and closes his eyes.
“What did you need?” I ask.
“I accepted a job for tonight and obviously, I can’t make it. I don’t like to leave my clients hanging when they rely on me to be their date.”
I shudder, frowning at him. “Gravity?—”
He shakes his head. “It’s a benefit. I haven’t worked with this client before but I have friends that have.
He never asks for anything except a date.
All you have to do is show up on his arm, look good, and be polite.
There’s food and a cool $1200 cash. That’s it.
One night. Everything is provided. All you have to do is show up looking hot. ”
“They paid for you,” I argue weakly. As if he’s in any shape to go at all.
“They paid for my features, which, coincidentally, you have. Brown hair, brown eyes. Thin-ish.”
“I think I’m more than thin-ish. I’m bordering on scrawny.”
He snorts and then coughs long enough that I lean forward, worried. “Please,” he croaks. “I can’t imagine being stood up for something.”
Glowering at him, I cross my arms. “You’re so fucking lucky you’re sick right now,” I mutter.
“Yes,” he retorts, looking at me through slitted eyes. “I would certainly call this lucky.”
“What do I need to know?” I ask in defeat.
It’s a true sign of how sick he is when he doesn’t gloat that I’ve given in relatively easily without a fight. But… $1200! I could live forever on that. There’s a chance that it’ll give me an edge and I can finally make some things happen!
“My jobs fill me in on the ride over. He’ll pick you up in a limo. The address is in my phone. The event’s in three hours,” he says, sounding utterly exhausted.
“Do you have meds?” I ask. “Have you seen a doctor?”
His smile is weak. “Telehealth and yes. I had my prescription delivered. Just gotta give it some time to kick in, Zak.”
“Make sure you’re staying hydrated. Eat the soup. I’ll make sure it’s warm before I leave.”
“Suit is hanging on the back of my bedroom door.”
That’s the last thing he says before closing his eyes again. I get up and make my way to his bathroom and clean myself thoroughly. Then shave, so I’m smooth. Staring in the mirror, I note that I could do with a haircut. I’m not sure my shaggy hair is fit for any rich person thing.
Then again, Gravity didn’t say he was rich. Someone’s paying for a date, and I could also point out that I’m being picked up in a limo. Once, that might have been exciting. Now, I feel like I’m filled with dread.
I’ve filled in for Gravity in the past. I’ve even considered signing on to this service. As a full time ‘Rent A-’, I could get on my feet relatively quickly. The only problem is, it’s a legit business. Which means I need an ID at the very least to prove my identity and age.
There’s also going the other route. I could sell my body; but the thought makes me cringe.
Not because there’s anything wrong with sex work.
No. It’s the horror stories I’ve heard far too many times as a homeless man.
I may not have a lot of self-worth, but I’m far too afraid to find myself in a position I can’t get out of.
When you have no one to look out for you, you can go missing off the streets and no one would come looking.
I have friends. Someone would notice. But… after how long? I’ve made it clear I don’t want them keeping tabs on me because I’m an adult. I’ll find a way to take care of myself. Even if that means bouncing between their couches.
Shoving all the fear-filled thoughts aside, I finish getting ready and making myself as presentable as possible. The thing is, no matter what I do with my hair, I’m putting a damn hat on. It’s far too cold not to. Which means my hair will end up a disaster, anyway.
I dress in the suit, thankful that Gravity and I are relatively similar in size. Though I’m an inch shorter and probably twenty pounds thinner. He’s not heavy; it’s just that I don’t necessarily eat regularly.
Once dressed, I stand in front of the mirror and smile. He’s chosen a suit that I’ve doctored. Not a lot, just in the trim and the fabric inside. It’s beautiful, even if I do say so myself.
Heading back into the living room, I find Gravity passed out. Digging out his phone, I hold it away from me between two fingers like it might bite. I bring it to the kitchen and find the disinfectant, wiping the whole thing down before I get into it.
First, I send a text to Edgar and Clarinda, asking one of them to check on him later this evening. He’s really sick. Then I track down the information for this event. I find the receipt and follow the links until I open the text confirmation.
An address, four blocks away, is a fancier apartment complex. Gravity never has work come to his house. For safety reasons, obviously. Otherwise, it says just what Gravity told me. The only additional information is that it’s for a benefit that will last until late in the night—all food provided.
I suppose that’s a positive. I’m starving, a few spoonfuls of soup all day were not enough to keep my stomach from clenching in hunger. Especially not following the previous day when I only had a bowl of cereal at Clarinda’s.
The thing is, I know Edgar and Clarinda’s situations and I don’t want to take up their resources. Clarinda has a whole family to feed and shelter. Edgar lives with a few friends, but I know that they all scrape by.
Gravity is the only one of my friends who has a little extra. But because I don’t want to be his burden, I refuse to stay here all the time. He used to joke and tell me I could be his housetwink. All I have to do is walk around in my underwear from time to time so he can ogle me.
He’s joking. We’re not like that. Never have been.
There’ve been plenty of opportunities too.
Especially when my friends get in a mood where they want to throw a sex party, which is basically an orgy, but we don’t switch partners.
It’s been a while, but I think that’s because Clarinda’s been busy with her siblings.
She’s our token straight girl. It’s kind of weird and a little disturbing that we involve her, even in our sex parties, but… she’s just one of the guys.
When I’ve got the information memorized, I plug in Gravity’s phone by his head and then reheat his soup. I add another blanket on top of him and then dress in my layers to head out in the below freezing temperature. It’s a good thing I love Gravity, I wouldn’t do this for just anyone.
The building that I wait in front of is a modern-looking glass and concrete structure. Thankfully, the doorman sees I’m waiting for a ride and is kind enough to allow me inside the doors. There are still good people left in the world.
The limo shows up right on time and I rush to the door. The driver gets out (not in a parka, the crazy man!) and opens the back door for me to climb in. I thank him and practically dive inside out of the stinging cold.
Once the door is shut, I turn to the man who’s going to be paying me and my jaw drops. “Owen!” I say.
His head tilts to the side and I’m not at all surprised he doesn’t recognize me since I’m bundled like I live in the Arctic. It takes a minute for me to peel myself out and when I look at him, the pleasure in his eyes and smile on my face fills me with warmth.
Then his mouth is on mine and I practically fall into his lap.
“You order escorts?” I ask when I gather myself and pull away to look at him.
“You won’t call me,” he says, raising a brow.
“Where else am I going to find a date that has your features when I can’t have you?
” He touches my cheek gently, brushes his thumb over my bottom lip, and then tucks his fingers into my hair.
Owen brings my mouth back to his and this time, the kiss is slow and sweet.
Still hot because how can our skin touching not be hot?
But this feels distinctly different from any of other kisses.
Swallowing, I pull away and put a foot between us. “I can’t go home with you,” I blurt. My face heats and I look away. This time, if I do, I won’t be strong enough to walk away. And I need to. I don’t want to be anyone’s charity case.
Owen nods. “Okay,” he whispers.
My stomach chooses the silence of the car to make a very loud grumble. I wince, embarrassed. There’s going to be food. Why can’t you just wait?! I internally complain.
“You’re hungry,” Owen says.
I don’t answer since it wasn’t a question. Denying it would be foolish.
When I hear the window separating the back cab from the front slide down, I turn forward.
“Stop for food, please. Anywhere on the way.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I insist quickly. “There will be food there.” I wince again, this time very visibly. Fuck, do I sound as ridiculous to Owen as I do to myself?
“There will be,” he agrees once the window is rolled up again.
“But not for a few hours. We get to trade pleasantries and pretend to like everyone while eating barely there finger foods as they occasionally pass by. Trust me when I tell you, you’ll be ready for the meal when it comes, even if you eat now. ”
It feels like I will reveal far too much about myself if I speak, so I just nod, casting my eyes down. We ride in silence for a bit before Owen gently touches my hand and I look at him. The concern in his eyes makes me swallow around the new lump in my throat.
“What’s wrong, Zak? Are you disappointed it’s me?”
“No!” I say, eyes wide. “No, not at all. I’m thrilled it’s you. Also, for the record, your date was supposed to be my friend tonight, but he’s super sick.”
“Is he okay?” Owen asks.
“He assures me he spoke to a doctor and has some meds and I have other friends checking on him. He says he will be.”
Owen nods. “Then what’s wrong?”
I sigh. There isn’t truly anything I can tell him that would make him understand.
So instead, I slide a little closer and move his arm around my shoulders.
I curl up against him until he’s convinced that he can hold me.
Smiling, I close my eyes and breathe him in. “I’m so, so happy it’s you,” I whisper.
Owen kisses the top of my head. “I can’t tell you how fucking thrilled and relieved I am,” he says. “Want to tell me why you can’t come home with me tonight?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“It wasn’t part of the deal. I don’t pay for that kind of escort, anyway.”
Peeking up at him, I ask, “Do you hire one often?”
“Most of the time, yeah. I’m not huge on pursuing empty relationships, which means I tend to just…
have fun for a while until it stops working for both sides, you know?
” I nod, though I’m not really sure I understand, since I’ve never had a relationship.
“Finding a legit date means I kind of have to work up to it. Get to know someone. Make sure they won’t cause a scene.
That kind of thing. I find it’s easier to pay for professionalism. ”
“But… when someone asks personal questions, like how you met and stuff, what do you say?”
“A modified version of the truth. We met online. It’s new, so we’re still getting to know each other.” He shrugs. “None of which is a lie.”
“I’m not sure I’m the kind of person who won’t embarrass you,” I admit.
“Don’t be silly. You won’t at all.”
There’s a tap on the window and then the door opens. The driver hands in two large paper bags and the aroma that fills the cab nearly has me moaning. My stomach clenches again and my mouth salivates.
“Thank you,” Owen says. “Take your time getting there.”
The driver inclines his head and shuts out the cold again. Owen brushes his fingers through my hair. “Dig in, Zak. I’ll tell you all about the benefit we’re headed to while you eat.”