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But I can’t entertain this fantasy for another second. As nice as it was last night, it also cost me more than just the several hundred dollars I could have made on VirtualTease. I’d also given up my shift at Aubergines. I have bills to pay, including the rent for an apartment that I live in by myself. Plus the extra I always send my sisters, as well as the bit I shovel home to my parents.
I have a life I need to pay for—and try as I might, it can’t be paid for in soulful conversations and late-night grilled cheese sandwiches.
I need to return to the real world.
Please forgive me, Richie.
I silently let myself out, stealthily shut the door, then put my shoes and shirt on in the hallway. It isn’t until I’m halfway down the elevator that I realize I’m not wearing my captain’s hat.
I guess he can see it as a souvenir of our night.
A captain’s hat for Captain. Touché.
When I hit the lobby, I find I regret not having relieved myself up in Richie’s room. A very sudden (and desperate) urge has me circling the enormous hotel lobby like a trapped bird looking for the men’s room before heading off.
I don’t even bother with what time it is when I board the subway. Probably sometime after five, if the flash of Larry’s text in my mind is serving me right. There’s far too much floating around in my brain for me to focus on much of anything.
Except what Richard will feel like when he wakes up and finds the large clover-shaped rug in front of the couch vacated.
He’ll probably see the captain’s hat there, then feel relief, thinking I’d gone to the bathroom. That relief will be quashed when he realizes I hadn’t.
When he realizes I’m not there.
That I’ve fled in the night.
Fuck.
It feels like a walk of shame when I ascend the steps of Piazza Place, then let myself into the quiet building. Even Lex’s apartment, which usually has noises reverberating through the door at any hour, is eerily tomblike. The mailboxes stare at me with ominous understanding, each of them looking like closed square-shaped mouths, withholding secrets.
On the wall next to the stairs, bold and proud, a large advertisement is posted with a pretty-eyed young guy, maybe twenty years old, wearing just a black rubber jock and a rubber police cap, and the look he’s giving is one that catches me by surprise, like he’s staring straight into my soul … like he knows exactly what I’ve done tonight, what I’m ashamed of, all of my darkest secrets. And he pulls them out just as powerfully as he advertises Club Copper, printed in strong, complementary copper letters over his head. At the bottom of the poster, a modest credit for the photography: Dante.
It’s good to see his work out there. Too bad it does nothing to alleviate the creeping silence of this building, instead making me feel guiltier somehow for what I’ve done. Maybe it’s something about the model’s police cap that reminds me of a captain’s.
My every step is so much heavier now.
The loudest noise in the building becomes the steps beneath my feet as they creak from my slow and weary ascent. Even Hughes on the third floor can’t be heard playing his late-night video games, nor Tony on the fourth floor who is always yelling at his boyfriend—or having loud make-up sex. Not even Brett’s party-central apartment across the hall from mine gives me a peep of life to assure me I’m not trapped in some silent nightmare.
It isn’t until I’m inside my apartment that I feel like I can breathe again.
I take off the uniform, then slump naked into my shower, which is ice-cold thanks to the finicky water heater. Moments later I’m in bed, but not a wink of sleep seems to find me.
An hour of sleeplessness passes.
When unwelcomed rays of sunlight bathe my sulky face, I’m forced to accept that my brief nap in Richie’s penthouse suite was all I’m allowed.
Mother Nature punishes me with a firm hand.
The guilt is real.
I don’t eat breakfast. I don’t put on clothes. I grab my phone and check my emails immediately, praying for a message from Captain.
Nothing.
I pull up my laptop, sign in, and scroll through the VirtualTease site in search of Captain’s profile, which I then check to confirm his online status.
Offline.
I think I made a big mistake.
[ THE ZAK ATTACK ]
The crowd tonight at Aubergines nightclub and strip-bar is hungry for a good time. Zak is in the back dressing room with three other dancers, preparing for their routine.
7
“You did not make a big mistake.”
I check my hair a fifth time, squinting into the mirror. “Really?”
“Lord, yes, so help me, really. I mean, are you kidding?” Mack snorts, shaking his head as he pulls open his stretchy blue bikini briefs to squirt cologne into his nether regions. “It was probably a bad idea to have met him in the first place. Haven’t you had enough stalker situations in your life?”
