Authors: J.M. Hall
“Why not?”
“Condoms. Lube. I don’t have either.”
Bobby groaned, realizing I was right. He rolled off of me and lay on his back, gazing up at the ceiling. Sweat beaded across my forehead, and I could feel my heart pounding inside my chest. We lay there, sweaty and horny and frustrated at our lack of gay sex essentials.
“Well, isn’t this ironic. The one time I
don’t
have any condoms…”
“You carry them with you at all times?” Bobby asked.
“Duh. For work.”
“What are you talking about?”
Now seemed as good a time as any to let Bobby know about my other job. I propped myself up on my elbow, took a breath. “Listen, there’s something you should know. And I’ll tell you right now, you probably aren’t going to like it.”
“Try me.”
“In addition to working with Bobby, I have another job as well. I’m an escort, and I’ve been having sex for money for the past seven years.”
Steam rose from the tub and cloaked the bathroom in a hazy mist. Water bubbled and churned from the jets, though it seemed the water was still too hot for Bobby’s liking. I kissed his temple, told him to lean his back against my chest and let the water do its thing.
“Is this your way of punishing me for bringing you into this mess?” Bobby asked. “You’re going to boil me alive?”
“Tempting, but no. And it’s not like this case doesn’t have its benefits. Namely, a fat paycheck for me when it’s all over.”
“So, if you make good money working for Kurt, why escort on the side?”
Bobby hadn’t taken the news of my foray into sex work very well. Only after I assured him that I didn’t see male clients -- and that I didn’t have my first-ever client until I was already at NYU -- did he settle down. I’d coaxed him into the tub, told him we could go over everything he wanted to know.
“I don’t get it,” he said. “But I suppose I shouldn’t be so puritanical, all things considered.”
“You were great practice. You’d be surprised how many women request anal sex these days.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake…”
I kissed him the cheek, assured him I was joking. Not about women being curious about anal sex, but that I didn’t consider him “practice” for anything. Our time together, in and out of the bedroom, stood on its own accord. I realized that now. It didn’t have to be right or wrong. It just… was.
“You don’t regret anything?” he asked.
“Regrets are a stupid thing to have. I certainly don’t regret coming to the Academy. God knows what would have happened if I’d stayed in the Philadelphia public school system. I would have been left there to rot.”
“There were Charter Schools. You probably could have tested into Masterman if you studied hard enough.” Bobby was referring to one of Philadelphia’s premier public schools, one that required passing a stiff admissions test designed to allow only the best and brightest to enter its hallowed halls.
“Even if I’d gotten into Masterman, I still would have been stuck living in Tacony. I know this is an awful thing to say, but that place is a shithole. A complete and utter shithole.”
“Are your folks still living there?”
“My mother isn’t, thank God. After she and my dad divorced, she and one of her girlfriends moved in together out in Huntingdon Valley.”
“And your father?”
“He’s living in South Philly now, not far from Passyunk Avenue. You know, Restaurant Row.”
“Do they…?” Bobby trailed off, seemingly answering his own question.
“No, they have no idea. That goes for my job with Kurt, too. They think I work for a PR firm and leave it at that. Frankly, they’re just so proud I made it out of Tacony they could care less what kind of day job I have.”
“They have every reason to be proud of you,” Bobby said.
“Do they? Sometimes I wonder.”
Bobby shifted uncomfortably in my arms. I kissed his neck, told him we could change the subject if he wanted. He insisted that he was fine -- that while he was uncomfortable with the idea of me selling sex, he still wanted to know more. How often did I do it? How much did I charge? Who were my clients -- men, women, or both?
“I see around five or six clients a month,” I said. “Mostly couples that are looking to bring someone new into the bedroom. The wife and I have sex while the husband watches. I’ve had a few threesomes, but not too many.”
“Do you charge extra for that?”
“Honestly, I don’t like it when the husband joins in at all. Too many cooks can spoil the broth. I start at around two-hundred dollars an hour. Eight hundred for an overnight, and two-thousand dollars for a full weekend.”
“Jesus,” Bobby said. “You must live like a king.”
“I have a nice apartment in Battery Park overlooking the Hudson River, yes. Combine my escorting money with how well Kurt pays me, and I have a pretty nice life for someone my age.”
“I hope you’re saving some of it?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “I won’t stay in PR forever. Or escorting, for that matter.”
Bobby leaned deeper into my chest, then turned around and kissed me chastely on the lips. No more than a peck, but it was a symbol of his love. Still, worry married his blue eyes, and it didn’t take a psychic to know what he was thinking.
“It doesn’t have anything to do with you,” I said. “Trust me.”
“I had sex with you when you were a teenager, and now I find out that you have sex for money. You’re meaning to tell me there’s no correlation?”
“No, there isn’t. What happened between us ten years ago might not have been right, but I started selling sex for completely different reasons.”
“And what would those be?”
“Well, there’s really only
one
reason anyone should become an escort -- money! It’s easy cash to do something I’d otherwise do for free.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“I do,” I said. “And I’ve met a lot of nice people along the way.”
“Still not sure if I believe you.”
“Well, I guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree.” I dragged my fingertips across his forearms, then smoothed my palm across his hairy chest. “It didn’t stop you from getting naked with me.”
“You’re not going to bill me, are you?”
“It’s on the house.”
The water had cooled, and the steam had gone from intoxicating to oppressing. We got out of the tub, though I climbed out first. Bobby took the opportunity to reach out and slap my ass, hard enough to make my cock twitch in excitement. I toweled myself dry, then opened the bathroom door to let in a burst of cool air. Bobby and I dressed in silence, and then he announced he had to leave.
“You don’t have to go,” I said. “You can stay…”
“Tempting as that is, I think we should keep our distance until all of this is over. Speaking of which… are you going back to New York right after all this is settled?”
“That’s the plan. Not much to stick around here for.” I paused, took in the pang of pain across Bobby’s face. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong.”
“No, I’d say it came out just right. I get it, Jesse. You have your own life now. No point in rehashing the past with some over-the-hill boarding school principal.”
“You have at least another five years before you’re considered over the hill,” I teased. “And who’s to say you can’t take time off and come to New York with me?”
“You mean it?”
“Let’s lay low while I’m in town. After that, we can talk.”
I opened the door and kissed Bobby one last time before he left my hotel room. After he disappeared into the elevator, I fell back into bed, and immediately called Autumn. She picked up, and listened to me rehash the night’s events for the next hour and a half.
“So, what now?” she said.
“I have no idea. If anything, tonight proved what I’ve suspected all along. I still love him.”
Drake was waiting for me in the hotel lobby the next morning.
He rushed at me with such force that the concierge looked on in horror, then threatened to call the police. I assured him that all was fine, that Drake and I had some personal matters to attend to, and that we would handle them outside the hotel.
“I can’t believe you fucking bullied her!” Drake hissed.
“Keep your goddamn voice down,” I said. “Jesus Christ, what the hell is a matter with you?” I grabbed him by the arm and led him outside onto the street. He continued the verbal assault from there: accusing me of stalking Simone and conspiring with his friends behind his back.
“You can’t trust a word of what Lauren Peters says,” Drake added. “She’s a fucking liar, just like you!”
“How did you find out I spoke with Lauren?”
“Word travels fast around here, in case you haven’t noticed. Lauren tells a few friends, and one of them told me. Simple as that.”
Good
, I thought.
My plan is working…
“You were completely out of line following Simone around town like some sort of goddamn stalker,” Drake said. “If you threatened her I swear I’ll…”
“You’ll what? Look, I get the fact that Simone has filled your mind full of lies and your bloodstream full of drugs. But newsflash, Drake: I’m ten years older and around twenty pounds heavier than you.”
“Your point?”
“I could drop your ass without breaking a sweat. I grew up in Tacony, you spoiled little brat. You honestly think I’m afraid of some coddled rich kid from Bucks County?”
Drake had no response. His lips pressed into a thin line and his hands balled into fists at his side. Angry, silent, without recourse -- it was a typical adolescence response to being outgunned. Still, I needed him on my side. Having him angry wouldn’t help my cause.
“Look, you want to go grab a bite to eat or something?”
“Are you fucking kidding me? After what you did?”
“Well, don’t you want to know
why
I did what I did? What I learned, perhaps what Lauren Peters and her parents said to me?”
Again, nothing but silence. I decided to level with Drake, to talk to him like an adult rather than a child. Yes, Bobby and I had been involved. Sexually. Part of me had been in love with him, too -- at least that’s what I thought at the time. But in the end, I recognized that what we had wouldn’t last, and that it was time to let him go.
“This is what I don’t understand,” Drake said. “How you can be such a hypocrite! You and Uncle Bobby did the
same
thing that Simone did…”
“No we didn’t, Drake. Simone never gave me drugs, for one thing. And despite his lapse in judgment, your uncle is a good man. Simone is
not
a good woman.”
“I bet your relationship with Simone started off innocently enough,” I said. “She’d be nice to you during class, compliment your work. But then you started hanging around after class, didn’t you? Maybe swing by her classroom on your lunch periods or study hall?”
Drake stormed off, but I followed behind him and kept talking. “She treated you like an adult, an equal instead of a subordinate. Then, you met off-campus. She told you not to tell anyone, didn’t she?”
“The fact that you admitted what happened to you back when you were a student makes you such a fucking hypocrite,” he said, his back still turned to me. He walked across the bridge, arms wrapped around his chest as the wind blew off the Delaware River. His shoulders shook, both from the cold and probably from the fact that everything I’d just said had hit too close to home.
“How long before she gave you alcohol?” I said. “The first date? Maybe the second or third? You two probably had your first kiss not long after that.”
“Shut up!”
“I’ll stop talking when you turn around, look me in the eye, and tell me that I’m wrong.”
Drake stopped dead in his tracks. He leaned over the railing of the bridge, his eyes gazing down at the half-frozen river below. His jaw quivered in anger, and his knuckles were nearly as white as the clouds above. I moved forward, told him we didn’t have to have this discussion out in the freezing weather if he didn’t want to.
“The offer still stands,” I said. “Lunch. Anywhere in town. On me.”
“Why are you doing this?” he said. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
“Because your uncle is worried about you, and it’s my job to make sure you get out of this in one piece.”
“I thought you worked for the Academy?”
“I let them think that,” I said. “But in reality, Bobby came to me for one reason -- and that’s you.”
“I’m not hungry. We can go back to my place. My parents aren’t home; we’ll be alone there.”
“Look, I didn’t mean to be such a dick back there. Why don’t we just--?”
“I need you to be quiet,” Drake said. “Come with me. There’s something you need to know.”
*
*
*
Drake opened the back door of his house and welcomed me into the kitchen. The home was nice -- not a flashy McMansion but certainly no shack, either. Craftsman décor, along with modern appliances and a pretty healthy wine collection.
“Bobby told me your father is quite the sommelier.”
“Huh?” Drake said.
“Your father’s into wine.”
“Yeah, I guess you can say that. He’s not, like, a drunk though.”
I thought of whether or not I should text Kurt, let him know that Drake had something pertaining to the case that he wanted to show me. I decided not to, at least for now. The fact that Drake trusted me with something so private shouldn’t be taken lightly.
We went up the stairs and into his bedroom. He sat down at his desk, turned on the twenty-inch iMac and launched his web browser. A few keystrokes and mouse clicks later, he arrived at the photo in question -- one that showed Simone kissing another man.
“Do you know who he is?” Drake asked me.
“No, I don’t. When was this taken?”
“Yesterday, in the village. I wanted to see Simone, thought that maybe we could sneak off together like we used to. But then, I see her with him…”
The photo was taken right at the entrance of the village, a high-traffic spot if there ever was one. Simone embraced his mystery man right beneath the borough’s Christmas tree, as if she were posing for a Hallmark card.
“What the hell is she doing with him?” Drake said. “I mean, I know she’s making out with this guy -- but who is he? And why isn’t she returning my calls or texts?”
Drake was angry, confused, yet I knew exactly what Simone was doing. My presence had probably spooked her enough that she was trying to save face in the eyes of the community. While she couldn’t eliminate the bad press that’d plagued her since the news of her relationship with Drake first broke, she could salvage her long-term reputation. By kissing this guy -- this adult -- she was making herself out to be a respectable adult.
She’d resign on her own accord from the Academy soon. Then, she’d go to a new town, start a new life. Teaching was out of the question, but without any legal conviction, she didn’t have much to fear. Hell, perhaps it would even help her art career if she played her cards right.
“Jesse?” Drake said. “Any thoughts?”
“Drake, the first thing you should know about Simone is that she’s a cold-hearted bitch. She doesn’t care about you. She never did. And this picture proves it.”
“That’s not true,” he said, his voice more of a whimper than a roar. “She wouldn’t do that to me.”
“She already has, Drake.”
He didn’t have a response. After turning off the computer, he opened his closet and opened a small compartment that was imbedded into the wall -- the secret hiding place where he kept the drugs Simone had given him.
“It’s all here,” he said. “Weed, some pills, even a bit of coke.”
“Christ,” I said. “All right, so you’re admitting that Simone gave you all of this?”
“Yes.”
“And you would testify to that in court if necessary?”
He nodded. “There’s other stuff, too.”
“More drugs?”
“No, I mean…” He went back to his desk and started his computer again. After sifting through a few password-protected folders, he unveiled a treasure trove of what could only be described as child pornography in the eyes of the law. Photo after photo of himself, naked as a newborn baby, in what I assumed was Simone’s bed.
“I’ve seen enough,” I said. “Please close it.”
“She took all of these,” Drake added. “She told me not to tell anyone. They’re on her computer, too. But I have some copies for myself.”
My mind couldn’t help but drift back to the time when Bobby had taken photos and video of me. Had he destroyed them after we’d parted ways? Were they still on his computer, his phone -- or even worse, on the cloud?
“Jesse?”
“Sorry,” I said. “Listen, we need to do a few things. First, I want you to flush those drugs down the toilet. Every last one of them. After that, you need to talk with your parents and tell them
everything
you told me.”
“No!”
“Drake, what Simone did with you breaks around half a dozen laws in the state of Pennsylvania. Without you testifying in court…”
“I don’t want to go to court. I don’t want to do anything. I just want this shit to be over with. Can you do that?”
“What do you mean, ‘over with?’”
“You said Simone’s going to just cut her losses and leave, right?” He pointed at his computer and added: “Tell her that if she doesn’t resign, I’ll go to the cops and tell them everything. So she can either get the hell out of New Hope now, or spend another ten years in a goddamn jail cell.”
Drake’s face was red with fury, and it wasn’t hard to understand why. He’d given himself to Simone, truly believing that they were going to be together till the end. When he saw how quickly she’d tossed him -- how quickly she’d chosen herself over them as a couple -- she might as well put a dagger right through his heart.
Bobby was right when he said he’s nothing like her.
“I’m not leaving until you flush the drugs,” I said. “You’re too young to be doing that shit, and I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that addiction runs in your family.”
“Yeah,” Drake said. “Dad always says that, too.”
I walked him into the bathroom and watched as he flushed every single pill down the toilet, then did the same with the marijuana and cocaine. He promised me there was nothing left -- that Simone had only given him small amounts that he would either sell to other kids around town or use himself.
“I only smoked the weed,” he added. “I tried the coke once, but all it did was make me angry.”
“I take it the pills and cocaine were Simone’s thing, then?”
“She used to do them before we had sex.”
Fucking on cocaine
, I thought.
Even I don’t do that, and I’m a prostitute
.
“Do yourself a favor and delete the photos and video, too.”
“Why?”
“Drake, you’re only seventeen. In the eyes of the law, you’re still a minor. It’s illegal to have photos or videos of minors having sex. So, technically speaking, you’re guilty of possessing child pornography.”
“What? That’s bullshit. The photos are of
me
.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I explained. “The law is very black and white in that regard. There’s even an episode of
Law & Order SVU
about it.”
“Really?”
“Probably,” I said. “Just please do as I say, all right?”
Drake gave me an adolescent scoff before he returned to his computer and dumped folder after folder in the trash. While he continued, I stepped out into the hallway and called Kurt on his cell phone, audibly sighing with relief when he picked up.
“Please tell me that was a sigh of relief,” he said.
“We’ve got Drake. He’s willing to go on record regarding everything Simone did.”
“What…!”
“I’ll explain later, but for right now, just tell the Academy to prepare one last offer: either she resigns on her own accord or I will come forward with concrete proof that she was having sex with Drake. And giving him drugs.”
“Jesus.”
“It’s gets worse. She took photos and videos of them having sex.”
“What the fuck…!”
“My sentiments exactly,” I said. “I’ll meet you back in town soon.”
I hung up and returned to Drake’s side. He was about to delete one last folder, then asked if he could keep it.
“Why?” I asked. “Is it something important?”
“It’s the first time Simone and I had sex,” he said. “I… I just don’t want to delete it just yet. The cops aren’t going to arrest me, are they?”
“No,” I said. “No, they’re not.” Truth be told, I could use the evidence against Simone, to further incentivize her to get the hell out of Drake’s life for good. With all the files being password-protected, there wasn’t much of a risk, assuming he hadn’t shared any of them online.