“I’m simply trying to have a conversation with you,” I state, cutting him off. “I’m not judging.”
“Yeah, well, you’d have no right to judge.”
“Is that so?”
Setting his fork down, he tosses his napkin on the table. “I’m assuming you’re still the big ole powerful judge?”
“You would be assuming correctly.” He’sfeisty. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.
“I wonder how the government would feel about one of theirSupreme Courtjudges”—he spits it out like it’s a dirty word—“hiring hookers in his downtime.”
“Maybe this is my first time,” I muse.
“It’s not,” he sneers. “Nobody comes to Giselle their first go-round with escorts.”
Well… you’d be surprised.
We finish eating—well, I finish eating; he continues to pick at his plate—and the server comes to clear the table and drop off the bill. As soon as I finish signing my name on the check, he stands like he couldn’t possibly sit for any longer, the chair making an obnoxious creaking sound.
“Thank you for dinner, but I need to leave.”
Glancing up at him, he refuses to meet my gaze. “Let me walk you to your car, at least,” I offer.
“That won’t be necessary.”
I stand, placing my wallet back in my jacket pocket, and round the table until I’m in front of him. The sharp inhale and his slight step backward make me grin. “It wasn’t an option, Bodhi. I’m walking you to your car.”
He looks like he wants to argue, but he doesn’t. We weave our way through the crowded restaurant. I place my palm on the small of his back as we enter the lobby, and I feel him tense immediately, but he doesn’t say anything. The night air is warm and muggy as we step outside, crossing the full parking lot.
Coming to a stop in front of a black Jetta, he turns sheepishly to face me, his back to the car. “This is, uh… this is me. Thanks.”
Without thinking, my hand moves to rest on the vehicle beside his body. If you were to ask me what has gotten into me, I wouldn’t be able to give a legitimate answer, because I have no fucking clue. It’s like my body is moving of its own volition. His eyes dart to mine before quickly looking away. “Can I see you again?” I ask, surprising even myself.
Bodhi’s pouty red lips part, arms crossing over his chest. “W-what? No. No, we cannot do this again… ever.”
Cocking my head to the side, I drag my gaze down his lithe form before landing on his face again. “Why not?”
“Are you serious?” This time, hedoesmake eye contact. “I was friends with your son.Bestfriends. For years. Hell, I’m young enough to be your son.That’swhy.”
Not waiting for my response, he shoves past me, opening the car door and sliding inside. With one last glance, he puts the car into reverse and is gone.
Well, this certainly wasn’t the evening I was expecting when I left my house tonight.
The drive home takes no time at all, what with me living less than twenty minutes from the hotel. It’s a risky move meeting men so close to where I sleep. I should’ve requested to meet someone in Charlotte, to cover my bases, but it didn’t even cross my mind.
For the last month, I’ve been testing the waters and teetering back and forth about actually hiring someone. The need for companionship… someone to talk to—be intimate with—is growing stronger by the day. I can’t even say the last time I was touched by another person. Something as simple as a hug is a such foreign concept to me lately.
I chatted with a few men on an app calledThe Boyfriend Experience. It’s basically a sugar daddy/sugar baby meeting app, but the men never felt right. I could never bring myself to go through with it. But Bodhi… he felt nice. Better than nice, actually. He feltright. It’s not often you sit with someone and feel an immediate sense of calm and comfort wash over you. It doesn’t make sense, given how wrong he should feel. Then there’s the fact that he acted like he wanted nothing to do with me. That alone should be enough for me to forget all about him… but in fact, the opposite is true. It makes me want to try harder. Push past whatever wall he has locked into place.
The last guy I spoke to from the app was the one who dropped Giselle’s name to me. One of his friends works for her, and he was considering it. She apparently has escorts up to DC, all the way down to Florida. Now, I’m glad I asked him for her contact information. Maybe with a little time and somemildpersuasion, Bodhi will come around.
Driving past the red Honda in my driveway, I pull my powder blue Batur into the garage, turning off the engine, and letting my head fall back onto the seat. The same heavy, dread-filled sigh I let out every time I come back home blows past my lips while I work up the gumption to go inside. When I think back on the life I lived even two years ago, I can’t help but laugh humorlessly at the way things are now.
I used to be happy. Coming home was a highlight of my day; it never felt like the chore it does now. Which, of course, does nothing to lessen the guilt I feel. What type of man does anything he possibly can to avoid home as much as I do?
A coward.
A monster.
