"Conservative? Really?"
"He's been in America for a long time. He left the Republicans behind sometime during W's tenure."
"He's a good-looking guy."
"Yeah. Totally."
The men finished up and paid. They cut over on R Street to 16th. From there they strolled north to U, and then 14th until they reached Rainbow Harbor.
Rachel met them in the lobby. She was an older woman, and she embraced Jack the minute she saw him, squeezing him tightly. "Jackie... it's been too long."
"I know," he said, kissing her forehead. "I'm a bad boy."
She pulled back, giving him a wry smile. "Hardly."
Without missing a beat, she turned to Demarco, hand out. "I'm Rachel. Rachel De Silva."
Demarco shook her hand. "Demarco Alford," he said.
"You must be important, Demarco. It's not often I get visits from Jack."
She gestured them into the building. A phone rang twice before being picked up by a receptionist who offered Demarco a wink and waved at Jack. Rachel stepped behind the desk and retrieved some bottles of water to distribute. Demarco accepted. He was a bit nervous, clearly out of his element. Rachel saw this, looped her arm within his, and escorted him down the hall for a tour of the center. Jack followed.
"So, what is it you do, Demarco?"
For the first time in a long time, Demarco was a little hesitant in revealing his profession. "I'm—" he began. He looked at Jack.
"It's OK, D. She's as blue-blooded as they come."
Demarco's gaze returned to her. "I'm an escort," he said.
"High dollar, I would expect," Said Rachel. "You're quite the specimen."
They walked down a hallway and Rachel showed them several rooms, most empty, but some with small groups of people gathered.
"We have counseling available on a variety of topics..." she said, "...hygiene, health, intimacy, employment, aging, coming-out, trans-support, pride, HIV, and scads of other subjects you would expect... and maybe a few that you wouldn't."
Demarco was cordial, but silent, taking everything in.
Next, they passed a small cafeteria. Since it was the weekend, no food was being served... but there was fruit and snacks available as well as a typical assortment of vending machines. There were three girls in there—one reading quietly in a corner, two others at a table, talking and eating.
The following window was to an activities room, with games and television. More people were gathered here... on laptops, phones, and playing games. Several black youths gathered in front of a large TV, watching and laughing at an old episode ofThe Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.
The TV was a little loud, as were the boys, but there was another, just apart from the group, who was quiet, reflective, paying little attention to the boys, the television, or anything as far as Demarco could decipher.
He was small in frame, and looked—Demarco struggled with a word to capture it—broken...was all he could come up with. All around this introverted little boy were kids his age having fun, joking, laughing... and yet he was either oblivious or chose to ignore it... in a world of his own, deep in thought.
Demarco had tuned out, but Rachel was still talking, "... getting LGBTQ youth off of the street and into safe and productive environments. That is our main goal."
"D?" said Jack. He had picked up on Demarco's being distracted.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I was watching that little boy."
Rachel smiled. "That's Wilson. He's a sweetie, quiet... fifteen... small for his age. Father unknown. His mother died in December. Overdose."
Merry Christmas, Demarco thought.
Rachel continued. "He identifies as gay. He came to us last month when he attempted to solicit one of our counselors on the metro. He's a smart kid... intuitive, and very funny—"
