“We have until Gabriel crawls into bed and gets lonely,” I say.
“Fucking hell, man. You just… if I tell you this… can we make it so I don’t have to repeat it on record?”
“Yeah, I could figure something out.”
“I really hope you can.”
TEN
Jesse
Age sixteen
The guy in red has been watching me since I walked past his table. He sneaks glances while talking to his wife, his finger rotating his ring around like he’s trying to remind himself that he’s married, but the way she talks at him tells me that they’ve been married too long.
When he looks at me again, I give him a smile and lean back a little in my seat. His eyes linger and I give him a nod toward the bathroom.
I saw the car the guy drove here in. I can see the Rolex on his wrist, the way her jewelry shines in a way that tells me it’s not fake.
What does it say about me that I’ve learned how to pick apart a person so I know how I can use them? But if I didn’t, if I tried to live out here honestly, what would it get me? When I was first thrown out at fifteen, not a damn person would hire me. And now at sixteen, everyone wants parental consent, which I sure asfuck am never going to get. I know I could go to a church or find help, but I can’t get myself to go.
This is better. This is what I deserve. To be treated like a rich person’s toy and thrown away the next day. I’ve always been thrown away.
The guy excuses himself from the table and heads toward the back where I’ll join him in a moment. I start to get up, but a body blocks me.
“Don’t do that,” a man says.
I look up at him, confused why this guy thinks he has any say in what I’m doing. Is he some asshole about to preach at me? Or does he want me for himself?
“I know that man,” he continues. “He will treat you like absolute shit and won’t bat an eye doing it.”
“What’s it matter?” I ask.
The guy, a clean-cut man in his late twenties with dark brown hair, shakes his head. His vibrant blue eyes watch me closely. “Because you’re worth more than being a plaything for some asshole who thinks you’re going to give him head in the bathroom.”
“You going to pay for my meal?” I ask.
He pulls out his wallet and tosses down a fifty. “If you’re homeless, there are better alternatives for a kid your age.”
I ignore him and stare at the fifty. “What do you want for it?”
“I want you to not treat yourself like shit, but I have a feeling that’ll take a whole lot more than fifty dollars.”
“Sure as fuck would.”
“Well, we’ll start there,” he says, then he opens his wallet again and tosses a hundred on top. “There’s a cheap as hell motel down the road from here. It’s like twenty bucks a night if the lady owning the place feels bad for you. Go try your sob story on her.”
“Are you meeting me there? I feel like someone like you would prefer a place much nicer than a twenty-dollar motel room.”
“Nope,” he says before he heads out the door. I watch as he gets into a nice car, much nicer than the other man’s car, and drives away. For a moment, I stare after him, and then look back at the bathroom where the married man is waiting. I grab my check and pay for my meal before hurrying to the motel he’d directed me to. A part of me assumes he’ll be waiting there for me, and another part hopes he is so he can just keep on paying.
I have no idea what kind of man he is and I’m not sure I even care. He might kill me for all I know. Or he might save me from this hell.
A week passes before I see him again. I can’t help but question if it’s a random encounter or if he staged it, but no part of me cares. He’s drinking coffee alone, so I park myself in the seat across from him.
He lowers the book he’s reading and raises an eyebrow. “I see you’re still around. Why didn’t you go find some help? Tell a teacher or something.”
“What’s your name?’
