“Xavier Rodrigues.”
I was anxious to get this call over with, so I asked you for the number and grabbed my mom’s phone. He answered with a polite, "¿Diga?"
“Soy Orlando Bell. ¿Habla inglés?” I hoped so, because that was about the extent of myEspañol.
“Yes, how may I help you, Orlando?”
I held my hand over the receiver. “He sounds really polite,” I said to you.
“He’s very skilled at what he does,” you replied simply.
What did that mean? Skilled as in servicing men’s physical needs with a smile? Ugh, so awkward. I then proceeded to stutter and ramble my way through our crazy plan. Midway through my blathering, Xavier politely stopped me. “I think this conversation would be better had in person, no?”
“Yes.” I was relieved that after my sloppy pitch he was willing to even consider it.
“How about you come to my place, and we can discuss your proposition further?”
“Oh, okay.”
Xavier gave me his address, which was in Miami Beach and pretty close to the studio. We set a time for the following afternoon. I asked him if there was anything I should bring.
“Just the truth,” Xavier said. “See you tomorrow, Orlando.”
I hung up the phone with shaking hands. I begged you to come with me, and again you refused.
“It’s important for you to do this yourself.”
“Fine,” I said snottily, and got only your silence in response.
You’d saidthe day before that Xavier wouldn’t want me to dress up on his account, but I didn’t want to show up looking like a slob either. This was a negotiation. I wanted him to take me seriously, so after class on Monday, I borrowed a suit jacket from Bruno, whose wardrobe was much better than mine, and paired it with a nice shirt, slacks, and a tie. I thought about bringing flowers, but I didn’t want it to be weird. I should have asked you if you knew what he liked to drink, but it was too late. You’d disappeared on me. Again.
Xavier lived in a condo with a front gate and a lobby and a beautiful view of the Atlantic. If he was able to afford this place as an escort, he must be pretty good at it. Or really expensive. Or both.
I took the elevator to the seventh floor and found his number. I lifted the ornate knocker and rapped three times. Soon enough the heavy wooden door swung open, and a handsome man in his early thirties greeted me. He was tidy and well-groomed with bright, inquisitive eyes and a generous smile. I tried not to stare, but it was hard. His appearance was magnetic, and he carried himself proudly. Even Sergei would appreciate the man’s posture.
He greeted me with a kiss on my cheek, welcomed me inside, and invited me to sit at a brightly lit breakfast nook. The whole eastern side of his apartment was composed of floor-to-ceiling windows with an expansive concrete balcony. The view was stunning. So much blue. I gazed out at the water for a moment and tried to get my bearings. I heard waves breaking against the shore, and even inside the climate-controlled condo, I smelled the salty sea air. Despite our dorms being so close to the beach, I hadn’t really had time to enjoy the ocean.
Xavier pulled out a chair for me like a gentleman.
“Thank you.” I sat down and adjusted my slacks.
“You’re younger than I expected.”
“Oh… well, I’m eighteen.”
“I see.” Xavier discreetly put away the white wine that was chilling on ice and asked me if I’d like some tea instead.
“Yes, please.”
He poured tea from a glass pitcher, one for each of us, and brought them to the table. I waited until he took the first swallow and, assuming it safe, took a sip of my own. Xavier’s eyebrows rose, and I’m sure he thought I was overly paranoid.
“It’s nothing personal,” I told him. “I was drugged over the weekend.”
Xavier’s face folded in compassion. “I’m sorry for that.”
I shrugged. “Henri was there. He took care of it.”
“Henri is the ‘demon boyfriend’ you spoke of on the phone?” Xavier took a moment to unbutton his jacket and smooth out his tie. His suit was far more expensive than mine. Trimmed to fit his form perfectly, it accentuated his broad shoulders and narrow waist. I was glad I’d dressed up. He seemed like a really classy guy.
