Page 15 of Pretty Mess

He gets up, goes to the kitchen, and comes back with two bottles of water. He chucks one to me and sits back down, opening his own bottle and taking a sip. “That’s exactly what it is. These men come from all over the world to fuckbeautiful young men with a clear bill of health. Young men who know how to behave impeccably in polite society and can talk knowledgeably on any desired subject.” He eyes me. “That part will take some work with you.”

“Hey,” I say indignantly, but he ignores me.

“The owner of the club is a facilitator who introduces boys like me to these incredibly wealthy men.”

“And then what happens?”

His mouth twists. “Well, Wes, then the two men kiss, fall in love, and hold hands for eternity.”

“I feel like you’re taking the piss.”

“Whatever gave you that idea?”

This whole thing is like a TV drama, and I’m so intrigued. “So do you all shag in a room somewhere like the back area of a club?”

“Good god, no. What part of rich and discreet did you not get? There are rooms upstairs at the club where we take the men. We perform, and if we’re lucky, the men decide to take us on.”

“What does that mean?”

He shrugs. “They keep us. We get a flat and an allowance. Plus, they pay for clothes and all the bills.”

“And does this introducer take a cut of your money?”

“No. The men take care of his fee. We keep our own money.”

Realisation dawns as I look around the expensive flat. “Is that what’s happened with you?”

“Yeah. I’ve been with my gentleman for a year, which is a fairly long time.”

“What’s he like?”

He immediately looks cautious. “Let’s call him Mister X. I can’t give you too many details.”

“Of course not. But is Mister X good to you?”

For the first time, he looks discomposed. “Good?”

“Yeah. Does he treat you nicely?”

He considers that. “He pays my bills and for this flat. I have accounts with numerous designer shops and an unlimited budget.”

“That’s not what I meant.” I frown. “Is heniceto you?”

He laughs. “Darling, one should never expect that.”

“Yes, you should,” I say firmly. “You shouldalwaysbe treated with kindness.”

A frown wrinkles his forehead. “Maybe you aren’t made for this sort of life after all. You don’t have to do it. You can stay here for as long as I’ve got the place.”

The thought of having a bed for a few days makes me feel weak with relief, but I can’t cause trouble in his life just because mine has imploded. That’s not fair. “Just like that?”

“Of course. I like you, Wes. I don’t want to see you get into any more trouble.”

“Thank you,” I say, touched. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”

“Please don’t. Gratitude is incredibly tedious,” he says haughtily, but he can’t help the flush of pleasure on his cheeks.

“I’ll pay you rent.” I pause, and my financial situation slams back into my head like a car crash in slow motion. “Shit. I can’t actually do that.”