Page 55 of Scout

He nods and heads toward the far corner of the room while I make a beeline for the bar. It’s still early, but the place is filling up quickly. I order a pitcher and two glasses, then head back to the table where Bradley’s waiting, tapping his fingers in a rhythm I recognize from high school. He looks like he’s a million miles away.

“Penny for your thoughts,” I say as I set the glasses down.

“Sorry,” he mutters, almost out of habit.

I pour us both a drink and slide his glass over. “Okay, Bradley. No beating around the bush. What’s going on?”

He sighs and grips the glass. Then he just... starts talking.

For thirty solid minutes, he tells me everything. About Nana. The bills. The house. The debt. How desperate it’s all gotten.

“Damn,” I say once he finally stops, lifting my glass to take a sip. “That’s a lot. Do you have a plan in place?”

“Got an interview tomorrow at Moe’s. It’s there or the supermarket. Possibly both with the amount of money I need to come up with to save the house.”

I lean back in my chair, studying him. He looks exhausted. Like he’s been carrying all of it for way too long.

“Is there anything you wouldn’t do?” I ask, my tone turning serious.

He laughs nervously. “I mean, I wouldn’t kill anybody.”

I snort. “That’s good to know.”

He squints at me, like he’s not sure what I’m getting at. “Scout, not that I don’t appreciate you letting me vent to you, but what’s with the odd question?”

“Much like you, I found myself in a situation where I needed money. And I came across an opportunity.” I reach for the pitcher and refill our glasses, then lean forward and smile. “Foxy’s Rent-A-Date.”

He blinks. “Gonna need more than that.”

“It’s a dating service,” I explain. “People hire you to be their arm candy. It’s good money and it’s honest.”

“You want me to be a prostitute!?” he almost yells, catching himself just in time.

“No! It’s not like that. There is absolutely no sex for money. Foxy would lose her shit if that happened. Generally, it’s people who have parties, weddings or some kind of event that they don’twant to go to alone. It’s five hundred an hour with a three-hour minimum and she takes twenty-five percent of what you make.”

“So I’d make eleven hundred and twenty-five dollars for three hours for being someone’s date?” His brain is already doing the math. Classic Bradley.

I crack up, nearly spitting out my beer. “Shit, man. Did you just do the math in your head?”

He shrugs. “Math is easy. So seriously, no sex and you make money like that?”

“Yep.” I lean in, smirking. “But doesn’t mean after the time’s up, if we’re both down, there isn’t some fucking happening. Foxy doesn’t care, as long as she doesn’t know. Or anyone else.”

I wink and stand up. “I’m getting us another pitcher. I’ll be right back.”

By the time I come back, he’s still staring at nothing. Probably crunching numbers.

“Is she hiring?” he asks as soon as I sit.

“Yeah, pretty sure she is. I’ll give you the address to apply at. And hey… you’ve got a selling point.” I refill our glasses. “You’re bi, so you have a larger market to make money.”

His eyes widen. “How did you know? I didn’t come out until after I left for college.”

“Bradley, you didn’t hide it as well as you think you did.”

He laughs, a little red in the cheeks.

“Besides,” I add with a grin, “I caught you checking out my ass back then.”