Page 122 of Something Like Hail
“I don’t have a plan forwhat comes after,” Noah admitted.
“You could ask Marcello fora new position.” Tim shook his head. “Actually, don’t phrase itthat way. I know exactly what he’ll say. Ask him for a differentjob. No! Too easy. Ask him for another line of employment. Thatshould be safe. Probably.”
Noah laughed, but his amusement wasshort-lived. “I don’t think Marcello will be in the mood to do meany favors. Come to think of it, I’ve got nothing to worry aboutbecause when he hears how it went today, I won’t have a job. Henever liked me anyway.”
“Marcello?” Tim made aface. “He likes you.”
“I’m pretty sure hedoesn’t.”
“Why do you saythat?”
“Because he’s been givingme hell since day one. He set me up with the worst clientsimaginable to scare me off, and lately he can’t say my name withoutgritting his teeth.
Tim laughed. “Reminds me of when I workedfor him.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that youwere also an—”
“I was a model,” Tim saidquickly. “For fashion. I had clothes on. Not much sometimes, and itwas only for a weekend, but he busted my balls every chance he got.He’s acted like we’re best friends ever since. I mean, we are, butat the beginning we weren’t. He just likes to surround himself withpeople who take their work seriously. I’ve seen him do the samewith another model of his. Nathaniel too. When he first startedworking for the studio, Marcello had him doing all sorts ofridiculous jobs. I guess it’s his screening process. Once you makeit through, you’re golden.”
“I may have been golden,but trust me, now I’m dirt again.”
“You’re not,” Tim said,sounding confident. “Marcello doesn’t drop people so easily. Notonce he’s decided to keep you around. Just ask him for a new job.If that’s really what you want. It’s none of mybusiness.”
Noah thought about it during the remainderof the drive. He still liked his work and especially the pay, butmaybe he should consider alternatives. If not for himself then forthe guy who might be living with him soon. When they pulled up tohis apartment building, Noah looked up through the windshield tothe higher floors, wondering if he would find anyone waiting forhim there. Then he turned his attention back to the driver.
“Thanks again for doingthis,” Noah said. “At the very least, I think Ryan will finallymove on.”
Tim sounded exasperated. “Here’shoping.”
What else was there left to say? “I guessthis is it for me and you.”
Tim grinned, which was a stunning sight tobehold. “Don’t be so sure. I think we’ll see each other againsomeday. Maybe at one of Marcello’s parties, or somewhere out inpublic. A restaurant! I can picture it now. You’ll catch a glimpseof me, I’ll notice you staring, and I’ll raise my beer in salute.When that happens, you come say hello. Okay?”
Noah laughed. “It’s a deal. See you around.Say hi to Ben for me.”
Tim nodded. “Will do. Take care ofyourself.”
Noah was at the entrance to his apartmentbuilding before he looked back. He saw Tim’s black sports car pickup speed and blow through a yellow light just before it changed tored. Then he was gone. Noah now had a better understanding of whyRyan had become so fixated on him. Tim seemed like a special guy.Unforgettable.
Chapter Seventeen
The apartment wasunoccupied when Noah returned inside. Only a handwritten note lefton the kitchen counter awaited him. Anyone else would have sent atext, but Felix had found scrap paper—the back of a junk-mailenvelope—and purple ink. Noah didn’t recall owning a purple pen, orFelix carrying one. Had he gone door to door to the neighbors,winning each one over with his adorableness until he found acolorful-enough instrument to write with? The note was just ascharming as the imagined scenario.
Thank you for an amazing night! You’re thebest boyfriend ever. Literally. I checked online just to be sureand it’s a fact. Is it okay if I come over again tonight? I loveyou!
Felix had signed his name along with acartoonish self-portrait—as a human this time—with hearts foreyes.
“Of course you can comeover,” Noah said to the empty kitchen. “I told you that you couldmove in!”
He chuckled to himself, then grew moresomber when remembering his recent conversation with Tim. Felixneeded to know the truth about Noah’s work. Deciding how toapproach the subject was as simple as putting himself in Felix’splace: young, idealistic, and innocent. Noah pictured himself as ateenager, as his life would have been if his parents hadn’t foundout about his sexuality, and his life in Fort Stockton hadcontinued at the same slow and simple pace. Maybe, after graduatingfrom high school, he would have met a man with more experience.Harold was the natural choice, so Noah went with it. He imagineddeveloping a crush, getting intimate with his new boyfriend, andthen being told the truth: Harold was an escort.
Noah filled a glass of water from the tapand frowned while drinking. His small-town self would have beendevastated. Never before had he struggled to understand why peoplelooked down on his occupation. Even those who weren’t judgmentalstill took pity, which he didn’t want because he hadn’t felt forcedinto this occupation. Not exactly. For him, escorting was a way outthat didn’t involve begging or getting wasted. Noah had beenwilling to work hard and had done so. He felt proud of that, andnot at all guilty for being on the streets in the first placebecause it wasn’t the result of bad decisions. Instead it was—
Noah blinked. Then he nearly laughed, thesolution having presented itself. He simply needed to tell Felixhis story in the right order. Noah thought about how this wouldbest be done and grabbed his phone to send a text.
I’m taking you to dinner tonight. Dresscasual and don’t worry, there aren’t any waiters. You won’t bereminded of your work.
He didn’t get a response for nearly twentyminutes. When it came, it wasn’t as enthusiastic as he wasexpecting.