The Rent Boy (EDITING)

Chapter Eight: An Unexpected Question-

    Apparently I found the ceiling way more interesting than I really should have.

    I was practically writing an essay in my mind about the texture, how it was a slightly off-coloured cream and how the paint work was peeling because the rain was seeping in––which was made worse by the leak in the corner, behind the sofa but no worries, cause we stuck a bowl there to catch the drops––I know I was no expert on damp ceilings and shit like that, but–

    “Ash,” I heard my name being called. I flew up-right on the sofa to find a short, tubby guy who looked like he was approaching his forties rather than being barely out of his twenties. His hair was slicked back against his head, where he slid his fingers through it over and over, as if the strands could even move a centimetre out of place from all the gel the guy slapped on it.

    His round form was dressed in a casual tee and jeans, lacking the suave suit he wore a few nights ago. I was still wondering how the fuck he managed to get a hold of a suit like that. I half expected the coppers to come knocking round with a warrant to arrest for robbery. I wished they had, too. That would have been one way to get rid of the conniving little shit.

    After realising it was Kyle, I slumped back down into the sofa with my head resting on the arm of the chair. My gaze returned to the ceiling. I pinched the bridge of my nose, willing the tension headache, that always accompanied the presence of Kyle, to make a quiet exit.

    Kyle cleared his throat.

    “Whatta you want?” I groaned, scrunching my eyes up. I heard the soft sound of footfalls nearing me, which surprised me so much that I had to double check it was, in fact, Kyle. He was like a god damn troll when he walked, the whole flat vibrated like an earthquake. Except this time, he was surprisingly light-footed.

    I felt him tap my legs, which I immediately moved out of his touch. He seized the opportunity and sat his ass down on the cushion my legs were previously taking up. I had the urge to kick him in the face and break all of his teeth, but that wouldn't have gone down so well. I'd probably end up spending the night outside. So instead, I swivelled my body around until I was sitting up, feet firmly planted on the floor.

    “I got a phone call today,” Kyle started, sounding disappointed like he was about to deliver bad news, “from that rich guy...Nate, I think his names was. You know, the guy I told you to impress? Quite well looking, nicely dressed–”

    “Yeah, I know who you mean,” I muttered, cutting his rambling off so that he'd stop avoiding what he came here to tell me and just get it over with. I should have kicked him in the face after all, because either way, I was probably spending tonight outside. He was more than likely about to tell me that I wasn't good enough. That I did a shit job and he expected more from me.

    “Yeah,” the guy must have been pretty distant or pissed off, since he didn't bring up the fact that I hadn't called him uncle. That was never a good sign. “So, I got a phone call today from him and...well,” I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the words, “he wants to become a regular.”

    I stood up and swirled around, unable to stop my words from shooting out my mouth, “Look, Kyle, I swear I did everything. I let him do whatever he wanted and– wait, what?” his words only just registering inside my head. I blinked, trying to wrap my head around it. “Oh,” was the most intelligent thing I could think to say.

    Kyle smiled a yellow, toothy grin as he hauled himself to his feet and tapped me on the cheek. “You did good, son. Real good.” A strong smell of body odour gushed in my direction. I fought to stop my nose from wrinkling up in disgust.

    I raised one eyebrow slowly in disbelief. The moment only lasted two seconds before he returned to his usual, sleazebag-of-a-self. “Now, how much dosh did you earn today? Let me see the green,” he rubbed his hands together in anticipation.