“Oh. That party.” I chuckle distractedly. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure that violated a few fire codes.”
“Don’t they all? Anyway, who cares if things are easy for you? You’ve got a great boss who—Jesus, is this book gonna fit or not??—adores you. And also might have a thing for you.”
“Bethany has a girlfriend,” I remind him.
“Yeah, but she still has a thing for you.”
“Please stop shipping me and my lesbian boss, Quinton. I know you’re bored, but damn.”
“Very bored,” he groans, resuming his work.
5
I give Quinton’s words a lot of thought the rest of the afternoon. By the evening when I meet up with my landlord and buddy Dante at the Weights & Mates gym for a quick workout, my brain is in full-blown assault over my life.
“I mean, what if that first job my dad got me had worked out?” I ask after finishing a set of bicep curls, dropping my weights to the floor. “What if I was making five figures a month by now?”
Dante, half Black, half Italian, and full Hulk, pays my question no mind as he continues to grunt through a set of squats. The muscular man’s thighs are the size of my head, and with every squat, his skintight yellow compression shorts look like they could bust apart. He always looks so intense when he works out, like he’s furious about something very specific and private on his mind.
I wasn’t expecting an answer, by the way. I’ve basically been talking to myself for an hour. “And hey, if I look on the bright side, maybe I would be totally miserable working a 9-to-5er. Some people aren’t built to just be a cog in the machine, right?”
Dante sets down his dumbbells, then grabs his (enormous) bottle of water and starts chugging.
I look at him. “You get it, right? Considering—”
“Considering I’m a fetish photographer when I’m not collecting your damn rent?” Dante smirks, making his eyes sparkle with secrets as he gazes at his jug of water thoughtfully. “Yeah, I understand all about alternative sources of income.”
I lean against a nearby weight rack. “Don’t lie. You’ve had fun with some of your clients down in that basement studio of yours.” I lean in. “Or should I say … dungeon …?”
Dante flicks his eyes at me. “I never cross the line with a client. You know that.”
“Oh, I know. ‘Don’t mix business and pleasure’ and all that. Hey, lighten up! I was just teasing.”
“And you wanna know what I think about you and your spiraling out over this ‘dreamy’ frat boy of yours?” He lets out one dry chuckle, sets down his jug heavily, then faces me with his sweat-glistening face and critical eyes. “You care too damned much what everyone thinks.”
I frown. “No, I don’t.”
“Oh, yeah you do. I’ve seen you around your roommates. Even your new one. Connor. Your ass can’t put on a damned pair of socks without needing someone else to tell you if they look good or not. Don’t lie. Even the cushy job you got right now was someone else’s decision.” With an amused huff, he starts another set of squats.
“Huh? … You mean my job at Bailey’s? No, it wasn’t! I’m the one who chose to—”
“You don’t remember … mmph …” He grunts between each squat. “… coming to me … mmph … crying when you lost that job your daddy got you? Mmph. I’m the one who knew about a quaint gay bookstore … urgh … with an adult toy section in the back … umph … that was hiring.” He pauses his set to shoot me a look. “Your boss Bethany used to be a client of mine.”
I open my mouth to say something, then squint and ask something else. “Wait a sec here. You photograph women, too?”
Dante snorts at me. “Of course I do. Clients.”
“But … Wait, she used to be your client?”
“Yeah, ‘cause it seems my work did the trick. She’s got a girlfriend now, don’t she?”
I open my mouth, then close it.
“As far as your life crisis goes, if you really want my advice—and you won’t like it—I think it’s time your needy ass starts making your own decisions. Don’t keep leaning on me, or Connor … or even Lex and Omar, who never give good advice about anything anyway. You’re a big boy, Brett.”
I watch Dante finish out his set of squats, lost in thought. For as badly as I want to argue with him that he’s wrong, I find myself thinking back on my days with the frat boys and how much I relied on my brothers’ constant approval. The months that followed my departure from the university were some of the worst of my life, and I had no idea what to do. I was aimless, lost, and without a plan.
And then my dad pulled a string and got me a job offer here in the big bad city.