Tag Archives: the truth

An Open Letter to S.S

I knew it was a mistake to go with you. After months of worrying about my visa being renewed for New Zealand and finally getting approved for it, I decided to jump with a glimmer of hope into something I had little faith in. I left behind a good job, amazing friends, and a place I truly felt at home for this whirlwind adventure I was promised. We were best friends, so I put my trust in that and nosedived into this plan of yours.

 

But oh did it spectacularly fail.

 

What were we thinking? We relied on a friendship built on bad deeds and party days. The bond we had was always reinforced by distance. We didn’t have depth over distance, and that’s why we failed.

 

Coked up nights in the Toronto scene and days spent wondering why you couldn’t be my friend when the sun was up, I would sit in the Canadian spring air writing stories about rape as you holed up in your bedroom unable to make the slightest gesture to even pretend you wanted to be there with me. Fighting those long days away and snorting the long nights together, I was cornered in a world I thought we had moved past. Was our friendship doomed to repeat the same circles? Glass pipes in one and lines of white in another?

 

Financially you kept the nightmare going for me when I should’ve let it die the second you asked me to do two years of travel together. 

 

I had so much going for me. After years of rough times and days spent crying I had found a world where I belonged. Now I sit unable to find the person I was before Toronto, unable to find the passion of putting trust in people. You always wanted me to be like you, and now I’m like you more than ever and you’re nowhere to be seen in my Newsfeed.

 

Our end crashed hard like our beginning. But hey at least someone didn’t die this time around.

 

I do miss you a lot, but maybe it’s the distance talking.

 

Love,

Cody.

The Truth: A Reflection/New Beginnings

It’s hard not to dwell on the past. Moving forward consistently feels like one step forward, two steps back. I ended The Truth because reflecting on the past was draining. It takes every fiber in my body to put words on a page about things I have done. I would come out of writing a blog post exhausted both mentally and physically. Most blogs posts came with some cigarette breaks in between to calm my nerves, others I had to write drunk because sobriety wasn’t an option for reliving an experience.

I tried to compare my mental state with those that also worked with me at Knight Call. I would check up on their facebook pages, talk to them online, follow their journey. Some still work there. Others have left. Some had left for a bit and came back. Some have gone on to study in University, trying to do good things with their lives. Others are unperplexed; their lives moved on the second they walked away from the life. In monumental ways I’ve moved on as well. Less often now I have to take controlled breaths to try and relieve my anxiety. Less often I cry alone in my room.

Living on the straight-and-narrow is difficult. Some days I just wish I was able to make quick hard cash again. I’m constantly skirting the poverty line. My life feels so boring and empty. Not like being a prostitute was fulfilling but at least it came with a sense of intrigue and adventure. Most days I’m just going through the motions without feeling like I’m actually living.

I’ve looked up seeing a therapist, contemplating the idea often. But what would I even say to them? I feel like they’re not even capable of dealing with what I’ve been through.

It’s coming up to a year now where I officially left that life behind me. I remember the defining moment in my life when a client called me for the last time and I said to them, “No. I am not doing that anymore.” It was empowering. I even think I danced a little when I hung up the phone. Who knew such freedom came with a cost?

Something in my life that has suffered greatly (but also has to do with location) is my sex life. I think I’m scared of sex and of intimacy. If Channing-fucking-Tatum walked into my room naked right now I would probably turn him away. I keep telling people I’m happily single – and in a way I am – but the truth is I just want someone to take care of me. I feel selfish in the way where I want someone to come into my life to help me carry my burdens. I’m so tired of carrying them alone. I’m tired of being independent. I’m tired of relying on myself.

Life ‘round here.

 

Even though I’m not supposed to, I have been doing some recreational drugs. Not regularly, but I’ve taken MDMA and maybe have done some lines. The doctors said I wasn’t allowed to do any drugs, but they specifically said no hallucinogens so I’ve avoided those at least. I also like to get drunk, but i’m limiting myself to only going out once or twice per week (been sticking closer to once per week recently). It’s been good to allow myself some freedoms in the form of some controls.

I’ve also been doing drag every once in awhile. It’s hardly even worth mentioning because my drag is absolutely and hilariously horrid, but it’s been really fun focussing on something else. It’s also enabled me to keep that small part of me that was gay-boy-in-the-city. I miss that part of me so it’s been fun playing that role in such a small village.

 

I’m sure you’re all bored reading this now: my list of complaints.

But I will tell you this story:

 

Halloween: 2014.

I was dressed as Dr. Frank-N-Furter from Rocky Horror Picture Show. Had the black curly wig, the tight leather shorts, the long red nails… it was really the full getup and it looked absolutely fabulous. It took me nearly two months to find all the pieces to put the costume together and I was really quite proud of it.

I was at a house party with some friends, a lot of whom were prostitutes I knew but at parties you don’t talk about such things. I had one or ten too many shots and drink mixes and I had broken the seal so was going every 10 minutes on the regular. Getting in and out of the tight leather shorts with long fake nails on was a true challenge, let alone it was the first true night I’ve ever spent in heels and my feet were ready to be amputated.

After visiting the bathroom for the twentieth time my friend noticed one of my fake nails was gone. I wasn’t too mad about it, saying something like, “It probably came off when I was using the bathroom. Let’s do some shots.”

When I went to the bathroom next I scanned around the room hoping to  find it but when I couldn’t I just assumed it fell in the toilet or something.

The night continues for another couple hours. People (as in I) are starting to get drunk and rowdy and I remember seeing a hot shirtless guy dressed as Wolverine and I decide to take a running leap straight for him hoping he would catch me in his arms (like a true superhero). He does, and this is photo proof:

frank n firter 2

It’s not long before a friend and I take a taxi back to his place. In the taxi I got a message from this (very) hot guy I’d been chatting to online. We had been chatting for a while by that point but he was officially asking for me to come over to his place for the first time. I obviously wasn’t going to show up as the Dr, so I spent an hour at my friend’s house removing my makeup and rubbing my very sore feet (Umm ladies, why do you never talk about that phantom hole-in-the-ground feeling when you take off heels because its cool and really annoying?). To the best of my drunken ability I manage to take everything off and put on some respectable clothes.

A very short bus ride later and I’m at this guy’s house. To paint the only picture you need to know about how hot this guy was: he was an ex-Calvin Klein model. It’s really not that long before we are fooling around. He’s taking off his shirt and I’m wishing that I don’t have too take off mine after seeing his body.

We are completely naked on his bed and making out. His hand wanders south of the border. Suddenly he stops kissing me.

“What the fuck is that?” He says, pulling his hand away and kind of pushing me off him.

“What?” I asked, desperately trying to kiss him again.

He deflects my kiss and says, “You’re clean, right?”

I regret some of these next words but whatever. I say, “If you mean by STD’s yeah, if you mean by hygiene – probably not. I have just been wearing ten tons of makeup and was so sweaty all night.”

Yikes.

He replies, “Then what the fuck is that thing under your dick?”

Now I am terrified. What was under my dick!?

I sit up. I grab and lift and to my horror I see that SOMETHING RED AND HARD WAS ON MY DICK OH GAWD wait – phew – it was my missing fake nail. Explaining to this demigod why I had a fake nail stuck to my penis was probably funnier than this actual written story.

I want to end this by saying we still had sex (probably against his better judgement) and I went on to wear that same costume the next night for a halloween gay-club party that ends with me crawling on the ground, full costume, to puke in the toilet.

Classy and sassy.

 

I want to take this time to say that, as of this story I just told, I am going to continue to post stories on my blog. They will be related to The Truth but will carry their own names and won’t directly be about my life as a prostitute. I want to tell you the many funny and endearing stories and forget all the crap.

 

Thanks for reading Xxx

The Truth: Part 28

On vacation, Matt, Brendan, Nick and I got wasted and remained that way for three days. It started before we even left when Brendan, Nick and I took a few hits of crystal before starting our three hour road trip. We picked up Matt from his apartment and began the journey. During the road trip we blasted music through the car stereos and screamed the lyrics at the top of our lungs. Brendan was the only one with the vehicle, so he drove. We made a stop along the way at a Bed & Breakfast to go to the bathroom. The woman at the front desk had missing teeth, and the teeth she still had were shriveled and blackened.

We had agreed to bring weed down with us, courtesy of Ben who gave me some for free. Ben had learned that I liked smoking weed while having a cigarette at KC. He told me that he used to grow some plants. He offered to give me some for free to take with me on the vacation. I reluctantly accepted, hoping that he wouldn’t try and use this kindness as a quid-pro-quo for sex later.

When we had arrived at our destination, everyone except for Matt was desperate for another hit. Three hours in a car had us aching for more, but the three of us decided to keep it a secret from Matt all weekend so we weren’t able to smoke it in the car like we’d normally do. It was a really nice cabin; a perfect getaway. It was a two bedroom cabin with one bed per room, so Nick and I shared one bed and Brendan and Matt shared the other. Each bedroom has it’s own bathroom, there was a communal area in the front with a small kitchen, and the porch of our cabin overlooked the rolling hills of the Australian countryside.

We were hardly settled in the cabin before Nick came up to me and said, “Brendan and I are going to the bathroom in our room to smoke some tina. Can you distract Matt while we are doing it?”

“Well, I want some too.” I complained.

“Yeah that’s fine. We can’t all be in there at once so when I am done I’ll trade you places.”

“Ok, fine.”

I walked up to Matt and struck up a conversation with him in the communal area. It didn’t take long before he asked, “Where is Brendan and Nick?”

“I don’t know. I think they are in the bathroom doing their hair.”

“Again,” He rolled his eyes, “How much do they have to do their hair!”

“Oh you know them. I know, it’s super annoying.” I tried to relate.

“I think it’s a waste of time,” exclaimed Matt.

“What do you mean?” I asked. I sat down on a chair by a round table, he sat across from me.

“It doesn’t matter how hard they try, they still look like shit,” I let out a smile as Matt explained, “The more makeup they apply the more disgusting they look. Please never wear makeup.”

“I would never wear makeup, I think it looks terrible too.”

“Well so far they’ve influenced you to do other things…” Matt trailed off.

“Oh they didn’t influence me to do shit. I decided to smoke crack by myself.”

“You’re gonna get addicted,” He teased.

“No, I am not. It’s just something fun to do every once in awhile.” I got super defensive. I have it under control, I thought.

“Well when you do get addicted I’ll be the first one to say ‘I told you so’”, Matt laughed.

Nick walked in the room and I immediately got up and walked down the hall to the bedroom, saying something about how I had to ‘find’ something in my bag. I walked through the door, Brendan was sitting on the bed.

“Is it in the bathroom?” I asked, feeling myself getting anxious. I always got anxious before taking a hit.

Brendan spoke with a whisper, “No, it’s right here.” He lifted a small face-towel that was resting beside him, under it was the pipe. “Just do it here,” Brendan added, “The bathroom is too small anyway.”

I grabbed the pipe and felt my anxiety getting worse; I couldn’t wait to have some. I made a motion with my hand like I was sparking a lighter while saying, “Light?” Brendan reached in his coat pocket and pulled one out.

I was going to put the pipe to my mouth when Brendan said, “Will you just sit down,” He laughed, “You are way too impatient. Just calm down and chill out.”

“I am calm,” I defended myself as I sat on the bed.

“You’re looking so desperate for it. Just sit down and enjoy it.”

“Sorry,” I said. I waited a second before putting the pipe to my mouth and sparking the lighter. As I waited for the crystals to melt I said, “I told Matt that you and Nick were doing your hair.” Brendan let out an approving but uninterested grunt as the crystals melted and I started inhaling.

I heard someone walking down the hall, followed by Nick saying Matt’s name really loud. The door swung open as Matt walked in. He looked dumbfounded when he saw me with the pipe in my mouth.

“OH. MY. GOD.” Matt exclaimed, “You’re KIDDING me right?” I stopped inhaling and let out my smoke. Matt turned to Brendan, and then Nick. “I can’t fucking believe this!” Matt yelled. I could feel my face getting flushed. Matt leaned in close, “I knew you were addicted. So you guys planned on doing this all weekend and not tell me?”

“Of course,” Brendan said, “Because you get so fucking judgemental.”

“Yeah because it’s so bad,” Matt gasps, “And I hope you guys know that you got Cody addicted.”

I hated it when people would talk about me like I wasn’t there, so I spoke up, “I’m NOT addicted, Matt!”

“Well you could’ve fooled me,” He said while motioning to the crack pipe I was holding.

“We better not hear about this all weekend,” Nick rolled his eyes, “Just shut up about it.”

“I don’t want to be the only one that’s sober,” Matt whined.

“I brought some weed for you,” I voiced.

Matt uttered, “I don’t want to be the only one who is fucking stoned.”

“Well that’s your problem then,” Nick barked, “Not ours.”

Matt’s posture grew from rigid to soft, “What’s it like to be on crack?”

Brendan answered, “It’s just like being at one hundred percent. It’s not like being stoned or drunk, you just feel really good.”

I added, “It’s really hard to explain unless you try it.”

“Why,” asked Brendan, “Do you want some?”

Matt thought for a few seconds, “Maybe,” he said drawn-out.

“Oh come on, just do it,” Nick appealed.

“Yeah it’s not the bad,” I indicated towards the pipe. Matt looked at me while contemplating for a few seconds.

“Stop being a fucking cunt and just do it with us,” Brendan finally said, “It’ll be fun.”

“Ok… Ok fine I’ll try a LITTLE,” Matt gave in, “Only because you’re all doing it, so if I get addicted it’s your fault.”

“Yeah ok Matt,” Brendan rolled his eyes, “Whatever.”

I was surprised at how quickly Matt gave in to doing it.

We spent the whole vacation tweaked out on ice. On the last night we got stoned to help us sleep so we could feel refreshed for the drive back to Sydney in the morning. I adventured out into a field by myself, sat in the grass and looked up at the stars. There was hardly any light pollution so the sky was dotted with millions of crystal specks scattered across the deep purple night. I sat for an hour by myself, watching some kangaroos in the distance, listening to the animal calls of the Australian’ country. It was the first time I had been in the middle of nature by myself in a few months, so I took in the surroundings with serenity and breathed deeply. I was happy. Enormously so. I had the friend group I had always wanted. I was able to be myself around them and feel comfortable. We were having fun and trying new things.

At that point, coming to Australia was the best decision I ever made.

And then Scott came back early.

The Truth: Part 20

I didn’t sign up for this, I thought to myself as I throw food into Deniro’s food dish and quickly run away. I didn’t sign up to take care of that house or that dog. It was just my luck for such large responsibility to be thrown at me out of no where. I debated going home, abandoning the house and the dog and leaving it for Scott to take care of. For selfish reasons I was upset. I went to Australia to have a good time and travel, not be stuck wondering when my housemate was going to be out of hospital. Scott woke out of his coma and, through the large amounts of painkillers he was on, managed to tell me to remember to walk Deniro every day. I didn’t. I couldn’t. It affected my work and party schedule. Don’t get me wrong, I tried to do it every day. But here and there I would miss a day or two. I didn’t care for the demon dog, even though Deniro seemed to be warming up to me. To be honest, after the growling incident, Deniro scared me. Despite all this, I powered on. My good side got the best of me and I decided to help out this man I hardly knew.

Everyone at the brothel found out about Scott’s hospitalisation and they were all buzzing about it. Wild rumours were floating around, and all the talk was making me uncomfortable. Jake, the muscular guy I had a crush on, was in the boy’s room parading around being a cocky asshole. Sometimes he remained invisible in the corner and sometimes he demanded the room’s attention. For a good looking guy he had low self-esteem, a common pattern with the boys. Below his plastic shell there was a good guy, which is why I liked him. But on this particular night he really pissed me off. He was parading around, being nosy and loud, and he turns to me with a cocked smile and says, “So how’s Scott doing?”

“He’s doing ok, I guess.” I am hungover from the night before and laying on the couch.

He responds cheekily, “Now how the fuck did he get himself hit by a truck? It makes no sense!”

“I don’t know! Scott said it was nighttime and that the driver purposefully drove off the road to hit him and then drove away.”

“How fucking stupid is that? He should’ve jumped out of the way. If you are stupid enough to get hit by a truck then you deserve to be hit by a truck,” Jake laughs. The blood in my body starts to boil and I can feel my cheeks going red with anger.

“Just shut the fuck up, Jake,” I yell, sitting up.

“Look, you don’t have to get all bent out of shape. I am just saying it sounds pretty stupid to me.” Jake tries to hold back a devilish smile, obviously happy with my reaction. He now had the room’s attention and it was obvious he was enjoying it.

I angrily stand up and huff to the back of the room, slide open the sliding glass door and slam it behind me. I sit on the wooden slats in the smoking area and light a cigarette. I was shaking with anger, my cigarette trembling in my hands. For some reason I found myself searching the Internet on my phone for hit and run news stories in Cairns. My search results come up with nothing. I didn’t think much of it, I thought maybe the news outlets just didn’t cover the story.

That night I had an outcall way out in the suburbs. It was a $45 taxi ride out there, but Brendan promised to pick me up personally when I was done in exchange for the other $40 taxi-fare. Sometimes the boys with cars would drive you to your outcall in exchange for the amount you would’ve paid for a taxi. It was a good way for the boys to make extra cash, car permitting.

The man’s house was awkwardly bare. Nothing hung on the walls, the room was sparsely decorated. He was a nice client, but he made me uncomfortable with how much he talked about his kids. I gave him an hour long massage and my hands were really sore when it was done.

I waited outside for Brendan for 30 mins. He was supposed to meet me outside my clients’ apartment at 2 am when I was done, but after I called him to ask him where he was he said he was gonna be late and that Nick was with him. I could hear Nick cackling in the background as Brendan tried to hold his composure and tell me that he was gonna be 10 minutes late.

Half an hour later when Brendan finally arrived Nick unrolled the window and screamed, “Get in bitch!”

“Oh lord Jesus girl get in the car we going shopping!” Brendan yells.

I hop in the backseat and immediately feel the energy pouring off Nick and Brendan. Nick whips around in his seat with crazy enthusiasm and yells, “Security! This bitch has got to go!”

Brendan echoes, “He has got to go! Oh lord baby Jesus have mercy!” They both throw their heads back and howl in laughter. Once Brendan composes himself he starts driving and asks, “How was it?”

“It was good. Really easy, just mainly wanted a massage.”

“I’ve had him before. Isn’t his house so creepy? There is nothing in it. Bitch needs a painting or statue or something.”

“Really?” Nick asks with saucer eyes. Both of their enthusiasm seemed weird to me, it was something I hadn’t seen before.

“Yeah. And when I try to stick my dick in him he moves his hips around too much. It’s like, hello bitch just stand still, ok!?”

We all laugh, and I jokingly ask, “Oh my god what are you guys on?”

Nick quickly responds, “We aren’t on anything.”

Brendan adds, “You’re crazy babe.”

“Have you ever done drugs?” I ask, wondering why I had never asked before.

Nick and Brendan exchange glances. Nick says in response, “Umm yeah like every once in a while I will take a pill.”

“Oh lord Jesus!” Brendan yells out of no where.

Nick repeats louder, “OH LORD JESUS!” They both start laughing.

“Just don’t freak out about it,” Brendan tells me.

“Why would I freak out about you doing pills every now and then?”

Brendan is hesitant, but then says with a guilty smirk, “Because you’re a goody goody.”

“Oh lord Jesus!” Nick screams.

“Oh lord baby Jesus!” Brendan screams back.

And that’s how the rest of the drive goes until we get back to Nicks apartment and start drinking.

Partying became a full time endeavour. Every night after work Nick, Brendan, Matt and I would meet at someones apartment, pre-drink until 2 or 3 am, and then go out clubbing until the sun rose. It was now a ritual. One particular night we were pre-drinking at Nick’s apartment and I noticed something odd. I’d seen it before but not at this frequency. About every half an hour Nick and Brendan would go into Nick’s room for 15 minutes. I never normally paid attention to it because I thought they were going in there to fix their hair or to apply more makeup. Matt, who was sitting beside me, was obviously bothered by it. Matt yelled at them from the living room, “We all know what you are doing in there! We aren’t that stupid!”

I pondered what he meant, and I thought that maybe they were going in there to make out. I didn’t think that Nick and Brendan liked each other before, but it would explain why they would spend so long in there. It seemed desperate to me and foolish that they would try and hide it like that. They knew that Matt and I wouldn’t care. I would be happy for them to be together.

Matt broke my deep thought, “You do know what they are doing in there, right?”

“I… I think so.” I say, starting to feel foolish.

Matt says bluntly, “They are smoking crack.”

“Really?”

“Why else do you think they go in there alone so often?”

“I thought maybe they were doing their hair.”

Matt laughed mockingly at my hilarious innocence, “Oh my god! I know they do their hair a lot but that’s just dumb.”

“Well how was I supposed to know?”

“Yeah, you are pretty innocent.”

“How do you do crack?” I asked.

“You smoke it. Don’t tell me you want to try it.” Matt gazes at me with a dumbfounded expression.

“No I don’t, but I would like to watch Nick and Brendan do it. I’ve never seen how it’s done before.”

“That’s just weird. I would never do something as stupid as crack.”

Later that night Matt spends $400 on the pokies (slot machines). In one way or another everyone had their vices. Matt craved risk. Brendan craved adventure. Nick craved numbness. I craved the unknown. These mental cravings were manifesting themselves into physical ones. I thought mine had manifested in the form of becoming an escort, but little did I know I had a lot more coming.

 

The Truth: Part 19

One day in Koh Tao, Thailand, I was walking drunk back to my hotel late at night. Blaire and I just had partied and drank copious amount of cheap alcohol that mainly came in literal buckets. Blaire went to back to the Swedish guy’s hotel for what would end up being her missing for almost two days, later found out to be that she had two days of ‘fun’ with Mr. Sweden. It was a nice night, so instead of getting transportation to my hotel I decided to walk. It wasn’t that far of a walk to the other side of the island, the only pain was getting over the monstrous hill. The road was secluded and empty, houses turned to forest as I made my ascent. 

Up ahead I saw a dog, which wasn’t a rare sight on Koh Tao; there were wild dogs everywhere. The dog was sniffing the road, searching for garbage for scraps of food. I paid no attention to it and continued walking up the hill. The dog was joined by two more and they became conscious of my presence. I was only a few meters away when two more dogs ran out of the bushes to my left, stood in front of me and started growling. The three dogs up ahead barrel down the road towards me and stop just behind the two. Five altogether growling and barking. Aggressive and protective. 

One dog in particular, a brown male, stepped forward, teeth glistening in the moonlight. He growled deeply and would then bark while stamping his two front feet, slowly getting closer. I dared not to break eye contact as that has been known to spur on attacks. I had to confront the dogs head on. 

I debated calling for help, but knew that my yelling could initiate the attack and no one could get to me on time if they heard my cries. I took a step back, and the dogs would take three steps forward. It was an intimidation game. 

I started talking to them in a soothing voice. I put my hands out in front of me, I don’t really know why I did but it comforted me knowing my hands were between their mouths and my face. I slowly took a baby step forward. The dogs growled even harder simultaneously, but none of them stepped forward. I waited a few seconds, and then took another step, slowly going forward and veering to the right. My plan was to slowly inch my way around the dogs without breaking eye contact. I would step, they would growl, I would wait ten seconds, and then I would step again. We danced like this for the better part of half an hour before I was around the dogs and far enough away that slowly, one by one, the dogs lost interest and started scavenging around the road again. 

This is the tactic I had to use with Deniro. 

Step by step I managed to get back inside the house and shut the door. Once the door was closed Deniro turned back around and continued eating. There wasn’t anything I could do about it but tell Scott once I was at Knight Call. I gathered up the rest of my things and headed into the city. 

I told Robert the story once I got to the brothel and he chuckles, “That dog is gonna kill you when Scott is away.” 

I made Scott go into the smoking area with me, not wanting to make a scene about his dog with the boys around. 

“He did what?” Scott asked, seemingly surprised. I told him the story again and Scott says, “He’s never done something like that before.”

“I closed the door so Deniro is stuck outside right now.” I said. 

“Good. If he does that to you again when I’m away just keep him outside. He’ll learn his lesson.” 

Later that night when Scott and I got back inside the house Deniro was pacing back and forth outside whimpering. Scott opened the door and caught Deniro by the collar. 

“You be nice to Cody when I am away!” He yelled, “Understood?” He lets go and Deniro runs up the slight set of stairs and down the hallway. 

The next morning Scott left for the airport and I went to work. Nick and I were the only ones there from the friend group who were doing a daytime shift, along with a straight guy named Blake and a Brazilian named Carlos. Blake was an enigma. He said he was straight, yet he worked in a gay brothel. He was good looking, which didn’t seem to give him confidence as he bumbled around the brothel. In a way I felt bad for him. He never seemed to quite fit in with the brothel dynamics, everyone passing him off as some straight imbecile. In truth Blake had a good heart, and regardless of his questionable sexuality he was a nice person. Him and I became friends. Once you got to know him he was intelligent in his own way, and I think the hardships of being a straight man in a gay brothel affected him mentally beyond the point of repair. In reality is affected all of us boys permanently.  

I like to imagine that all of us boys ended up alright. As much as I know some of us have been damaged beyond repair, I have a glimmer of hope that we can all make it. Even the boys I hated, I wish them all the best of luck. I need to know that we can make it out alive. 

That night Scott calls me from Cairns and he is very drunk. He tells me over and over again that he loves me, and I can hear someone laughing in the background. He tells me that he had a sex dream about me.

“Sorry babe I am drunk,” Scott slurred. 

“It’s ok, it sounds like you’re having fun.”

“I am. I hope Deniro hasn’t been too much trouble.” 

“No, he’s been good so far.” 

“That’s good. I’ll talk to you soon. Love you.” 

I was very uncomfortable so all I said was, “Ok talk to you soon.” 

 A few days pass and I didn’t hear from him again until one day I was sitting alone in the smoking area and got a peculiar call from an odd number. 

“Hello,” I say with the phone to my ear. 
The man introduces himself and tells me that he is a friend of Scott. 

“I have some very bad news,” The man says, his voice dropping to express sympathy, “Scott was in a very bad car accident and won’t be going home anytime soon.” 

Stunned, I let out a with a bite, “What?” 

“He was hit by a car and has been in a coma for the past few days. He is in a Cairns hospital and has just woken up. He needed me to tell you that he won’t be able to go home for a few weeks, so you need to take care of Deniro and the house for him.” 

I was silent for a few seconds, “Ok.” 

“Save this number and call me if you need any help. Scott will be in contact with you once he feels better.” 

We ended the phone conversation and I sat by myself in the smoking area and finished my cigarette.