I met my first and only male escort the last time I lived in Richmond. Actually, I take that back, because I’ve probably met plenty along the way and not realized it, just as you have. Brooks Parker was just the only one that I made my friend.
He responded to one of my accounts and asked me if I wanted to work together. Brooks also told me that he worked for Citigroup.
“Can you get me out of the ten grand I owe them?“.
He laughed and told me no.
Brooks also took classes at VCU and had just turned 21. He reminded me of me three years prior, especially when he showed up at my house in a new BMW. Brooks didn’t hate his life yet. Didn’t know that having unlimited access to cash wasn’t worth spending all of your time with people you couldn’t stand. The only weird thing about him was that he wasn’t addicted to drugs.
“But you use to be right?”
“No, my dad died of a heroin overdose”
Interesting, and sad of course, but very interesting . I guess he just liked money, which obviously wasn’t a bad quality, especially in someone with the motivation to do something about it. Nothing screams lazy like a beautiful person who sits around whining about not having any cash.
We only did one job together because his schedule was crazy, and I’d started sleeping 20 hours a day again. Brooks and I did start hanging out though. It was like when I met Mitra, but different because I had to hide my drug use.
He told me he had a girlfriend, and showed me a picture of a beautiful blonde on his Iphone. We hooked up a number of times, and it was memorable enough to where I sometimes still think about it.
He came over once after drinking at a Christmas party and complained about his younger sisters and getting passed over for a promotion at work. Brooks also hated the clients who wanted to hangout after hooking up. The ones who wanted him to sell his BMW if he was in such dire ‘financial straights’.
“That’s how its always going to be man. It took Pete three years to say ‘so you just want me for my money?’ When people fall in love with you, it’s hard to see what’s right in front of them. And with you, that’s probably going to happen a lot”.
I moved out of Richmond for the last time a month after said conversation. I often think of people from my past, but rarely do I wish them well. I sincerely hope that Brooks is doing well. The only problem is that I can never picture what that looks like for him.
He would be in his mid-twenties by now, and I’d like to say he’s not as lost as I was at that age, but I’d probably be wrong. I bet he still works for the bank. I bet he still sleeps with men for obscene amounts of cash. Both those jobs are hard to give up.
I bet he has a newer BMW, or maybe he went with a Mercedes this time. I bet he hasn’t finished school yet, and I bet his girlfriend knows nothing about him.
I hope that he at least made another friend like me. Someone who knows all the dark shit and still wants to hangout. Someone who knows what he’s talking about, even when he doesn’t make any sense.