Page 11 of Benji

Hm.

I wasn’t sure I totally believed that, but I really had no clue about the politics on territory for sex workers. Maybe there was truth in it.

“All you need to know is that it’s not drug related because we don’t do that shit. We’re rent boys, not mules or users.” He shrugged. “Our world is hard enough without that shit.”

I dropped it then because he was right.

Their worldwashard enough, and I had no clue about the actual reality they lived every day.

As I pulled into the underground parking of my very nice apartment complex, amidst the other expensive cars, it was very apparent that I lived in a different world than these boys.

“You don’t seem to have any problem with us being rent boys though,” Fitch said as I shut off the engine.

“Why would I?”

“Most people do,” he said simply. “They look down at us, or worse, just pretend we don’t even exist. But not you.”

“I see all people,” I said with a shrug. “As people. I don’t know the first thing about how or why people end up where they end up, and that’s not for me to judge.”

God, if my job taught me anything, it was that.

“Everyone’s just trying to get by, doing what they have to do,” I added, which felt contrite, given it was much easier to ‘get by’ in an expensive car and luxury apartment than it was for Fitch and Benji. “I value human beings and their right to be treated with respect.”

Fitch snorted and rolled his eyes. “Jesus, you’re a Disney prince.” He took the backpack and got out of my car. “Remember my offer. You want to hit me with your car anytime, my offer stands.”

Good lord.

“I’d rather not, but thanks.”

He went to the front of the car while I grabbed the groceries. “There’s not even a bump or a dent. Are you sure you hit him?”

I looked around, grateful we were alone. “Yes,” I hissed at him. “But it was more of a bump and him fallingback. If I’d hit him hard, he’d have broken legs and a head wound.”

“True.” Fitch slung the backpack over his shoulder and took a bag of groceries from me. “Anyway, let’s go see how my favourite boy is.”

“Favourite, huh?”

“One of them. Ky’s my other favourite. He was still asleep when I went back home. As long as I know we’re all safe, I’m good.”

I hit the elevator button. “The three of you stick together, huh?”

“Always.”

That was all he said until we walked into my apartment. Benji was lying on the sofa, cleaned up, his washed hair in damp curls, and wearing my clothes.

He looked brand new.

He sat up with a wince, and Fitch threw his backpack to him. “Grabbed you a few things. You’ll have to let me know if you need anything else and I’ll bring it over during the week.”

I had to stop myself from saying I could buy him whatever he needed. I wasn’t entirely sure why I was offering as much as I was, but they had so little—dirty clothes, worn shoes, a stained backpack—and I had more than enough to help them.

They fell into a quiet conversation and I unpacked the groceries, bringing over the few non-food things Fitch had thrown into the basket. Deodorant, toothpaste, soap, razors, a pack of underwear, and some socks, plus the phone charger. It was all stuff he’d takehome with him in a week’s time, but that was okay too.

I made two sandwiches, packed with ham and salad, and set them on the coffee table before them. I could guess that Fitch probably hadn’t eaten in a while from the way he inhaled his sandwich.

“Well, I should get going,” Fitch said eventually. “I have things to do before work tonight.”

“Check in with me,” Benji said. “No matter what time. Just let me know you’re okay. And Ky too. I’m still around if you need.”