The City of Rossford

“When silly people come to me asking about finding the love of their life, or getting more money, then it’s twenty to fifty dollars,” Caroline said. “But for you, my sister, it is urgent.”

When she said ‘my sister’ Layla trembled. She and Brendan sat with Caroline about a round table that was covered in a shimmering cloth, and the light of the squat ivory colored candle glowing on Caroline’s face while she turned over the large, felt backed cards.

“These three in the middle are all from the Major Arcana. I don’t expect you to know what that is, and it doesn’t really matter. Death, the Wheel of Fortune, the Fool. At your base, the Nine of Swords, this woman weeping by herself in the night. Above it, the Ten of Cups. See this rainbow above them. Now… these last four, this little path right here? The High Priestess, the Eight of Cups, the Queen of Cups. And see, the Four of Cups. And notice on the other side is the seven of Cups. And notice how in both of those a cup is veiled, one isn’t being seen. Pay attention to that, Layla.

“Death is an end. The Fool is a beginning. They are tied together. The Fool doesn’t know what she’s doing, doesn’t look good on paper, so to speak, doesn’t have much of a plan. All she knows is it’s time to start over. And look, the Eight of Cups. The same thing. It is one walking away from the past, even though it seems much too late to walk away from it. Even though it seems like nothing new could or should happen, she walks away. And the High Priestess, the deep Virgin Wisdom. That’s you. That’s you and all your good sense, you and the intuition, the wisdom you forgot you had, that never steers people wrong, that doesn’t steer you wrong when you listen to it. See, he knows.”

Beside her Brendan nodded appreciatively at Layla.

“She always knows,” he said.

“But the Four of Cups and the Seven. They mean a gift you didn’t know you had. They mean a destiny you never looked at. They means gifts you never though about. They mean that so much is in front of your face.”

As they left the store and night was drawing on, Caroline clasped Layla’s hand.

“It is not given to me to know things I shouldn’t, things precious to others,” she said. “And your business is your own. But I feel that there is a thing you have to tell me, but are not ready to tell me yet.” Caroline frowned. “I don’t know why. But… when it is time, come to me. Come to me before it is time. Come to me often, Layla. And you too,” she added to Brendan.

“We are the same thing,” she said.

She smiled, and bid them good night.

“So this is where you live,” Sheridan said, walking around the cluttered apartment. “This is where the magic happens.”

“No magic happens here,” Logan chuckled.

The apartment was reached by a rickety stair, and it stood over an old bait shop on the east end of town. It was distinctly unlived in, a place where clothes and magazines were scattered and half attempts at decorating and arranging second hand furniture had been made.

“This is the place where I crash,” Logan told him, falling on the collapsed sofa. “And then the fucked up thing is I crash, wake up and start all over again. I heard this prostitute once say she did what she did because she was… how did she put it? ‘Fundamentally lazy.’ I feel like being a normal person would be so much less work.”

“Did you ever think about it?” Sheridan asked, sitting beside him. “Woah, this seat is low.”

“Right?” Logan chuckled. “Springs are shot. I swear, I’m going to get a new sofa one day soon.

“Did I ever think about a normal life?”

“I mean,” Sheridan said, “I always wanted to know how people get into something like this.”

“Were you thinking about doing it too?’

And then Logan said, “Sorry, I’m being a smart ass.”

He was reflective. Quiet a moment.

“It’s a fair question,” Logan admitted.

“I… let’s see. I stripped as soon as I was legal. I was a dancer at a club. There are like a hundred worse things you can be. It was odd at first, but someone told me I might be good at it. That was a high. I mean, I’d seen male strippers, and the idea that I could be one was kind of neat. And you know, it doesn’t matter what you look like in high school, it’s just not great to be gay. You never exactly feel attractive. So, here I am, taking my clothes off, and for the first time I actually do feel wanted. By women, by men. By men, that’s the real thing. And one night, in this club someone tells me, well, maybe you might like to make videos, be a model online. They don’t really just break out and say, ‘hey you wanna do porn?’ I’m thinking, sure I could do that. Why couldn’t I?

“I go down to Florida, not California. And I do this really sexy shoot. It’s sexier and sexier. Start in your underwear, and then you’re showering and touching yourself. Sometimes you use sex toys. Somewhere along the line you’re masturbating. You keep sort of… being edged closer to doing something different, pushing the line. And you feel nervous, but you sort of want to cross that line. Before I know it I’m fucking myself with dildos and stroking my dick on camera, and I’m a hot new thing. Well, it’s only a skip and a jump away from would I like to be jacked off by another guy on camera or… you learn you get more money for blowing a guy. Well, he’s a hot guy, like you. Not like the hillbillies you knew who treated you so badly. Before you know it, you’re doing porn. And, well, the money gets better and better. I know that sounds odd to you, Sher. But it’s step by step and then it doesn’t feel weird anymore.”

“The escort thing?” Sheridan said.

“How did I start?”

“Yeah.”

Logan made a loop with his finger and said, “Well, now that’s the other way around. Almost a one-eighty.”

He looked at Sheridan.

“You’re actually listening.”

“Of course I am.”

“People never want to know this shit. People never… I don’t encourage it,” Logan said.

“I don’t understand.”

“I mean, I don’t encourage people knowing about me. Logan who lives here is separate from Logan who does what I do. My clients and stuff, they don’t ask about how I ended up here. They don’t ask about my… aspirations or any of that. They don’t know, and they don’t want to know. And I don’t want them to know.”

“But I’m not a client.”

“I know,” Logan said. “But… I don’t really have anyone who would want to know that much about me is all. You know?”

Sheridan didn’t know, but he was starting to. He nodded.

“Extra money is good, and the whole thing about being an escort was its less work than films. I mean you get more sex work, but you have to prepare for it less. I’m not like a high price whore, not most of the time. I don’t have to wax and trim and all of that like I might have to do for a movie. I just show up like this,” Logan held out his tattooed arms, “except with a shower. And I get paid. There’s no camera, no lights. And it is far easier to be what your parents would die if they knew you were. They think it’s so humiliating, but they don’t really know what they’re talking about.”

“Then I could do it.”

Logan looked at him sharply.

“I mean… “ Sheridan shook his head. “I don’t know what I mean. I mean, I’d be afraid to, but you make it look so exciting. You’re so… You’re good. You’re cool. But… And so is Casey. But, I’d be afraid. I mean… I’m stupid. We should go to dinner. I shouldn’t have gotten nosey. I thought I understood. I’m a dumb kid. I’m dumb.”

“No, you’re not, Sheridan.”

Sheridan was quiet.

“The truth is the one thing we all have in common is we are on the edge. Playing with fire. It’s fire. Everything we’re doing is… precarious. I’m not afraid of getting a disease. I’m safe. I’ve always been safe. I used to be afraid of getting killed or something, being attacked. Or maybe becoming a drug addict. Half of Casey’s guys are fucked up. But these days that is not what I’m afraid of. Do you want to know what I’m afraid of?”

“Sure,” Sheridan said, and instantly thought he sounded stupid.

“Casey had a guy, years ago. And he loved him. And they couldn’t make it work out. It was either the porn or the guy, and Casey chose porn. And now I wonder if he’s really going to ever have anyone. And I see all these guys and… it’s like everyone is such a romantic. We’re all thinking about falling in love and none of us seems to be able to hold onto a boyfriend because no matter what he says when he meets us, he thinks we’re going to give it up, but we can’t give it up. And you lose your boyfriends. You lose your real friends. You lose your life. Nothing belongs to you. I used to be afraid I’d lose my soul or something. I’d be this jaded soulless creature, but that’s not true. I think a lot of us try to lose our souls. We try real hard, but they keep coming back and… I have a soul, Sher. I have so much soul. And it doesn’t own anything. Everything I do is fake. Everything is. I just…”

Sheridan was very quiet while Logan fumbled with words.

“I just want to kiss somebody with the camera turned away. I want something that’s mine.”

“Well, then kiss me.”

“There’s so much in my head, and I’m not explaining it very well. And…”

“Kiss me,” Sheridan said again.

And then Logan said, “Alright.”

And he did, and Sheridan felt Logan’s mouth against his, and the strength of Logan’s body was against him. It felt so good, and he pulled Logan’s face down, and Logan’s body was over him, and his tongue was in Logan’s mouth. He was tasting his mouth, and his hands were under Logan’s shirt, and he was pulling his body to him.

“Sheridan,” Logan said, his voice partially muffled, trying to pull away.

“No,” Sheridan pulled Logan to him.

They were twisted together, and they fell off the sofa, Logan bumping into the little coffee table.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” Logan said, hitting his knee.

Sheridan took him by the hand and went into the bedroom. Pulling his face down, he started kissing him again.

He reached for Logan’s belt.

“Hey!” Logan said.

“Hey what?” Sheridan shook his head, dazed.

“Sheridan,” Logan said in a serious tone.

“Come on,” Sheridan said.

Logan shook his head, looking a little lost. It was dark and Sheridan had a hard time making out his features.

Sheridan unbuckled his jeans, and then Logan leaned forward and kissed him again. He let Sheridan pull down his jeans. He didn’t have on any underwear. Sheridan opened his legs for Logan and let Logan position him. Sheridan heard the tearing of a condom wrapper, and then there was something else, and then he gasped as a slick finger entered him. Logan’s mouth was on him, and then they were both pulling off each other’s clothes, and they were together. Logan smelled like stale sweat, but he also held that old familiar smell, and then Sheridan gasped.

“Is it alright?” Logan’s voice was panicked. “Is it alright?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Sheridan said. “Not really.”

“It’s not supposed to,” Logan’s voice was shallow and desperate. Sheridan wanted to say something to him. He wanted to shout out something about I love you I love you, or… but it was more than that. He wanted to be so close, and then it all went out of his head as, with a groan, Logan went deeper inside of him, slowly, thickly, stretching, filling him with the solidness of his cock, and then Logan was moving in him, gently, and he was clinging to Logan’s back, and neither one of them was saying anything. All there was was this being opened, this being the thing filled. All there was was Logan’s waist between his thighs, Logan’s mouth on his, Logan’s body pressed to his.

The mattress and the bedsheets above him, Logan’s body pressed to him, Logan’s cock inside of him, the creaking of the bed, the pressing of their bodies together, Sheridan was aware of everything. Every part of this was its own little eternity. Logan’s mouth on his was a forever, his moaning was a forever, Logan’s hands clasped in his as they held each others hands was another universe.

“I…” Logan’s voice came out in pants. “I’m about to come…” His voice was tender.

Sheridan didn’t say anything. He had become something. He had become what he never was with a girl. What he hadn’t been with Chay. He was this giving, open thing. He was this thing open to Logan, whom he loved even if he didn’t dare say it.

“I’m about to come,” Logan whispered again. And Sheridan’s hands stroked his hair, stroked his back, and then Logan let out a shout. He moaned, and his body twisted and shook. He emptied himself, trembling for a long time, and then together, panting, in the darkness of the bedoom, they lay silent.