Page 4 of Knox's Boy

He nodded toward the envelope. "Consider it compensation for meeting me today. And a practical measure, I expect you'll take a taxi tomorrow. The neighborhood isn't pedestrian-friendly after dark."

And then, he was gone. He walked out of the coffee shop without looking back.

I sat there for a long time, my hand trembling as I reached for the envelope. It felt heavy. I peeked inside. A stack of bills stared back at me, clean, crisp hundreds. It was exactly half the sum we had discussed for the full night. He had given it to me for five minutes of conversation and a cup of coffee.

There were no strings. I could take this money, pay my rent, and ghost him. I could delete my profile and never think about Knox or his charcoal suit again. He wouldn't chase me; men like him didn't chase.

But as I watched the empty doorway where he had vanished, my heart racing a mile a minute, I knew I wouldn't run. The fear was there, cold, but beneath it was something else. A pull. I had never felt like that before. And I knew he knew it too. He knew I wouldn’t run.

I shoved the envelope into my pocket, keeping my hand over it. My head was spinning, dizzy with the sudden shift in my reality. I took a sip of the chocolate he’d bought me. It was perfect. Strong, dark, and hot enough to burn.

Chapter 3. Florian

The scanner beeped a robotic chirp directly into my temples. BEEP. A carton of milk. BEEP. Frozen peas. BEEP. A gossip magazine promising that celebrities were just like us, except they weren't scanning groceries for minimum wage.

I bet Knox never scanned groceries for minimum wage. I bet he didn’t even know how much minimum wage was.

My fingers moved on autopilot, sliding items across the glass while my mind replayed the scene in the coffee shop for the hundredth time. The weight of the envelope in my back pocket felt almost hot against my skin, a constant reminder. I didn't want to leave it at home; however dangerous it was to walk around with this much cash. My house wasn't exactly the safest place in the world, not in a neighborhood like that. At least, that’s what I told myself to convince myself to not leave it behind. I didn’t want to leave his card either. I kept touching it every five minutes to believe it was real.

And I wanted to show them to Luna, the card and the envelope. Not to brag, but just so she could understand what was happening. I had checked them both three times in the employee bathroom, thumbing the edges of the bills just to make sure they hadn't turned into monopoly money or ash, and running my fingers on Robert Knox’s name.

"That'll be forty-two fifty," I muttered. The shift had been dragging since I clocked in, each minute stretching.

"Earth to Florian."

A hand waved in front of my face, fingernails painted with chipped black polish and silver rings. I blinked, the grocery store hazing back into focus.

Luna stood there. She was color in the beige uniform. Her blue hair was pulled into a messy bun with a single chopstick. Her round wire-rimmed glasses had slid down her nose, and she peered over them with that teacher look: half concern, half lecture.

She could be a Domme, if she ever got into kink.

"Hey," I breathed, happy to see her. She was my best, and truth be told, only friend in the real world. I had my online BDSM communities, and I kept in touch messaging old friends, but it wasn’t the same. "What are you doing here?"

"Rescuing you," she said, leaning over the counter. She smelled weirdly like dryer sheets. It was good and unique. “Mark is in the office yelling at corporate on the phone. We have ten minutes. Come on.”

She didn't wait for an answer. She grabbed my wrist, her grip surprisingly strong, and towed me away from the register. Wewere both almost the same height, but she could beat me up in a fight, I was sure of it.

We ducked into the storage room, the heavy door swinging shut and cutting off the store. The space was cramped by stacks of cardboard boxes and crates of soda. The air here was cooler, smelling of cardboard. Luna hopped onto a crate of paper towels, her legs swinging.

"Okay, spill," she demanded, pushing her glasses up her nose. "You've been buzzing with anxiety all day. Did Finn call again? Or is this about the eviction notice? Or some boy?"

I leaned against a pallet of bottled water, crossing my arms over my chest to keep my hands from fidgeting. I hesitated. Telling Luna made it real, but I really needed to do it; I wanted to do it. It opened the door to her judgment, which, while always well-intentioned, could be blistering. But keeping it inside was making me nauseous. I needed someone to verify that I wasn't hallucinating. I needed someone to be my safety net, even though it was a very fragile and frayed net.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the envelope. I held it out to her without a word.

Luna frowned, hopping down from the crate. She took the envelope, her brow furrowing as she peeked inside. Her eyes went wide behind the lenses. She looked up at me, then back at the cash, flipping through the bills.

"Florian," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Did you rob the register? Because I love you, but I can't be an accessory. I have bills."

"No," I said, a hysterical little laugh bubbling up. "I met someone. Or… I’m going to meet someone." I fished the businesscard out next, the card smooth under my thumb. I handed it to her.

"Robert Knox," she read aloud. "CEO. Very fancy address. Florian, where did you meet a CEO who hands out cash in plain envelopes?"

"On an app," I admitted, looking at my sneakers. "The one for… arrangements. Remember how you told me about that friend of yours...? It’s his real name as well. He said he never lied about these things."

Luna went quiet. I expected her to yell. I expected her to tell me I was stupid, that I was selling myself, that I was desperate.

Instead, she pulled out her phone. The case was covered in stickers of Korean idols, their perfect faces smiling up at us. Her thumbs flew across the screen.