I’m coming out of a different story and decide to walk back to the apartment down Santa Monica Boulevard. It’s nighttime, around 11 maybe. It’s warm outside of course. There’s a chest-high wall running along a section of the sidewalk, and I decide to sit on top of it and see if anyone will try to pick me up. I’ve seen guys loitering around it before. So I sit there and watch the cars go by. But since this is L.A., there isn’t any foot traffic. Then I notice a guy sitting on the opposite end of the wall, and we’re checking each other out. He’s incredibly hot, a lot cuter than the guy whose place I just left without sleeping with. He seems to have that kind of “ordinary guy” look. We sit there on opposite ends of the wall for awhile, and the cars go by but none of them stops. Then he stands up and walks over to me. He says hi, and he looks to be about my age, 23, or maybe a little younger. I say, hey. He says, so how’s business? And then I realize why he’s out here. I say, it’s pretty slow, and I’m playing it cool. He stands there and I’m still sitting on the wall and he basically tells me his story. His girlfriend doesn’t know he’s out here. They started out in Washington a few weeks ago and they’re heading south, to Mexico if they can make it. They’ve been taking the bus. But they’re kind of short on cash right now. They could use the money. So he’s going to work for a few hours tonight and hopefully they’ll get enough to tide them over. He thinks she probably does know what he’s out doing tonight, but she’s being considerate and didn’t bring it up. I ask where she is right now and he tells me about a little park over on Melrose. I know the park because I’ve driven by it a few times. It has some public tennis courts and a lawn and some low-lying trees, and that’s where she is. He tells me that it’s warm enough to sleep outside. I can’t remember whether or not I tell my own story but I think I do, at least part of it. That I’m from Chicago, and I’m out here working on a film, editing a documentary, that I just came from this guy’s place, down Santa Monica a-ways, and we didn’t have sex because I sort of got bored. That I’ve never turned tricks before. Well, I can’t remember if I tell him that part. But I do tell him that I wish I could help him out, I wish I could give him some money. And I take out my wallet and open it up and show him that it’s empty. I tell him that tomorrow morning it would be my honor to take him and his girlfriend out for breakfast. I ask him, how’s 9, I can just meet you at the park by the tennis courts, and he nods without smiling and says, thanks man, that would really be great, it’d help out a lot. And we talk for just a bit longer. And then he says, hey I should get back to work, and I say, no problem. Then I stick out my hand and he takes it and I reach for him and hug him, because I know I’ll never get another chance. He doesn’t act weird about it. I say, see you tomorrow, and he waves, and I start down Santa Monica again in the direction of La Brea. Later on when I get back to the apartment I ask Tchavdar, who I’m staying with, if I can borrow the car in the morning to go to breakfast, and he lets me. The next morning I get up and take a shower and get dressed, and I drive over to the park on Melrose and I’m there a little early. I don’t see him anywhere. I drive around some more and come back and drive around and come back, but even half an hour later he isn’t there. So eventually I turn the car around and go back to the apartment, and have a bowl of cereal. I never see him again.
