Chapter 7- The Donor

Eriq

I sit naked, my balls freezing as this man pays me to pose for him. How are we in the same profession, but he can pay someone while I can barely afford rent?

 “Higher, lift your leg higher,” Pavlo instructs me.

 “This is the highest it can go, Pavlo,” I tell him. He scowls, gets up and walks over to me then leans in.

“Hey, hey, no touching,” I remind him.

He smirks. “Having fantasies about me, Enrique.”

“It’s Eriq, asshole; you’re the one paying me to look at my ass,” I glare at him.

“True, your body is a work of art. Now spread it wider,” 

“This doesn’t feel right; I already feel a cold draft on my balls,” I tell him.

 “And what Magnifique balls they are,” Pavlo says.

I want to punch him in his face, but I’m two months behind on rent, my paintings aren’t selling, and I don’t want to ask my parents for money again. So I clench my fist but follow his instructions. He nods, then returns to his seat and continues to paint. Another hour of torture, then we’re done.

  “Splendid!” he exclaims finally an hour later. Relief fills me as I quickly get dressed. I head back to him as he stands before the painting, examining it.

"You're good," I say as I examine it myself.

"Of course, I am the best with the body." He says as he grabs my shoulder. I shift out of his grasp.

I should get going," He nods and hands me a check for $500. Two hours of posing for $500? Not bad, even if I had to pose for this creep.

 “Any other painting jobs, Pavlo?” I inquire.

He purses his lips. “Not right now, no...”I nod, disappointed, and turn to leave.

 “I am looking for a pool boy with benefits, though.”

 “F**k you!” I yell at him without looking back.

  “That was just an idea,” he adds. I slam the door on my way out as if I would plow him for cash. I’m not homophobic, but I’m not into men, and even if I was, prostitution isn’t my style. I walk out of his building and head to my bike. I ride the short trip home.

I park my bike, then jog upstairs. I look at my door for an eviction notice but find none. I haven’t paid rent in two months, yet I haven’t received a letter or a phone call. Is the owner so wealthy they don’t miss the money or dead? Either way, this means I can get some food and buy a couple of art supplies. I drop my keys and head straight to my art studio. Posing for Pavlo made me want to paint.

I take off my shirt and walk to the easel to work on my latest piece. I paint for about five minutes when I hear a loud bang outside, then car horns. I grab my shirt and run through the door. Once I run down the steps, I see a car lodged into the side of the house. I scan the front, my bike, where’s my bike? I start to panic looking everywhere for it, but it’s nowhere in sight. I begin to fear the worse as I hurry in front of the car. Sure enough, my bike is lodged under it. 

“F**k!” I shout, kicking the car

“Hey, watch it,” the driver tells me.

 “You better fix my fucking bike, or so help me; I’m going to beat the shit out of you.” I storm over to him.

“Oh no, I feel faint; where’s the ambulance?” He cowers away.

 “Fucking coward,” I mumble, marching back my bike. I pull it out from the rubble. Okay, so it’s not so bad, maybe it won’t be expensive to fix. I sigh, hopeful I won’t have to find thousands of dollars to fix it.

*****

“Five thousand dollars,” I repeat the price on the invoice. 

 “What, you can’t be serious, Vin?” I scream as I follow him.

Look, the bike is almost totaled; it will take a lot of work,” Vincent explains.

“Vin, we’re family,” I tell him.

 “We’re friends, and it’s because we’re friends I’m giving you the lowest price. That's just for parts, no labor,” 

 “I bought it for Ten thousand.”

“Well, you’ll need another 5 to fix it, or you can say goodbye,”  I sigh, running my hands through my hair. The bike is special to me; it’s the first thing I bought with the first significant painting I sold. I’ve had it for five years. It represents my independence that my work is valid. I can’t part with it now.

“I’ll get the money.”

“I’m sorry, Eriq,” he tells me.

“Not your fault, Vin. I’m the idiot, didn’t collect the insurance information for that jerk.”He pats my back and walks away. I groan, looking at the bike. Where the hell am I going to get five thousand dollars?

****

Thirty minutes later, I take a cab back to my place. I jog up the steps and see someone standing at my door.

 “Hey”

   “What are you doing here, Glen?” I scowl as I push the key in the door.

“It’s been a year,” he answers.

 “Oh, is a year the timeframe to forgive your best friend for fucking your woman? Guess what, it’s still f**k you.” I unlock the door and push it open.

 “Man, I’m sorry. You can’t throw away 25 years of friendship for that woman,” he replies.

 “It’s not about her; it was never about her, Glen; it’s about you. Why would I trust a friend who would do shit like that behind my back?” I tell him.

“You’re supposed to have my back Glen; I would have done anything for you.”

“I would, too,” he responds.

 “Top on your list is taking my place in her bed,” I walk in and slam the door shut.

“Come to one, Eriq; we have to get past this,” I frown. 

Like heck we do. I take off my shoes, walk to the kitchen and grab a beer. Then plop down on the sofa; he’s still outside talking.

“I hear your bike was totaled.” Of course, he heard about my bike the same way he has my new address; those people can never keep their mouths shut.

“I have an idea where you can get the cash,” he continues.

My hand stops midair as I hear those words. Can he get me the cash? Where? I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t say anything else. I jump up and run to the door, hoping to catch him. But he’s still standing at the door; his face has his signature goofy grin.

"I knew that would do it.”

 “Whatever dickweed, you said you had away to get me the cash? What is it? I hope it isn’t illegal; I have enough fucking problems,” I tell him.

“It’s one hundred percent legal and has gotten me out of a couple of tight situations when I was cash strapped,” he assures me.

I look at him confused; what the hell could he be talking about? He reaches into his pockets and hands me a piece of paper. I take it a reach the first two words.

“Sperm donation?!”