For Him

Chapter 3- Not Interested

MacLaren's Bar. Right at the corner of the street, a sunken in building made of red bricks that chipped away, with neon lights in the shape of a penis.

Wait, did I mention it was a gay bar? Yeah, that too.

I walked into the scene opening the green door, whose paint was peeling off, and embracing the harsh smell of dust mites and rosemary.

"Hey, Phil," I said, sitting on one of the stools.

"Hey. You want the usual?" Phil, the bartender, asked, even though he knew the answer.

"Yep...actually, make it two."

"Hard day?"

"You have no idea," I mumbled, picking up the drink that came in front of me. Sipping, I brought up my eyes and skimmed the room, looking for someone that might be interested.

Crying guy? Nope. Oncoming Therapy Session. Been there, done that. Man with The Situation in his pants? Ayyy, take it back to the Jersey Shore, huh?

Aha, wedding ring, Bullseye.

"See you later, Phil."

With a smug grin on my face, I pulled up a chair next to the man, leaning in close.

"Hey," I said, grabbing his attention and running with it. He looked up at me with wide eyes, and brushed his blonde hair out of his eyes.

"Can I help you?"

"Woah, feisty. I like it," I whispered, scooting closer. "Must be your first time at a bar like this..." I gestured to his hand and the shiny ring on his finger. "After like the fourth or fifth time of coming, your wife will be out the door, trust me!"

"No, I don't have a wi-" He started, clasping his hands together.

"Listen. Give me two hours and $300, and I'm gonna rock your world. It'll totally be worth it."

"I'm really not interested."

And then I was airborne. A tattooed hand was clasped around my collar bringing me out of my chair in a second. My arms flailed out at either side, shaking and looking for something to grab onto.

"He's not interested," the chunk of beef said, staring me down through his one eye that was showing, without the eyepatch. Aye-aye, Captain.

"And who are you?" I managed to force out, immediately regretting everything I said.

"I'm his husband."

Fuck.

~~~

"I can't believe you did that," Blaine said, sighing and gently running his fingers over the bruises.

"I'm not very good at this whole prostitution thing...I mean, I am in bed but not so much in luring them in," I mumbled, wincing. "And I didn't know that that guy was married to Polyphemus the fucking cyclops!"

"You have to be more careful next time, Kurt."

"Okay, mom..."

"I'm serious!" He yelled, taking his hands away and crossing his arms. "What if you got it worse? We both know that you can't afford going to the hospital."

It was quiet for a while. I leaned my head on his shoulder, and held his hands in mine. Dried blood was on my palms, but Blaine didn't mind.

"You would have paid for it anyways," I whispered, knowing it was true.

I didn't even have to look at him to know that he had a half smile plastered on his face. "Of course."

"Thank you. For everything. I don't say that enough."

"You would do the same thing for me." Blaine said in a low voice. "Love you, best friend."

"Love you too."