Tabula Colton

Chapter 2- Mr. Takada

He pulled the Lexus into the valet and told me to stay put. He jumped out and ran around to the other side as the valet opened my door. The valet guy was this latino kid, maybe 20 years old.

"Welcome sir," he said to me in a monotone, robotic voice.

His eyes looked at me with judgement like he knew what this looked like - A young twinkie guy with an older man in an expensive suit. His smirk said he knew I was a rent boy who gave it up for money. I turned my face in disgust.

"I'll get him. He's injured," the man said and tossed the valet the keys.

He leaned down and tried to pick me up, but I swatted him away.

"I can do it," I said. I stretched one foot outside the car and the huge bruise on my thigh protested.

"Ahhh no!" I hissed through gritted teeth.

I'd endured much worse pain in my life, but this kid's body was weak. The man just shook his head with a little laugh. He slid one arm under my thighs and the other behind my back. He lifted me out like a groom carrying his bride. I was in too much pain to argue.

"Bring the bags up to 2112. There's an extra tip if you can do it quickly. He needs his meds," the man said to the valet.

"Yes sir, of course!" The valet said happily. He closed the passenger door, hopped in the driver's seat and peeled out quickly.

"He looked at me like some kind of street hustler trash. Did you see that? I shoulda kicked him. Put me down. I can walk," I growled to the man.

He ignored me and went through the sliding glass doors of the hotel lobby. This was West Hollywood so the sight of a man carrying another man wasn't exactly eyebrow raising.

"Settle down, angry baby. You'll be in bed soon," the man said as he made his way to the elevator. The concierge ran out from behind the front desk and quickly pushed the button to call the elevator.

"Mr. Takada! I'm so glad he was ok and you could bring him home! Poor kid!" The concierge bustled with feigned joy.

He hopped into the elevator with us and pressed the top floor then wished us a good night.

"Takada? Is that italian?" I asked when the doors closed. He made no moves to set me on my feet. He just looked down at me with a wink.

"Japanese. My father's father was from Japan, his mother from Denmark. My mother was Malaysian." Mr. Takada smiled.

I'd found one small piece of the puzzle. He seemed intent on making me work for the rest.

"That's pretty mixed up. I'm just Mexican, all the way back," I laughed.

My body was relaxing into his arms and I felt warmed by his chest. I felt like I was fighting Colton at every turn. The boy obviously craved what Mr. Takada gave him. I realized my arm didn't even hurt as it nestled in against the man's strong pecs.

"You are so not Mexican! Not even Latino! You're a very white boy from Utah," Mr. Takada laughed.

"Utah? Nah, Chief! I've never even been past Vegas," I said as the elevator doors opened to our floor.

He chuckled at that. 

He got to the door of our room and looked like he was trying to decide how to get the key out to open the door.

"Seriously, you can put me down," I offered, but then the elevator dinged behind us and the valet came in from parking the car.

"Let me, sir!" He said and ran over towards us carrying the bags from the car. He took out a keycard from his pocket and swiped to open our door.