The So-called Boyfie | MewGulf ✔

Part 1 💖

His sketchbook lay almost forgotten as Gulf stared out at the white beach, hypnotized by the rhythm of the tide. He had been surfing that morning and the salt lay encrusted in his light brown hair. The tempting scent of bagels and fried eggs tempted him to move, but it was not enough motivation to get out of his screen in the porch bedroom.

His friend Saint had bought the expensive sea-side house after working a top-secret job that Gulf called the Big Secret. It was only a Big Secret from Gulf, but Gulf told himself he did not care. He loved the fact that Saint let him live with him for rent-free while he tried to sell his tee-shirts and painted seashells to tourists while he painted large canvases for rich clientele on the side. Once he made it big, he would pay Saint back for his generosity, and until that point, he bought the food and paid the electricity bills.

He stopped staring at the ocean when he realized that Saint was arguing with someone on the phone. Gulf swung out of the wicker basket chair that he had been zoning out in and followed the sound of Saint's voice.

"I told you, I can't do it anymore," Saint said. "No, it's not that I want more money. God knows you have given me enough, I just... I cannot do it anymore. I told you why earlier."

Saint turned around and blushed to see Gulf standing at the doorway of his porch bedroom, listening in on the phone conversation.

"Yeah, I'll find someone else for you. Let me ask around."

Gulf waited for Saint to hang up the phone. "I don't think that I've ever heard you yell at anyone," Gulf said, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

"He wants me to find him a boyfriend," Saint said.

"Are you a pimp now?" Gulf asked, secretly thrilled that he might be finding out about the Big Secret.

"I used to pretend to be this guy's boyfriend so that his client's wives would feel comfortable around him and not hit on him and ruin his business. He paid me well for it," Saint said.

"Why did you quit?" Gulf asked.

"There are reasons. You want to do it? He pays a hundred dollars an hour, plus tips if you have to touch him," Saint said. "We could call Tum, see if he wants to do it..."

"A C Note an hour? Plus, tips?" Gulf asked. How many tee-shirts would that print? "Fuck Tum, I'll do it..."

"It's kind of dangerous, Gulf, I shouldn't have offered it to you. You're still so innocent," Saint wrinkled his nose thinking about Gulf being exposed to the things that he had been exposed to.

"I could use the money," Gulf said, "and maybe I could even start paying rent. How many hours does he expect me to work?"

"You know, sometimes I was gone for a few hours, sometimes I was gone for a week or even that one time I was gone for an entire month..."

Gulf stared. "Why'd you only buy this house? You should be rolling in the cash..."

Saint steadied his gaze at Gulf. "I can't talk about that. Just know that I have a fairly good bank account balance."

Gulf nodded, a little surprised that his friend was rolling in the dough. "The government doesn't check on that?"

"Mew filled out paperwork claiming I was his secretary."

"Mew is the guy's name? Why can't he get a real boyfriend? Is he ugly?"

Saint laughed, a bitter sound. "I don't think he's gay, Gulf. He just wants someone with him so that he can do business."

"What business does he do?" Gulf asked.

Saint would not meet his eyes. "You don't need to know. It is lucrative. Other than that, look, do not stay with him long. Just help him out a few times until he finds someone permanent. And importantly do not fall in love with him."

Gulf snorted an inelegant sound that Saint wanted to laugh at. "I don't wear my heart on my sleeve, especially with some guy that I don't even know. Unless he is the most beautiful man on the planet, it's highly unlikely that I'm going to fall for him."

The look that Saint gave him at that declaration worried Gulf just a little bit. He shrugged it off, though. Saint was great looking, and Gulf still had not fallen for him even though they had lived together almost a year and a half now.

Saint called Mew back, telling him that his housemate would be taking the job and to be careful with him. He hung up the phone with a solemn face, staring at Gulf as if he were expecting him to do some sort of performance. "The helicopter will pick you up in only a few minutes. Brush your hair and your teeth and make sure you have your deodorant on..."

"What about my clothes?"

"He'll fix your clothing," Saint shrugged.

"He'll what?" Gulf started running to the bathroom, tying his hair back and brushing his teeth and washing his face. He winced at the salt granules falling out of his hair at that movement, but he was relatively clean as he stepped out of the bathroom to the rhythm of helicopter blades coming from the backyard.

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