Page 9 of Benji

But Fitch was right, again. Maybe a week here in this luxury apartment with the hot-as-fuck rich guy wouldn’t be so bad. He was even gonna cover my rent. If it made him feel less guilty, then I wasn’t gonna say no.

THREE

NOLAN

The offerfor Benji was out of my mouth before I had time to stop it. He couldn’t work, which was my fault, and to think he could lose his apartment? Covering his weeks’ rent, from what I gathered by his shithole-apartment comment and the fact it sounded as if he shared with Fitch and someone called Ky, couldn’t have been more than a hundred bucks. Maybe two. I’d spent more than that on a bottle of whisky...

The fact he was hiding from someone was probably something I should have delved into a little deeper before offering him to stay at my place. But I could only imagine the kinds of thugs on the streets who tried to squeeze money or favours out of sex workers...

Or drugs.

Oh shit.

“Uh,” I said. “Just some ground rules though. I should have said this first. No drugs, no clients, nothing illegal, and you don’t share my address with anyone. Not thatI’m assuming or judging, because I’m not, I just need to be clear that I can’t be involved in anything illegal.”

“Like hitting people with your car?” Fitch said with a cheeky smile. He was a funny guy, apparently. But Benji gave him a knee. “Just kidding,” Fitch added. “Benji here doesn’t do drugs or even drink much, really. That’s why the three of us stick together. Me, Benji, and Ky. We don’t touch that shit. And if he is unable to work this week, with the no-client rule, then can he expect remuneration for loss of income?”

“Fitch,” Benji hissed at him.

“I’m bargaining on your behalf,” Fitch hissed right back at him.

Why did I like this guy? Fitch was good looking. He had floppy brown hair and a cheeky grin that I was sure worked well in his favour in his profession.

But he was charming, and he clearly cared about Benji. And he said that he and Benji and Ky—I assumed made up the three guys I’d seen on Wylde Street last night—didn’t touch drugs.

And I had to admire Fitch’s tenacity.

“Financial remuneration, huh?” I said to Fitch. “How much does one earn in a week?”

“Six hundred,” Fitch said.

Benji baulked and tried to knee him again, but his back twinged.

Six hundred bucks. I had no idea if that was even close. From Benji’s reaction, I was guessing no. It was more than generous. But what was the alternative?

Them reporting me to the police for a hit and run?

How many thousands would that cost me? What was my reputation worth? My career?

“Six hundred total, inclusive of rent,” I replied.

“Deal.” Fitch grinned.

Benji’s expression was more concerned, maybe even offended?

“Cheer up, buttercup,” Fitch said. “You’re welcome, by the way. Now, I’ll go grab you a bag from home. Need anything in particular?”

Benji opened his mouth and closed it again. “I dunno,” he whispered. He rattled off a few items but was still stunned by my offer, I thought. Or maybe he was in pain.

And a fresh wave of guilt washed over me. “Benji, how about you go and take a steaming hot shower? Stay in there for a while, let the hot water work its magic on your back. I’ll drive Fitch back to grab your bag. And I’ll run past the supermarket for whatever you need.”

Fitch brightened. “I’ll come to the supermarket with you and grab him everything he needs.”

“Fitch, stop,” Benji said softly.

Fitch ignored him completely. “Come on, little injured lamb, let’s get you up and into the shower.”

Fitch helped him up and I showed them the way to the bathroom, then left them to it. I changed into some jeans, then realised Benji might need some clean clothes. His clothes would need a good soak... or an incinerator. But I found him some sweatpants and a shirt that would all probably be a mile too big on him, but if he was resting all day, at least he’d be warm and comfortable.

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