Atila lays his head into my lap and I rub his hair. We are watching a movie we've seen like ten times already, but it's a comfort one.

"Are you not going to talk about him. You can't be silent."

"I don't want to disgust you."

"Well, I'm not asking to hear about what you do together. I'm talking about him sending you money and taking you to his house."

"I ... I'm just his worker."

"Worker? Really? You seriously think he would do all of this, just because he wants to have sex?"

"I guess, he's rich."

"Exactly, Soren. He is rich. He can have a lot of people."

"Well, he clearly went to the hotel for a reason, so I guess it's more comfortable for him."

"Yes, BUT and big but, you are not at the hotel anymore and you have more money than ever.

I think you should talk to him about things."

"What things, Atila?"

"Just anything."

"I don't want to talk." I rub my face, "he also wants to talk, but ... you didn't see where he lives." I sigh, "it's a whole mansion. The place is huge and luxurious and expensive.

Look at where we live."

"Because we're alone." Atila looks at me.

I gulp down. "I know, I didn't mean it in a bad way."

"I can get a job too."

"No, you will be graduating and you should be without stress."

"It's fine, it's not that big of a deal. I will have to work in few months anyway."

"Exactly, enjoy the time you don't have to work. I would love to-," I stop myself. I can't say that. He would be sad, "I mean, never mind."

"Can I meet him too?"

"Huh?" I say shocked, "Lars?"

"Yes, Lars."

"I ... well, that's a bit strange. We are sex partners, not boyfriends."

"Okay, then I will meet him when he's your boyfriend."

"Ehm."

"Okay?" he looks at me.

"Hm." I nod, not knowing to say to it. Boyfriends. He's so silly.

Lars is a handsome young millionaire. His life is perfect and he's perfect too. He surely can have someone so much better.

What am I? A prostitute loser. Like he would pick me.

*

I take a phone to my hands. When should we meet.

I text and then go off the phone. Ten minutes later, I see a text back. Oh.

I close my phone and throw it on the bed. I'm such a mess.

I lay on the bed thinking. I barely even remember how my life was before all of this.

It was never the best life. We lived without a dad and I never understood why. I mean surely he had to know about us, since mom had two kids.

From what I know, Atila and I have the same dad and we are too similar. So, what happened?

Why did he not fight for us? Where is he now? Is he dead or alive?

I wonder if I would recognize him if I saw him in the streets. Maybe we already met, I just don't know.

*

Atila falls asleep snoring.

My phone rings.

I smile a bit.

20?! Already.

Me: okay.

I quickly change into nicer clothes. I put a sticker next to sleeping Atila, but because I know him, I text into his phone too. Then I run to the café.