Phil was walking sideline to the small park across from his building, but the stairs would prove too much for him to stroll through the park itself. A strong gust of wind picked up a herd of red and orange leaves, all dry and drifting quickly along the sidewalk; all moved together as a group toward an unknown destination. He looked back down at his feet moving in a one-two rhythm, and out of the corner of this eye, to the other side, he caught a smaller leaf of a more muted color, scraping along, struggling to catch up. His mind decided that oh, that was his leaf –that was the Phil leaf.
Back down the block and fifteen stories up was his friends' new apartment, but without an elevator, he wouldn't make it to her bolt-locked door. He winced; he couldn't stand another night sleeping on the booth bench downstairs in the dining hall; the custodial staff could only look the other way for so long.
He headed back to campus with nowhere else to go.
He logged onto one of the computers and turned his monitor away from anyone who might've caught a glimpse of the Craigslist ad he had pulled up. Phil was honestly intrigued and disgusted when Chloe had shown him the seedy shit people would advertise on the site, but that wasn't what he was looking at. Well, it sort of was, but it was much more personal than the typical ads looking for indiscriminate sex.
The title read 'Cute Bisexual looking to pay College debt' –Chloe said the improper grammar was as intentional as leaving out Phil's gender. Underneath it he could click on the five pictures of what someone could get for their money, but even the thumbnails made his stomach drop. He knew these pictures –he'd posed for them for multiple shots, even took one or two of them himself— but he didn't like looking at them any more than he liked taking them.
The whole thing was a collective scheme from PJ and Chloe, and Phil was maybe a little too willing to go along with it in his desperation and insisting that it would work. "I know first- no, secondhand," Chloe had said, licking the whipped cream off her Coolatta, "that there are tons of rich guys out there who will spoil any girl who gives him a little attention and, you know." There was an awkward pause. "Some ladies, too; maybe you'll get lucky and snag one of them. I hear they're a little easier, less demanding." Phil ended the conversation there, absently turning to a concert they'd all fantasized about going to. But his mind was not on the music.
He shook the cursor over the thumbnails and debated whether or not he should look at them at least once. But the ad was already up; they were on the internet, and there was no going back now. His face went bright red and he minimized the window to step away for a moment.
He stared at himself in the bathroom mirror long enough to pull himself back together. He agreed to do this –he wanted to do it, even reluctantly. Bills were coming in and he needed somewhere to stay before winter kicked in. He nodded at his reflection and went back to the computer to look over the rest of the ad.
22-year-old cutie looking for a sugar momma or daddy to invest in his education at Marsalis Film Institute – Basic finances should include the $3000 student loan deficit per semester of service, due in December and July – Offer should include living space – Serious offers only – Services negotiable. Please contact -
It gave his email and phone number to text. His entire self was laid out on a white web background.
Someone came up and covered his eyes from behind. Phil yelped and jumped and turned for the relief in realizing it was just PJ. But Phil couldn't calm down just yet, tense before, only more so now. "You're going to literally give me a heart attack."
His friend sat next to him, laughing it off quietly. Phil settled down. "Thinking of taking yourself up on the sugar daddy offer?"
He shook his head, running his fingers through his hair. "No, I just needed to see it for it to be real."
"Chloe posted it?" He nodded. "Well, is it real enough now?" And again. There was a pause. "You still wanna do it, right?" PJ asked quietly, ready to take it down right now if Phil said no; but he didn't.
"I wanna do it, but Christ, I'm nervous." He rubbed his arms against the cold. The buildings never seemed to be heated well enough this time of year, like they were waiting for the next ice age to turn up the thermostat. "What other options do I have? I can't work, I tried that. Minimum wage is not worth it, and doesn't help no matter how much I save up."
"It's probably not the best idea we've had, but it's not a bad option." His friend shifted in his creaking chair. "Just wait for an offer. Two weeks, at most, I think. And when someone wants to meet with you to discuss, just make sure it's during the daytime, before the sun goes down, and in a public place. And if they make you uncomfortable or anything, leave. Don't put yourself through more than you can handle."
Phil nodded slowly, and thanked him for his advice. He'd make note of it somewhere.
"I've got class but I really don't wanna go; I have a twenty-minute presentation, and I'm excited," he admitted, "but I'm the only one, really. Not many people can get into interpretive work; 'so prententious.'" He laughed. "Do you wanna get dinner upstairs at six or something? Chloe will be out of work by then."
Phil nodded silently and forced a smile for him. PJ patted him on the back and reminded him to relax, and ran off with his backpack swung haphazardly over his shoulder. Phil took a minute to breathe, and told himself everything would be okay –it had to be.