Working as a male prostitute wasn’t something I was proud of. I’d hidden from the world, wanting no one to see what I had become. When I wasn’t turning tricks, I typically holed up in my apartment, or hung out at the bar looking for my next d**k of the night. It was an addictive lifestyle, one that constantly had me on the hunt for my next client. So when I pulled up to the coffee shop Luke owned, I realized we’d only lived a few blocks from each other for probably a very long time, but my profession kept me from ever running into him or anyone else I knew.
It was on the outskirts of Oregon Hill, a neighborhood I rarely went to because it wasn’t home to the types of guys known for paying hustlers for s*x. Here was where you found artists, students, and hipsters, intermingled with the work
