Page 78 of See My Words

“What’d she roast you for, sweetie? Sorry, I forgot your name.”

“Rylan.” He told her everything about his encounter with Beej, finishing off by saying, “It was hard to hear, Maya, but true. My project is all about me.”

“Hmmm.” Maya pulled a compact out of her purse and opened it to check her reflection. “This girl came up to me one time and said she was writin’ a paper for school, could she ask me some questions about what prostitution is like.” Her mouth twisted. “I said okay and talked about bein’ trans because, you know, it’s my story. Dude, you should’ve seen her eyes pop.”

Maya put her compact away, and her tone was flat as she went on. “She asked how I have sex. Did I get a ‘sex change’? If I didn’t, what I do with my ‘junk’ when I’m ‘cross-dressing.’ She kept lookin’ at my lap, and I think she actually wanted me to lift my skirt and show her.”

“Jesus.”

“She gawked at me like an animal in a zoo.” Maya put her hand on Rylan’s arm. “That night I met you, you showed me nothin’ but dignity and respect, treated me like a human being.” She smirked. “For a white boy, you’s okay. I was gonna help you with your project. Still will, if’n you want.”

Rylan smiled sadly. “I think that ship has sailed, but tell you what. You need some promo pics for your website, I’m your man. Professionally edited, on the house.” He pulled out his wallet and extracted one of his cards. “Email and cell are on there. When you’re ready, let me know, okay?”

“Wow.” She stared at the card for a moment before tucking it carefully in her purse. “That would be—amazin’. I priced boudoir shots recently, and good ones, from a pro, would cost me like eight hundred bucks. Thanks, Rylan.”

“You’re welcome.”

Maya sipped her coffee, pursing her lips. “So tell me all about yourself. I really wanna know.”

Rylan snorted. “Pretty boring, actually.”

She shot him a withering look. “Yeah, uh-huh. Why don’t you just start at the beginning, sweetheart, and lemme be the judge of that.”

Before he knew it, Rylan was telling her everything: about his mom, his dad’s marriage to Heather…and Scott. There was something about Maya’s steady eye contact, her sincere interest, that made him open up to her like he hadn’t done to anyone in a long time.

“You’re a good listener,” he said at last, feeling a little sheepish for dominating the conversation. They were walking down a dark street in the still-sweltering heat, the cool AC of the coffee shop a distant memory. Maya had her strappy sandals off and dangling by one finger, her flirty red toenail polish winking in the occasional streetlight as she padded barefoot next to him.

“That’s my specialty, love. Sex and therapy. At least that’s what one of my regulars calls it.” Her husky tone was filled with humor. “He’s a straight married guy, and we order room service and eat it while we lay on the bed. That dude loves to put his head in my lap and have me stroke his hair while I listen to him talk about his week, his opinion on politics, all sorts of stuff. Then I blow him, and he leaves.”

“Simple yet effective,” Rylan said, amused, and also rather touched by the unknown man’s obvious loneliness. “I think sometimes we get so busy, we forget to stay connected to the people closest to us.” He nudged her shoulder with his. “You’re good at what you do.”

“Oh, yeah, baby. I got that business plan, and I’m gonna build my brand. The professional website is the first step.”

Rylan smiled at her enthusiasm, but then she sobered, saying, “I’m luckier than most, ’cause you know why? I’m an American citizen. I was born right here. My roommates? They undocumented, honey. Can’t get a mainstream job, or go to school, without no Social Security number.” Her face darkened. “Already got two Latina trans sisters in ICE custody, and yeah, they bein’ housed with men, gettin’ assaulted. Won’t let ’em have their hormones, or even a fuckin’ bra if they ask it.”

Rylan stared at her. “That’s awful!”

“One day, after I make a name for myself, I’m gonna turn into the biggest fuckin’ activist you ever seen for sex worker rights and deportation relief. LGBT people bein’ killed down in Mexico, Rylan. That’s one of the reasons they came here to begin with, and now you wanna send ’em back?”

Her voice was low and fierce. Rylan didn’t know what to say, so he stopped walking and pulled out his wallet, extracting a twenty-dollar bill. He held it out to Maya. “Here. It’s pretty much all I have in the world, other than my camera, but this is me investing in your website.”

Maya looked at the money, slowly reaching out to take it. “You—” She cleared her throat. “Really? You all right, man.”

She slipped the money into her bra, and Rylan touched her arm. “And when you’re ready to launch, besides taking the pictures, I will promo the fuck out of your business at the club where I work. My boyfriend has a huge social media outreach. We’ll get the word out about you.”

Maya gripped his hand. “You should reconsider doin’ your project, honey, ’cause I can see you truly wanna help.”

Rylan smiled. “Oh, I’m definitely going to look into what I, as a journalist, can do to bring awareness to trans and sex worker rights.” He squeezed her fingers. “But one thing I learned tonight, from Beej and now from you, is that someone speaking in their own voice is going to draw attention to these issues way more effectively than I could ever hope to.”

Maya gave him a quick hug before she covered her mouth in a huge yawn. “Well, I think I’m gonna trot my happy ass on home. Been a long day, and I got an early-afternoon date tomorrow. Need my beauty sleep.”

Rylan glanced at his watch, surprised to see it was not quite one a.m. When he pulled out his phone, the notification screen held at least half a dozen missed texts from Scott, the tone of them increasingly agitated, especially the last one.

Where the fuck r u? Ignoring me is shitty. If we’re done, say we’re done. Don’t blow me off like this.

Done? Rylan bit his lip in annoyance. He started to text back before remembering Scott would be in the middle of his VIP gig. Fuck it. Rylan was tired and going home to bed. They’d just have to talk it out in the morning.

He said good-bye to Maya and ambled toward the nearest light-rail stop, settling into the ice-cold train car with a sigh, feeling dirty, sticky, and heartsore. Self-pity rolled over him in a suffocating wave, and he fought a losing battle against it, giving up after a moment and letting it swamp him.