Chapter 6

Jalen’s POV

“Why are you acting like I don’t exist now?”

Johnny said it like a joke, like something light, but his eyes didn’t match it.

I didn’t answer. I kept my focus on the folded towels in my hands, counting them twice even though I already knew the number. 

The aftermath of what we did the night before sat on me like something I couldn’t scrub off. Not guilt. Not shame exactly. Just that hollow, used feeling, that he only came to me when he was horny, I felt dirty. 

Johnny drifted between cold silence and forced friendliness all day. 

One minute he was laughing too loud with another staff member, the next he was brushing past me without looking. 

Whatever we were had become fragile in a way I didn’t know how to fix without naming it, and naming it would have consequences I wasn't sure either of us were ready for. 

At the spa, things were shifting. I felt it in the air before anyone said anything. 

The staff whispered when they thought I couldn’t hear. Eyes stared. Kristofer’s name moved through the halls without being spoken out loud.

Dean’s attention sharpened.

The compliments came first. Loud praise in front of clients. Comments about my work ethic, my professionalism, how lucky the spa was to have someone like me.

Then came the watching. Lingering near doorways. Asking where I was going, how long a session would take. Smiling while doing it.

Compliments turning into surveillance.

Kristofer returned the next day.

“You’re booked for another private session,” the receptionist said quietly, like she was telling me a secret. “Same client.”

I already knew.

The session was to be longer this time. Paid for in advance. 

Everything was normal. Kristofer didn’t speak much when he came in. He lay down, hands folded, gaze steady when it met mine, like he was checking something off in his head.

I worked in silence until he spoke.

“Stop.”

I froze. My hands hovered, unsure.

“Are you fine?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said immediately.

He turned his head slightly. “You’re not.”

I exhaled through my nose, annoyed more than anything. “I’m fine. Please lie down so I can finish your session.”

He studied me for another second, then did as I asked. He didn’t push the matter further. 

When the session ended, he stood, reached into his jacket, and placed the envelope on the table like it weighed nothing.

“That's your tip, five thousand,” he said.

I laughed once, sharp. “For what?”

“Why not?” he said calmly. “I enjoy your services.”

Bullshit.

The money had been helping. I wasn’t blind to that. My mother’s medication. The house. The quiet relief of knowing the bills wouldn’t pile up that month. 

But something about it today snapped.

“I can’t take this,” I said.

Kristofer’s brow creased slightly. “You’ve taken more before.”

“And I’m not taking it now.”

I felt heat rise, fast and uncontrollable. “You don’t get to come here and do this. We met once. That was it. That’s what we agreed.”

“We didn’t agree to anything,” he said evenly.

“Exactly,” I snapped. “So stop acting like this means something, you are always privately booking me, it's uncomfortable. If you want a massage, go to someone else. Or better yet, don’t come at all. Leave me the fuck alone.”

The room went quiet. Still, Kristofer didn’t look angry. He looked like someone who had just been told something inconvenient.

“Very well,” he said after a moment.

He took the envelope back, nodded once, and left without another word.

My hands shook after he was gone. I felt as though I had just dived into a pool of water and cleared a part of my head. 

Later that afternoon, Dean gathered all staff.

“One of our investors will be visiting today,” he said, all polished authority. 

“I expect professionalism. Best behavior. This reflects on all of us.”

The name came an hour later.

Ayden Miller.

He walked in like he owned the place. Expensive suit. Easy smile. The kind of confidence that came from never being told no. 

Recognition hit me immediately, sharp and unwelcome.

High school memories don’t fade. Ayden looked at me like I was furniture at first. Then his smile shifted, just slightly.

“Pridejay,” he said softly, like a private joke.

My stomach dropped.

Only he ever called me that, I thought that name died in High school. 

He spoke with Dean like I wasn’t there. Asked questions about staff quality. About background checks. About image. His eyes flicked to me occasionally, calculating.

“Why would someone like that be working here?” he asked lightly.

Dean laughed it off. “Jalen is one of our best.”

Ayden said nothing more. He didn’t have to.

The day dragged. By six, the spa was quiet. I sat in the break area, scrolling mindlessly, pretending not to see Johnny watching me from across the room.

My phone buzzed.

A message from an unknown number. A view-once message.

I hesitated, then opened it.

The photo loaded slowly.

It was me, younger. Barely eighteen. With my first love from high school, caught in a moment that was never meant to be seen. The first time I openly admitted being gay to someone and he shared my feelings too. 

We were tangled in a compromising position in the school bathroom. Kissing and what not. It was unmistakable.

My breath left me in a rush.

Under the image was a single line.

‘Do what I say, or your mother and your boss see this.’