The release date of my first novel has been finalized by my publisher. It will be on July 18, 2014. Just ten days before my 30th birthday. My agent, Sonia Groff and I agreed to have brunch at Veselka on 2nd Avenue and 9th Street. She went over about the commercial expectations of the book. At the same time, the process of promoting the book in Hollywood, using the same entertainment lawyer who brought success to the likes of J.K. Rowling and Dan Brown. The current life that I’m living is a far cry from the paycheck to paycheck life that I once had. And to be perfectly honest with you, I do miss the days of financial struggle. The process of getting by can be a positive nostalgia sometimes. Before Sonia wrapped our of talent-client meeting, she asked me if everything’s okay. I didn’t know how to respond to that because I’m not really sure anymore how I am.

“So how’s everything in your private life?” Sonia asked.
“It depends on how private the information that you want to know” I replied.
“Lorenzo, I’m not an idiot. I know that your drunken and high debauchery has been out of control lately!”
“What the fuck?! Have you been spying on me?!”
“Of course not. I sensed it because I used to live like that!
“So now that you found the light and Jesus, are you gonna start preaching me?!”
“Stop being so dramatic, I want you to be around for a long time. I’ve lost a couple of clients in the past who overdosed and killed themselves. Not everyone gets what they want in this life, so please take good care of your success and avoid that route as much as possible”

I was silent for a minute. I wasn’t sure if she’s being sincere to me or she’s just saying that so that she could continue to receive her fifteen percent commission on every business deal that I have as an author. I stared down the floor, pretty much spaced out from what she said.
“Lorenzo?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
“I need you to be open with me as much as possible. I’m not asking you to text me every detail of your daily life. If you ever need anything that requires emotional support, I’m here and I won’t abandon you.”
“Thanks.”
“Okay, I have to leave now. I will call you tonight to give you an update on our lawyer, he’s meeting with studio executives in L.A. right now.”
“Later.”

Sonia stood up from her chair and gave me a maternal kiss on the cheek. She also handed me a business card. It’s a psychiatrist, her name was Suzanne Lessing, her glamour photo is in it. She looked like Sharon Stone, the less neurotic version. She probably knew that I’m such a horndog for older women who aged like California wines. I kept the card inside my pocket and left the restaurant. I started walking on 2nd Avenue towards 14th Street. I also did a little bit of self analysis within myself. I’ve thought of every one night stand, every drug that I’ve been experimenting with, and then I thought to myself, what the fuck is going on with my life?! Someone once told me that on your last day here on earth, the type of memory that’s gonna play in your mind are the human relationships that you had. If that’s the case, then I’m fucked. I’ve never been in a serious relationship my entire life. I don’t want to think that I’m incapable of it. If everyone else can do that, so can I! I just refuse to think of it as some kind of social dogma. But I think I’m willing to take a chance. After all, it’s one of those human experiences that I haven’t explored. I’m sure it will give me a different avenue in writing fiction. That night, I ended up going to Solas bar on 9th Street. I was sitting there sipping on my glass of mojito. A beautiful woman walked in, olive skin, dark wavy long hair, light grey eyes, she’s definitely from Spain. I heard her talking in Spanish to the bartender and I noticed the accent of her Castilian Spanish. Which I think it sounds better than the Spanish that they speak here in the US. She sat next to me and gave me an intense glance. The kind of glance that a predator gives when hunting down its prey. I decided to break the ice like I always do.

“Hey!” I said.
“Hi, how are you?” She replied.
“Just enjoying the happy hour, what about you?”
“Just enjoying New York City, I arrived from Barcelona two nights ago”
“That’s awesome, did you travel here alone?”
“Maybe..”

She then giggled at me. Like a high school girl who gets wet whenever she watches her quarterback infatuation.

“Maybe?! That simply means that you’re travelling alone!”
“Stop teasing me!”
“I’m not teasing you, I’m just being honest..”

She then started giving me the look of sex.

“Do you live around here?”
“Yeah, not too far”
“Do you have $200?”
“Excuse me?”
“Do you have $200?”

When I heard her asking me for money, my first thought was just to walk away because she’s a fucking prostitute. But the other part of me just wants to fuck her brains out. So I raised my chin up and and faced her back.

“Are you staying in a hotel?”
“Yes, at the Jane Hotel in Greenwich Village”
“Do you think I can come over?”
“Do you think you can pay?”
“As a matter of fact I can”
“I’m Elena, what’s your name?”
“I’m Lorenzo”
“Lorenzo… What a holy name!”

I looked at her face with monetary certainty and smiled. Elena smiled back at me like a serpent from the garden of Eden.

“Shall we take a cab back to your hotel?”
“Sure, let’s go”

We left Solas Bar and took a cab together to Greenwich Village. As our cab arrived on Jane Street and Westside Highway, I found myself feeling more horny towards Elena. We got in the elevator of the hotel and started making out. She was a passionate kisser. When we reached her bedroom, the intensity continued that eventually resulted to fireworks. Her passion in lovemaking is legendary, but I also knew that she was working. She’s not real, she’s just an illusion. A beautiful illusion. After that erotic moment, I pulled my pants up, put my clothes on, paid Elena $200 and left the hotel. I also called a cab on my way out and headed back to my apartment in East Village. While inside the cab, I started asking myself, did things get better? Or just gotten worse? She was the first person that I paid money to have sex with. I realized that having sex with a prostitute is no different than a one night stand. You get what you want. The only thing that the prostitute offers is the convenience when you’re actually wanting it. Not like a one night stand where you have to bullshit your way just to score some fuck. When you’re with a prostitute, you pay them and it happens. With a one night stand, there is the burden of getting mixed signals, emotionally speaking, with each other. I don’t regret that I paid a hooker. In fact, I’d glad that I did. The business card of the shrink that Sonia gave me was still in my pocket, I took it out and looked at the photo of the psychiatrist. Maybe I could use a little help.

TO BE CONTINUED…