Room Serviced (Part 12)


Carson bolted upright.“Carson? Are you okay?”He nodded, feeling exactly the opposite.“Yeah, I’m…” he stammered. “I just gotta use the bathroom.”He waddled past the TV, into the bedroom, wincing with every step. His hole was still tender, fucked so raw he could hardly walk.He could still feel the man inside him.But the same feeling that had given him so much comfort only moments before now filled him with disgust.He closed the bathroom door behind him with a shaky hand, his vision growing dangerously blurry. He made his way to the sink and stuck his head in the basin, opening his mouth, hoping to throw up. But nothing came. He wished it would. Wished he could rid himself of his impurity.He caught his reflection in the mirror–his eyes bloodshot, his face bone pale. As if he’d seen a ghost.He closed his eyes and willed himself to look at his phone. To investigate this further. He had to know the truth.He looked down and scrolled through the images, praying for an inconsistency. But the photos were all there, years and years of evidence. The proof was undeniable.Mr. Armisen was his ex’s father.He heard a knock on the door.“Carson? Are you okay in there?”“Uh-huh,” he gasped, feeling a wave of nausea.How was he going to get out of this? He could lie, tell Armisen he had changed his mind. That he needed to go home. His roommate had cancer. He had cancer. Anything to get him out of this situation. Anything to avoid telling him the truth.But then a darker, far more frightening thought occurred to him.What if Mr. Armisen already knew?Carson replayed the weekend through his mind, every word echoing in his brain. Mr. Armisen liked him, he said. He trusted him, he said. A sweet kid. A boy he barely knew.“Carson, buddy. Open up, please.”The door flew open, and Armisen looked up to see Sarıyer escort bayan the bellboy standing in the doorway.Mr. Armisen’s face fell. “Carson–?”“Do you know who I am?”The giant’s eyes squirmed. “What do you mean?”“When you met me,” Carson said, trembling with panic, seething with rage. “Did you know I had been with Tyler?”Mr. Armisen opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. All of the smooth confidence that Carson had once thought defined him was gone.“I did,” he finally admitted.Carson nodded. “Goodbye, Mr. Armisen.”He stormed past the man, bumping into his shoulder, nearly knocking the giant backwards.“Hey!” he bellowed. “Where are you going?”Carson didn’t say a word. He picked up his backpack off the bedroom floor and flung it over his shoulder. He slipped on his flip flops without missing a step and headed for the living room.“Wait!” the giant called after him, limping. His voice desperate, unrecognizable. “I can explain!”But Carson didn’t want to hear it. All he wanted to do was escape this awful suite, this nightmare of a hotel, this palace turned prison.“Baby…” He felt a callused hand on his wrist.“Get off me!” Carson screamed. He turned to face the man and spat on him, a glob of saliva striking the Goliath right in the eye.His grip broke, and the giant stumbled back on his sprained ankle.CRUNCH.The scattered shards of Armisen’s broken wine glass sank into his heel.The man howled, a puppy’s pitiful howl. But Carson had no compassion for it. No compassion for him at all.He slammed the door behind without even glancing behind. * * * The Miami streets were dark and frightening at this hour. Cars sped past, bringing waves of loud music and drunken laughter. Carson shivered in the warm wind and thundered down the Silivri escort sidewalk, hot tears streaming down his face.He had no clue what direction he was heading in. His only impulse was to flee. But with every step, his drive diminished. Where was he going to go?Suddenly a white car pulled up beside him. The window rolled down. And Mr. Armisen’s sad, bearded face peered out to him.“Carson,” he pleaded. “I’m sorry.”“Don’t talk to me,” the boy said, picking up his pace.But he couldn’t outrun the vehicle. Armisen revved up the engine and rolled right alongside him.“Please, just get in here. I want to talk.”“No!”Carson kicked the car as hard as he could, leaving a scratch.“Hey!” Armisen cried out, looking down. “C’mon, this is a rental!”“Take it out of my fucking paycheck.”He turned down a corner where Armisen couldn’t follow him. But he heard the brakes screech behind, and turned around to see the giant hobbling out of the car, wearing nothing but sweatpants and a T-shirt. He walked stiffly on his sprained ankle, dragging his bloody glassed foot behind him.The man’s determination was terrifying. Carson tore down the block as fast he could, the summer wind roaring in his ears. Armisen’s voice echoed after him.“Carson! You know I can’t run!”He heard the slap of bare feet behind him, an awkward, stumbling gait like a zombie. Mr. Armisen grunting, heaving with effort. Then the scrape of pavement as he slipped to the ground.Carson turned around, half a block ahead of him, to see the man collapsed on the sidewalk, tucking in his knee and gasping in pain.Seeing him there, laid out on the ground, Carson felt his heart soften. Hardly believing what he was doing, he walked back over to Mr. Armisen, curled up under the flickering red glow of an Escort Topkapı OPEN sign, and offered a hand. * * * Fifteen minutes later Carson and Armisen were sitting in a booth, the sole patrons of a 24-hour-diner, clutching steaming mugs of coffee. Neither of them drank. Armisen looked down at his cup while Carson stared out the window.“I thought you knew,” the man said finally.Carson turned to face him. Armisen avoided his gaze.“That’s a lie.”“No, it’s not,” said Mr. Armisen, looking up. “I would have thought–”“How could I know who you were?” Carson asked accusingly. “I never met you!”“In two and a half years you never saw a picture of me?”“No,” said Carson. “Tyler hardly ever talked about you. He hates you.”Armisen looked down at his mug.“What I don’t understand is, why don’t you have the same last name?”“He has my name,” Armisen insisted.“His name is Tyler Rivera.”“No, it’s Tyler Armisen-Rivera.” Armisen paused, pain flickering across his face. “So. He goes by his mother’s last name now, does he?”“I guess he does,” Carson said, looking down at his coffee.“Makes sense,” said Mr. Armisen. “I guess he wants nothing to do with me.”“Well, why would he?” Carson said, slamming down his mug so that the coffee splashed, surprising himself with the rage in his voice. “After the way you treated his mother? After the way you treated him? You have no idea how your fucking around has impacted people. How it traumatized him. How it affected me.”Armisen looked up, his eyes gleaming. Carson sniffed, a lump forming in his throat, feeling the tears well up inside him. He forced them down. No way would he cry for this man.“You?” Armisen asked, completely disarmed.“Yes,” Carson said, feeling his eyes burning. “Do you have any idea how that would fuck you up? To have your dad screwing other women all your life? And your mom has no choice but to swallow her pride or lose everything? And when you finally do get into a relationship, you carry all that shit with you. You were in my relationship every step of the way, putting up walls between us. You–” His voice broke. “You ruined us.”

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