Before Tara started paying my rent, about a year ago, I had a small altercation with this rude customer. She wouldn’t look me in the eye, so I called her on it. She got aggressive, and things escalated. But those sorts of incidents were rare. I don’t like that Roberto isn’t acknowledging all the times I had been great with the customers. I am sick of being judged for how I behaved at my worst. I’m very sweet most of the time. In high school I was voted “Most Likely to Brighten Your Day.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” I say.

“You better mean it.”

He’s looking at his computer again. I wonder what he’s doing on there. If I asked, he would probably say arranging schedules, but he’s probably playing online poker, maybe looking at porn. The restaurant industry attracts the dregs of humanity, at least that’s what Tara said before encouraging me to quit.

“I’ll see you Monday,” Roberto says to the screen.

Outside of the restaurant I light a cigarette and try to remind myself this situation is only temporary. I have a knack for seducing rich women. My first girlfriend, the one who called the cops on me, lived in a house with a pool.

I scan the plaza beside the restaurant. Lots of college kids. We’re close to Riverside City College, where I went for one semester before dropping out. I didn’t like school. I don’t like being told what to do. Besides, none of the rich people I know went to college. Education is a scam. That’s what I told my son when he wanted to go to that fancy art school, but he didn’t listen to me. He never listens to me. No one listens to me.

I want a sugar mama, but it’s not the easiest task. There aren’t many gay bars in Riverside, and the only ones that exist are filled with men. Nothing worse than gay men in my opinion. I am invisible to them, and I hate being invisible. Taking attention from a Leo is like taking a fish from the water or a bird from the sky. I think Exalted said that in one of their captions.

I met Tara at this fancy restaurant on the other side of the plaza called Chez Pierre. It was my typical pickup spot. I’d sit at the bar and stick out my big naturals and wait for someone to buy me a drink using a heavy Amex. It typically worked, but I was in my early forties, and most people thought I was in my mid-thirties because of my youthful energy. I don’t think I can pass for thirty-three at forty-eight. Whenever I think about my age, my throat starts to close up.