Absolutely. [Cypher’s Tales]

“I am very pleased to continue working at the club,” I messaged Harvey that morning.

He replied later in the day. “The guys will be very happy to hear that, as am I. I will put together a schedule for you by tomorrow. I haven’t felt that relaxed in years.”

That was rather personal, I thought. But the sound of a schedule means that there will at the very least, 2 regular sessions a week.

The following day after Uni I read the message that Harvey had left for me. “I’d like to keep Fridays at the same time if that works for you. Starting in two weeks, Wednesdays at 7pm will be Jack, Thursday at 7pm will be Peter. They're both great guys but for the next two weeks, they have prior engagements. And I know it is late notice so please forgive me, but Richard would like for you to meet him tonight at 10:30pm. He is a very busy man, and he said that he would reimburse you for the lateness of this appointment. Those would be the regular times. You would be paid even if someone cancels. I do hope you can accommodate Richard tonight. He is the owner of the club and very excited to meet you. Please let me know as soon as you can.”

“Wow!” I said aloud in my room.

$2400 a week… my life is about to get a lot better, I thought. Goodbye piece of shit apps, I thought while deleting all the gig work apps on my phone. I worked 5-10 every night including some weekends to barely get what I can earn in 2 hours at the club. I worked all those hours on top of trying to keep my friends, and with uni 4 full days a week, that doesn’t even account for time spent studying and doing assignments.

I would go out and celebrate with the few friends I still had if not for the late-night appointment I had tonight. I would have to save the celebration for the weekend. Which I could now comfortably afford.

I replied to Harvey. “I am more than happy with this arrangement. Thank you very much for the opportunity and I will most definitely be there tonight for Richard.”

“I had a good feeling about you,” Harvey replied to me later during dinner.

“So, massaging old dudes is what you do as a Physiotherapist,” my dad said to me questioningly, raising an eyebrow at the dinner table.

“Ohh stop it,” my mother said, smacking his hand. “It’s all very normal… it’s a medical profession for Christ's sake,” my mother complained to him.

“You wouldn’t catch me rubbing an old geezer for 300 dollars an hour,” my father commented.

My mother complained to him again. I know for a fact that my father busts his ass over 50 hours a week for far less than $300 an hour so I felt quite content with this job.

Later that night I rolled back up to the large iron gate and showed the man at the security booth my badge. He let me straight in this time and I made my way back to the massage room smiling at the old lady that worked nights. She just scowled back at me. The middle-aged woman that was here last time must have gone home this late at night and there was almost no one else left at the club.

At 10:45, I started to worry that there had been some sort of mix up and whether Richard would be coming at all. Suddenly, the door opened, making me jump. No knock from the owner of the club, I guess.