Everyone at the gym is a slasher,”
I explain,
“actress/writer/actually works the front desk full time.”

Wyatt tells me he goes to the gym to hook up with guys in the sauna.

“Yeah, I always see you boys in the see through showers
that face the front desk.
I get all hot on my shift and have to go home alone.”

“Well, you know how us guys are,”
says Wyatt,
“Why are you laughing?”

“Because it’s true.”

He gives me his number.
“We should hang out.”

“I don’t know what to do,”
says Wyatt.
“Betty Blue at The Egyptian maybe?
Maybe the shooting range in Burbank?
I want a drink.”

“So drink,” I say.

“All I need is a forty and a sack.
Why are you laughing?”
asks Wyatt.
“Wouldn’t even have to go out.”

“Hey Wyatt, thanks for callin’ all the time.
I want to do something,
but I only have seven dollars.
I tried to go dancing with my friend last night,
Made it all the way to the club,
but didn’t have the cover and had to go home.
I’m bored and tired and it’s hot.”

Wyatt reminds me, “I have my copy of Women for you to borrow.
Chianti and spaghetti at my apartment for dinner?”

“Sounds great,” I say.

“Let’s get the five dollar bottle with the straw holder,” he says.
“Maybe we can splurge on garlic bread.
You know, my roommate is fifty and broke.
I hear him crying every day.
He still tries to get money from his mother.”

“I’m broke,”
Wyatt tells me.
“I have my cds at a pawn shop.
I may have to skip town. I have some trouble.”

“These things happen,” I tell him.
“Call me once in a while.
Let me know how you’re doing.”