by Ward, H. M.
I snort-laugh. “You’re so mental. That’s not it. I just don’t know if can do it again.”
“It’s just one guy, one time,” she reminds me.
I nod. “That’s what it was supposed to be this time.”
* * *
After breakfast, I head to the library to get caught up on school work. The building is huge and smells like dust and old paper. Once I get into the stacks, the lighting sucks. I navigate my way through the massive building until I find my little chair in the corner. It’s a good spot because no one ever comes back here. There’s a desk and chair against the wall at the end of one of the rows. I toss my book bag on it and pull out my work.
After a few hours pass, I’m leaning with my hand in my hair, staring at the cinderblock wall in front of me. I can’t concentrate. I have no idea what to do. I thought my financial problems were solved and that I could go back to studying. Sean was ideal bait, but then Black sent him packing. I don’t know if I can do it with someone else.
Memories flit through my mind and I can feel Sean’s hands on my skin. I wish Black hadn’t shown up. I wish things progressed further. I wonder what it would feel like to have my sweat-covered body slip over his, what he would feel like inside of me. My body warms at the thought.
I’m so out of it that I don’t hear Marty until he’s next to me. “Well, look what we have here.”
I jump out of my skin when he speaks and twist in my chair. I had no idea he was there. Marty laughs at me. He’s wearing a pair of dark jeans with frayed patches on the thighs, coupled with a tee shirt and denim jacket. His blonde hair is spiked. He looks like an 80’s remnant.
I swat at Marty, meaning to slap his leg, but he dodges my hand. “You scared me to death!” I whisper yell at him.
He laughs and drops his backpack on the floor next to my desk, and then takes his extra tall body and leans against the wall. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he says, “Only people with something to hide get all skittish like that. What’d you do? Kiss a girl?” He winks at me and grins.
I cover my heart with my hand, willing it to resume a normal pace, but it ignores me. I don’t look at Marty when he speaks and he catches on. “So, you do have something to hide. Is it juicy?” I glance at him, thinking that direct eye contact will help, but the guy sees right through me. In a hushed voice, he squeals, “Oh my God! You have to tell me!” As Marty talks, he falls to his knees and scoots toward me, clutching his hands under his chin, like he’s begging.
I laugh it off. “There’s nothing to tell.” I squirm in my chair and go back to reading my textbook.
“You’re a bad liar.”
Sighing, I say, “I know,” and slump forward, planting my face in the book. “I can’t lie, but I can’t tell you.”
He grabs my shoulder and pulls me up. I look him in the face as he asks, excitedly, “Is this about the questions you asked the other day?” My face must answer for me, because Marty gets more excited. “Oh my God, you did something morally deplorable, didn’t you? What was it?”
When I don’t answer, he starts reasoning it out, which scares me to death. He ticks off his fingers, “Well, we both know it’s nothing to do with lying. So that leaves cheating,” he ticks off a second finger and pauses, looking at my slumped shoulders, and says, “Yeah, I can’t see that one either. You’re hardwired to not cheat. That leaves stealing, adultery—”
“Are you just going to list the seven deadly sins and hope I confess when you hit mine?”
He waves a finger in my face. “Ah ha! That means it was one of the big seven.”
“You’re an ass. Leave me alone.” I pretend to read my book. Marty grabs the pages and yanks it away. “Hey!”
“You tell me everything, why can’t you tell me this?” he says holding my book just out of reach. I make a grab for it and miss. He’s too damn tall.
“Because I can’t. And it doesn’t matter now anyway, because everything is all fucked up.” I stop jumping for my book and sit down hard in the chair. It feels like a wave of hopelessness crashes into me. Suddenly, I can’t breathe and my heart is pounding. I grab the hair on the sides of my head and look at the floor, saying, “I can’t do this.” My breathing becomes labored, like I’m having an asthma attack.
Marty puts my books down and kneels next to me, placing his hand on my back. “Whoa, Avery. Calm down. Slow your breathing.”
Tears well up behind my eyes, but they won’t fall. For once, I wish they would. I wish I could just cry and have this part of my life over with. I rock in the seat. “I can’t do this.”
“Do what, honey? Be more specific.” Marty’s hand rubs small circles on my back. He leans closer to me. “Tell me, love. I’ll help you however I can.”
“But that’s just it,” I look up at him with glassy eyes. “You can’t help me, no one can. I have to do something that I don’t want to do. I’m fucked every way ‘til Tuesday with no way out.”
Marty keeps his hand on my shoulder and looks at me with an expression that I can’t read. It’s not pity, it’s something else, more like pity’s bastard cousin. “Avery, you ever think that you’re alone because you want to be?” I bristle at the suggestion, but he presses a finger to my lips to shut me up, and shakes his head. “No, don’t talk. Listen. There’s a time for listening, and that’s now. I know you’ve got no one and that you’re all by yourself, but you don’t have to be. I’m here and so is Mel. You shut us out, Avery. When things get hard, you retreat into yourself and no one can get through those walls you put up. It doesn’t have to be that way. Friends are your family now. I know that I’d do anything for you, you don’t even have to ask.”
Awh, fuck. His words trigger the tears and they rush down my face. Marty smiles at me, like he knows better. Maybe he does. Maybe I’m the one who’s fucked up. Maybe I don’t have to do everything by myself, but I don’t know what that world looks like. The only people that I could depend on through thick and thin were my parents. Family was everything to them, to me. Now that I don’t have one, I feel lost, like I don’t belong anywhere, like I can’t fully trust anyone.
I wipe the tears from my face with the back of my hand.
Marty reaches into his pocket and hands me a clean, white hanky. It’s perfectly folded into quarters and creased like he ironed it. He holds it out to me.
I laugh, half choking on the phlegm in my throat. I take the hanky and dab my eyes before wiping my nose. “You made me cry. No one makes me cry.”
“Really?” he asks wryly. “Everything makes me cry. Why do you think I walk around with a hanky?” He grins at me.
I look down at the white cloth in my hands, damp with tears. The confession spills out of my mouth. “I was offered a position as a high dollar call girl. If I take it, it solves my money problems. I can finish school and move on with my life.”
“But…” he prompts, assuming nothing. Marty’s great like that. He doesn’t condemn me.
“But the obvious. But I’d be selling my body. But I’d be letting some stranger have sex with me. But, I’d be giving away my virginity to some freak…” my voice fades as I say the word, thinking of Sean.
Marty smiles softly and adds, “But you like someone else.”
I look up at him. “How’d you know?”
He shrugs, “Just a hunch. Something about the way your voice sounds, like there’s more there than you’re saying. So who is this guy?”
I look at my hands as I speak. “No one. I don’t even know. He helped me when my car got jacked. I’ve seen him a few times, and then I got the job offer. After talking to you the other day, I took it… I took the job because he was the client. Then, things got messed up, and now I can’t have him.” My voice hitches in my throat as I speak. Shaking my head, I ask, “What’s wrong with me? How can I like a guy who’s that twisted? He ordered a virgin call girl.”
“And you showed up,” Marty says, patting my knee. “Listen, life doesn’t always make sense. Maybe this whole thing’s fate, ma
ybe you’re supposed to be with this guy in the end—I don’t know—but it seems to me that’s what’s holding you back.”
“What is?”
“That fucked up guy. You’re totally sure that there is no way for him to be a client again?”
My eyes flick to his. I shake my head. “No, the madam was really pissed.”
“Then, raise the stakes. Tell her that it’s him or nothing.”
“And what if she says no?” I’m screwed if she says no.
“Then, you’re no worse off than you are now. Why not try to get the money and the man? Go for the gold, girlie. You’re only young once.” He bumps his shoulder into mine and smiles at me.
“Got any more clichés that you’re dying to use?”
“Nah, I just know how much they irritate you. Go find your boss, call girl. And if you work things out, I’m taking you shopping.” Marty gets a giddy look in his eye. “I saw this perfect little dress at Black Label. Any guy would love to rip it right off of you.”
I laugh and lean into his shoulder. The hole in the center of my chest, that painful ache that was consuming me, withers and I feel like maybe I can do this. I have to convince Miss Black to get Sean back. I can do that.
I think.
23
After promising Marty that we’d go shopping tonight, I head to my car. Pulling the seat forward, I toss my books in the back. When I go to push the seat back, it won’t move. It’s not as cold today, but still—standing in a parking lot alone is asking for trouble. My track record for getting robbed is shamefully high. I yank the seat, but it’s stuck. I climb in the backseat and put all my weight into it and pull, trying to force it into an upright position. There’s a cracking sound and then seat comes free and falls back into place. I try to squeeze between the seat and the door so that it doesn’t get stuck again, but I don’t fit. So, I’m forced to climb through the bucket seats, head first, and I pretty much fall out the door. I stand, brush myself off, and jump into the car. I lean back before grabbing the seatbelt. The crappy old seat holds. I half expected it to snap off.
I start my decrepit car and head toward Miss Black’s. When I arrive, the place is bustling with people. I’ve never seen anyone here before. There are workers at desks. I hear a woman talking on a phone saying something about insurance for employees. Shocked, I stand there in the doorway to the office with my mouth hanging open. It takes this many people to run a brothel? The phones ring nonstop. It’s like the call girl call center.
Miss Black spots me from across the room. She’s standing at an aged man’s desk, handing him a file. An irritated look flashes in her eyes and she quickly walks toward me in her tailored suit. She tucks the remaining files under her arm. “May I help you?”
Nodding, I look at her. “Yes, I believe so.”
“Very well, come with me.” Miss Black has perfect posture, even in those heels. She walks in front of me and I follow her back to her office, where she closes the door. “It is extremely unprofessional to arrive unannounced, Avery.”
“I’m sorry,” I say taking a chair. I sit on the edge of my seat and place my hands on her desk. Miss Black is leaning back in her seat, legs crossed. “I needed to discuss something with you.”
“I’ll allow it this time, however, in the future, if you want to speak with me, it has to wait until you check in on the weekend.”
“That’s just it. Since things got messed up the other night, I wouldn’t be checking in and I didn’t want to wait for you to call me. I decided that I’m not cut out for this.” My heart is pounding as I speak. I try so hard to keep my nerves off my face. My hands rest perfectly still on her desk. There is no tremor in my voice. “I’m withdrawing my application. Thank you.” I stand, like I’m going to walk away.
Her little speech about what a rare commodity I am is my only card to play. I’m totally bluffing. I need this job, but I want it on my terms. I step towards the door and reach for the knob. Miss Black doesn’t say anything until I’m ready to pull the door open.
“Wait,” she says. I stop and turn to look at her. “Please sit.” Miss Black straightens in her chair and leans forward, her eyes tracking me as I walk back toward her and sit down. “The other night was an anomaly. That is not the usual course of events. In all my time doing this, that is only the second time I’ve had to intervene. I apologize that it made you question your choice to work here. There are other clients who have been on our roster longer, that have a proven track record. I would—”
I cut her off, “I’m not interested. The thing is, I didn’t feel threatened the other night and while it might have broken your rules, he didn’t make me feel like a prostitute. I didn’t expect that to happen. I was the idiot who followed him outside. He wasn’t the one who broke the rule. I did.”
Miss Black looks at me with her dark eyes. The tips of her fingers press together one by one as she watches me from behind her desk. “You’re not telling me something. What is it?”
“I’ll consider staying, if I am given a second chance with that client. I won’t leave the hotel this time. I’ll do my job, and you’ll get your money.” My throat tightens as I speak. My heart is racing so fast. This scares the hell out of me. The whole thing, and here I am telling her what to do. For all I know, she has those beefcake ninjas locked in her closet and they’ll bust out and break my face for suggesting such a thing.
Miss Black stares at me. I don’t breathe. My tongue is between my teeth to keep me from spewing her with nervous chatter. Her index fingers press together and then she taps them three times, like she’s deciding something. “So, this is about money?”
No. “Yes.”
“And…” she prompts.
“And I didn’t think I could do this, but after the other night, I know I could follow through with him.”
“Even if I wanted to, I don’t think I could get him back. We exchanged some terse words after the event.” Miss Black taps her desk. She glances up at me.
My words rush out, “Just tell him. If he refuses, then I’ll consider someone else. Are we agreed?”
Miss Black isn’t stupid. She leans toward me and says, “Something else is going on here, of that I’m certain. However, I’m not one to blow a business deal over suspicion. I’ll ask him, under the condition that if he says no, that you’ll continue working for us—that you’ll trust my judgment when I select another match for you.”
I didn’t want this part. I suck at lying. I can’t just yes her, she’ll see it in my eyes. My stomach twists as I extend my hand toward her. “Deal,” I say, and we shake on it.
I agreed to be with another man if Sean won’t have me.
I hope to God that he says yes.
24
“No freakin’ way is she wearing that dress,” Marty says with his hands folded over his chest. He towers over Mel, who is sitting next to him in the middle of a swank shop. Either way, I need a dress for my next tryst. I’m still waiting to hear back if it will be with Sean or not. My stomach is twisting in knots. I don’t feel like shopping, but I hope it will distract me. Since Mel and Marty disagree on everything, it’s been an interesting evening.
“How can you say that?” Mel says exasperated. This is the seventh dress, the seventh pair of shoes, the seventh set of accessories that I’ve put on over the last hour and a half. “Look at how tiny her waist looks in that thing. That is THE dress.”
Marty gets up and stands next to me. I’m on a little riser, standing in front of a mirror. The shop attendant looks at me, but says nothing. Marty points to my hips, “True enough, but it does nothing for this region and her boobs! My God, she looks like she’s nursed sixteen children. The braless look is for girls with falsies, not our Avery.” Marty gestures at my cleavage in this dress, or lack thereof. I look down. Okay, maybe he’s right. “A good dress doesn’t sacrifice one asset for another.” He snaps his fingers at the attendant. “Next, please!”
“You’re such a drama queen,” I say as I step off the box.
I add, “And stop snapping at the girl like she’s a labradoodle. She hates you enough already.”
He bats his eyes at her. “Sorry love. I just get so excited. You’re doing a smashing job. Keep up the good work.”
The attendant, Amanda, smiles and nods, but I’m sure she’s picturing strangling Marty in her mind. “I’ll get the next dress you chose. Just leave that one in the dressing room for me and I’ll put it back.”
I nod and traipse into the dressing room. I unzip the dress and pull the supple fabric over my head before putting it back on the hanger. I’m standing in my undies when my phone buzzes. I wouldn’t have heard it if I wasn’t in the dressing room. I pick it up and recognize the number. It’s Miss Black. Immediately, my heart starts to pound and hope fills my chest.
“Hello?” I say, answering the phone with a swipe of my finger. I’m so excited, so terrified. I want the perfect dress for Sean. I can’t wait to hear when our next date will be. Sean made it sound like we’d be seeing a lot of each other.
“Miss Stanz, good evening.” Miss Black sounds the same as usual. It’s hard to read her emotions. Maybe she doesn’t have any. “I’ve contacted Mr. Ferro and wanted to call and tell you the results of our conversation. As I suspected, he is no longer interested in using our services.”
A rush of air leaves my lungs and I sit down hard on the puffy seat inside my dressing room. “You told him that it’d be me?”
“Yes, I did. He was rather adamant that he no longer wishes to pursue the arrangement with you, even after I told him that you requested we call to correct this situation. I’ll find you another match. Give me a little time and we’ll have you all set. I’ll call you when everything is ready. Have a good evening.” And then the line goes dead. I stare at my phone. I feel like a hollowed out pumpkin. I put my head between my hands and try to collect myself.
