by Ward, H. M.
Flipping my hair back, I nearly fall over. Mel laughs at me as I blink and steady myself. “Nah, it’s just Black. She kind of scares the crap out of me.”
Mel makes a sound of agreement and plops down on my bed. It’s still made and looked pretty before Mel rolled on it. She kicks off her shoes and pulls her feet up. “So, I guess now that Psycho Romeo is gone, you want out? All that talk this morning was just talk, right?”
“I can’t quit. I need enough money to finish grad school.” Mel doesn’t say anything, but her expression speaks for her. She thinks that I should leave. “I’m going to load up my schedule now, sign a bunch of contracts, and then bust my ass in summer sessions. I have to prove to the university that I can handle the graduate work.”
“How many contracts are you going to sign? I never sign more than one at a time. It seems too risky and Black isn’t someone you mess around with, Avery. That’s a seriously bad plan.”
I feel dead inside, and it comes across in my voice when I speak. “I just want to get on with my life.”
“So do I, but this is a seriously bad plan. Did you tell anyone else?”
My eyes flick up and meet hers. “You mean Marty? Not really. He said it was killing him. I don’t want to hurt him.”
“He’d tell you that you were being stupid. What would you tell him?”
“That I have to stay alive and this is the only way I know to do it.”
Mel shakes her head. “You’re making a mistake.”
I’m so stressed out that I can’t stand to hear her words right now. “I could really use your support on this. It’s going to be hard enough without you telling me that I’m an idiot.”
“Fine, let’s talk. You have a client in a couple of hours. How are you going to do him? Black will start micromanaging you and ask this shit, so spit it out, Avery.” My face flames red as my eyes dart away from hers. “Shit, girl. You still blush? How could you blush? You fucked Freak Show how many times now, and you still turn cherry red when someone mentions sex. How old are you? Twelve?”
I want to prove to her that I can handle this. I make up a bunch of stuff and say it looking her in the eye. I give enough details that her mouth opens slightly. “I’m not an idiot, I just don’t like talking about it.”
“Well, if you do that with Henry Thomas, Black will never ask you anything again.”
I nod. “That’s what I was thinking.”
“Where’d you learn that shit from anyway? I didn’t think you had it in you.” Mel is halfway stuck between impressed and concerned. The only reason she’s concerned is because it’s me and I’m fragile.
But I’m sick of it. I wanted control over my life, so I took it. I learned what I needed to know to do this job and I’ll do it. “I looked it up. There was a Q&A from some chick that works a Vegas brothel. She posted it and a ton of guys said she was right—that it’s majorly awesome. I figured that I have to be beyond acceptable to get Black off my back.” I shrug like it doesn’t matter.
Mel pushes off the bed. “I’m sorry I took you to Black. I screwed up, Avery. And that’s the last I’m going to say about that, because no matter what we do, we can’t change that. Not now. So, I’ll help you out and be Ms. Supportive, no matter what crazy crap you decide.”
18
Gabe meets me at the elevators. Since it’s Sunday afternoon the offices are empty. “What kind of company is here during the day?”
Gabe gives me a look that says I shouldn’t be asking, but he answers anyway. “Calling center.”
“For what? Insurance?”
He grins. “You could call it that.”
Okay, so it’s not an insurance center. My next guess is something tawdry like a phone sex operator calling center. Do they even have those? As I walk past desks, I imagine what it would have to sound like in here if that were going on, which doesn’t match what I saw last time I walked in when everyone was working.
“She’s not in a good mood, so don’t piss her off. Say yes to whatever she offers and get the hell out.” Gabe talks softly—well, for Gabe—and deposits me at Black’s door. “I’ll bring the car around and wait for you downstairs.”
Gabe disappears and my heart races harder. I knock on the door, lightly.
Miss Black snaps, “Enter.” When I push into the room, I see her sorting through papers, looking beyond irritated. There’s a ruler clutched in her right hand and a pen in the other. “I see you lost another client.”
“Who was the first one?”
Miss Black stops what she’s doing and looks up at me sharply. She drops the pen and snaps her fingers at me. “Take it off. I have no time for you right now.” She snaps again before I realize she wants me to disrobe.
I wriggle out of my black dress and stand there like livestock. At least I’m not naked. Miss Black circles me with her hand on her chin and that ruler gripped loosely in her hand. I’m wearing a lacy black shelf bra that doesn’t contain my nipples. It’s paired with a garter belt that’s holding up lace-topped thigh highs and a panty that’s nothing more than a piece of string.
I seriously hate this part of inspection. As Miss Black passes behind me, I’m whacked on my backside. I yelp and feel the sting of the ruler. I round on her. Before I can say anything, she shakes her head, like she’s upset with me. “You’re not taking care of yourself, Avery. Your backside is too wide.”
“It is not! I weigh the same as I did when I got here.”
“You had more muscle when you got here. Firm that up immediately. Our girls don’t have droopy cheeks.”
I glance down at my ass. It’s not droopy. I want to argue with her, but I don’t. Gabe’s warning is in my mind, so I nod and agree with her. “I’ll fix it.”
“You will or I’ll fix it for you, set you up with some men who will firm it up due to their particular preferences, if you catch my meaning.”
I nod. “Whatever you think, Miss Black.” I despise this part. I wish it was over, but Black stands there with her ruler like she wants to beat me with it.
She snaps at me. “Get dressed. I’m tired of looking at you.”
As I pull on my dress, I ask, “Do you have more work for me?”
Miss Black looks at me and laughs, like I’m asking for something crazy. “You want more work? You haven’t had sex with two clients yet and you’re asking for more?”
I nod as I zip up my dress. “I’ll take care of Mr. Thomas.”
“You will or I’ll give you to one of the mindless security thugs as a plaything.” Miss Black is shifting through papers on her desk as she speaks. “Since you’re so determined, here is a new client. I don’t have his papers completed yet and I’m still waiting on pictures, but he wanted to book you for next weekend.”
“Me? He specifically asked for me?”
“Yes, although I don’t see why.” She shoves a blank contract at me. “Sign this and I’ll get the rest filled in later.” I take the pen and sign. She shoves a preferences sheet at me. “Update this as well.”
I flip the paper around and look up at her. “I get paid more if it’s blank, right?” She nods. Her dark eyes hold mine for a moment, like she thinks I’m weak. It pisses me off. I’m not weak. I’ve put up with more crap than she has, I’m sure of it. Besides, after what Sean did to me, I don’t see how anything could be worse. I push the paper back to her, blank.
“Do you expect me to be impressed? You play these games, Avery, but can you honestly perform when a client wants to have anal sex with you? What if he wants to use beads? Clamps? Or other things that frighten you? You’re all talk, and I know it. Check off the things you won’t do on the sheet.”
Shaking my head, I say, “No, I’m in this up to my neck. I don’t care what he wants to do, I’ll do it.”
“This client specifically requested some odd things. Last chance, little girl. Don’t bite off more than you can chew, because he will demand it, and have every right to take it from you.” It feels like she’s trying to scare me off, but I d
on’t let her.
I fold my arms over my chest. “Can I go now?”
She grins triumphantly and I realize that I was played. Her tactics are making me keep that sheet blank. “Yes, dear. Go and make sure Mr. Thomas comes begging for more.”
19
My stomach is twisting in knots as Gabe drives me closer to the hotel. I fish my bracelet out of my bag and put it on. My hand is shaking so much that I have trouble getting the clasp to lock. When Gabe hits a pothole, I fumble and drop it.
“Sorry about that. The streets haven’t been the same since Sandy.” They really haven’t. That damn hurricane literally ate half the seashore, along with Ocean Parkway and a ton of houses. There are parts of Long Island that look abandoned with houses that look like skeleton’s covered in black mold. Tattered tarps have been shredded to ruins like the building beneath.
“It’s okay. I’m just nervous, I guess.”
Gabe is uncharacteristically silent. It drives me nuts so I blurt out, “Just say it. Yell at me for not wearing a coat and agreeing to sleep with half of New York. Go ahead and say it. It won’t make any difference now anyway.”
“Which is why I’m not saying nothing.” Gabe’s old eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. The car dips again as it moves over uneven pavement. A car cuts off someone in front of us and horns blare before the telltale sound of a collision.
“Awh, Jesus Christ—” Gabe lurches the car to the side while I try to get my bracelet around my wrist. It catches just as the old guy takes a less conventional route around the accident with two tires up on the sidewalk. He leans on his horn and the pedestrians jump out of the way.
I glance behind us to see a wake of angry people flipping us the bird with extra enthusiasm. I hold onto my ‘oh shit’ strap and try not to scream. Gabe goes down half a city block on the curb before getting around the accident. “Sorry, if we’re late, Black will skin me. She’s in a foul mood.”
“Why? She doesn’t have enough money to roll around in?” My arms are folded over my chest. I repress a shiver but it makes me spasm anyway.
Gabe reaches over and cranks up the heater. “Nah, supply and demand problems. She has more client requests than she can fill. Black knows she’s losing money and pissing away cash ticks her off.”
“What?” This is news to me. I thought I was expendable, as in totally replaceable. “Like she doesn’t have enough call girls?”
Gabe smirks at me in the mirror. “I didn’t say that. Did you hear me say that?”
Crazy old man. I shake my head and smile at him. “Just because you didn’t say it doesn’t mean anything. She’ll kill you if she figures out that you told me anything.”
“Yeah, but I’m the one she sends for shit like that and it’s not like I plan on roughing up my own face, so I think we’re okay.
“Besides, my point is that she needs you. Don’t let her push you into things you don’t want to do. You’re a tenderfoot with all this. You shouldn’t have more than one guy a weekend—she knows that—but she accepted these clients and has to deliver someone.”
“So she’s sending me? What about all that stuff about preferences and trying to set us up with guys that are my type?”
Gabe snorts. “Princess, right now, every guy is your type.”
This doesn’t sit right with me. I glance out the window and wonder if she played me. All those times that Black tried to get me to sign the preference sheet and I didn’t—I wonder if she manipulated me. Am I that stupid?
Maybe.
Mel’s words ring in my ears, It’s fun, like a really good date. But it isn’t. I feel like I’m being bought and sold. I don’t feel powerful or sexy when I do this. No, it just feels like I’ve lost control of my life, that I have to do these things to survive.
Resentment is lodged in the back of my throat. I swallow it down because it won’t do me any good now. I have to cram my emotions into a box and lock them up, or I’ll cry. I can’t even imagine what Black would do with that.
Gabe stops in front of the hotel. Before he opens the door, he shoots me a look. “I’m keeping a close proximity tonight for obvious reasons. Black wants confirmation the deed is done.” The corners of his eyes are wrinkled, like he’s seen too many sunrises that made his gaze narrow with disgust. The guy is a fighter and for some reason he’s looking out for me.
I nod and slip out of the car when the hotel person opens my door. It’s a young guy, maybe a year or two younger than me. His dark eyes sweep over me once, and he smiles. “Good afternoon, Miss.”
If this guy complimented me like that a few weeks ago with his flirty smile, I would have felt something, but now I just nod. There’s no normalcy any longer. The young man looks taken down a notch, although I didn’t mean to do it. It’s like the other night when I was talking to Sidney—Peter’s girlfriend. I said something stupid and accidentally insulted her. In my head it sounded light and playful but when it fell out of my mouth, well, I know I was a bitch for saying it. I wasn’t myself that night. I haven’t been myself for a long time. What happens to people when they lose sight of who they are? Can they ever come back? Is the old version of me gone forever, or can I pull her back from the depths?
Since my parents died, my life has been filled with nightmares, and grief so thick it feels like globs of fat, coating my skin, suffocating me day by day. The fake smile that spreads across my lips as I smooth my silk dress, the slight sashay to my walk, the confidence in my stance, it’s all fake. A few male heads turn as I walk by. I know this by now. Something about a confident, well dressed woman makes them look. They wonder who I am and where I’m going, and a good chunk of those guys wonder how it would be to get between my legs. They admire the man who landed me. I’ve seen many impressed glances the times I was with Sean or Henry in public. But the truth is, if anyone dared to look, they’d notice that I have no idea what I’m doing and I don’t care. Maybe if I act like I’m into whatever Henry wants, then he won’t notice that I’d rather be anywhere but here.
If I could only be so lucky.
As I walk through the front doors to the hotel, I confidently move toward the elevators. This is the same place I met Henry the last time I tried this. My stomach is twisting in knots as beads of sweat break out across my forehead. The elevator doors shimmer as they open and I step inside. I dab away the perspiration on my face, terrified that I’m going to hurl in the elevator before I even make it to his door, but I’m not stopping. I won’t quit—not that I have the option—and it’s not like Henry is horrible. He’s actually pretty sweet, but I don’t feel like that toward him, and that’s the problem. I don’t feel anything toward Henry, except friendship.
That’s why I’m turning into a plastic person. You know, the kind who are so fake they’ve forgotten how to be real. If it helped me forget the pain shooting through my heart every time it beat, I’d sign on the line and never look back.
The nausea makes my stomach lurch. I open my purse and dig out an alcohol wet wipe. After tearing the top open, I inhale deeply and the over-salivating thing stops. When I was in fourth grade, I had horrible nerves like this and the nurse had me sniff a cotton ball with some rubbing alcohol on it. Apparently, the smell can short circuit the part of the brain that’s pressing the vomit button like a chimp jacked up on Pixie Stix.
I have to hold it together. When the elevator doors open, I manage a smile. My mind keeps replaying the scenes from the last time I saw Henry, which isn’t helping me any. This time the act has to be thicker and the lies falling off my lips have to be so deep that they become real.
Stepping out, I manage to smile and walk down the hall to his room. This is it, Stanz. Jump in or run like hell and hope Gabe doesn’t bother to hunt you down. Before I can lift my hand to knock, the door flies open. Henry is standing on the other side with an ice bucket in his hand. He startles and nearly jumps out of his skin.
“Avery, I didn’t hear you knock. Please come in, make yourself comfortable while I grab some ice.”
He holds the door for me. I smile at him and duck under his arm and into the room. “Be right back, love.”
“All right.” I walk into the little room. It’s just a bed and bathroom, like last time. I wish I loved getting wasted because I’d be so schnockered right now. I put my purse down and walk over to the window and look out at the city. The sky is inky blue with a smearing of fluffy clouds that are hard to see because of the tall buildings.
The door opens and Henry pockets his key card. He’s wearing a cream button down shirt that’s open at the neck along with a pair of gray slacks. His hair is a little less perfect than usual, like something’s been stressing him out and he ran his fingers through it a million times.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of ordering champagne. I actually have some exciting news, which is why I really wanted to see you this weekend.” Henry puts the ice bucket down and crosses the room. On the desk there is a bottle of champagne already chilled. He lifts it out and takes up a glass flute like he’s done this a thousand times before.
I step toward him. This is going to make it much harder to not get shit-faced. I failed to eat before coming so this will go straight to my head, and as it is I’m a lightweight when it comes to drinking. Still, I smile at him as I walk over and I place my hands on his shoulders as he tops off my glass. Henry turns, grinning at me, and hands me the bubbling liquid. “So, what’s the exciting news?”
“My design worked. You know how I wanted Ferro’s patent?” I nod and sip. “Well, everyone was telling me that what I wanted to do couldn’t be done, but it worked. The prototype was completed Friday morning and it worked!”
“That’s great, Henry! What is it? What does it do?” I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear and take another sip.
My mind wanders; I think I can outrun Gabe on foot. I could dart out the door and vanish. No one would ever see me again. I have enough money to live in a shack in some little town off the grid. I could do it—but I’d hate it. More thoughts flash into my head and disappear just as quickly, but no matter what, there is no way out of this.
