Come on! We still needed to eat! I thought, huffing and puffing. How were we even going to buy food?!
I jumped off my bed and stomped down the small hallway. Opening his door, I saw that he was dead asleep, snoring peacefully in bed. That was the only time he didn’t seem miserable.
I sighed and slowly closed the door. I knew Dad didn’t need the added drama. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I wanted to wake him up and yell at him.
Where did he blow past that money to put us seven hundred dollars down the hole?
Gambling?
Drinking?
I couldn’t exactly see him doing drugs. I bit my thumbnail and settled back down on the bed. I had to think of something quick.
“Maybe I can just pull a gig or two, get the money up and we’ll be okay… for another month.”
I pulled up the local paper online, searched classifieds and saw a few low paying jobs.
Waitressing? Nah, I’d be better off stripping…
Hmm.
I pulled myself off the mattress again and looked at my body. Nice curves, and I was athletic and limber.
The image of those red numbers was still burned completely into my head. All the strippers in the movies I’d seen weren’t poor. Yeah, they may’ve lived in some cruddy places, but they were saving up for better.
Hmm.
I slipped on some short shorts, a tank top to show off my shape, and grabbed my red purse. One more choice. Shoes.
I hated heels. But if I had a shot at getting anywhere, I was gonna need them.
Inhale.
Exhale.
You can do this, Wendy. No one really remembers you, anyway. You don’t have to stay a stripper, you can leave. At any time!
The money was probably going to be so good I’d get hooked.
Too bad though— I’d have to worry about that later. Rent was due, and we only had a five day grace period. And if I didn’t settle that overdrawn balance soon, the bank would cause us to dig deeper into the hole, with countless fees and whatnot.
Here goes nothing.
I walked out the front door of the house, making sure to lock up behind me. I was sure my dad would be sleeping all day, as he was prone to do during the low peaks of his depression. He wouldn’t notice I was gone, or ask where. Not that I even knew where I was going. I had no particular place in mind, but I knew the area where all the strip joints were located in this town.
Some called it the Red Light district.
Some called it the Meat House due to its prostitutes.
But this was the south end of the city, and all the seedy places were nestled right there among its inhabitants. Some men whistled as I walked by. I was even solicited for drugs.
But eventually I made my way down to the main thoroughfare where all the strip joints were.
I walked up to one. It was painted all in gold.
Meh, kind of tacky looking, I thought.
The double doors swung open and a woman with shoulder length curly hair stomped out of there with someone that looked to be… an assistant? Huh? In this part of town.
“Come on! There are no women here good enough—” She turned and happened to see me. Stopping in mid-sentence, she stared at me for a couple silent moments.
“Umm,,” I stammered. “Something wrong?” I asked, feeling self conscious.
“Hmm,” she hummed, slowly circling around me like a vulture. “You don’t work here, do you, darling?” she asked, looking me up and down and up again.
“No… I want to—”
She shot her gaze at me. “No, dear, you do not. If you’re that desperate, let me help you find love!” she said, a slip of a French accent coming out along with her strange words.
“Love? I don’t need love. I need to pay bills right now.” I held onto my purse, shifting in my heels so I didn’t get achy feet. This woman was well dressed in a black dress with wonderful gold bangles. I admired her fancy fashion. She actually matched the black Mercedes that sat in the front. That had to belong to her.
“Love can do that too…”
“Wait, you’re not trying to pitch some brothel to me, are you?” I asked, taking a step back. I mean, this was a seedy area, so it wouldn’t have surprised me at all.
“No, I am Eliza Rousseau—”
I threw my hands over my mouth. For a second I thought she looked familiar, but dismissed the thought.
“You’re… Oh my god! Down here?”
She laid her hands on my shoulder and we approached the black Mercedes. Wow, the Eliza Rousseau. She was known for hooking up billionaires that were looking for love. But in reality, they were probably just high priced escorts.
“Yes, down here. I was looking for some more girls to add to my catalogue. You never know who might make a good match for whom.”
“Is it… sex?” I asked.
Her assistant stifled a giggle, but remained behind us, her head down.
“Sometimes. But that’s completely up to you. You see, sometimes business men need dates or just a pretty face by their side,” she explained, her floral perfume wafting around her. The clinking of her bangles was relaxing as well. It was almost like her presence was hypnotizing.
Billionaires. And sex would be a choice. Not mandatory. I was thinking this set up sounded like a better option than stripping.
“When would I start?”
Eliza shoved a black and gold card in my hand. “Call me. I’ll log your details in and when there’s a match, I’ll call you. You can get paid from anywhere from about five thousand dollars, to millions!”
I had to let that last word gel with me… Millions.
“Wow…”
“But that’s if I call. And looking at you and those curves and that hourglass figure? It’ll be soon.” Eliza went around to the driver’s side of the car and unlocked it. Her assistant caught up and stood at the passenger side.
I was grateful for the compliment. I guess I looked better than I had given myself credit for when I was looking at myself in the mirror.
“Just promise me one thing,” she said, before ducking into her car.
“What’s that?” I asked, thinking I’d promise her anything if I could make a million dollars.
“Don’t go in there and strip,” she said. “And don’t go anywhere and strip, for that matter. Seriously, I can get you something much better.”
I half smiled at her, dubiously. It wasn’t that I wanted to be a stripper. It was just a matter of necessity.
“Okay,” I told her, hoping I wasn’t making the wrong decision. Those bank fees were increasing in number every day, and I knew there had to be good, fast money to be made within the gold-painted doors of that strip club. “I’ll hold out for a little while.”
Chapter 3 – Sam
My head was still hot. Benson’s great idea was for me to be set up with some kind of match making service for billionaires, run by the famed Eliza Rousseau. But so far, the plan wasn’t working out as well as Benson thought it would, and I was getting antsy.
I called Eliza, and even went by to tell her what I wanted. But she didn’t have anything for me… yet. She said she’d find someone quickly for me. But I was already running out of time. I should have known better than to trust that Benson’s idea was any good. He was king of overpromising and underdelivering.
Pulling up into my driveway, I parked my Maserati and grabbed my cane. I caught a glimpse of its shine against the cherry oak body and admired it for a second. It was pretty to look at. Too bad I actually had to fucking use it.
I managed to drag myself out of the car with a few grunts. Day by day my legs were gaining more strength. Eventually, I was hoping I could soon ditch this shitty cane and walk on my own like I used to.
I limped up to the door, a small ache radiating from my hips. I hobbled up to my double doors and opened them. Willow said that she would’ve preferred I get a lighter, simpler door, but I was always the kind of man who went for the best.
I
slipped inside and gained a little speed to my bedroom— well, to the bathroom that was off my master bedroom. Rushing into the bathroom with an exaggerated limp, I turned on the hot water and poured some Epsom salt into the jacuzzi.
The water filled up, and I watched it slowly creep up near the water jets. Throwing my jacket off, I got undressed and dipped myself into the hot water, hissing at the tremor of my nerves that relished in the heat.
“God, that’s good.” The only thing better than this was probably sex.
If I would ever be fortunate enough to experience that again…
The heat massaged my body along with the gentle shots of water from the water jets. Today was almost unbearable. Benson just threw me into a pile of steaming shit, and now that two hundred million dollar deal that was a beacon of popularity gone viral might be nothing but a puff of dust.
Even if Eliza called. A fake wife would only be a temporary fix to a permanent problem—
Suddenly, I heard the buzz of someone ringing the security monitor button outside.
“Huh?” I grabbed the waterproof tablet that sat by the side of the jacuzzi and looked at my camera. It was Mr. Johnston, from the bank my company uses.
“Mr. Johnston,” I said, through the voice feature of my security network. It helped not having to run to the door. Especially since running wasn’t an option for me. “What can I do for you?”
“Mr. Reign, we need to speak. This is urgent. Very urgent!” he hushed into the speaker.
“Give me five,” I said, using my arms to propel me out the bath.
Grabbing my robe and cane, I went to the front door and let Mr. Johnston in.
“What’s wrong, Mr. Johnston?” I asked him. I hurried to add, “Please excuse my state of dress. I take frequent baths to help my hip and leg—”
But he wasn’t listening. He zoomed inside, huffing and puffing, pacing around and slapping a hand on his forehead.
“Mr. Reign. Do you know what you did?!” he asked, his voice cracking.
“Mr. Johnston, you’re making me nervous. Spit it out!”
“You lied!” he yelled. “You lied, and the bank is demanding the money they loaned you back!” he said, throwing his arms in the air. His face even shook with worry and irritation.
“Lied? Loan? What loan?!” I asked, limping towards him.
His eyes widened and he took a few shaky steps back. “You know nothing about a loan for ten million dollars? For your company? You and Benson’s names are both on there!”
Shit.
I prayed to God that this wasn’t another Benson move. But I wasn’t willing to see him in jail… not now at least. Not until I figured out what the fuck was going on and what part he had played in it.
“Oh! Yeah, I remember that. What about it again?”
“The bank looked into your application during a random audit. Some things didn’t line up during deeper inspection. When banks get scared, they demand their money back!” He calmed down and rubbed his neck.
“I spoke up for you, so the bank won’t do anything drastic. But they want the money or else this will get messy!” he said in a calmer tone, pulling at his brown, tight-fitting blazer.
“Fine.” I motioned to the door, “Now, I do need my rest. I’ll be in touch in a day or two.” After I strangle someone…
Mr. Johnston left, but not without continuing to mumble that I’d better take care of it, and soon. Relieved once he was finally gone, I closed the door behind him.
I shifted my weight from one leg to another, feeling a bit relieved in the hips from the small soak in salt.
I had Benson on speed dial and called him.
“Hey, Sam, did Eliza—”
“Benson, what the actual fuck?! Fraud? You’ve gone way over the goddamn line!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. If only my legs were strong enough, I’d run over to his house and hit him.
“Woah, Sam, what’s going—”
“The bank just visited me! What’s this about ten million dollars? My name is on that?”
“Oh, God,” he groaned.
“Yeah, oh God is right, Benson. You’d better be praying to Him hard right now, because He may be the only thing that can get us out of this mess.”
Silence. “I fucked up. It was to get us going.”
I sat down on my bed and leaned back. My blood pressure was bound to go through the roof. “They want it back in two weeks. They want ten million dollars back or else it’ll get messy.”
“Shit,” he hissed.
“Yes, shit. Shit that you shoveled on us, you ignorant fucking prick. Giving them ten million will ruin us. Look, I know you just wanted to help but—”
My phone began to ring again. “Look, we’ll talk later. Let me take this call.”
“Sorry, Sam.”
I didn’t respond and hung up. The number ringing my phone wasn’t too familiar, but I still answered it anyway. “Hello?”
“Dear Sam! I have a match for you!” Eliza sang over the phone.
“A match, this quick?”
She chuckled. “Yes, I’m good like that.”
The confidence was booming in her voice.
A crazy thought entered my mind.
Maybe I could do this. If this all worked out, then I’d be able to pull through.
That small glimmer of hope— or maybe it was just temporary insanity from stress—
made me say, “When do I meet her?”
“Tomorrow! She’ll be all ready for you. When you come to meet her, then we can hash out more details. But she’s lovely and fits all your desires.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem, swing around tomorrow at seven. Oui?”
“Not a problem. Enjoy your evening, Ms. Rousseau.”
I hung up and closed my eyes.
What the hell was I doing?
I didn’t even know anymore. I only knew that it had something to do with trying to save my business— and maybe myself, too.
Chapter 4 – Wendy
Wow, I couldn’t believe it.
I met Eliza Rousseau of all people today and was even offered to work for her. Now, granted, I knew it all sounded like some weird sort of brothel thing, but she was in the market of finding people love, too— not just sex. I remembered a couple she had brought together. They ended up getting married, and stayed married.
I sighed. I wasn’t doing this for love, though. And I think Eliza knew from seeing me in the Red Light district that I needed money. And quick. Even though she said she’d call me, and call soon, I knew that would have to come through in order for this to be a done deal. The survival of my family depended on this.
Sex… optional. But with some men it would be a must. Too bad, I was saving my virginity for that special someone… and if anyone had asked me years ago who that person was, I’d have gladly told them it was a boy named Sam Reign. But no, that didn’t work out.
And neither did the boyfriend I picked up during my first year of college either. I was nestled in my bed, glancing out the window at the darkening sky, it was night fall now, and I was sitting next to my phone, staring at it as if it were going to come alive and pole dance.
What if she never calls? I thought aloud.
Tapping my fingers on my jaw, I looked at the time. It was near dinner time— or, I should say, it was time to eat the small bit of dinner we had, anyway. There was grunting and slight thumping coming down from the hallway and I jumped up to see who it was.
I opened my bedroom door and peaked out to see my father slowly making his way up the small hall to the kitchen.
“Damn, I forgot to cook something.”
Dad was having a hard time walking, so I rushed up behind him and supported him at his side so he could get into the kitchen without having to risk a faceplant onto the floor.
“There we go, Dad, I got you!” I said, wobbling under his weight.
“Thanks, Wendy, such a good daughter,” he mumbled.
Damn, it really did hurt to see Dad th
is way. And there was no way I could cheer him up either. Unless Eliza called with good news. Maybe a gig that’d give me millions!
Hah, talk about a daydream. But even a few thousand would help substantially.
“Here we go, Dad. I’ll get something put together. Are you cold?” I asked, noticing his skin had a slight chill to it.
“I’m good. Take your time. I just wanted to get out of the bed,” he said, shifting in his chair.
The kitchen was cramped even though it was an eat in kitchen. I maneuvered around the other chairs and went back down to his room to get his robe. Dad was such a bad liar sometimes.
“Oh my god, what the hell?!” I hissed, looking at a pile of cash near my father’s bed.
I hadn’t seen it earlier since it was stashed to the right. But now since I was all the way in his room, I had a nice and clear image of fifty dollar bills piled up against his drawer. On the floor.
He must have gotten drunk— which he sometimes did, when depressed— and hadn’t realized he had kept this much dough out on the floor. Kneeling down, I scooped up the money and began to count. It was twelve hundred dollars.
“Well, this is enough to cover rent and a few groceries…”
I stacked the money nice and neatly and went back into the kitchen area to ask my dad why the hell he hadn’t told me about this before.
“Dad, what’s up with this?” I asked, holding the money up into the air so he had a good view of what I was talking about.
“Oh, I won that at the casino. For rent and stuff… Sorry, I forgot to—”
My anger vanished into thin air and I sat down beside him. Even through his pain and problems he was still trying to hold our little family together. Nice to know I wasn’t alone in that struggle.
“Thanks, Pops,” I said, rubbing his shoulder. “Let me cook up the rest of that fish.”
“Take a break and order a pizza for once,” he said, forcing a small smile.
Oh, Dad… I stared at him, tears threatening to spill out my eyes. Like we have money for take-out.
The burning in my eyes and the strength it took for me to not let tears spill out of them was immense. I would only make Dad more upset if I cried. There had to be some way—
Sold on the Beach_A Reverse Harem Romance Page 26
