The Price of Mason

by Linda Kage

  I went straight to the back bathroom and stripped, needing these clothes off me as soon as possible. Stepping into the shower, I turned the water to scorching hot and scalded my guilt and shame off my flesh with as much heat and soap as I could stand.

  By the time I shut off the water, there was a good chance I had first-degree burns, but my nerves had calmed enough that I could convince myself I was probably just being paranoid and overreacting. Just because I’d said one single name and turned down one single client didn’t mean it was the end of the world. My family was still safe. Hell, the babysitter was probably still safe. It would take the two rich, powerful, vindictive hags I’d crossed tonight too much energy to mess with them. This would blow over. Everything would be okay. I was worrying for nothing.

  Except, as I opened the shower door and reached for a towel to wrap around my waist, I still felt jittery. Tonight had sucked in more ways than one. I wanted to know how Monica—or whatever her name was—had so easily drawn me into her play world. Why had I let the offer to pretend she was Reese tempt me so thoroughly? So instantly?

  I’d had exactly four encounters with Glowing Girl—three that she even knew of—and all of them probably lasted less than five minutes put together. I knew nothing about her, except that she apologized to inanimate objects, defended strangers when they were teased, and ran into a shit load of things. That might tell me a couple things, but it certainly shouldn’t have pulled me into the role-play it had tonight.

  God. Was I just that desperate for something different and fresh and new that I’d thrown all caution to the wind and attached my interest to some girl I knew shit about?

  That was just pathetic.

  I was pathetic.

  I looked at myself, and all my pathetic-ness gazed back, trying to apologize to me with a sorry, regretful gaze. No longer able to face myself, I bowed my head, gripped the edges of the sink, and squeezed my eyes shut, hoping to God I hadn’t fucked up some poor, completely innocent girl’s life as much as I’d already fucked up my own by merely saying her name.

  When a gasp came from behind me, I jerked my head up, not expecting anyone to be awake. For some reason, the only person I thought it could be was my mom. Sarah usually had too much trouble transferring herself from her bed to her chair by herself to get up in the middle of the night and wander around, so I naturally assumed Mom. But when I met neither the gaze of my sister nor my mother in the mirror’s reflection, I yelped, “Shit!” and whirled around.

  Reese, the glowing girl babysitter, leaped a step back, gaping at me from huge blue eyes as her gaze darted and skipped, taking in everything she saw…which was me wearing nothing but a towel around my waist. And most bizarre of all, she was holding a freaking doll.

  Why the hell was she holding a limp doll?

  She looked so young and innocent and shocked. It was the opposite of what I’d come to know and loathe from my clients. So it appealed to me on every level. My body instantly reacted, heating and hardening.

  In an attempt to hide my reaction and the possibility of anything poking from the front of my towel, I grabbed the waistline and bunched the terry cloth within my fist, so the rest would ripple and help conceal any other possible lumps that might want to protrude.

  Then I instinctively grabbed the door that was hanging half open, cursing myself for never having fixed the damn latch.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded before I even knew what I was going to say.

  She wasn’t supposed to be here. Mom should’ve gotten home hours ago. Plus, I already felt shitty enough about possibly dragging her into my problems with my landlady; seeing her only ratcheted the guilt up more.

  Being half naked in front of her didn’t exactly make me all that comfortable either. I was used to playing a role when my clothes were off, acting out the part. I had no clue how to be real—how to be me—at a time like this.

  “I…I’m babysitting,” she answered in a small voice as if she were afraid I was going to cuss her out, making me realize I hadn’t been very gentle with my question. Shit, I was really raking in the mistakes tonight, wasn’t I?

  Suddenly, she straightened her shoulders and set her hands on her hips before scowling. “What the hell are you doing, taking a shower with the door wide open while I’m babysitting?”

  I don’t know why that irritated me. I should’ve just fucking apologized. But I was in a crappy mood so I spit back, “I didn’t know you were here. And the latch doesn’t work. I shut it as best as I could, but it still floats open when the exhaust fan is on.”

  Her shoulders instantly fell and the defiant narrowing of her eyes softened, making my crappy mood worsen and the guilt thicken.

  I cleared my throat, disgusted with myself. “Isn’t my mom home yet?”

  She sniffed and rolled her eyes. “Apparently not.” She motioned behind her. “I fell asleep on the couch after putting Sarah to bed, and no one woke me. Wouldn’t she have woken me if she’d come home?”

  Dammit. Mom better be behaving. “She must be working overtime for someone, then.” Closing my eyes, I hissed a curse in my head, realizing my first thought was not for her safety but to worry that she was getting into something she shouldn’t be. I ran a hand through my hair. “Well, I didn’t know you were here, okay.” God, I sounded like a douche. Why couldn’t I stop sounding like a douche?

  “And I didn’t know you were here either,” she snipped back. “You scared the crap out of me. When I woke up and heard something back here, I thought a burglar had broken in.”

  I lifted my eyebrows. “You thought someone broke in…to use the shower?”

  Huffing out a sound, she scowled at me. “I didn’t hear the water running. Jeez. I only heard doors, or drawers, or something opening and shutting. I didn’t know what was going on.” She moved her hands again, bringing my attention back to the doll she was holding.

  Realizing she hadn’t been holding it like a comfort blanket but more like someone about to swing a baseball bat, I bit the inside of my lip to hide my amusement.

  “Well, swell,” I said, nodding. “I suppose I should feel so much better now, knowing Sarah is safe in your hands. If someone breaks in, you can just wield your doll there and play tea party with them to death.”

  She gasped in outrage. “Hey! I’ll have you know the plastic head on this doll is pretty hard. Trust me. Your sister caught me in the noggin with it earlier.” Wincing, she rubbed her head.

  Remembering she’d been babysitting my sister all night and this had been her first encounter with anyone with CP, and also remembering how freaked out she’d looked when I’d left the house earlier, I stepped forward, worry lacing my veins. “She hit you?”

  That didn’t sound like Sarah. My sister would never intentionally hurt someone. A person would really have to be going after her for her to even try to defend herself.

  But Reese shook her head. “Oh, not on purpose, no. It’s nothing. No big whoop. We were having a good time. She was excited. Arms started flailing a little too wildly. I mean, how could they not when I’d been wailing, ‘Give me back my golden arm’? But it’s all good. Don’t worry about it.”

  I blinked at her.

  Because had she just said she and Sarah had had a good time? After seeing her expression when I’d left earlier in the evening, I never in a million years would’ve thought she’d ever say, We were having a good time.

  The glowing girl who’d put hope in my heart had given my sister a good time?

  Oh, Jesus. An ache bloomed in my chest. My throat went dry. My eyes started to fucking burn. But if she’d really showed Sarah a good time, this innocent blue-eyed girl would be my new hero.

  I stared at her, and suddenly, all I could think was I fucked you tonight. While my eyes were closed and I was inside another woman, I imagined it was you, and it was the best sex of my life.

  My next thought was: God, she’s so young.

  It didn’t matter that we were basically the same age.
She just seemed so innocent and untouched by the evils of the world.

  And suddenly I understood why my clients always said that about me. Reese possessed this aura around her, this glow. To me, it was fresh and pure and beautiful. I wanted to experience it with her. So maybe to all those calculating, deceitful cougars who employed me, I seemed pure and fresh and appealing.

  Realizing I was just staring at her, I shook my head, forcing myself back to the present. “I guess I should pay you. My mom said eight dollars an hour, right?”

  Twisting around, I bent to fetch my pants so I could search my pockets for money. It felt weird giving her the very money I’d gotten while pretending I’d been with her, but then again, it only seemed fair too. I’d earned it because of her.

  “Umm…” she said. “D-don’t worry about it. I’ll just square it up with Dawn later.”

  I glanced at her just as I got a handful of the cash and pulled it free. “Trust me,” I said, showing her the money. “You’re going to get paid from these exact bills right here. Does it really matter whether I give them to you now or if I pass them along to my mother, who probably won’t remember to give them to you until next week…if not later?”

  Her face went a little green and her throat worked as she swallowed. There was no doubt in my mind she knew exactly how I had procured the money. Shame blanketed me; I damn near tucked the wad behind my back out of sight.

  But then I thought, fuck it. I needed to stop thinking so highly of this girl. I didn’t know her. She didn’t know me. And the quickest way to scare her off would be to go ahead and let her see what I really was. As soon as her face filled with horror and disgust, boom, I’d get disappointed and lose my little fascination, and whatever it was I was feeling for her would finally vanish. Problem solved.

  So I watched her carefully as I separated four twenties from the lump and held them out her way. “Keep the change.”

  “Well…” She stared at my dirty money as if it were a contagious disease. But then she cleared her throat and straightened her back. “When you put it that way… Thanks.”

  She snagged the cash and started to pull her hand back only to wrinkle her nose and sniff the air before holding the money to her nose. When she caught me watching, she flushed and pulled the cash away. “Sorry. I just… They smell like… Is that…Chanel No. 5?”

  God. Is that what the name of the perfume was? Now I knew what to stay away from forever. Most of my clients wore that very same scent, which was basically the only reason I despised it. It brought on too many bad memories and added another reason to why I liked Reese’s fresher, happier, more innocent scent.

  “I wouldn’t know,” I said as stoically as I could manage. “I don’t ask.”

  Confession #9: I lied a lot. But that night, with Reese, I didn’t.

  My answer shocked her.

  Hell, it shocked me. I knew I had wanted to scare her off and somehow nip this…whatever it was…in the bud. But I never actually came right out and admitted what I was to people. That was like jail time just waiting to happen.

  What the hell was it about this girl that made all my actions and thoughts the very opposite of what they usually were? It was freaking bizarre.

  She shook her head as if confused. “What do you ask, then?”

  Okay, weird. Was she really going to just roll with the fact that I’d pretty much admitted what I was? Alright then.

  I shrugged, watching her with a slight squint. I had thought she’d be more horrified and disgusted. But she merely seemed curious.

  “Not much,” I heard myself answer. “My clients aren’t exactly the shy type. They tell me what they want and typically don’t leave a lot of room for questions.”

  Her lips gaped apart. “Oh, wow. So you’re actually admitting you’re a…a…”

  Wait. Hadn’t we just established that? Oh, damn. I thought I’d already admitted it. But I guess I really was now.

  “What?” I asked, shifting uncomfortably, trying to downplay the awkwardness by acting as if it were no big deal. “Haven’t you heard the rumors? As tight as you appeared to be with Eva Mercer on campus the other day, I would’ve assumed she’d told you every dirty detail about me by now.”

  A blush bloomed across her cheeks as if she felt guilty. “I…Yeah… I mean, she told me some crazy gossip, but I’m not sure if I believed any of it.”

  She sounded almost apologetic, maybe because she’d just admitted to talking about me. I don’t know. But Reese was definitely the complete reverse of everything I was used to.

  “Does your mom know?” she asked in a somewhat hushed voice, almost as if she were excited about getting all the juicy details to a huge state secret.

  But thinking about the answer to her question caused me to glance away. I didn’t want to make my mom look bad and let anyone know she willfully allowed her son to fuck women in order to get her bills paid. But I kind of dug this honesty thing I’d started. I always had to lie and cover shit up. It was a little relieving to just be open and honest. So I went with, “I have a feeling she suspects.”

  Reese’s eyes bugged, and she shook her head. “This is just… Yeah.” She turned an almost accusative stare on me. “Doesn’t it bother you that she knows?”

  Guilt flooded my veins and almost suffocated me. I’d been so worried about trying to protect my mom’s image that I’d made myself look like…well, like a filthy gigolo who probably broke his mother’s heart on the daily with his dirty, notorious deeds. Ashamed that she knew me for exactly what I was, all the regret came out defensively.

  “No,” I muttered. “It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Jesus. How do you think I feel about her knowing?”

  Reese pulled back, obviously startled by my response, and shit… Here came more remorse. Unable to deal with my own guilt, I held up a hand. “No. No more. The question and answer portion of this evening is over. You have your babysitting money, and I’m home to stay with Sarah. You can go.”

  “I…” She looked at me as if I’d just beaten her. Shit, why was I treating her this way? I totally hadn’t meant to be mean and hurt her feelings.

  With a nod, she squared her shoulders. “Okay,” she said and then turned away before darting off.

  I opened my mouth to call after her and apologize for being an ass. I even lifted my hand, but then I dropped it.

  “Fuck.”

  When I heard the front door open and close at her departure, I closed my eyes and ran my hand through my still damp hair to curse at the ceiling, only to realize I was still only wearing a towel. I muttered a couple more obscenities and dropped the terry cloth to the floor so I could pull on a pair of boxer shorts for bed.

  It was after one in the morning. My first class tomorrow started in less than seven hours. But when I flopped down on my bed in the dark and set the back of my wrist against my forehead as I stared up at my darkened ceiling, sleep grew elusive. In my head, I ran through the events of the night along with my conversation with Reese, and I concluded that I needed a do-over. I had handled everything wrong and just needed to manage it all differently. I should’ve refused to think about Reese when Monica had prompted me to. That way I never would’ve called out her name and then gotten myself in trouble and freaked myself out, then turned down a client for business and pissed her off.

  And I never would’ve been so rude or honest to Reese either.

  When I finally drifted off, my dreams were a confusing chaotic mix. First, I was back in the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel and bitching out Reese. Except, in the dream, she didn’t run off like a kicked puppy. She strode up to me, her eyes blazing with anger and life, and she poked her finger into my chest before telling me I was only treating her so badly because I was trying to hide how much I wanted to fuck her.

  I stared into her blue eyes for a moment before nodding and agreeing, “Yeah. You’re right.”

  Making an aggravated sound, she jerked her hands into the air and sputtered, “Then just get it over w
ith and fuck me already.”

  So I did. It all happened the same exact way I took Monica, except when I opened my eyes, I saw Reese’s face. I groaned from the bliss as I pumped into her.

  But then this cackle, like the wicked witch’s from The Wizard of Oz, filled my room and I looked up to find both Patricia and Monica standing over us, their faces painted green and noses long as they wore black robes and pointed hats.

  Reese screamed and ran off, so Patricia and Monica jumped onto these vacuum cleaners and flew after her, yelling about how they were going to make her pay for going anywhere near me. As they sped through the clouds, they had to dodge these paper airplanes and flying candy bars that Reese kept chucking at them to impede their progress.

  And that’s when I woke with a gasp to a hand bumping against my bare shoulder.

  “What?” Blurry-eyed and half out of it, I lifted my head from the pillow where I had it buried and blinked my sister into focus.

  Dude, what had I eaten last night to dream that kind of shit up?

  When she asked if I was going to get up or sleep the day away, I checked the time and cursed fluidly. “Dammit, I forgot to set my alarm clock. Why didn’t you wake me up earlier?”

  I flew out of bed and grabbed the first pair of jeans I saw, yanking them on over my boxers, grateful I’d taken a shower before going to bed last night.

  “I tried.” Sarah moodily scowled at me. “You were totally out of it.”

  Made sense. I’d been dreaming pretty hard. “Do you need a ride to school?” I asked as I scoured my drawers for a comfortable T-shirt to wear. “Or is Mom taking you again?”

  “Mom,” Sarah said, watching me dress. “Ask me about last night,” she finally ordered.

  I paused in the middle of pulling my shirt on and glanced her way.

  Last night?

  At first, my mind was blank. What the hell had happened last night? But then, ahh, it all came back in screaming, awful detail: stuck spying on Eva Mercer, botched appointments with clients, and encounters with innocent girls while I wore nothing but a towel.