Forfeiting Decency

by Rachel Schneider

  I finish my second glass of wine, sufficiently satisfied with my level of drunkenness. “How come you never told me you knew?”

  He shrugs. “You obviously didn’t want me to know.” There’s not an ounce of callousness in his tone and I can tell by the look on his face he doesn’t judge me. He’s more upset I hid it.

  “It’s not exactly something I go around telling people.” I pretend I’m waving to someone I’ve just met. “Hi, nice to meet you? You’re a rocket scientist? Oh, I’m a waitress who doubles as an escort a few times a week. Nothing glamorous.”

  “If anyone knows the struggle of revealing their career choice to people, it’s me. But we’ve been friends a long time, Kaley. You know I would never judge you.”

  “Okay, so I work at Hudson’s. What about it?”

  He lifts his arm and drapes it over the back of the couch. “The Attorney General is ruffling a few feathers. He’s been digging around the place. Some people think he’s going to try and take it down.”

  I huff out a laugh, which quickly turns into a yawn. “Is he new? Only a fucking idiot would try to take down the co-op.”

  Lance’s yawn follows mine. “He is new. Just entered office a month ago.”

  I shake my head. “He’s asking for trouble.”

  “He’s trying to hold the people in power accountable. Hudson’s is the government’s best and worst kept secret.”

  The way he says the last part makes me feel like there’s more to the story. I sit up and look at him. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  “What? No.” When I don’t back down, he sighs. “People are starting to talk. Supposedly, the Attorney General has hired a private investigator to keep tabs on the place, so obviously you’re one of them.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Am I being followed?”

  He starts laughing. “Of course you’d jump to the most extreme conclusion. I’m just saying, be careful.”

  “Oh, great,” I say sarcastically. “How long are we going to pretend like the government doesn’t know what my porn history looks like?”

  “In that case, we’re both screwed. I hope whoever is in charge with keeping track of my online habits is really into girl-on-girl action.”

  “You do realize you’re a pig, right?”

  He snorts like a pig in reply.

  I shake my head, smiling. “But, just so you know, I quit working there a few weeks ago.”

  He’s intrigued. “Seriously?”

  I nod and regret it, the walls around me tipping sideways with every movement.

  “Can I ask why the sudden change?”

  I want to blame it on Peter, and I want to blame it on Landry, but the truth is, I haven’t really put the effort in to work extra nights since Kip. “Have you ever been in love? How do you know?”

  Caught off guard, he asks, “Like, what’s does it feel like?”

  “Yeah.”

  He shrugs, looking just as confused as I am. “I don’t think there’s a definite answer for that. I think it’s different for everybody.”

  “Okay, what’s it like for you?”

  He gives me a small smile. “Why are you asking such weird questions? You’re not normally so sentimental when you’re drunk.”

  I groan, flopping back into the couch. “Because I think I was in love, and now I don’t know how to not be.”

  “Wait,” he says, turning slightly in my direction. “Who are you in love with? When did this happen? Do I know him? Is he someone you met at Hudson’s?”

  I hold a hand in the air to stop him. “We’re not together anymore, so it doesn’t matter. I just want to be able to breathe again.”

  Lance furrows his brows, almost alarmed by my confession. “It matters to me,” he says, placing a hand on his chest.

  I lift one shoulder in question “Why?”

  “Because I care,” he says, hand still splayed across his chest. “You’ve never, not once, shown any kind of interest in having a relationship before. This guy must be a big deal if you’re serious about him.”

  “Trust me, it surprises me more than it does you.” He huffs out an irritated breath. “What are you so upset about?”

  He looks away, his face losing the harshness of his irritation before looking back, this time softer. “You know, for the longest time I thought I’d be the one you’d finally get serious with.”

  Wait…what?

  Laughing at my facial expression, he nods. “Yeah. I thought we’re so much alike, why not be together? Not at that time, of course. Later in life when we would both be ready to settle down.”

  “How long ago did you come up with that crazy idea?”

  “Not long after we met, actually. Even though I was undercover, I knew we were basically the same person.”

  Almost too afraid to ask, I say, “You didn’t really think it was a possibility, did you?”

  A small smile forms on his lips. “Nah, then I would remember how awful a sleeper you are, and how many times you woke me up in the middle of the night by kicking me in the nuts.”

  His words are meant to lighten the mood, but I can’t find it in me to laugh. Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s the truth, but I’m fairly positive Lance never quit thinking we’d end up together. My stomach twists at the thought of hurting Lance in the way I’m hurting now, but I also know what he feels for me isn’t real. If getting my heart broken has taught me anything, it’s that real love is painful.

  “You don’t need to reproduce anyway.”

  He laughs. “Says the girl who smells like ramen noodles and toenail clippings.”

  “Lance, that’s seriously gross.”

  “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

  Assuming he might be a little serious, I stand. “Fine, I’ll go take a shower. When I get out, want to grab some breakfast?”

  “Yeah,” he says, smiling. “As long as you’re sober enough to be seen with.”

  I don’t bother to roll my eyes, too afraid of the consequences it’ll have in my drunken state of mind.

  “Don’t forget, the government sees what you’re doing, even behind closed doors,” he calls as I walk down the hallway.

  “I need new friends,” I mutter to myself.

  I manage to wash my hair and most of the important parts of my body, and I’m actually quite proud of myself by the time I get out. A few slips made me really question whether or not I needed assistance. Getting dressed is challenging, but I do feel immensely better clean and dry. The burning in my chest is still there, but it’s tamable. For now.

  “Do you want to try The Broken Egg on the corner?” I call towards the living room.

  When I don’t get a reply, I march down the hallway to find the apartment empty. I peek out of the window and I watch as Lance gets into his car without saying goodbye. His confession lingers in the back of my mind and I idly wonder if he’s running. Because that’s what it looks like. Maybe Lance and I are a lot alike, but I’m not sure if I want to be.

  I lie in bed for over an hour after he leaves, staring at the ceiling as I will my mind to sober up. What I’m thinking about doing has to be a side effect of the alcohol. I need to get up and do what I should have done from the beginning. I force myself to ignore the bliss that comes with ignoring life and the guilt pushes me up and out of bed. Tucking my hair under a baseball cap, I stumble down the stairs with my bike and prepare what I’m going to say.

  When I arrive thirty minutes later, I’ve yet to come up with a sound excuse, but I manage to make my legs walk up the steps of the large grey building. A police officer opens the door for me, smiling politely as I enter. There’s a receptionist stationed at a desk to the right as I enter, and she asks how she can help me.

  “I’m here to see Cody Landry.”

  She types on her keyboard vigorously. “Was he expecting you?” she asks.

  “No, but tell him Kaley Monroe is here to see him.”

  “He’s in a meeting. You can have a seat and wait if you
like.”

  I lean on the desk, forcing her to look up from her computer screen. “I’m not going to wait. If he finds out I left here because you wouldn’t notify him of my presence, he’s going to be livid.”

  She cocks a brow at me, condescending. “Do you know how many people come in here and threaten me with that?”

  I shrug, uncaring. “Do you want to take the chance this time might actually be legit?”

  She shakes her head, sighs, and picks up the phone. “I’ll let his assistant know you’re here, but I’m not making any promises.” She speaks into the receiver, repeating my name and my insistence to see Landry. There’s a long pause before she hangs up, looking at me in mild surprise. “He’ll see you. Go through the double doors, all the way down the hall, and his office will be the last on the right.”

  “Thanks,” I say, already heading in that direction.

  The halls are stark white and windowless, adding to my anxiety. I’ve never been claustrophobic, but the lack of escape options is off-putting. I knock and Landry’s voice ushers me through. A thin, modelesque woman is straightening her skirt as Landry redoes his belt buckle, both flushed from physical exertion.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” I say, saccharine.

  Landry’s smile is all but sweet. “It’s not a problem as long as you tell me what I’ve been waiting to hear. Lacey, can you call Todd and tell him I’ll be late for lunch?”

  Nodding, she click-clacks past me in her heels, closing the door behind her. Landry smoothes his tie against his chest with a palm as he sits on the edge of his desk. I place my hands on the back of the leather seats placed in front of his desk, keeping a sizable barrier between us.

  “I’m not doing it,” I say, meeting his gaze head-on.

  He doesn’t react, at least, not outwardly. “You’re not going to do what?”

  “You know what.”

  Shifting, he uncrosses his arms, grabbing the lip of the desk at his sides. “We had a deal.”

  “No,” I argue. “You backed me into a corner and I was forced to agree. But I’m not doing it. I won’t.”

  He smiles. “I’ve been in this business a long time, and I’ve never met a person who doesn’t care about their self-preservation like you.”

  “If you out me as an escort, I’ll expose everything.”

  His eyes flare wide, revealing the ire hiding behind his clam exterior. “You’re threatening the wrong person.”

  Or the right one, depending on the way you look at it. “It’s not a threat unless you make it one. Leave us alone and you won’t have any problems. I won’t ever speak of you or mention anything we’ve discussed ever again.”

  “No one would believe you. You’re nothing but a girl who sucks rich men’s dicks for a living.”

  “The daughter of John Monroe, the man who organized the largest trafficking ring in the history of the state, would be of enough notoriety to start raising questions. One mention of your name, and the FBI and DEA would be breathing down your neck.”

  “If you knew this all along, what made you wait until now to back out?”

  I shrug. “It doesn’t matter. I changed my mind? I no longer need the money? Whatever the reason, it’s of no consequence to you.”

  Sucking on his teeth, he picks up a paperweight shaped as an apple from his desk, tossing it between his hands. “If you won’t do it, you know you’ll have to pay.”

  I shift on my feet, aching to appear unaffected. “How much?”

  He holds up the marble apple, eyeing me over it. “How much do you think this paper weight costs?”

  I shake my head and shrug. “I don’t know. Twenty bucks?”

  “Two thousand dollars.” My face must show my surprise, because he smiles. “Extravagant, I know. Technically, it’s just a rock carved into the shape of a fruit—nothing special. So why would I be willing to pay so much for something so insignificant?” When I don’t answer, he continues. “Because I wanted to. Something is only worth what you’re willing to pay for it. I saw this paperweight and thought it’d look perfect on my desk, so I bought it.”

  Inside my head, I start an imaginary slow clap. Cool story, bro.

  He places the apple down. “Tell me, Kaley, what do you think your life is worth?”

  I smack my lips, contemplative. “No more than…one, maybe two hundred dollars.”

  He lets out a laugh, truly finding my answer hilarious. “You’re funny.”

  “It’s about time someone acknowledges I am.”

  His smile dims and there’s an edge of anger dancing behind his eyes. “Unfortunately for you, I find your life way more valuable. I was thinking closer to one, maybe one hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

  I choke on my own spit, slapping a hand against my chest. “I’m sorry. Repeat that for me.”

  “You heard me,” he says, standing. “I’ll be generous and knock it down to one, but not a penny less.”

  “Are you on short supply of paperweights?” I say, truly confounded as to where he thinks I’ll get this type of money.

  This time he doesn’t laugh. “I’m serious, Kaley. Probably more than you realize,” he `says, eyeing me.

  “Landry, I barely have a hundred dollars in my bank account.”

  “Last I checked, your boyfriend does.”

  I shake my head. “I’m no longer seeing Peter.”

  He shakes his head. “We both know I’m not talking about him.”

  My stomach drops. “How do you know about Kip?”

  Buttoning his coat, he walks past me and towards the door. “He assaulted the most powerful defense attorney in the city. Word gets around.” He opens the door, obviously excusing me. “You’ve got two weeks to bring me the money.”

  I want to argue, but I know it’s useless. I’m halfway down the hall when I hear him call my name.

  “Just because I’m letting you walk away right now, doesn’t mean you’ve gotten away with threatening me.”

  I swallow, glancing over my shoulder at him. He’s leaning against the doorjamb, face hard. “When should I expect my punishment?”

  He shrugs. “Depends on whether or not I feel like you’re making headway on our agreement.”

  The ride home is filled with doubt and anxiety that I’m making the wrong decision. There’s no way I can come up with that much money. My mind wanders back to Hudson’s, but I can’t even entertain the idea of going back to that—the meaningless men and cheap sex. If I focus on it too long, unease settles in my belly and it makes me think things about myself I’m not sure I want to. Walking in on Landry with his secretary made me sick, and I wasn’t even participating.

  And Kip. I could never do that to Kip, no matter the consequences.

  GAINING THE COURAGE, I finally knock and fight the urge to puke on the doorstep. Maybe the alcohol isn’t all the way out of my system. It’s been twenty-four hours since I’ve had a drink, but it was a lot of alcohol. I’m fairly certain I’ve puked over less.

  God, what am I doing?

  I messaged Kip two days ago and he never replied. I had managed to wait over twenty-four hours before calling him, assuming he needed to warm up to the idea of speaking to me, but he never answered. This morning, I woke up petrified that I may never see him ever again, and the thought alone was enough to propel me to find him.

  I glance over my shoulder, feeling like I’m being watched. I’m probably just being paranoid. Fricking A, I feel like I’ve been waiting forever. What if he’s ignoring me? His truck is in the driveway, so I’m pretty sure he’s here. It was less nerve racking facing Landry.

  I knock again and I hear him yell he’s coming a second before I see him through the foggy windowpane. Through the window, I see him falter a step, pausing before he finally turns the knob and opens the door.

  “Hey,” I say, slightly out of breath.

  He stands with a hand braced against the doorway, the other still holding on to the door. He’s in jeans and a T-shirt, but his hair still looks messy
from when he woke up this morning. His face is guarded and it does nothing but remind me of the colossal fuck-up that I am. There’s a chance I might not kiss that face again, and I can’t think of a single thing more terrifying.

  He finally replies. “Hey.” Shuffling his weight onto the other foot, he scratches the back of his head. “Is everything okay?”

  I almost laugh out loud at his questions. Can’t you see I’m drowning? I am the furthest thing from okay.

  “I’d like you to come with me somewhere.” That didn’t come out right. “I mean, I want to show you something…to give me a chance to explain.”

  His pupils jump back and forth between mine, looking for something, but I’m not sure as to what. Coming to some sort of conclusion, he grabs his keys from the hook by the door. “Let me grab my wallet.”

  My heart kicks into high gear, but I manage a semblance of a nod.

  He reemerges with slightly styled hair, like he ran his fingers through it a few times to tame it. “Where to?” he says, opening the driver-side door of his truck.

  We get in and I say, “A neighborhood on the West Bank. I’ll direct you once we’re closer.”

  There’s a beat of tense silence before he nods, and it almost looked like he wanted to say something but decided not to. I want to push, but I know I don’t have the right to do that. Not after everything that’s happened. We ride toward the interstate in silence, and I never would have thought I’d miss country music so much.

  “I tried to call you,” I say.

  He shifts, glances at me, then shifts again. “I broke my phone.”

  I don’t ask how he broke it. We don’t talk the entire hour drive. As much as it slowly eats away at my soul to have so many unresolved feelings between us, I know it has to be on his terms. Kip needs to feel like he has control of this situation, and I’m willing to give it to him. No matter how much it kills me.

  “Here,” I direct him, pointing to the blue ramshackle house on the left.

  There’s a smattering of kids’ toys out front and a rusty swing set under the lone oak tree. The grass is slightly overgrown and the flowerbeds have been neglected for so long they’ve turned into dry dirt beds. A kid comes barreling out the front door, causing the screen to smack into the side of the house as she runs towards the playset. Another kid follows, making the same smacking sound with the screen door, and a woman yells from inside.