“…than Dr. Oslo has given me of surviving even one more year,” my mom finishes my sentence for me. “I know that. But it’s still not great odds and it’s not as high as Dr. Oslo was hoping that it would be.”
I nod, still not understanding what’s so bad that she’s this upset.
“But the worst part is that this new doctor sent me a proposal of costs for the treatment and it is way outside anything I can possibly afford,” she continues, and now I understand.
She hands me a piece of paper and I scan it. The treatment will be hundreds of thousands of dollars.
“How much does insurance cover?” I ask her, hearing a glimmer of hope in my own voice.
“None of it,” my mom says, shaking her head. “That’s the really sad thing that this doctor told me right up front. This treatment is considered experimental and there’s not enough data backing up the necessity for it or the rate of treatment success so the insurance doesn’t have to pay for it and they won’t. There are some private charities that will pay a certain amount due to the fact that we don’t make a lot of money, but it’s nowhere near as much as we would need to pay for the treatment.”
“If there isn’t enough data to back it up, then how do you know that the treatment would actually be any good?” I ask her.
“That’s what I had asked Dr. Oslo,” my mom says, “and he is sure that this doctor knows his stuff. He’s helped cure several patients nationwide already so he has the best experience and the best guess for how well this treatment would work on my particular type of cancer. Dr. Oslo said I can trust him on those fronts but he added that obviously the insurance company will find any reason to deny having to pay so much.”
She hangs her head and sobs some more.
“There’s really nothing either of them can do to help me be able to afford the treatment, even with the charity money and even with the doctor giving me a discount based on income. The treatment itself is cutting edge technology and is just so expensive that it has to come out of someone’s pocket. We both know it can’t be mine.”
She starts crying again and I start rocking her in my arm, cradling her like a baby like she once did me. This whole time— ever since she was first diagnosed up until right now— she hasn’t mentioned what would happen if her cancer wasn’t cured. She was obviously holding out for some miracle, and she had thought this would be it. Now she is realizing her own fate and how little control she has over it.
Reality hangs between us and we are both well aware of her prognosis without some kind of new cure or treatment. Like this one that’s apparently available to her with a fifty percent chance of working, if she could only afford it.
There has to be a way to afford it.
Chapter 5 – Veronica
This is not how my life was supposed to go. I’m supposed to be a carefree college student. And if my mom were to get cancer then it should have happened when I was older and had a good job as a doctor or scientist and I could give her money to help her. I feel responsible even though I know this isn’t my fault.
“Mom, don’t worry,” I tell her, holding up her head so that she’s looking me in the eyes. “We’ll figure something out. Do they take a payment plan?”
“Not really,” she says, shaking her head. “That was one of the first things I asked. I was thinking I could get a second job.”
“And I could get a job,” I say quickly.
“No,” she says. “You’re in school. You need to focus on your studies. Your dad and I were so proud of you for getting your merit- based scholarship, so you don’t have to work and can just concentrate on school.”
“I still have time in the evenings,” I tell her, urgently, trying to make her understand how desperately I want to help. How I feel like I need to do something to maintain some power or control over this situation or I will just burst. “Or I could lessen my class schedule. Anything to help.”
“I appreciate that offer but I’m sorry to say it really won’t help,” she says.
I can tell she’s struggling to keep from crying all over again.
“They can only do a payment plan up to the next treatment and so many treatments are needed in such rapid succession that there just wouldn’t be enough time to save up any more money before the next payment became due,” she continues. “It would be an issue of one hundred thousand dollars for the first treatment and then another one hundred thousand dollars for the next treatment, right in a row. I don’t even know where I could get the first one hundred thousand dollars from. It’s not like a second job would bring in that much anytime soon. Nor any job that you could get.”
I sigh.
“No offense, honey,” she quickly adds.
“No mom, you’re right.”
I’m beginning to feel the same sense of powerlessness she was undoubtedly feeling as she was sitting at the kitchen table crying. There’s no way I could get a job that pays that much without more education— more time. I suddenly realize the dilemma. What we need is more time, which we don’t have, or a way to make a lot of money fast.
…Which I might have.
The Student Gazette seems to be burning a hole in my backpack. I think I’ve found a solution.
I know my mom wouldn’t approve– not to mention my dad– so I can’t mention it to them. I’m their innocent little girl and they would be crushed to think of me any other way. So, I’ll have to figure out a way to give Mom the money without revealing where it came from.
Maybe I can pay for the treatments directly and say it came from an anonymous donor, or that the charity group was able to give more than they’d originally thought. There’s plenty of time to figure out how to explain the money.
But once I’ve done the deed, it will be done. I’ll have the money and then I can determine how to best pay for Mom’s treatments without her knowing. It’s not like the guy who pays for me could demand his money back— could he?
He will have taken my virginity. I know without a doubt that that’s what he would want. Money can buy anything and I could sell my very first time to the highest bidder. I’m not sure how much that would go for but maybe it would be enough for one treatment and then I could do it again before the second treatment is needed.
My heart sinks down in my stomach as I realize what I’m contemplating. Prostitution. Not just once but multiple times. I’m sure I can get the highest amount for my first time but then after that I’ll still to be able to bring in some money, I would think, even though I’d no longer be a virgin.
Stacy said it herself. I’m beautiful and I’m also intelligent. I don’t usually feel that way, but objectively, I am. I’ve received the highest grades in my math courses all the way through school. There’s no way I don’t fit the ad description— at least the “intelligent” part.
Maybe they’ll tell me to lose some weight as that is apparently a common complaint among the guys I date. A lot of other guys say they like my curves. And they all definitely like my face. Perhaps these billionaires only like skinny bitches.
If that’s the case, I’ll go on some kind of extreme juice cleanse if I have to. Anything to help my mother. Even offering up my virginity to a complete stranger. I’ve decided to do it, and once I set my mind to something, it’s done. I didn’t get to be valedictorian of my high school by being indecisive or lazy.
“Don’t worry, Mom,” I tell her, and I swear I see some hope in her eyes, even though she has no idea what I’ve decided to do— thank God.
I leave the room to text Stacy and tell her that believe it or not, I’m going to go to the exchange club and I hope that she’ll come with me. I’m not exactly sure what’s in store for me, but one way or another, I’m about to find out.
Chapter 6 – Veronica
A Few Days Later
I try to stand still on stage, straight up with good posture, and not to wiggle and squirm too much. I do my best to follow everything that Sheridan taught us earlier, to a T.
“I can’t believe th
ere’s, like, a real live Madame here,” Stacy had said when we arrived at the club and were told that we would be trained in how to give the men– who the club calls clients– what they want.
I’m so glad Stacy agreed to come with me— “You know I’m always down for an adventure,” she’s said, and then added, “and, I’d do anything to help your mom. She’s such a sweet lady.”
I appreciate her support and I also appreciate her humor. But “Madame” really is the perfect name for Sheridan. She had explained to us that we have the option of auctioning off anything that we choose, from a coffee date full of flirty banter or just serious discussion, to the whole shebang, which obviously means sex although “Madame” Sheridan can’t say it. Just like she can’t call herself a Madame.
There are laws this club has to skirt, to keep everything looking as if it’s on the up and up. But Sheridan is good at making things clear to us without having to spell it out.
“You’ll be surprised at the things that some of these clients want to bid on,” she’d said.
“I wouldn’t be,” I’d whispered to Stacy.
“Yeah let me guess,” she’d said back. Some have foot fetishes and others want you to moo like a cow.”
I’d raised an eyebrow at her but had tried to hold back my shock. I was thinking they would just want sex but her words showed me I had no idea what I could be in for.
“This Miami location of our club is new, but one thing we quickly found out is that the clients here have the most eccentric and unique requests,” Sheridan had continued.
“Maybe they’ll want two cows,” I’d giggled to Stacy. “A mooing menage.”
We’d had to stop ourselves from laughing out loud because Sheridan had been glaring at us.
But now, up on stage, I’m not laughing. I’m nervous, thinking of all the things I don’t even know about, such as what some of these men might want me to do in exchange for the money they’re about to bid on me.
I had already told myself that I’d do whatever paid the most— for my mom’s sake. But I’d stupidly assumed that would mean “only” giving up my virginity. But once I’d arrived and heard Stacy’s comments, I realized it could mean something much worse.
“I hope the guy who takes me wants to tie me up and make me his slave,” she’d confessed to me, before we had to come on stage.
“What?” I’d been astonished, but she’d just laughed.
“Oh you know, just for something new and different,” she’d shrugged. “I figure Sheridan meant that these guys were into kinky things and I’m down for that.”
I only wish I could be as confident and ready for anything as Stacy always is. I can’t even believe I’m up here. As I scan the crowd, I notice a tall, handsome man who is nearly being pushed along to his seat by two other guys. He doesn’t look very happy to be here.
He looks up at me and catches my eye, and I nearly blush. His eyes are sea blue and he is the picture of perfection. He even has dimples.
“What the hell is someone like that doing here?” I turn around to whisper to Stacy, but I realize too late that Sheridan has placed her at the other end of the stage.
Sheridan nods her head at me from behind the curtain as if to say, tsk, tsk, tsk you didn’t think I’d let you two stand together on stage and cause a distraction like you did earlier, do you?
I bow my head in embarrassment because she’s right— we had been causing quite the ruckus and that’s no way to behave at an event such as this. By the time I look back at the handsome mystery man, he’s taking a seat between his friends and he’s no longer glancing at me.
I can’t believe he would need to buy anything from any woman. I bet women flock to him like geese. I know I wouldn’t kick him out of bed, as the saying goes, even though I don’t even have experience with that saying and couldn’t kick anyone out of bed since no one has ever been in my bed.
Then it dawns on me that he could be in my bed— figuratively speaking, of course. He could be my very first time.
I stand up straighter and hitch my boobs up a bit. I hope he likes full- figured girls because I’m sure showing off all my best assets. It must work, because he looks up at me again and grins. I can’t believe it. Maybe he’ll actually bid on me.
As the bidding begins, I can’t take my eyes off of him. He sits higher in his seat than the men around him, because he’s tall and broad-shouldered. There’s no mistaking him in any crowd, even this one. Sure, most of these men are gorgeous, and look like they have a lot of money, but he is still one of a kind. I can see his biceps from here. All I want is for him to take off his shirt and let me get a look at his pecs…
“And now we’re moving on to the lovely Veronica,” Sheridan says, winking at me, although the slight glare in her eye reminds me to behave.
I swivel my head around to catch Stacy’s eye, and she flashes me her trademark grin and a thumbs up sign, as if to say, good luck.
My heart races as Sheridan continues. I’m begging the handsome mystery man to bid on me and not let some of these less intriguing guys take me.
“This is Veronica’s first time here,” Sheridan says. “And it will be her first time in many different ways.”
I hear rustling and grumbling among the crowd as the men realize I’m a virgin. During training, Sheridan had asked what important assets we had wanted to stress, and I made sure to highlight this fact since I assumed it would get the highest bids.
“Very nice,” Sheridan had said, obviously impressed.
Now, she flaunts this fact as if I were a peacock displaying my colorful feathers.
“Veronica is guaranteed to never before have been… of service to any client or anyone else for that matter,” she says. “And that is a money back guarantee.”
It takes all my willpower not to look at Stacy and laugh. How exactly would they be able to tell? Am I going to be subject to a virginity exam?
“Lovely,” says a man in the front row. “I would like to place a bid for not only Miss Veronica’s company at dinner but also I would like to spend the entire evening with her.”
The way he says “entire evening” lets me know— just in case there’s any doubt— what exactly he’s talking about.
“Veronica, what he is bidding on including stretching out the entire evening and make it last a very long time,” Sheridan says. “Do you understand?”
I nod, because if I open my mouth I just know I’ll crack up laughing and get kicked out of this nice event. Of course I understand.
But when I look back at the man in the front row— who is dumpy compared to the mysterious mystery man— I realize this is no laughing matter.
Please, I try to mentally signal to the man a few rows behind him— please save me. Please bid higher than whatever he bids.
If he doesn’t save me, then this is going to turn out to be even worse than I thought.
Chapter 7 – Veronica
“One hundred thousand dollars,” says the man in the front row, and I do my best not to do a happy dance, even though I don’t even want to be with him.
One hundred thousand dollars will pay for the first of my mom’s treatment. I can’t believe that’s the opening bid.
“Three hundred thousand dollars for a weekend with the lovely newcomer,” says a man further in the back, whose face I can barely make out. I squint and see that he’s attractive, but still nothing compared to the mystery man.
All I can focus on is “three hundred thousand dollars.”
Enough for three treatments for my mom. I can’t believe it. But before it even has a lot of time to sink in, another man says, “Five hundred thousand dollars. Same request.”
Half a million dollars?
This time I can’t resist taking a glance at Stacy, whose lips are open in a happy smile for me, her teeth showing as her face nods, encouraging me to go through with this. But she doesn’t have to encourage me. I’m so happy to be getting so much money for my mom that I don’t even care that it means spending
the night— make that nights— with one of these men. Even if it’s not the mystery man. But as I look back at him, he raises his eyebrow at me and I just know he’s going to bid.
“It looks like you’re in high demand, Miss Veronica,” Sheridan says. “It seems these men are going to have to start wooing you a little harder.”
She addresses the men in the audience.
“Why don’t you guys include a little description of what Veronica will get out of this deal, in addition to the money,” she says. “Because if past experience tells me anything, it seems that there’s going to be a bidding war and she might have to end up picking one of you to win.”
Wow. I can’t even believe it. I guess these men have an endless supply of money that can buy them literally anything. But it surprises me even more than I’m what they want to buy with it.
“For seven hundred and fifty thousand, I’ll take her on a spin in my yacht,” the man in the front row says. “We can have a private party, or a big party where we’ll invite all her friends. And then, the weekend spent with me of course.”
“For a million dollars, I’ll fly her on my private jet to any island of her choosing,” says the other man who was bidding on me. “She can even bring friends. And yes, the weekend with me.”
As enticing as these offers are, I can’t imagine doing any of these things with these men. A knot forms in my stomach as I realize that even though I thought I was offering up everything that I have— my virginity— they want even more. They want me to spend time with them, eat with them, go on private luxury vacations with them. And I don’t even know them.
There doesn’t seem to be anything particularly wrong with these men— other than the fact that they view bidding on a woman as a sport, a game to win based on who has the most money to throw around— but I just can’t imagine being with them in an intimate setting. Sex is one thing— wham, bam, thank you ma’am style— but what they’re asking for is something altogether different.
Knock Me Up, Boss: A Bad Boy Office Romance Page 61