Tramp (Hush Book 1)

by Mary Elizabeth

  “Sit down, Lydia,” Inez says.

  “What does a girl need to do to get some damn respect around here?” I think out loud, not expecting an answer and not getting one.

  Falling into place like ordered, I chip the rest of the nail polish from my ring finger and ponder the upcoming week. Since Inez took me in, I’ve adopted a strict one cock a day protocol, and I never service more than two clients in twenty-four hours. This isn’t a hooker’s attempt at modesty. It’s nothing more than a stab at preserving my pussy and stretching this gig out for as long as possible. On days when I have two clients, I persuade them into different things to avoid intercourse with both. Now that I’ve had to reschedule today’s appointments, there’s going to be two days when I have three jobs.

  Another fucking reason why I don’t disrupt my routine.

  Dropping the appointments will only injure my reputation, further drawing out the consequences of ignoring my better judgment. I should never have stepped foot in Talent’s building. Between the two of us, I’m left with the shitty end of the deal while he takes over the world.

  “Inez, I don’t have time for this,” I say as Naomi materializes with an ego so inflated it almost doesn’t fit through the door.

  Naomi skips hellos and strides through the room in a hurry, glancing at her wristwatch before flipping her hair back. Her dry ends whip me across the face, escaping my reach before I have the chance to rip her hair out from the roots. Disrespect isn’t something I let go unanswered, but Naomi’s ignorance to the amount of shit she’s in will suffice once it dawns on her that she’s not here for a pat on the back.

  She chews gum with her mouth open, snapping a bubble before her ass hits the seat. Naomi taps a text message on her phone, and she says, “I don’t want to rush you, Inez, but I was in the middle of something important.”

  “Creating more connections?” Inez tilts her head in confusion.

  My sense of hearing has never been sharper, despite the liquid downer coursing through my blood. I don’t want to miss a syllable of the scolding Naomi’s set to receive. Nothing more than a mouthful of words has been shared between the two of us, but Naomi rubs me the wrong way. Maybe it’s her unjust ego or the stupid fucking way her mouth opens like a fish when she’s cornered.

  “I’m sorry?” she asks. A flash of recognition clouds her eyes.

  Inez catches it, tapping her fingernail from pinky to thumb atop her desk. She doesn’t respond and stares at Naomi, letting the tension in the room grow so thick, I suffocate. Anxiety crawls up my arms like spiders, but I keep it internalized. The girl beside me comes undone. Where I’m calm, cool, and collected under pressure, Naomi’s face burns and she fidgets, avoiding eye contact.

  “You see, Naomi,” Inez finally says. Her expression remains glacial. “Talent Ridge turned out to be a dead end. Cara and I have sat here for the last hour trying to figure out where things went wrong, but we’re left scratching our heads. Help clear this up for us.”

  Fish Mouth immediately cuts her eyes to the floor. “What do you mean?”

  “You know what she means.” It’s all I can do not to wrap my hands around her throat to throttle the answer out of her.

  “What perplexes me the most is Mr. Ridge’s persistence that he never hired an escort.” She waves her hand back and forth in nonchalance. “Of course, this was after services rendered, so I’m hoping it’s a simple case of miscommunication. Since you’re the one who arranged the date with him, please, enlighten us.”

  Naomi finds no comfort in my cold posture. She returns her attention to Inez and says, “The date was supposed to be with me, but you—”

  Inez smacks the palm of her hand on the desk before pointing a finger at Naomi. “Choose your words carefully, girl.”

  “You decided it would be better handled by Cara.”

  “Yes. Yes, these are things we’re well aware of. What was never clearly explained—and I blame myself for this. I’m not typically so careless—was how you found yourself in the company of Talent Ridge. So, start there and end with the part where he hires you to fuck him.”

  Greed makes people sloppy. It’s obvious this deal was bad from the start. Inez heard Ridge and dollar signs spun around her head like a silly Sunday morning cartoon character. The desire to have her hand in the back pocket of Grand Haven’s most powerful person left boxes unchecked, and now she’s scrambling for answers and a way to correct her recklessness.

  Naomi speaks up. “Do you know who Phillip Vogel is? His dad is—”

  “His father is Lance Vogel. He owns a fleet of concierge yachts,” Inez finishes for her. “He’s seen a couple of my girls, but go on. He’s a dirtbag.”

  “I met Phillip at a club a few months ago. He wanted to hook up, but when I told him it would cost him, he refused. That didn’t stop him from trying, though. Phillip took my number and we became friends.”

  That was her first mistake.

  Naomi’s not Phillip Vogel’s friend. His type doesn’t befriend escorts. He tricked her in his conquest to nail someone who had the audacity to tell him no.

  And from the sounds of it, she became his plaything.

  “We met up a few times. He took me on this amazing yacht cruise up to San Francisco.”

  Her second mistake was being foolish enough to believe he’d do anything nice for her out of the kindness of his heart. Flashy motherfuckers like Phillip are sickening. That amazing cruise was nothing more than an opportunity to wave his privilege around and tease her into a life she’ll never afford and never have with him. I bet they were alone, out of sight from prying eyes of anyone who might recognize them together. She’s an idiot for falling for it.

  Inez rolls her eyes and falls back into her oversized chair. “Basically, you had sex with him for free.”

  Naomi’s jaw tightens, but she isn’t foolish enough to deny it. No one’s judging her for having sex with a playboy. It’s her body, her choice. But to pretend that it’s anything more than a game of cat and mouse shows lack of character. Not that I ever believed she was a person of great character, but can she really be that desperate?

  “Like I said, we’re friends,” Naomi insists.

  With a subtle nod, Inez urges her to continue. “Great. Fine. What does your friendship with Phillip Vogel have to do with Talent Ridge?”

  “Phillip and Talent are friends, too.”

  “Oh!” Inez straightens her posture. A smile spreads across her face, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. They stay stoic. “Everyone’s friends. How lovely.”

  “They went to school together,” Naomi says.

  “Let me guess,” Inez interjects. “Their families vacationed together on those luxury yachts while the dads smoked cigars and the moms, before Pamela tragically passed away, gossiped below deck. Did Mr. Vogel tell you a lot of stories like that?”

  Naomi picks a string loose from her shirt, inhaling through her nose and averting her eyes before saying, “Phillip approached me the day before yesterday with a proposition. He said he wanted to surprise Talent at his office because he’s been in his own head lately. Apparently, Ridge & Sons is busier than they’ve ever been, and Phillip thought it would be a good idea if I helped Talent relax.”

  “And you’re telling me, that didn’t sound suspicious to you?” Sharing a brief glance with me, Inez asks why this is the first time she’s heard this story. “Why did you tell me Talent contacted you himself?”

  “I never said that, Inez. What I said was I had a date with Talent Ridge, and you assumed the rest.”

  Anger rages inside of me so suddenly, I feel assaulted. Heat blasts through the palms of my hands and reddens my cheeks. My teeth clench, and if looks could kill, Naomi would be shredded to pieces. My entire life has been turned upside down in the last twenty-four hours because Naomi wanted to impress a boy with a yacht?

  “That’s not how this works, Naomi,” Inez declares in a stone-cold tone. She’s the most powerful woman in the city, and it shows. The respect she d
emands is solid in her broad shoulders and black stare. How dare one of her subjects disobey her. How dare she be made to look like anything less than impenetrable.

  Shrinking into herself, Naomi swallows her expression. “I know, but—”

  Everything but pure ferocity is sucked from the room when Inez asks, “Do you think you can do my job better than me? Is that why you took matters into your own hands and jeopardized everything I’ve worked for? Is that why you’ve made me look like a fool? It’s clear to me that you have no inclination of the harm you could have done.”

  Tears spring from Naomi’s eyes, and she shakes her head. “No. Not at all. Not ever.”

  I half-expect Inez to leap from behind her desk to rip the girl’s tongue from her mouth, but greatness doesn’t resort to such barbaric measures to get her point across.

  “Shut up,” she seethes. “You might think you have what it takes to sit in this chair, but someone who fucks strangers for a boat ride will never be disciplined enough to build an empire. You don’t have the guts. People like you spend their entire lives forfeiting their dignity for instant gratification. It takes sacrifice and self-control to get where I am. I suffered. I fought. I fucked shit up. You won’t be the one who defeats me, Naomi.”

  Reduced to tears, Naomi swears that isn’t her intention. “When you suggested Cara take the date, I didn’t say anything because Talent didn’t know who to expect.”

  “The problem isn’t that Talent didn’t know who to expect, Naomi,” I say, finally breaking my silence. “The problem is that he didn’t know about the arrangement at all. And you left us under the impression that he did. As far as I’m concerned, we look like assholes while you guys play on daddy’s yacht. You are playing with fire.”

  “That wasn’t my intention.”

  “No, your intention was to land Ridge & Sons and save the fucking day. Or to impress Phillip Vogel. All you did was put everything I’ve worked for at risk.” I turn my head to indicate the end of the conversation. It’s done. It’s over with. This week is going to be terrible, but I’ll get through it and pretend none of this happened. Then my life can go back to routine.

  “Get out of my office.” Inez shoos Naomi away. Before she walks out the door, she says, “Don’t call me. I’ll call you.”

  Translation: You’re fucking fired.

  “You can march around like you own this place, but at the end of the day, you’re nothing more than another one of Inez’s whores just like me.”

  I stop on the sidewalk outside Hush and roll my eyes at the sound of Naomi’s voice. She’s the type to lurk around somewhere she’s not welcome, but I’m not the type to entertain her temper tantrum. My plan was to catch a car home, but I’ll walk so I don’t have to wait with the trash.

  “Don’t walk away from me,” Naomi says, quickening her pace to keep up. “There’s a lot about Inez that you don’t know. This won’t end well.”

  “Go home before you get yourself into more trouble.” I place a pair of sunglasses over my eyes and keep my head down to avoid making eye contact with anyone, but my tail makes a scene.

  “We don’t have to put up with her shit, Cara. Inez is nothing without us. She doesn’t have a business if she doesn’t have girls.”

  This captures suspicious looks from a few passersby, whose curious gazes follow us. Where I look like a college student in my hoodie and jeans, Naomi looks exactly like what she is. Her gawky heels tap on the concrete walkway, and her navel shows. She’s wearing too much makeup for the afternoon, and she smells like a damn lollipop. She might not stand out in any other part of town, but this is the Grand Haven shopping ward where the rich spend thousands of dollars on luxury labels and other shit they don’t need.

  “Cara, stop.” Naomi grabs my elbow and stops me in my tracks.

  No one touches me without consent. I’m not brushed against, hugged, kissed, or grabbed by anyone unless they’re putting money into my account. Naomi’s hand on my arm is so suddenly jarring, all I can do is stop and stare at the foreign contact while my brain catches up.

  When was the last time another person touched me in any other way than lust? Not since my mom died, and before that, her touch was repulsive thanks to her addictions. It was mostly carrying her to bed and tolerating her drunken confessions of affection.

  I pry Naomi’s fingers from my arm and bend them back, bending harder once she cries out in pain. Her shrieks of protest don’t discourage me from making my point, and I shove her against the building so that she has nowhere to run. I point my free finger in her face but ultimately grab her by the chin to make sure she doesn’t miss a word I have to say.

  “I’m only going to say this once.” She tries to free her face from my trap, but my anger flows freely, and I won’t be beat. “Who you work with, sleep with, or manipulate is none of my concern. But the next time you think about including me in your bullshit, think twice. Don’t fuck with me, Naomi. You won’t win.”

  Squeezing until tears well in her eyes, I let go and stand strong, giving her the opportunity to put up a fight. Naomi might not be a quick learner, but she finally catches on and keeps her mouth shut. She massages her jaw, diverting her eyes away from mine.

  “I don’t want to see you again, and if I do, remember this moment. I’m not your equal or your friend. Next time I’ll break your fingers.”

  The audience gathered to watch the altercation makes a wide path as I stroll past them, unconcerned with their looks of shock and disbelief. Moms cover their children’s eyes, like those little brats don’t see worse staring at their phones all day. And dads shove their hands into their pockets, adjusting their cocks because this is the most excitement they’ve seen in a while.

  “That bitch slept with my husband,” I say, lying to redirect the attention away from me.

  Adrenaline runs through my veins, amplifying sight and sound, and my heartbeat only calms when I arrive at my complex. Fresh air lessens my headache, but my mind whirls with memories I wish would stay in the past.

  I was twelve or thirteen years old, sitting in the locker room doing homework while my mom performed her set. There were other women dressing up and dressing down, but they kept their distance from me, the lonely girl in the corner. It stopped being cute that my mom brought me to the club with her when I hit ten years old. At that point, even the other strippers judged us. What kind of person raises her daughter in a place like that?

  When the emcee announced the next dancer, ending Mom’s set, I closed my schoolbooks and packed my things up. I didn’t attend school every day like the other students, but my teacher made it a point to give me a weeks’ worth of assignments at once. And when I was at school, she’d take a few stolen minutes for private lessons. I was behind, there was no way around that, but it could have been worse. I did my best.

  “Where is she?” Cricket rushed into the locker room, wild-eyed and frantic. “Where the fuck is Nicola?”

  Mom was topless, in a red thong with a matching choker. Even at this point, she wasn’t the goddess I used to admire. I’d never be class valedictorian, but I was street smart and knew drugs and alcohol were stealing her beauty and youth. In three years, they’d take her life.

  “What do you want this time, Cricket?” Nicola asked in a bored tone. She sat in front of a mirror applying another coat of lipstick.

  “You stole my set. I was supposed to go first today.”

  Nicola turned in her chair and laughed, dismissing Mom’s outrage. “You were late.”

  “I didn’t make a dollar after I paid the house fee. How are we supposed to eat tonight?” Mom pulled a tattered shirt over her body.

  After she took a quick glance at me, Nicola shrugged and said, “You’ll have to keep the needle out of your arm, Cricket.”

  In one swift motion, Mom grabbed Nicola by her hair and lifted her from the chair. She slammed her against the wall, and I took my backpack and headed to the car. When Mom said she didn’t make anything that night, I knew it meant we’d
sleep in the car and I wasn’t going to school tomorrow. I was almost too tall to stretch out on the back seat, but there was no way I’d sit up front with Cricket and listen to her promises that this would be the last time this would happen.

  “It’s only for one night, baby. You’ll see. Things are going to change for us tomorrow.”

  And I had a bag of chips in the back she didn’t know about. I didn’t want to share.

  Once Mom was gone, I slept in much worse places than the back of a car. Now I never have to wonder if I’ll have enough room to stretch my legs when I sleep. Although, I wake up every morning curled up like I’m still in the back of the Buick.

  Ready to put this drama behind me, I strip out of my clothes, pop an over-the-counter sleeping pill, and crawl into bed determined to forget any of this happened. Talent Ridge doesn’t exist. I’ve never heard of him. Never smelled, tasted, or touched him. I select the memories of me sprawled on his desk the night before and click delete.

  Cristian Dries is a world-renowned architect who designs magnificent concert halls and museums around the world. A maestro in his field of work, he rose to fame at an incredibly young age. As a result, he has a hard time compartmentalizing his priorities. The man is all work and nearly no play. Which is where I come in.

  A little play.

  “I need to learn when to say no,” he’s said to me before. “I’m only one person. One mind. There’s not enough time in a day to design everything this universe demands from me.”

  Cristian likes to fuck where his design models are in sight.

  I like it, too. Not because the sex is anything but typical, but his designs are truly remarkable. It gives me something to admire while he uses my body for his pleasure.

  “What do I have to do to get you to come to me more than once a month? Name a price.” he asks, dragging the back of his finger down my bare arm.

  He’s articulate, sharp, and a little full of himself. Cristian expresses the offense he takes to my busy schedule every time we’re together, as if I should drop my clientele to service him and him alone.