by Claire Adams
That was one of my most important rules. I never let the girls sleep over. They always woke up with the wrong impression. It was the same thing with cuddling. Once they got their hands on me and closed their eyes, I was theirs to scream at and possess all they wanted.
Maria wasn’t like the other girls. She wasn’t petty or dramatic, and she didn’t feel like she could possess me. She was a thinker. When it came down to it, and I had to call things off, she wouldn’t get sour. She wouldn’t try to screw me over or destroy my life. She’d be disappointed, sure, but she’d internalize it and stay quiet. She’d probably try to play it off, but I’d know. I’d see it in her eyes, the way she wouldn’t look at me and how quickly she left.
I could already see it when I handed her the money. She’d stare at it with sad eyes, take it, and walk off. I felt terrible every time I handed it to her, but at least I knew I was doing something good for her. If I was a different kind of man, I would’ve kept the money and screwed her anyway, regardless of how she felt, but I wasn’t that kind of guy. That was the problem.
I used hookers because it was easier. They knew the deal. They took their money and left. It was easy. With Maria, it wasn’t so easy.
I turned back to my report and pasted the most important statistics in the right places while my mind drifted back to those moments. It was mindless work, not enough to distract me from the real issue. That was what I needed: a distraction.
I stared down at my phone. I could call her. She’d be at my house whenever I wanted. It was so easy to slip into it. I had to stop this. I dialed my friend Matt’s number.
“Hello?” he answered.
“Hey,” I said, trying not to sound depressed, but I knew it showed.
“How are you?” Matt asked. “I haven’t heard from you in weeks.”
“I know. I’ve been so busy with work.”
“Work? Yeah, right. It’s the girls. You’ve probably got four at a time coming to your house.”
I ignored the joke and got to the heart of why I’d called. “Listen, Matt. You want to grab a drink tonight? Maybe O’Malley’s?”
“Sounds good. Just gotta tie up some loose ends at the office.”
“Me, too.” I stared at my computer. “I’ll give you a call when I’m off.”
I hung up and rushed through my reports, copying and pasting the most relevant numbers and writing quick paragraphs at the end. The board wouldn’t be very happy with it. They were always looking for a new angle to criticize me, but this was the best they were going to get.
I stood up, and my legs cramped. I felt like I’d been sitting in a car for 12 hours straight. My cock still throbbed, but it was small enough that I could reach into my pants and tuck it back. The receptionist, Moira, didn’t notice anything when I walked out. She was too busy with her game of solitaire.
O’Malley’s was a hole in the wall downtown. The kind of place men went after a good day of hard labor or a bad night with their wives. I preferred this kind of place to clubs or fancier places. No women fawned over me here, no annoying lights flashed in my eyes, and the music was quiet enough to have an actual conversation. My company owned the kind of places I hate, but only because they were lucrative.
I saw Matt, with his bright red hair and red face, sitting in our booth in the back. “Hey, man.” He got up to greet me. “How are you?”
“Tired.”
We walked back up to the bar, and I ordered a pint of something dark. “They’ve got me staring at these ridiculous reports all day. I can’t even see straight.”
“I know what you mean.” He took a drink of his pint, and the bartender handed me mine. “I’m handling four cases at once right now, and all of them are guilty as sin.”
“Anything interesting?” I asked.
“Cocaine dealer that killed his wife when he caught her cheating. He dresses like he lives in South L.A.”
“With those ridiculous button-up plaid shirts?”
“Yup.” Matt and I walked back to the booth. “So what’s up? Having any fun?”
“I’ve been around.”
“Well, that’s a given,” he said and smirked. “I don’t get it, honestly. Half of them look like a bee stung their faces. The other half look like they were made in China.”
“I’ve always hated girls like that. You know that. There just aren’t that many choices.”
“That’s just cause Tony’s part monkey. You’d have to be one of the dumbest women alive to work for that thug. He looks like he just crawled out of a meth pipe.”
“But he comes through, and he doesn’t cause any trouble,” I said.
“I think it’s cause he likes you.”
“Dear God, no.” I shuddered.
“You know you want a piece of that white chocolate.” Matt licked his lips.
“I’m going to puke.”
“Come on; you haven’t even taken a shot yet.”
“I don’t want fake anymore,” I said. “I’ve been seeing this new chick, Maria.”
“Seeing?”
“We’ve hung out a few times.”
“Which means you’re ready to shoot her and dump her body. Has she been looking through your phone?”
“No, I don’t think she cares about that. It’s fun, honestly. I haven’t had a woman like this in a long time.”
“She must be experienced,” Matt said.
“No. In fact, she didn’t even know Tony was running an escort service. She thought she was actually delivering packages.”
“I don’t believe it. Who could possibly be that dumb?”
“Not dumb,” I said. “A little naïve, maybe. I don’t think it ever occurred to her. She’s not even really a hooker. I’m her only client. She just needs the money.”
“Are you sure? Have you checked for track marks?”
“I don’t need to. She’s so innocent. It’s mind-boggling, and it’s not that she’s stupid. She just doesn’t get into any of that type of shit.”
“Then why does she need the money?” Matt asked.
“I have no idea, but I don’t care. I swear to you, she’s magic.” I took a drink.
“It sounds like you like her.”
“I do not.” I set my drink down.
“And now you’re getting defensive?”
“No, I’m not,” I said.
“Yes, you are. You never ever go for girls like this.”
“It’s just a few times is all.”
“Psht, that’s enough. I know you. Two or three a day sometimes, and I know that hasn’t changed. You’re the same man you always were. You just got caught up.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I downed the rest of my beer.
“What is it?”
“I don’t want to go through all of that.”
“Which means there’s something,” he said.
I cocked my head. “I can’t do that. I won’t do that. You know it.”
“You’re human, Jake, and you’re getting older. You can’t spend your life alone. It’s not healthy. You need somebody to fall asleep with at night, just like the rest of us.”
“I don’t. I’ve got everything, remember? I don’t need anyone.”
“Cause money’s the most fulfilling thing in the world.” He laughed. “Be realistic, Jake.”
“I should go.” I got up.
“I don’t mean to piss you off, man.”
“No, it’s not that. I’m tired. Gonna call it a night.”
“All right, man.”
I was furious at Matt. Did he have to rub it in? He knew that I couldn’t get caught up with a woman, but he kept pushing just like everyone else. What I did with my life was my choice.
Chapter 18
Mercedes
“You know you don’t have to do that,” my mother said. She was off work for a few hours, and she watched me mix up a bowl of dumplings.
“I want to do something nice for Dad. He hasn’t had a home-cooked meal in months, and he deserves
it.” I stood over the counter mixing the dough in a big glass bowl.
“It’s just a lot of work,” she said. “That’s all you do is work. It must be terrible.”
I looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Look who’s talking.”
“I just think you should put your feet up a little bit,” she said.
I dropped the spoon, washed my hands, and sat across the table from her. “I know you’re worried, Mom, but it doesn’t have anything to do with me.”
“No, sweetie, don’t…”
“It’s okay to be upset, but deflecting is just going to make it worse. You’re worrying about everything, and it’s tearing you up.”
“I’ll be fine.” She brushed me off and pulled a cigarette pack out of her pocket.
“Oh, no. You are not starting that again.” I snatched it out of her hand and put them under the faucet to ruin them.
“Don’t do that.” Her voice was subdued and filled with tension.
“This is what I’m talking about.” I threw the wet pack in the trash. “You’re taking this out on yourself.”
“You’re right. I just have to do better.”
“No,” I admonished her. “That’s the kind of thinking that started this behavior.”
“What do you want me to do? Live in bed?”
“I would prefer it. You still haven’t quit your night job.” I pulled the lid off the stock pot on the stove. A wave of savory steam flowed out into the kitchen.
“I’m not going to,” she said.
“What about sleep? Sanity? Don’t those things matter?”
“Not as much as you and your father. You need stability. Besides, I don’t know how your job is going to work out. You just started.”
I wanted to scream and tell her that she needed stability, that I could handle it, and that she was just hurting herself. She was in too much pain to handle what was happening, but telling her all that wouldn’t make a difference. I brought her a spoonful of broth. “Try this.”
She took the spoon and downed the steaming liquid. Her face lit up. “That’s fantastic.” Seeing her smile was a huge relief.
“You don’t think it needs a little more salt?” I asked.
“No, once you serve it the taste will bloom,” she said.
“I think you’re right.” I grabbed the bowl and started spooning the dumplings into the pot. “It won’t be long.”
“Have you spoken to Loren?” she asked.
“Yeah, she should be here any minute.”
“I am hungry,” my mother conceded.
“Did you tell Dad?” I glared at her playfully.
“No, I did exactly what you told me. He has no idea what’s going on.”
“Please,” he said, hobbling into the kitchen. “You really think I haven’t smelled that?”
“I should’ve known.”
He walked over to the stove and looked in the pot. “Did you make biscuits?” he asked.
“Shit.” I ducked down to open the oven and got blasted in the face with steam. I jumped back to get a look. The biscuits were soft but golden, the perfect consistency. “Thank God.” I grabbed a mitt and pulled them out.
My father snatched one right off the pan and sat down to eat it, completely undaunted by the heat. I handed him a plate and a pat of butter. He devoured the whole thing in one bite. “Give me another one of those, would you?”
“Mike,” my mother scolded him.
“I can eat whatever I damn well please.” The doorbell went off.
“That’s Loren.” I handed my dad three biscuits and walked out to answer the door.
“Sexy package delivery.” Loren rushed in and gave me a hug. Her brown hair had been braided into pigtails.
“You just got off, huh?”
“Can you tell?” She wore a pair of tight white shorts and a blue shirt that looked like it was three sizes too small.
“Nah, come on. Dinner’s almost ready.”
When we walked into the kitchen, my father was eating what must’ve been his fifth biscuit with two more sitting next to him, and my mother cupped her forehead in dismay. My father waved and smiled. He had bread sticking out of his mouth.
“How are you guys?” Loren pulled a soda out of the fridge. My dad reached out, and she handed him one.
“We’re alright, I suppose,” my mother said. “How are things with you, Loren?”
“Good, just working.”
“Talk to my daughter,” my mother said. “She can’t be working 16-hour shifts every day. She’s going to get burnt out, and it’s not good for her.”
“Mom,” I said.
“She’s a grown woman.” Loren opened her soda.
“Thank you.” I set the lid on the pot to let the dumplings boil.
“I know when I’m outgunned.” My mom pulled a soda out for herself. My father reached out with his mouth full and motioned for her to grab him another. He’d already finished his, and the butter was half-gone from the amount he was putting on his biscuits.
“Why are we talking when there’s food?”
My dad shoved another biscuit in his mouth, and we all laughed. The tension melted once I started serving bowls. My father didn’t say a word, aside from a few grunts and a thank you each time I handed him another bowl.
“So, what’s it like?” my mom asked when she was finished picking at hers.
“What?” I asked. “My job?”
“It’s so easy,” Loren said. “We drive, hand people packages, and leave.”
“But you have to carry them around, don’t you?”
“Most of them are small.” Loren caught my eye.
“But some are really big,” I said.
“Yeah, but most of the ones I get are nothing,” Loren said.
“So, the packages vary in size. It can’t be good on your back. Why would you do that to yourself, Mercedes? You’ve got so much potential.”
I motioned behind me at the drawer where we kept the money. “I don’t even think I could make that much with my degree.”
“I just don’t understand why you’re making so much.”
“This isn’t just a package delivery service,” Loren said. My eyes went wide, and I glared at her. “These are specialty packages, important stuff. That’s why they tip us so good, and it’s all cash. We don’t have to report our tips at all.”
“Are you happy?” My mother looked me right in the eye.
“I am.” That came out too fast, before I could stop myself, and with it, a flood of sentimentality.
“Then that’s what matters.” When we were all done, and I had my father settled back in bed, Loren pulled me outside to have a cigarette. She had these super thin sticks. I couldn’t believe she got anything out of them.
“What happened? Are you doing okay? Are the guys getting to you?” She lit her cigarette, and we sat down at the patio table.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re doing it,” she gasped.
“I am not.”
“You’re defensive. I can tell. Don’t do it, Mercedes. It’s not worth it. They just treat you like dirt, and it gets to you.”
“I’m not whoring myself out, which is clearly more than I can say for you.”
She sighed. “It’s not a regular thing. I’ll go weeks without it, but I need to pay my bills, and I’m very picky about who I do it with.”
“It’s weird. I don’t like it. I do feel dirty. I feel like I’m getting myself in over my head, and I know I’m gonna get hurt, but it’s…”
“It’s what?”
“It’s the money. Look at my dad. They’re gonna cut him off pretty soon, and I need to save up enough for his treatments.”
“You’re doing it for every delivery, aren’t you?” Loren took a puff of smoke and blew it out.
“No, I’m not. I only have one guy.”
“One? How are you making money? You’re not selling Tony’s special packages, are you?”
“God, no. He’s not gonna slip that
shit into one of my packages, is he? Because I do not feel like going down for that shit.”
Loren smiled and shook her head. “So, this is what happened. And you can’t say a word because Tony will get all mad and do something. The man is obviously insecure.”
“What did you do?” I asked.
Loren was trying not to laugh. “Oh, God. I called him the day after you freaked out on me, and I told him I wanted to see him.”
“You’re giving me chills. What happened?”
“I went in there wearing a bikini top and short shorts, and I slammed him up against the wall,” Loren said. “He was ready to come. Then I grabbed him by his scrawny, red neck and said that if he so much as looks at you wrong, that I will chop his dick off and feed it to him.”
“What’d he do?” I asked.
“He was trying to act all hard, saying that he and his homies were gonna come for me, and that I couldn’t talk to him like that. I just wrapped my hand around him as tight as I could, and he started to choke. By the time I let him down, he was on the ground crying, ‘Please don’t hurt me, yo.’”
“Oh my God,” I said. “I wish I could’ve seen that.”
“I almost put my phone on record so I could show you, but I didn’t want to have anything in my pockets. It would’ve ruined the whole outfit.”
“Is he gonna let you keep your job?” I asked.
“Are you kidding? Aside from food stamps and baby powder with flecks of coke in it, I’m his main source of income. The other girls just go one time, take the client, and run.” She took another puff of her cigarette and put it out. “Honestly, the only reason I’ve stuck by him is because I don’t have to sell myself.”
“I don’t like it. He creeps me out. I can’t even be in his presence without wanting to puke.” Part of me wondered if she was lying about not selling herself.
“I’m surprised he still has something between his legs. He tried to come on to this one chick, Stella. Her boobs were so big that they hardly ever fit properly in a bra.