by Claire Adams
I went into the kitchen to get myself a soda and sat down to look at my phone. I had six missed calls. I sighed and put it back down, but it started going off again. “What?” I answered.
“Uh, is this Maria?” Candy asked.
“I am so sorry, Candy.”
“It’s okay. Dori needs you to go downtown. I have an address here.” I waited while she looked for it. “It’s 16 South Duvalle. There’s a man named Leo there. Just ask for him.”
“Leo? Do you mean Leo Marin?”
“Yeah, is that a problem?” Candy asked.
“Jesus, no. I have an all-star cast dressing me and now a celebrity stylist.”
“It sounds like that guy really likes you,” Candy said.
“Guess so. Is the dress ready?”
“It’s always a work in progress. She’ll end up throwing the whole thing out and bringing you in this afternoon for a fitting. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I certainly don’t. Would you thank her for me?”
“I will.”
I rushed into my closet to find something reasonably presentable to wear, but everything was either old or outdated. I ended up with a white blouse and a pair of jeans, but it wasn’t enough. When I walked into the salon and saw the girls running around in designer clothes, I felt out of place.
Leo was a hair god. The man worked my hair like a painter with a brush, twisting and braiding it into the perfect messy bun with strands hanging down behind my ears. I looked like I was ready for the red carpet. Candy called as soon as I was done to send me off to the nail salon.
It became clear at that point that Jake was responsible for all of this. There was a lot of talk about me being the one that Dori mentioned, and how lucky I was to be going to the gala. When I left the nail salon, my phone started ringing again. It was Candy, of course. I answered as I got into my car.
“What’s next on the list?” I asked.
“She wants you to go to Bliss down on Eighth.”
“I’ll call you right back.” I hung up and dialed Jake’s number.
“Hey, how’s it going?” he asked.
“You paid for the best spa in the city.”
“I—”
“No,” I interrupted him. “I have been running around downtown on your credit card all day. I’ve got a designer dress in the works, designer shoes, a celebrity cutting my hair, and now you want to spend $10,000 on a spa trip.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
“No?”
“No, it’s Dori.”
“Bull.”
“Is there anything wrong with wanting to give you a good time?” he asked.
“No, but—”
“You’re not going to complain when you’re in that chair.” He hung up.
I raged and nearly threw my phone out the window. Instead, I called Candy back. She answered.
“Do I have to go to the spa, Candy?” I asked.
“Why wouldn’t you? Dori sent me down there a couple weeks ago, and it was heaven.”
“I’m sure it was.”
“Let him pamper you,” she said. “Besides, they need to get your makeup ready, and Dori is starting to throw out the dress, so it won’t be long before she calls you in for a remake.”
“Make sure she knows how grateful I am,” I said before I got off.
The spa was beautiful and relaxing, with low lighting and a facial massage that left my skin tingling. I didn’t want to dive into this. I wanted to hate Jake and run away as far as I could. Instead, he was doing everything he could to make me happy.
It felt good, but that’s what bothered me so much about it. I wanted more, but he was so closed off. He’d never let me in, not the way I wanted. Instead, I was an unwilling spectator at my own slaughter, watching him peel apart my heart piece by piece.
The excitement bothered me the most. It wasn’t so much excitement as it was a deep desire, a need to see him, and the anticipation that went with it. It was unhealthy. I was a prostitute, not his girlfriend. I was never going to be his girlfriend, and I had to remember that. But it was difficult when he gave me things most girls could barely dream about.
I felt relaxed until I left the spa and realized I was going to spend all night with Jake. He’d see me dressed like a runway model. He’d peel my clothes off with his eyes, then his hands, and he’d spend the rest of the evening trying to make me scream. When I got in the car, I rested my head back and closed my eyes.
Breathe, I told myself. I couldn’t let this continue. I had to leave him behind and find some other way to help my parents. This wasn’t worth destroying myself over, but I knew that if I tried to run, I’d just end up running back to him or losing him altogether. I was getting used to our arrangement. I enjoyed every second of it. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t stop, and neither could he.
I drove to get myself something to eat and found myself facing a sudden torrent of texts and phone calls. Dori wanted to know what I thought about sequins, then ruffles. Then it was time for me to come in. When Candy called, I could hear her asking how far away I was in the background. By that time, I was already rounding the corner, so I just hung up and walked in.
Dori hit me with a flurry of compliments and another offer for a modeling gig. Then I stood on a raised platform while Dori painted me like the clean canvas she said I was. I stood in front of the wall mirror in the office before I left.
I was a ratty, skinny blonde girl with tits too big for her body and wide hips. I couldn’t believe what Dori had done to me. The dress was a mosaic of tiny red roses with white stems, falling down my plunging neckline with a shimmering fabric that glistened in the light.
The skirt was perfect in its simplicity, flowing ruffles like red waves that trailed behind me. I wasn’t this woman. I was a whore in a costume, and I was going to get my heart broken if I didn’t remember that. Still, I couldn’t stop my stomach from jumping up and down in time with my steps when I walked out of the office.
Jake waited for me outside, holding a red rose. I wanted to grab it and throw it to the ground. I couldn’t be feeling this. He wasn’t allowed to do this to me, but he was. He walked around the desk, took me by the hand, and said, “You are a supermodel, and don’t you forget it.”
I tried not to blush, but the blood rushed straight to my face. I knew he could see it. Was he doing this on purpose? Did he know what would happen when this was all over? He must. So why was he doing it? Was he just as out of control as I was?
There was a pause, a moment of certainty when I realized that we were both fighting this as hard as we could. Dori sniffed behind me, and I turned around. She was tearing up. “You both look so cute together.”
“Thank you,” Jake said graciously and took my hand to lead me out into the limo. “I hope you don’t mind I told her we are together.”
“No, I don’t mind at all.” I did. I minded more than I could possibly express. This was a sick charade, but we were both trapped in it. Neither of us could stop if we wanted to, but that didn’t make it any more real. He had his boundaries. I was his whore, not his girlfriend. I had to keep reminding myself of that.
I could see the spotlights when we pulled off the freeway. “Is this red carpet?”
“Not for us,” he said. “You will not catch me on one of those death traps.”
“But there is a red carpet, isn’t there?” I asked.
“Do you want your picture taken?”
“Don’t threaten me. I know where you sleep.”
“Just don’t get mad when I tear that thing off you,” he said.
“I was planning on having it framed—next to your head.”
When we pulled onto the street, a line of limousines stretched for what seemed like miles in front of the event hall. Paparazzi and media hounds ran back and forth over the red carpet. Jake had the driver pull around to the side of the building where a group of valet drivers waited for the guests that preferred a more incognito entrance.
When we stopped, Jake took my hand and let me slip out of the limousine, like a star on her way to a premiere. I took a quick look around when we got out. Most of the women wore different versions of the classic red slit dress. I felt like a princess among commoners. The contrast was stunning, and it showed. People stared at me.
I wanted to feel flattered, but I wasn’t there as his girlfriend. I was his painted whore. It didn’t matter how much my outfit cost; he was going to pay me at the end of the night. Still, the mood was infectious, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off me.
I fell in love with the event hall right away. Arched exits lined the walls, showing off the city lights beyond. Displays of red and white roses flanked the exits on either side. An elderly woman with a roller set came up and gave me a scrutinizing stare.
“I still don’t see why you wanted to do this, Jake,” she said.
“Samantha, that is a lovely gown you’re wearing,” he said. “Have you met my girlfriend, Maria?”
“Nice to meet you,” she said and stormed off.
“Who was that?” I asked.
“One of the pesky board members. I call her the wasp.” We walked to the bar, and he ordered us both glasses of champagne. I took in the room while I sipped my drink. Everyone moved from person to person mindlessly. Rows of tables had been set up around the room, and well-dressed staff put the finishing touches on the stage beyond the tables.
“You better be having fun,” Jake said.
“You’ve made sure of that, haven’t you?”
“I couldn’t help myself.” He kissed me behind the ear. He was lucky the lights were darkening. Otherwise, people would’ve noticed. We took our seats near the back of the room and watched as an old lady wearing a bright red church hat and a white dress walked out on stage.
A projector rolled out behind her, and she went through a series of heartbreaking pictures of cancer victims smiling and laughing. I started to tear up and had to wipe my face. It was humiliating. I didn’t want him to see it, but he gave me my dignity and pretended not to notice.
An elderly man came up on stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, I want to thank you for coming and showing your support to the Rose Foundation. As many of you know, there are millions of people in this country that can’t afford the healthcare they need to survive.”
I teared up again. I had to stop this. Jake took my hand and squeezed, and I melted into my seat. I couldn’t let him do that. He wasn’t supposed to comfort me. He was supposed to pay me and throw me away. This was nothing short of torture.
“You’re saving lives by coming here tonight,” the man went on. “I hope you know that. I, myself, am a cancer survivor, and if it weren’t for the good grace of people like you, I wouldn’t be here today. That’s why I’m honored with the opportunity to begin this auction. This is not a contest as to who can pay more. You’re welcome to make your donations silently. Rather, it’s a display of good will and support to the people that need your help. Let’s start our opening bid with $100.”
I looked around the room and melted. There were dozens of paddles lifted in the air. It was a token donation, but it would mean so much. They moved on through the hundreds and into the thousands, where the crowd watched as people gave one, two, then $3,000.
“This is really amazing.” I wiped my tears away. “These people need it so much. It’s hell what they go through.”
“That’s why I came,” Jake said.
“I feel bad, though.”
“Why?”
“Well, here I am enjoying my free drink watching everyone give their savings away, and there’s nothing I can do. I don’t have anything to give.”
Jake lifted his paddle. “Fifteen thousand,” he called out.
I froze, and the entire room turned to look at us. I wanted to shrink into a hole. “Fifteen thousand,” the auctioneer called out. “Thank you.” The entire room erupted in applause, and I started bawling. I wanted to run out of the room. He was either a sadist or a saint. I couldn’t tell which, but he’d just done something amazing.
He rested his hand on my back and leaned in to whisper. “You don’t have to give anything. I’m just glad to have you here.” He kissed me on the cheek and left a burst of warmth behind when he pulled away.
“That was enough to save a man’s life; you know that, don’t you?”
“Good, I’d do it a thousand times over,” he said and kissed me again. He got up to get us some drinks, and I was left to watch as the people around the room gave enough money to put 100 people into remission.
When I turned back, he walked across the room with a man following him. The man was angled away from me so I couldn’t see his face until it was too late. It was my old accounting professor, and he was coming my way. I wiped my tears and pasted on my best smile.
“Mercedes,” he said. I got up to greet him. “It’s so nice to see you here. How have you been?” All of the color drained out of my face. I had to run now. Jake didn’t know my real name.
“I’m doing well, thank you.”
“You look fantastic. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to make your graduation. They had us in a meeting that whole day, but no matter. Things are clearly looking up for you.”
“Yeah.” I laughed awkwardly, doing my best to avoid looking at Jake. “Things are going pretty good.”
“I’m just glad that you found somebody willing to take a stand for a good cause.”
“I’m blessed to have her here,” Jake said, with a second’s hesitation.
“I’m glad to be here,” I said.
Jake and my professor went to talk while I slumped into my chair. Of course, he wouldn’t let it show, but he must’ve felt betrayed. I met his family, for fuck’s sake, and he didn’t even know my real name.
Chapter 21
Jake
I slipped through the crowd towards the bar and kept my eyes straight. If I looked around, I knew that somebody would catch my eye and pull me into a pointless conversation about how nice I was for giving the donation. I had three times that sitting on the silent auction table.
Samantha was sitting on a bar stool sipping a Bloody Mary when I walked up. “You’d better not take that out of a company account.”
“I gave 45.” I waved down the bartender, ignoring her look of shock.
“What’ll it be?”
“A shot of brandy and two champagnes,” I said.
“Coming right up.” He left me alone with Samantha.
“You gave $45,000 away? What is wrong with you?”
“Listen, you old hag, you’ve got more money than you could spend in 10 lifetimes. I don’t know why you care what I do with a few thousand dollars. Aren’t you rich enough?”
“You don’t have any right to talk to me like that,” she said.
“You have the lowest stake on the board, and everyone hates you.” The bartender handed me our drinks, and I walked back to the table.
Mercedes was mortified. It was the most adorable thing I’d ever seen. No escort used her real name. I’d screwed more Portias and Violets than I could remember. It was good business practice, but the more time I spent with her, the more I was reminded of the fact that she wasn’t a whore.
I knew she had her reasons for doing what she was doing. No woman with as much pride as she had would ever lower herself to prostitution, or anything close to it, without a good reason. I decided that it was my job to give her the dignity and appreciation she deserved.
She was sitting at the table, her head down, staring at her phone when I walked up behind her and rested my hand on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Jake. I know I should’ve told you.”
I sat down next to her. “Tony is always sending me girls with ridiculous names. I’ve had every color and flower there is. I was relieved when you told me your name was Maria. You must’ve picked it out yourself.”
“You don’t care?”
“God, no. Don’t give your name out.”
She laughed. “Tony wanted
me to go by Cinnamon.”
“That’s not even the worst one. The first girl I ordered was named Fuchsia.”
“No.”
“Yup. I told her to come up with something else, and she stormed out.”
“I thought Maria was ridiculous.”
“No, I like it. It suits you.”
“What is this crap?” She pointed at what looked like a circle of pink flesh sitting on her plate.
“Goose liver.”
“Ugh.” She pushed it away. “That’s terrible.”
“You have no idea.” I stood up. “We should go before somebody causes a scene.”
“What do you mean?” She got up and let me lead her out of the hall.
“These things are like bad funeral receptions. At the last gala I went to, a drunk old lady got up on stage and belted out this horrific opera song. They had to drag her away screaming.”
“You sure we shouldn’t stay for the show?”
“Trust me; it gets ugly. Besides, I have something better in mind, and no, I’m not telling you where we’re going.” She seemed too subdued to protest. I didn’t like it when she was uncomfortable, not like this. She was sullen and teary-eyed. She was trying to play it off and was doing a good job of it, but I could read her much better than that. I had to cheer her up.
I waved down the valet when we walked outside, and they brought the limo around, then opened her door so she could get in. “You’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?”
“Nope.” I texted the driver the address.
“I don’t really care, honestly. The gala was nice, but I felt out of place.”
“I don’t talk to people in my class level.” I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. “They like to toy with people and look down on them. They’ll smile and laugh with you one second, then talk crap about you the next, and you can smell it.”
“Those half-smiles. So sick.”
“They spend their entire lives indulging their every whim, and never once thinking about anyone but themselves. It sounds cliché, I know, but it’s the truth. It’s rare to see a good person born into money.”
“I’ve never been a part of that world. I wouldn’t know.”