Amara smiled, plucking at the peacock feather she had tucked behind her ear. “It went well with my shirt,” she said with a shrug.
“Okay,” Courtney said with a yawn. “I have some feathers, we can try those some time if you’d like.”
“Uh... no thanks. Oh, by the way, Philip was watching us the other night. Did you know?”
“Of course. Why do you think I kept repositioning you?”
“Gross. Was anybody else watching?”
“My client. I told you this! Don’t try to—“
“I’m not trying to anything, Court, I was just asking,” Amara said, letting out a breath and rubbing her eyes. “I really hate this job.”
“You were wearing a mask, nobody really saw you, and you only hate it because you’re not making any money.”
“How do you know?”
“I know everything.”
Amara rolled her eyes and wished Courtney could see it. “Whatever.”
“Have you spoken to your mom? Is she prepping for surgery or is that tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow morning, right after I get there.”
“I’ll keep her in my prayers,” Courtney offered.
“You pray?”
“Only if I have to.”
Amara laughed. “Hey, question, have you ever gotten attached to an e-mailer? Or vice versa?”
“I haven’t, but they seem to get more attached than we do, since they’re usually only reaching out to one girl, while we’re juggling a bunch of others. Why?” Courtney questioned suspiciously.
“My new guy is a widower, and really nice... and normal, but I don’t want him to get attached, you know? It’s not Match.com or anything... I wonder if he’s clear on that.”
“Hmmm... if you’re concerned, I’ll take over and pretend I’m you or something. We’ll figure it out.”
Amara hoped they wouldn’t have to figure anything out, she liked Nolan so far, and she hated to lose the only “normal” e-mailer she had.
“I have my first person on Saturday... a guy, I think,” Amara said.
Courtney blew out a breath. “I wonder who... I’ll try to find out info for you, okay? Don’t stress. Just focus on your mama and come back to me, so I can make you feel better.”
Amara laughed, rolling her eyes. “Stop flirting with me and thank you.”
“Not flirting, just prepping.”
“You wouldn’t even believe how many times I’ve rolled my eyes during this conversation.”
“Oh, I believe it,” Courtney said, laughing. “But seriously, let me know how everything is back home, okay? I’ll see what I do about Saturday. I don’t mind going in for you if I can convince Philip.”
“I don’t even know if it’s worth it. I need to just suck it up.”
“That’s the issue; are you ready to suck it up?” Courtney asked, emphasizing the words to solidify the dirty connotation.
“Would I have to do that? That’s pretty personal.”
“And sticking it in your vagina isn’t?”
“For some reason, I can train my head to be okay with that possibility.”
“Well, that’s a good start.”
“Oh, because having sex with a woman wasn’t?”
Courtney laughed. “That was more like a great start, thank you very much.”
IT WAS STILL dark when Amara touched down in Connecticut, but she still asked the taxi driver to take her to the hospital. When she got there, Amara rushed through the halls with her carry-on in tow. She checked in at the front desk and pleaded to see her mother, just for a moment, just to give her one kiss before she went into surgery. The nurse smiled and granted her request, explaining where the room was. Amara walked quickly, sidestepping the nurses and doctors that walked the opposite way and pushed the door open. It was dark in the room, but she could see her father’s silhouette sitting next to her mother’s bed.
“Amara?” her father asked. She could hear the exhaustion in his voice.
“Yeah,” she answered, letting go of the handle of her suitcase and walking over to her mother. Tears began to build in Amara’s eyes as she looked down on her mother and began to run her hands along her hollowed cheekbones, to her bald head. Amara tried to swallow back her emotion, she didn’t want to cry in front of her father, but she couldn’t help a sob from escaping her.
“She will get through this,” her father said. He stood from his seat and stepped forward as if to comfort Amara, but she held a hand up to stop him. She could barely handle being in the same room as him, let alone having his arms around her. Amara shook her head and covered her mouth with both hands to stop from crying.
“Amara, please,” her father pleaded.
She shook her head, still fighting tears. “I’m going to go get some coffee.”
Amara walked into the cafeteria and saw her uncle Vlady sitting in a table by himself. He seemed to be lost in his thoughts as he stared down at his cup. Vlady didn’t look up when Amara sat in the chair across from him, or when she put her hand over his.
“Uncle Vlad?” Amara said finally. His head slowly lifted and his hazel eyes met hers with a mixture of confusion and surprise.
“Mara, how long have you been here?” he asked, turning his hand under hers and squeezing it.
“Just got here,” she said, searching his face, hating the way his grief-stricken eyes looked at her, as if they’d already lost her mother, his sister.
Vlady let out a breath. “She’s going to make it, right?”
Amara swallowed loudly, hoping to keep it together. She didn’t want to think about the possibility of her mother not making it, even though she knew it was something she had to prepare herself for.
“She’s a fighter, she perseveres through everything,” Amara said.
“I know. I was just a boy when your parents came to this country,” Vlady said, letting go of Amara’s hand and placing his elbows on the table. “I was seven when my parents came over here... seven. Anna used to take care of me after school, help me with my homework, everything. Everything my live-in nannies were paid to do, Anna did. She was only eighteen—how much could an eighteen-year-old possibly know about taking care of a child? She was a child herself. I always vowed that I would take care of her. After she refused to speak to Father; I promised her that I would take care of her. But now I realize that even after she got sick, she’s still been the one taking care of me—watching over me, asking me how my marriage is doing when I know hers has been crumbling...”
Vlady’s chest began to heave heavily as his sobs finally broke through, and Amara could only sit there, watching him as her own sorrows caved in on her.
“She’ll make it,” Amara said with a trembling lip. “She wants to live.”
“We all do, Amara,” Vlady said, wiping his tears and looking into her eyes. “It’s not about our will to live. I know my sister has a lot of life left inside of her, but sometimes our will to fight for it begins to drain... she’s tired. I can see it in her beautiful eyes. My sister is exhausted.”
Amara stood up, unwilling to listen to him speak any longer. “I don’t care. She’s going to keep fighting. She’s going to make it. She won’t abandon us now.”
She turned and began to walk away.
“Colin comes by the restaurant every week,” Vlady said to her back. Amara didn’t turn around—couldn’t. “He used to come every day and sit in his usual table, looking around as if waiting for you to come out of the back. When I hadn’t seen him for a couple of days, I thought maybe he was over it... but there he is, at least once a week sitting in the same seat.”
Amara’s hands rubbed her throat, trying to ease the pain from the knot that had settled there. “Next time he shows up, tell him he should stop looking for me there.”
“Where should I tell him to look? He asked me that too.”
Amara shook her head as fresh tears began to fall. “He shouldn’t.”
THERE WAS A terrible moment during the ten-hour surgery, that Amara won
dered what would happen if her mother didn’t make it. It was unbidden, but the thought of what it would mean for Amara crossed her mind. She wondered if she would have to go back to Méchant, but knew she wouldn’t. Not when her mother was the only reason she was there to begin with. Amara hated her thoughts. She pulled her long hair into a high ponytail, busying herself with taking down the elastic and putting it back up a couple of times before exhaling a harsh breath and flipping through a magazine. Amara was jittery every time a nurse updated them that her mother was still okay.
Hours later, the surgery deemed a success, Amara sat at her mother’s bedside, trying to keep herself occupied by responding to emails. She couldn’t concentrate. She couldn’t even respond to Nolan’s latest email to her. Amara wished so much that she could just erase Méchant from her life altogether.
“Amara,” her mother whispered groggily.
Amara sat up in her chair and leaned into the bed, grasping her mother’s hands in hers. She could tell her mother was having a difficult time trying to open her eyes. “I’m here, Mama. Just rest.”
Her mother nodded slightly, flinching as she did. “You’ll be here?” she whispered.
Amara’s heart stilled. “I’ll be here,” she whispered back.
She dealt with her father by avoiding him for the next two days, and kept conversation with her uncle Vlady, short and to the point. Amara was beginning to get annoyed with herself because, as much as she didn’t want to go back to Méchant, she realized that in that moment, it was the only option she had. She couldn’t go back home with her parents and couldn’t go back to the apartment she’d been living in, since she’d turn in the key. Even if she wanted to start over —even if she thought she could get away with it—she didn’t have the means to do so. The idea to call Colin crossed her mind more times than she could count, but she knew it would do no good to either of them.
“Amara?” her mother said in a hoarse voice.
“I’m here,” Amara responded, scrambling to her feet and leaning over her. She lifted her arm to touch her mother’s head but thought better of it. It was wrapped around in a white bandage, and Amara knew the wound must hurt. She hated seeing her mother in a hospital bed with a tube on each arm and in pain, but the selfish part of her was glad, because at least she was still alive.
“Did they get it all?” her mother asked.
Amara nodded and smiled. “Yes, they did. I think the doctor says you’ll still need chemo though,” she added sadly.
Her mother closed her eyes for a moment, absorbing the news. When she opened them again, her mossy green eyes were filled with tears. “I love you, Mara,” she said suddenly. “I love you, and I’m sorry for all those times I yelled at you when you were a little girl... and a teenager... and even now. I’m sorry for the times I blamed you for things you had no business getting blamed for, and I’m sorry for all the times I said no to you because I was tired.”
“Mama—“
“No. Let me finish. I’m sorry for the gifts I didn’t buy you, and for the ones I did, because Lord knows I bought you some things you didn’t need. I’m sorry for the bedtime stories I refused you and for the times I cut our calls short for whatever reason.” Both Amara and her mother had tears running down their faces as they sniffled. Amara couldn’t even speak as she waited for her mother to continue. “Even after I got sick —when they told me I could die—I didn’t take the time to appreciate my life. To appreciate, really, truly, appreciate it. I was too busy worried about the house, and your father, and who would take care of you, to just stop and enjoy.”
“You can now though, Mom. You don’t need to apologize for anything. You’ve been the best mother I could have ever asked for. Even when you thought you weren’t, to me, you were the best,” Amara said, crying as she wiped her mother’s tears from her face.
“And you’ve been the best daughter I could have ever dreamed of. I just wish I could go back and appreciate you more—hug you a little tighter—shelter you from the world a little longer.”
“Whatever bad choices I’ve made for myself have no bearing on your parenting, Mom. I’ve made them all on my own,” Amara said.
AMARA WAS BEYOND jet lagged when she got to Paris on Saturday morning. Naveen picked her up at the airport and took her directly to Méchant, much to her annoyance. She just wanted to go to the sleeping quarters, as they called them, and rest, but she had been warned she would have a long day ahead of her once she got back. Upon entering Mêchant, Amara walked up the stairs and straight to the room she’d been assigned. She refused to call it hers, because she didn’t want to feel comfortable with the entire thing—ever. Still, as soon as she got in, Amara plopped down on the bed and closed her tired eyes. She was almost asleep when Courtney’s signature knock made Amara’s eyes snap open. Groaning, moaning, and muttering under her breath, Amara stood and opened it.
“Welcome back!” Courtney greeted with a cheerful smile and lit-up blue eyes.
They shared a small hug before Amara turned to walk back to the bed. “I am so tired, Court, I don’t think I can keep my eyes open for much longer.”
“So just lay down and listen to me. Okay, first things first —I’m so glad your mom is doing okay,” Courtney said, exhaling before she continued on in a rush. “So this is what I got, that client you’ve been chatting with... Nolan whatshisface... Philip is tracking the whole thing, as usual. He likes to have dirt on all his clients, but hasn’t found anything valuable on this guy... Apparently he has one ‘big thing’ on him, but according to what he told Vivienne the other day, it’s not big enough to make ‘a man lose everything.’ What does he do for work? Do you know?”
Amara sat up and frowned at Courtney. “He’s never said, but why are you talking about Nolan?”
“He told Philip he wants to set up a date to come. He wants to come see you. Or maybe it’s just to have sex with you. That part wasn’t clear.”
Amara’s nose crinkled in confusion as she thought about it. “He said he wasn’t ready to do that with anyone...”
Courtney gave her a look. “He’s a man. Men are always ready to fuck. When was the last time you screwed a man?”
Amara stilled, clasping her hands together in front of her and focusing on the red polish on her nails. “You know the answer to that.”
“It’s been months, Amara. Do you think you can try to push him out of your memory when you’re having sex?”
She didn’t want to answer that. “I’m not really into having sex with strangers. I know I have to do it, but it just sucks.”
“Why?”
“Because... it’s sex. I don’t know. It’s never been something casual for me.”
“Are you in love with me?”
Amara’s head whipped up. “What?”
“Are you?”
“No!”
“And we had sex, right?”
“Yes...”
“So a stranger shouldn’t be a problem. Sex is better with strangers sometimes, Amara. No attachment. No way of getting attached even if you wanted to.”
She nodded. “That makes sense.”
“Nolan wants to pay a bonus for you.”
Amara’s heart rate escalated a bit. “What do you mean?”
“Well, apparently he’d booked me and you, then dropped me, but he’s still paying me. So he’s paying double, and I’m obviously giving you the money.”
Amara exhaled. “It doesn’t matter. Either way, I have to give that money to Philip. Why would he agree to that?”
“Because it’s fifty-thousand dollars in his pocket... and fifty in yours, which means fifty more for him anyway because he knows you’ll give it to him,” Courtney said.
Amara’s mouth fell open. “Why would he pay a hundred thousand to have sex with me?” she whispered.
Courtney shrugged. “Sometimes these guys start emailing or calling and think they’ve finally found the one, you know? Maybe he thinks you’re the one.”
“But I’m not his one
,” she said, and after a moment continued. “And I can’t be blindfolded. I freak out when I feel like I can’t defend myself.”
Courtney nodded slowly. “We’re going to do an exercise, and then I’ll let you sleep.”
She pulled one of the chairs that adorned Amara’s room to the center of the space.
“Take off your clothes,” she ordered. Amara just stared at her for a long moment.
“Do we need to do this now?” she asked.
“It’s as good a time as ever. You need to get comfortable with the idea.”
Amara mulled it over, looking at Courtney, who apparently was dead serious. Finally, she stood and began stripping off her clothes, only leaving her underwear.
“Now, straddle the chair, Jasmine,” Courtney said.
She did as she was told.
“I like that the extent of your organizational skills extend to the need to match your underwear at all times,” Courtney said, eyeing Amara’s pink lace bra and matching thong. She held her by the nape of her neck, pulling off the elastic holding Amara’s hair together, until it cascaded around her shoulders and formed a dark cloak. Courtney was fully clothed in a short, black, wrap dress, which made Amara feel more comfortable for some reason. Probably because the more clothes Courtney kept on, the less this meant Amara would have to go along with the Chloe-and-Jasmine-lesbian-love-fest thing again.
“What am I supposed to do?” Amara asked, repositioning herself so that the sides of the wooden chair didn’t bite into her thighs as much.
“You just sit there. I’m going to blindfold you. And tie you up.”
“Like hell you are!” Amara said, beginning to get up. Courtney pushed her shoulders back down to keep her sitting in place.
“Like hell you are, Jasmine. You do as I say, and if you don’t, I’ll bring the whip out. Do you understand?” Courtney said in her domineering, Chloe voice.
Amara rolled her eyes. “I’m not playing this game, Chloe. I’m exhausted.”
“So you should’ve slept on the plane. Stop crying about it and let me do this. If you don’t a stranger will, and you won’t be feeling so brave, trust me. It happened to me.”
The Devil's Contract Page 10