He doesn’t say it but I know he’s thinking: unlike you.
I’m still determined to show him that I can run the company and I wish he would just drop this whole marriage thing. There are bigger issues to worry about than whether or not I settle down and commit to some flaky girl. I hadn’t wanted to bring it up right now because I think he should rest and relax, but since he’s talking about the company, I decide there’s no better time than the present.
“Dad, I’ve been going over the books and I really think there’s something strange about what’s in there…”
Before I can even finish telling him, I hear him snoring. He’s already fallen asleep. Or maybe he’s just pretending because he doesn’t want to talk about it.
I suppose it’s for the best, since I don’t fucking understand the numbers enough to explain to him what I mean, and he’ll just think I’m stupid and incompetent like usual, but I’m convinced that something is definitely off. I’ll have to have Dan look at the books at some point. He’s more of a numbers guy than I am.
Judging by how my dad is insisting on this marriage thing, I better have Dan look at it sooner rather than later. Especially since Dad is going to leave the whole business to Charles if I don’t do what he wants, and who knows where Charles’ own interests lie.
A thought suddenly strikes me when I think about Dan. This exchange club he wants me to go to: he says the women will do whatever I want. Whatever I need.
What I need that probably no other woman will give me is an engagement. Sure, lots of women would probably be happy to marry me but I need one who knows it’s fake. She has to be on board with the arrangement. And what better way to ensure that she is than to know that she needs the money and that money is the sole reason she’s doing it?
It really fucking irks me that my dad is giving me this ultimatum. I think about telling him off before I leave but I know that now is not the time. He’s a sick old man. Despite our many differences, I don’t want to make him more uncomfortable than he already probably is. And he’s finally asleep when he clearly needs his rest.
So, I walk up to the bed and pat his feeble, cold, limp hand.
“Goodbye, Dad,” I tell him. “Thanks for having me over.”
Even if it was to spring this awful news on me, I think, but don’t say. I’m so mad at him but he might not have a lot of time left.
“See you soon,” I add, as if to reassure both him and me.
He opens an eye long enough to say, “Don’t forget about getting that Jennifer lady to marry you. I know it will be for the best.”
I’m glad he can’t even remember the name of the girl I had thrown out as a possibility. Because I’m about to find one to stand in her place.
It’ll be the perfect set up one that will make my dad happy, give me the company and not have to result in an actual marriage. Before I head back down the stairs I text Dan again.
Alright, I tell him. I’ll go to this new club with you. It better be everything you say it is and more.
He has no idea what I mean when I say “more.”
He quickly texts me back: You aren’t going to regret it.
I sure hope I won’t.
Chapter 4 – Veronica
After biology class, I have statistics and then algebra. I’m taking a very heavy schedule of classes during the second semester of my freshman year. Stacy calls me a glutton for punishment. But I guess part of me is hoping that my mom gets to see me graduate from college, so I’m trying to speed that up.
Also, I’m a nerd who likes math and likes learning in general. Figuring out numerical and mathematical problems takes my mind off my real problems. So, I’m one of those rare students who actually likes doing homework after spending all day in school.
But today when I get home, it looks like the studying will have to wait. My mom is sitting at the kitchen table with her head in her hands, crying as she looks at a piece of paper on the table in front of her.
“What is it, Mom?” I ask, going up to her and hugging her.
My poor mom. Life has dealt her such a bad blow. She has a rare form of cancer, sarcoma, for which the prognosis doesn’t seem good.
“Oh, Veronica,” she says, shaking her head regretfully. “I didn’t realize how late it had gotten. I didn’t mean to still be sitting here when you got home from school. I don’t want to burden you with my problems any more than I already have.”
“No, it’s fine, Mom,” I tell her, rubbing her back. “All I want to know is what’s going on so that maybe I can help.”
“I don’t think anyone can help in this situation,” she says, burying her head in my chest.
I hug her tightly and as she breaks down into sobs I realize what a serious situation this must be. During the entire time that my mom’s been diagnosed and getting treatment, she’s maintained a stoic demeanor.
She always exudes strength where most people would break down. I know she has been trying hard to be my rock just as she has always been, since I was a newborn baby. So, whatever’s happening must be a really big deal.
“Mom, tell me.” I run my hands over her thinning hair, which the chemotherapy treatments have ravaged. “Please. You’re really scaring me.”
“Well,” my mom takes a big breath and nods her head as if deciding she needs to tell me. “The last time I was in to see the specialist, he told me that there was some hope to cure my cancer. Or at least, there’s a new method that seems much better than the current treatments. So, I talked to the doctor that he recommended.”
“That’s great, Mom,” I say, a little offended that she hadn’t told me any of this before.
But I don’t mention it because I don’t want to make her feel even worse. My mom and I have always been so close. I’m close with my dad too, but with my mom there has always been a special understanding that it’s me and her against the world.
“I know I didn’t say anything,” she says, as if reading my mind, which she has the tendency to do. “I didn’t want to get your hopes up and I really shouldn’t be saying anything now because my own hopes were dashed as soon as they were raised.”
“I’m so sorry, Mom.”
I don’t even understand what she’s talking about but it sounds bad.
“And don’t worry about not telling me,” I add. “I understand.”
It’s true— I do. I can’t even imagine if the roles were reversed. I don’t want to tell her anything that could make her feel sad. I want to protect her and she’s my mother, so her urge to protect me must be even stronger.
“This other doctor told me that there is only a fifty percent chance that his treatment will even work,” she says.
“Fifty percent,” I repeat, mulling the number over in my mind, thinking of all the statistics class I have ever taken. “That’s really good. Those are better odds than…”
I trail off, not wanting to go there.
“…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 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 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 there’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.
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