Auctioned to Him 7: The Contract

by Charlotte Byrd

  “Did you ever study methods of torture?” The food on the television looked divine. When your will power is low but your bank account is lower it is hard to pass up free food. “And let’s get salad or something. I really don’t need something heavy.”

  “You deserve good food. You already lost 30 pounds. That’s amazing. You should be congratulated.”

  “I have had enough congratulations.”

  “Well, not from me.” Travis sorted through our cabinets of take out menus.

  “How does Italian sound?”

  “It sounds like the most delicious thing ever.”

  “Great, it’s settled.”

  “No, wait!” I thought about my diet. “Isn’t that super heavy in carbs?”

  “Okay, not Italian. How about Mexican?”

  “Too greasy.”

  “What about Thai?”

  “Aren’t noodles heavy in carbs?”

  “It’s food, so yes. Do you want to eat paper?”

  “I don’t want to stay fat.”

  I was not having the best day, but I was trying to be more positive. It was hard with the wedding and debt.

  “If you want I can help train you. We can get you back in shape. Then if freelancing doesn’t work out, maybe you still have some acting skills that we can get you jobs with.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Let’s start by walking to get Thai.”

  5

  April

  “I’ll just have the water, thanks.” We sat at a table by the windows. It was a gorgeous night out. All the beautiful people were out walking, enjoying the sunshine and shopping. I envied them. One day I would have a life style that was hopefully close to theirs. I wanted to be able to write, for fun and for work. I wanted to have a nice condo or house. I wanted to have enough money to buy a meal.

  “No, we will each have a glass of Moscato.” Travis handed the menu back. This guaranteed that I was only going to have a salad. “Alex told me that this place has the best white wines.”

  “How is it going with Alex?”

  “Best sex I have ever had.” That was enough in Travis’ book to be marriage material. He was practically a sex addict. He didn’t let it take over his life, just drive the motivation for it. “How is your freelancing going?”

  “Not great. I’ve been broke for God knows how long.”

  “Two months.”

  “Two months. I am thinking about giving it up and looking for other work.”

  “Ooh, like what? Stripping?”

  “Not with this muffin top.”

  “Where are you going to work, then?”

  I took a large drink of wine. It was almost like a juice. “I was thinking maybe doing something more mainstream. I sent my resume out to a few administrative assistant positions. I did some secretary work at USD so hopefully that is enough experience to get me into one of them.”

  “Have you heard back from any of them?”

  The waitress brought our food out. “Not yet.” My life was sadder on paper than it felt. I was sitting across from a great guy that maybe if he weren’t gay, I would date him. Too bad for me, he already had a boy toy.

  “Well, you have to keep at it. Persistence is key. I don’t do acting full time. It hardly pays the bills.”

  “You’ll make it soon. You’re getting a ton of work.”

  “Yeah, it’s going well right now, but it hasn’t always been this way. That’s why I still work as a hostess. Someday I won’t have to show people their tables; I’ll just be able to become characters.”

  “You’ll make it soon.”

  “You just said that.” We ate the dinner and I was stuffed afterwards. Travis insisted we get dessert, but I couldn’t fit another bite in me. We went back out and walked around the plaza area.

  “So how about this wedding thing?”

  “And just when I got it off my mind.”

  “Sorry. I just don’t want you to show up empty handed. You’re walking now, that’s the first step. We can get you hot before then. You can’t show up empty handed.”

  “I know.”

  “You’ll be a laughing stock.”

  “I know.”

  “You’ll look pathetic.”

  “I know.”

  “They will all feel so bad for you.”

  “Hey, yeah. I get it.”

  “So how is the dating situation going to work?” Travis and I walked into one of the boutiques. He looked at all the shoes, showing me several pairs he thought would look great on me.

  “Well, still single. My closest male friend is a gay guy that Tom would know I’m not dating.”

  I tried on a few of the heels. I was happy that they didn’t break under my weight.

  “We can’t all have ourselves so figured out. And it’s not like I have many lady friends to choose from either. Maybe I should just fake sick and stay home.”

  “They will feel even worse for you.”

  “It’s better than facing them.”

  “That’s too bad.” Travis’ hand breezed over some fabric. “Just when I had an idea.”

  “Oh?” I was beginning to get excited. I could see some of these dresses being perfect for the wedding, the empire waist slimming down my stomach and pumping up my boobs.

  “And don’t get mad about this.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “So Alex has this friend.”

  “Okay.”

  “And I think he could be a great solution.”

  “Get to the point. Who is he?”

  “Have you ever heard of an escort?”

  “Oh my god.”

  “Hear me out.”

  “No.”

  “He is really hunky.”

  “No.”

  “And he could probably get you a discount.”

  “Oh my god no.” Is this what I had become? Unable to get a date for myself and having to pay for a man to spend a weekend with me? Curling up into my bed forever had never been more appealing, not even when I was bed ridden. “I would rather die.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic.”

  “What if they knew him?”

  “Then you would know that they pay for sex and you would have a leg up on them.” Travis handed me a few dresses. I wanted to throw them all at him. I wanted to hide in the racks like I was a kid again. When was my life going to stop going down hill?

  Maybe a therapist could help me with all of these things. Travis was great to talk to. He always comforted me and told me the truth. He wouldn’t sugar coat things, he knew that that was what I needed to hear. I had enough time being coddled by my friends in the hospital. He was the one that kept me realistic and reminded me that things would get better, even if they kept getting worse. That didn’t mean I didn’t hate him when he was telling me the truth.

  “That would make me want to die. I want to die. Kill me.”

  “Shut up, April. Try this on. It’s your color.”

  It was my color. It made me look slim. Maybe if I kept my hair down and contoured a lot I could look like I used to.

  “Is he hot?”

  “He gets paid to have sex. I would hope so.”

  “I would too.”

  “Do I hear you considering this idea?” Travis sang from outside the dressing room.

  “Definitely not.” He tossed a few more dresses over, I could already rule out a few of them. “These are all too low cut.”

  “Show off your new boobs.”

  “That’s a bit trashy.”

  “No it isn’t. But it will make him upset he didn’t stick around for them.” He slid some shoes under the door. “We have to get you a makeover. You’ll need a push-up bra or two.”

  We walked back home, twenty minutes there. We passed several beautiful people and too many of them were couples, holding hands. For too long I believed in true love. I wanted to play red rover and run through their locked fingers. I was already old and cynical but only twenty-seven. I was going to age fast and become a very bitter lonely old lady
. I wish I liked cats. Then I would have something to love. Now I was just a failure of a freelancer and even bigger failure of a writer. My professors all said I had promise, but I didn’t see any of that.

  When Travis and I got back we popped in a movie. I couldn’t pay attention to it, too much was going through my mind. It was getting harder and harder to find joy in simple daily things. I couldn’t even watch a movie without it reminding me of all the stresses in my life. Travis kept drinking wine and steadily became very tipsy. Eventually he passed out on the couch. I wish I had a bottle of wine. I wish I could fall asleep like a rock.

  I checked my email again. No new messages. I looked online for job postings. Maybe I could just work at McDonalds to pay the bills. Once I made actual money I could get a liposuction or maybe buy diet pills that actually worked.

  6

  April

  My room was really warm and I curled up in my bed. This was the safest place on earth for me. I could hide here forever and be okay. My phone vibrated in my pajama pocket. It was my mom, the last person I wanted to talk to. I answered it anyway.

  “April, dear, you look awful.”

  “Thanks mom.”

  “Sorry. Are you sick?”

  “No. I’m just not wearing makeup.”

  “Oh… Well…”

  “It’s nighttime, mom.”

  “Doesn’t mean you should stop trying. I wanted to see how you are.”

  “Not just make me feel awful?”

  “Of course not. You know I care. I was there the whole time you were broken by that awful drunk driver.”

  “I know, mom.”

  “Which was over a year ago. It’s never too late to get back in shape, honey.”

  “I already feel shitty enough, mom.”

  “Sorry, sorry.” She fell silent for a moment and straightened her dress. “I’ll change the subject. I will be going to a garden and tea party tomorrow. Guess who will be there.”

  “Who?”

  “Mrs. Middleton. That woman took my month to do it. She knew it was my turn to host, and yet here she is. As if the wedding wasn’t party enough for her.” My mom and Tom’s mom were the kind of friends that hated each other. I heard enough of it when I was together with Tom, hearing it when I was lonely was much worse. It served as a reminder of my past.

  “I don’t even think I can go to that wedding, Mom.”

  “What!?” My mom began messing with her hair frantically. “You must. There is no way you aren’t going to this party. They stuck with you when you were in the hospital, it’s the least you could do.”

  “I feel bad enough for not going, you don’t have rub it in my face too.”

  “You’re going. If you don’t go they will know you are still upset, and then they will blame me, and it will be an absolute mess.”

  “I really don’t want to go a fat, lonely slob.”

  “The Middletons are our oldest friends. You aren’t going to ruin our friendship with them.”

  “You and dad don’t even like them anymore. You were just bitching about her.”

  “Watch your language.”

  “Sorry.”

  “And your father still likes Roger.”

  “No he doesn’t. They argue all the time.”

  “It’s like politics, dear. They are having lively discussions.”

  “No, they argue about dumb things like who knows more about what and what is the classiest this and that.”

  “That’s politics.”

  “I don’t think a friendship would be ruined if I couldn’t make it to a wedding party.”

  “Clearly you don’t know the Middletons anymore.”

  I sighed. I really didn’t know them anymore, but I had known their family well enough when I was on my way to be part of it. There was no arguing with my mom, she always had to be right, another thing that her and Denise had in common. They should be best friends. I quickly tried to change the subject. I didn’t want every time I talked to my mom to be having to hear her complain and nag. She was only like this because I wasn’t at home for her to keep a close eye on. I never really got to see her, and I saw my dad even less. “I miss dad.”

  “He misses you too, honey. Want to talk to him?”

  “If he is around.”

  My dad popped out from around the phone corner. “Hi, honey!” I was a little embarrassed that he had heard all of that.

  “Hi, dad.”

  “How is life?”

  “Okay.”

  “Just okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m kind of broke. And I haven’t been getting any work freelancing.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad, sweetie. You can always follow in your mom’s footsteps.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Sit around and use my money. Join the family business.” I laughed and my mom smacked him away.

  “Shut it, Roger. Tell your daughter she has to go to the wedding.”

  “You have to go, April.”

  “But why?”

  “Because they are our friends and they are nice people. I know it is hard to see Tom, especially after everything. Doesn’t it make you happy enough to know that he is happy?”

  “No. It makes me miserable.”

  “Aw.” Both my parents sighed. My dad left the frame and left my mom to help, which wasn’t any help at all.

  “Wouldn’t we all be happier if we just stopped being friends with that family all together?”

  “Probably.”

  “Great! Then that’s the plan.” My mom shook her head and sighed.

  “No way. We share the same social group. I know that Denise would use her little blabber mouth to spread rumors about what I have said about them.”

  “Then maybe you shouldn’t complain about them to her.”

  “Well, it’s too late for that. And these are my friends too. She can’t just steal them like she stole my spot for the garden party.”

  “I don’t even have a date.”

  “You don’t need a date, you have your dad and I.”

  “I can’t show up to my ex-fiancés wedding alone.”

  “Sure you can.”

  “Would you?” She got silent again and then left the room, going into her reading room.

  “No, I probably wouldn’t.”

  “Then why should I?”

  “Because I’m your mother and I said so.”

  “I’m twenty-seven.”

  “And you’re going. And that’s that.”

  “Your logic is unparalleled, mom.”

  I missed my mom, as much as she helped me feel bad about myself. We had a lot in common. She had also been left by someone. He was the man just before my father. She claimed she didn’t love him, that he didn’t really mean that much to her. It was someone that she had known since childhood. Their parents had paired them together. Supposedly they were inseparable as kids. My grandma said that they grew more and more distant the older they became. After the engagement he decided that he wanted to follow his dream of moving to Europe. My mom was against this idea but was willing to travel if it meant following him. Then he decided he wanted to go to Africa, and when my mom kept offering to follow him he decided to tell her that they were through and that he had met someone else. My mom hates talking about it. My grandma said she was sick for months after it, unable to eat or sleep. I knew just what she had been going through.

  “If you don’t go we will be very disappointed.” I assumed my mom might have had some sympathy on me, since she had been through the same thing.

  “Fine, I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thank you, sweetie. We can send you some money to help you through this month. I’ll see if I can help find you a job.”

  “Thanks, mom. But I’m not happy about this.”

  “You’ll forgive me.”

  “I guess.”

  “We will have a good time.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Well, I’m going to get going before you can change your mind. I�
��ll talk to you again soon.”

  “Bye mom.”

  “Bye, sweetie.” My phone clicked off and I stared at my wall for a while. I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to go to the wedding. The less I did the slower time moved. It seemed I had run out of options. I was either going to have to find a magic lamp to rub in the next few days or I was going to have to talk Travis’ hooker.

  I can’t believe I was stooping this low. I feel so pathetic. This is nowhere near where I thought I was going to be at this time in my life. I could tell my parents were disappointed too. If any of my professors had found out, they would probably be nice but also doubtful of a future for me. I didn’t have any connections to work off of. I didn’t have as much as I did when I was in school. I was fat, single, and broke, the three least desirable traits a person can have.

  I never thought in my life I would come in contact with a sex worker, let alone hire one. Meditating on this for a while I knew I had no other options. Maybe I could Facebook an old boyfriend from high school, or maybe I could fake my own death and run away to another state, or maybe another planet. I could become a hermit and demand squatters rights and panhandle for trade.

  My phone felt hot in my hands. I typed out the message. “If I have to go to this wedding, I’m not going to go alone.” I sorted through my dresses in my closet. Hopefully my parents would send me enough money that I could buy a new one. My fat clothes didn’t fit me as well, and my skinny clothes would probably never fit me again. Even my shoes felt weird on my feet. I was another person trying to squeeze into the shell of someone else, the past me, a much smaller and happier person.

  7

  April

  Why do I have a body to take care of? I can’t afford the food it needs to survive or the gym equipment it takes to make it look decent. Lucky for me, Travis has one of those deluxe gym packages, which means he gets to bring one friend with him. Normally he just texts me pictures of all the hotties working out here, but now I was going to be able to feast my eyes while fasting my body.

  I wasn’t very excited about being so lonely I had to hire a prostitute as a date. I couldn’t help the present circumstances, and I didn’t want to be cut off from my family. At least I could feel better about my body if I was the one that was shaping it. Travis showed me his routine, which was something impossible for my body to endure. Instead he wrote down a light workout for me, since this was my first time.