As I reorganized my closet, I thought about how empty my life remained. I had company almost every night, but no one to really call a friend.
Even on campus, when other students spoke about their weekends, I longed to chime in and relate, but I couldn’t because I had nothing relevant to add. My life remained different, shrouded in secrets typical twenty-somethings didn’t keep.
“Fuck this.” I shoved the rest of the shoes into a laundry basket and went to the kitchen in search of something to make me feel better.
As I rummaged through the fridge, shoving away various high-protein, low-carb snacks, my frustration grew.
“Goddamn it!” I slammed the refrigerator door.
My back hit the stainless steel as I slid slowly to the floor and wept. I was pathetic, giving into shame that shouldn’t be there.
There was no shame in what I did. Prostitution was a different animal entirely.
If she wanted more money, I’d send her more—enough that she’d never be able to make a comment like that again. But I had to send something fast. Without a paycheck, her calls would turn relentless, and I had too much going on to battle her criticisms on a daily basis. Her words would distract me from my goals, and the guilt for hating her would eat me alive.
Avery Johansson didn’t do guilt.
I also didn’t easily accept the hatred my mother spurred. Such negativity grew from bitterness. Little comments and digs that cut deep and failed to heal over the years, seeping pain into my dreams for an ordinary life until nothing but mirrored resentment between us remained.
I wanted her to love me but accepted she never would, so I paid her to leave me alone. She wanted to be paid. End of story. I honestly don’t think she cared about me as a daughter and the older I got, the less I cared that she might have never loved any of us, which was why we all left the second we finished high school.
Reaching into the pocket of my hoodie, I withdrew my phone and scrolled through my contacts. My sole purpose became finding the money to shut her up as fast as humanly possible.
My thumb hovered over a name I hated above all others. It wasn’t because of his bad hair or unpleasant breath. His personality grated on my every nerve. But he paid amazingly well, and I wanted to make a point. I hit send.
His heavy breathing preceded his words. “Well, well, well. It’s been a long time, Avery.”
“Hi, Don. How have you been?”
“The same. And you, my little doll?”
I rolled my eyes. “The same. I was wondering if you were looking for company?”
He grunted, and I could hear him shifting his position over the phone, his breathing that of a man carrying an extra hundred pounds. “I’m always up for your company, sugar. What do you say to tomorrow night at seven?”
I hesitated and shut my eyes. “How should I dress?”
“Mmm. I want a skirt short enough that I can tell the color of your panties and a shirt low enough that it’s a guessing game when your little nipples are going to show. And put in some pigtails.”
And this was why he paid well. “How long and where?”
“I’ll pick a nice place. Say, four hours?”
A second longer and I wouldn’t be able to take it. “That’ll be two.”
“Your price went up.”
“Inflation. Did you still want to meet?”
“Four hours, two grand? You better hope I see your nipples. I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow. Don’t make me wait.”
Do I ever? “I’ll see you then.”
I ended the call and dropped my head back to the fridge. Four hours and I’d send my mom enough money to shut her up for at least a few months. And then I’d just have to get through my last semester and never have to do this again.
It was all about assuming control. So long as it remained my choice, outside judgment couldn’t hurt me. I was in command of my future, and I was doing what needed to be done. Fuck anyone who didn’t understand that.
Feeling a bit more grounded, now that I had a plan in place, I went to my desk and stacked my school stuff to the side. My bills weren’t overdue, but they were piling up, and they were high. I hated debt, hated owing anyone anything. My profession allowed me to finance my own education so I could graduate without a single loan, and that pleased me more than anything.
One by one, I signed off on checks and slowly emptied my savings until there was only enough for a few meals and most of next semester’s tuition. Once school was paid, there would hardly be enough to buy anything else, but I’d get by. I always got by.
The next day was one of those off days that started on the wrong foot and never straightened out. First, it was the machines at the gym. Did no one know how to clean up after themselves?
Then it was a red sock someone left in the laundry room. I didn’t think anyone used the facility except me, but apparently, there was another person too poor to hire a service. And now they were running around with one red sock while half my white wardrobe looked like an Easter peep costume.
On top of that, my Lit professor, who apparently hated me for some reason and refused to give me anything more than a C+, put another massive dent in my GPA. My last paper should have earned at least a B. Part of me questioned if she even read the papers. Maybe she had a TA grading them, and that person just randomly threw out any old grade he or she felt like assigning.
If that wasn’t enough, my conditioner ran out, leaving my hair a disaster of tangles that wouldn’t cooperate. And the bra I intended to wear tonight was nowhere to be found.
Suffice it to say, by six fifty-four I still wasn’t ready, and Don was going to be there any minute. I couldn’t keep him waiting, or I wouldn’t earn my full rate. He had very strict rules about these things.
Hustling out the door, my ass practically hanging past my short miniskirt and my tits bursting from the top of my skintight blouse, I quickly locked up.
“Costume party?”
My back stiffened. Of course, he’d see me dressed like this.
I played it off. “Ha. Ha. Sad you’re not invited?” The second I turned to face him, I regretted it.
Noah’s lips parted as his eyes dropped down to my hips and back up to my chest. “Damn.”
I fidgeted, shoving my arms into my coat and covering myself as quickly as possible. “Stare much?”
“Sorry… I just… You look…”
“Whatever. I’m late.”
“Hey, Avery, I’m sorry if we got off on the wrong foot.” His eyes continued to scan me from pigtails to patent leather school shoes. “I can see you're used to a more sophisticated—”
“Now, you can see?” My attire proved his sarcastic claim a blatant lie, and I hated him for seeing me this way. “Just get out of my way.”
“Jesus, are you always such a bitch?”
I drew back. “Excuse me?”
“I’m trying to apologize, and you’re twisting everything—”
“You’re trying to bait me. Besides, I don’t need an apology. I need you to get out of my way before I’m late for my appointment. And I need my neighbors to stop stealing my mail and basically leave me the fuck alone.”
His brow lowered. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine!” Just then the elevator pinged and I wanted to cry. God fucking damn it with this day!
Without turning around, Noah’s gaze narrowed. “Let me guess… Your appointment.”
If I could vanish into thin air that would be fantastic, but my life would never be that easy. Fuck!
“Please just go into your apartment.”
His frown deepened, his natural easy going expression tightening with a much more severe look and something else I couldn’t quite name. “Why?”
It was too late. The elevator was opening.
Noah quickly whispered, “Tell him to go home. Tell him you changed your mind.”
I couldn’t see over his shoulder, but I heard the doors open and Don’s heavy breathing. I braced for the brutal skid of jud
gment. He didn’t know my reasoning for going out with such a man, and I hated the urge to justify my logic, which there wasn’t time to do anyway.
Blinking up at Noah, I gave him a pleading look, silently begging him not to be another person that judged me. I didn’t know why it mattered what he thought of me.
“I have to go.”
He did a double take of the man now hogging the hall, and I turned, shutting out all distractions and putting myself on the clock. I forced a smile.
Don wore a lecherous smirk, his ruddy coloring coated in a glaze of sweat and his greasy hair combed over his scalp so severely, each strand lay like a black wax strip of dried licorice. There was no way Noah wasn’t judging me.
“You ready, my little doll?” His hand slipped under my coat and around my hip, and I cringed. He tugged one of my pigtails. “My pretty little doll.” As if just noticing Noah, Don tipped his chin. “How ya doin’?”
Noah didn’t move. He didn’t blink. He stood stiffly, watching me with a blank expression.
Part of me wanted to say fuck you and mind your own business! But another part wanted to explain that this was just a job, conversation and cocktails, nothing more—except maybe a few uncomfortable pictures this one liked to save as keepsakes—all for four hours and two grand. Who would turn that down? Maybe a normal girl, but I’d never been normal. Probably never would be either.
I lowered my gaze and accompanied Don to the elevator, nudging his hand away when it lowered to grip my ass. He chuckled as if grab ass was a game we both enjoyed.
I didn’t look at Noah. This time it wasn’t about playing coy or keeping the upper hand. It was about plain old cowardice and shame. My gaze remained on the ground until we reached the first floor, far away from my neighbor’s judgment. And then the clock was ticking. Eight dollars and change per minute.
9
Noah
My gut knotted as I watched the elevator close to carry them down. All my instincts came to a screeching halt and the excitement to tease her shriveled to nothing. What the hell was she doing with a guy like that?
It made no sense. That man was at least twice her age and was so out of shape his skin seemed made of wax. The way his beady eyes watched her wasn’t right. She knew it wasn’t right. Yet … off they went.
Frowning, I headed into my apartment, replaying what just happened and trying to make a lick of sense of it. Sure, I fully intended to break her balls. I enjoyed the banter, especially with a woman who never seemed to flinched.
But tonight she didn’t seem in the mood for games. And why did she call her dates “appointments”? These guys were obviously interested in her—though I couldn’t see what she was getting out of the deal.
I cringed at the thought of the man who took her out tonight, once again wondering what the hell she could possibly see in him. The longer I thought about it, the closer my confusion turned to revulsion and anger. She could go out with that greasy, pinky ring wearing car salesman but not me?
The little game between Avery and me stopped being fun the instant that guy showed up. If I had to nail down a specific moment, I’d say the game ended the moment I saw something akin to shame flash in her eyes, just before the elevator pinged and her guest arrived.
For a week, I’d been waiting for an opportunity to bait her, tease her, and ask her out again. I also wanted to apologize.
I preferred her with her claws out. Even when I riled her and she showed her bitchy sides I wasn’t deterred. What I didn’t like was the look in her eyes when that guy put his arm around her. She should never be the type of woman who backs out of a room with her tail between her legs.
Please just go into your apartment…
When she made the request too much vulnerability showed in her big eyes. From minx to field mouse on the run, I couldn’t make sense of her.
Every time she went on a date, I saw a side of her I didn’t recognize. And why did she date so many men? Not only were the men showing up in droves, they were all wrong for her—too old, too fat, too boring, too … not me.
I had to have her. And I wanted the real her. The longer she put me off, the more intent I became. My instincts never misled me. Everything inside of me demanded she and I would eventually wind up in a sweat-drenched tangle of sheets. I couldn’t wait.
My nose twitched. The other man’s cologne still saturated the air. My stomach turned at the thought of Avery wearing such a scent on her skin. That guy would suffocate her.
Maybe it was a blind date, the sort one wanted to escape the second it started. Even if she did call it an appointment, the way he looked at her clarified it as a date. But she flinched when he touched her.
Fuck. I should have done something. She didn’t want to go out with that guy. I saw it in her eyes.
I have to go...
She didn’t have to do anything. Now, I was pissed. Have to go… Why the hell did she have to do anything when it obviously made her uncomfortable? Irritated, I tried to think about something else, but my thoughts quickly returned to her.
I needed to know more about her. I needed a glimpse beyond her front door and an explanation for why she insisted on dating so many obviously wrong men. But none of that was happening tonight, so I needed a distraction.
Pulling out my phone, I Facetimed my sister. The line buffered and her smiling face appeared.
“What’s up?” By the wobbling screen and dusky sky, I assumed she was out for a walk.
“Nothing. Just figured I’d check in.”
“I just spoke to you this afternoon. Did something happen since then?”
I forgot I already talked to her today. Laurel and I typically touched base about once every three days. Anything more than that signaled something was wrong.
“No, nothing happened. I’m just bored.”
“Bullshit, Noah. This afternoon you told me how busy you were. You don’t go from that to bored in four hours. Something’s bothering you if you call and I—”
“Fine.” Jesus, she could be annoying when she wanted to, particularly because she knew me better than anyone else. “I need a distraction.”
“From?”
“Some girl. My neighbor.”
Her gaze, which had been mostly focused on her path, flashed to the screen, and she raised a brow. “Really? Did she just move in? This is the first I’m hearing about…”
“Avery.”
“Pretty name. What’s she like?”
Sexy as fuck. Legs that went on for days. Hair that smelled so good it could get you high. Lips meant for my cock, and tits meant for my mouth. “She’s difficult to read.”
“But she’s caught your attention.”
Brakes squealed in my head. “Hold on, Laurel, this isn’t like that. She isn’t someone I plan on getting serious with.”
“Why, because you might actually stumble on something with substance? How tragic!”
“While your sarcasm’s appreciated, it’s unnecessary. She’s not the monogamous type.” Not according to her fucking merry-go-round doorway of dates. “I just want to get to know her.”
“You mean sleep with her.”
“Well … yeah. That too.”
“God, Noah, if it’s all just sex, who cares what she’s like.”
“I do.”
“But why? I mean, if it’s over by morning, what difference does it make.”
She had a point. “I don’t know. It’s the way the game’s played.”
She growled, and the sky shifted to interior ceilings. I recognized the crown molding from her place and waited as she took a guzzling sip of water and blotted the sweat off her brow. When she was refreshed, she looked at the screen, the sternness of her stare reminding me of our mother’s serious look saved only for threats of grounding and loss of privileges when we were children.
“Margaux cheated on you four years ago. How much longer are you going to let someone else’s actions control you?”
And there it was. The stinging truth I still hate
d to face.
“This has nothing to do with Margaux. Why would you even bring her into this?”
“This has everything to do with her, Noah. Come on! You’ve spent years getting over what she did. Enough wasting time.”
“I’m not wasting time.” But now I regretted calling my sister. “Look, I didn’t call for a lecture.”
“No, you called because a woman caught your eye and you want to know how to keep it superficial when your nature insists you find something with depth. You’re not some philandering bachelor. Once you accept that, you’ll be happy again.”
“Laurel,” I spoke slowly so there could be no misunderstanding. “I’m not looking for a relationship.”
“Why not?” Her sharp tone gave me pause.
“Because I’m not.” My debating skills were taking a hit today.
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. But I can’t help you.”
Irritated I brought Laurel into this, I quickly shut it down. “I don’t want help. I just wanted a distraction—”
“Well, keep looking for one, Noah. If you find one big enough to get this girl out of your head, I’ll believe it was just a casual sex thing. But if you can’t, then you have to admit it might be time you move on and put the past behind you. You’ve always been a serial monogamist. Sleeping around isn’t your style. That’s why you’re bored.”
When I got off the phone, I made dinner. My sister’s final warning lingered in my thoughts. We were close in age, but she always seemed so much wiser when it came to relationship things. Maybe she was right.
No, I knew she was right. Random hook-ups had always bored me, but the thought of trusting someone again deterred me from anything long term.
One-night stands were fun but redundant. The same old meaningless conversations, the getting to know you and knowing there was never going to be more than a few frisky fucks…
After a year it got tiresome. I’d fucked my way through several women, obliterating all traces of the girl I was supposed to marry.
Once I could hardly remember Margaux’s scent or the sounds she made when she came, I kept going, working to erase her face and laughter from my memory. I still knew what she looked like, but there were several other women stacked on top of my memories of her now, so it kept her away from my surface thoughts.
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