I spent the rest of the day not at home. It was easy to tell Jessie I needed to work some things out at The Cut and that I needed her to watch Cody. Since she had the day off anyway, she said it was no problem. She was the best and I felt a little bad about lying to her about what I was doing.

 

“You sure you want another?” asked the pretty bartender who looked like she was either five years younger or older than her makeup suggested.

 

I nodded, my head lolling heavily. “It’s been a rough day,” was all I told her. And when I said “day” I meant morning. It wasn’t even noon when had I walked into the bar, the only one in town that was open.

 

She smiled at me sympathetically. “I hear you. Sometimes a stiff whiskey’s the only thing that’ll cure what ails you.”

 

I raised the shot she’d just poured to that, then downed it in one gulp. It still burned a little as it went down, but it was getting a little easier with each one. “I shouldn’t be here,” I told her bluntly. “I should not be wasting money on this crap.” Then I felt bad about calling this stuff crap and apologized. “Sorry. This is your job.”

 

She laughed at me. “It’s all right, honey. I get it. And it is crap. It’s the good stuff, but all alcohol is crap in the end.”

 

I nodded. “Yeah. That’s smart.”

 

She shook her head a little at me. “You wanna talk about it?”

 

I felt some of the whiskey try to make its way back up my throat. Did I want to talk about it? Hell no. Not if it was my judgement day and I was standing in front of the pearly white gates and the only way to get in was to confess my sins. I would take it to the grave and ride the one way ticket to hell before I spoke of what happened in Ethan’s office this morning.

 

“Life sucks,” I told her instead, then I let my head rest on the counter. “And it sucked before, too.”

 

“Sorry, sweetie,” the lady told me seriously. “I really do feel for you, but you know you can’t sleep here. That’s the rule, eleven am or eleven pm.”

 

With effort I lifted my head up again. “Sorry. You probably don’t have to say that this early in the day very often, do you?”

 

She shook her head. “Not usually, no. Look, why don’t I call you a cab?”

 

I frowned. “I have my car.”

 

Raising an eyebrow at me, she said, “And I know you weren’t thinking of driving it, because a smart lady like you doesn’t need any more trouble, right?”

 

It felt like my mind was trying to process things through molasses, but ultimately I found myself nodding in agreement with her. “Right. A cab would be good.”

 

She turned around behind her and picked up the phone, quickly dialing a number. She said a few quick words to the cabbie, then hung up. Turning back to me, she leaned forward and said honestly, “I hope things get better. Just remember, rock’s the bottom. You can only go up from there.”

 

I felt like laughing and crying. “Have you ever done something unforgivable?”

 

Her expression froze over, and for just a second, I could see the wheels behind her eyes turning, wondering if I was talking about something more than boy trouble. Something like maybe murder. Then her face softened again and she smiled a little ruefully, like she was embarrassed she’d even thought it. “Honey, nothing’s unforgivable. Trick isn’t looking for someone else to forgive you; it’s learning to forgive yourself.”

 

I left with those words rolling around in my head, getting all kinds of mixed up. The cabbie dropped me off at my place and I stumbled in through the front door. Thankfully, Cody was coloring in the living room and Jessie caught me before he did.

 

“What the hell?” she asked, but she only asked it once. Then she came over and gave me a big hug. “It’ll be okay. Go upstairs. Shower. Take a nap. I’ll stay for a while.”

 

I felt tears prick my eyes, more than a little grateful for my friend’s kindness.

 

# # #

 

Jessie stayed for dinner and a movie afterwards. She babied me through my hungover state and humored Cody who picked up on my not so pleasant mood. But, in all honesty, I was grateful when she went home.

 

I tucked Cody into bed, but after I kissed him on the forehead, I nearly cried.

 

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

 

I bit my lip, then forced a smile. I shook my head. “Nothing, baby. Just go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

“I love you,” he told me and I parroted it back to him.

 

Then I left. I took another shower, the third of the day, and slipped on a big, baggy nightshirt. It was heather gray and fell to my mid-thigh. Normally, I just slept like that, but I was weirded out after first my dream of Ethan, then our tryst that morning. So I pulled on a pair of boy briefs and crawled into bed.

 

I had hoped I’d fall asleep almost instantly after that. Head, pillow, sleep, just like that. But instead I found myself staring at the ceiling, wide awake.

 

Despite fighting against it, I couldn’t help but think of the devil’s bargain I’d made. It wasn’t my idea, it wasn’t what I’d wanted, but I didn’t have much say in the matter. I tried not to think of the way Ethan touched me, the way we did the deed under the watchful eye of his bodyguard. And I definitely tried not to think of how I’d had the most powerful orgasm I’d probably ever had in my life all because he’d pushed me to it.

 

Clenching my eyes shut, I tried counting sheep to fall asleep, and to keep from thinking of Ethan, but it was impossible. My mind kept circling back to him and his wicked deal.

 

“What kind of a person am I?” I whispered to the empty room. “What kind of a woman let’s someone—?” I broke off unable to say it even in the privacy of my own room.

 

I rolled over in my bed and tried to get comfortable, but it was pointless. There was no spot that would be comfortable enough. I thought of Cody asleep in his room. How was I supposed to be a good mother when I was some beck and call girl for a drug dealer?

 

It was worse than just that, though. I wasn’t just some prostitute, which was bad enough, but now I was going to be an accomplice for a man who was going to use my salon to store his drugs. God, I didn’t even know what kinds of drugs they were.

 

“What if it’s cocaine?” I asked the ceiling in a hoarse whisper.

 

I told myself it didn’t really matter. Drugs were drugs and even if it was just pounds of weed hanging out in the back of my store, it would be a problem. Weed wasn’t legal recreationally and I definitely didn’t have a license to be storing it. But at least I wouldn’t have to worry about people overdosing.

 

Overdosing. Jesus, why did I have to think of that?

 

I could be an accomplice to murder!

 

My heart started beating loud and hard in my chest, anxiety causing my body to warm and my palms to sweat. My skin felt like a live wire all of a sudden and it really hit me just how bad all of this was. I was going to be storing an illicit drug in my store that might or might not cause people—kids, even—to overdose. They could die. I could be partially responsible for the death of kids with brothers and sisters and mothers.

 

Pulling the covers up over my head, I clenched my eyes shut and tried not to hyperventilate. I told myself none of this was my fault. I’d done the right thing. If anything, I was a victim here.

 

Right?

 

Uncertain and feeling worse and worse about the whole thing, I counted sheep.

 

Sleep. All I needed was some goddamned sleep.