I’m wide awake instantly. My internal alarm clock wakes me up at six o’clock on the dot every morning, without fail. I’ve been getting up this early for so long I don’t think I could sleep in if I wanted to.

I try to roll over but I’m still wrapped up in Colt’s arms. His chin is resting on my shoulder and he’s snoring softly.

Last night, after realizing we didn’t use a condom, Colt and I had the talk. He assured me he was clean, and that he was recently tested. I assured him I’m the same. I think we both still plan to get tested again just in case, but I trust him. When I also explained to him I’m on birth control and there is nothing to worry about on that end, I got the feeling he trusted me. His shoulders just kind of slumped in relief. Then somehow we started kissing again and one thing lead to another…

We ended up having sex again, but it was slow, more drawn out. It felt even more intimate. It was so close to what I always imagined making love would be like, but it’s way too soon for the love part. I like him, I lust for him, but I’m not stupid enough to fall in love with such an unobtainable man. I know better than to make more of this than what it is. It’s one night. One incredible, amazing, mind-blowing night, and now it’s morning.

It’s time for me to make my exit.

Bright sunlight pours through the window. Carefully I wiggle my way out from underneath Colt’s arm. The thing is heavy, and as I get my feet on the floor and stand next to the bed, it’s easy to see why. The man is built like a Greek god, he’s muscular all over.

I let my eyes soak him up, burning this last image of him in my memory. The bright rays of the sunlight pouring through the window light him up, illuminating his golden hair and golden skin. He’s magnificent. He’s tangled up in the sheets, only half covered by them, leaving plenty of his naked flesh exposed for my eyes to drink in. He looks so peaceful, so damn beautiful. I’m tempted to climb back in bed.

I drag my eyes away, forcing my body to turn around. One foot in front of the other, I pick my clothes up off the floor on my way out. I pad quietly to his living room to get dressed. I don’t put the stripper outfit back on, instead I pull my street clothes out of my bag and stuff the skirt and top back in.

I’ll have to return the slutty school girl outfit to Brianna at some point, and honestly I don’t know how I’m going to face her after what I saw last night. It’s still hard to believe.

Is she that hard up for money? Why didn’t she warn me about what could happen? I would have never agreed to dancing if I would have known I could be forced to prostitute my body to strangers like that. But am I hypocrite for feeling like this? I swear what happened with Colt and I was different. It was almost like the money was just an excuse for him to get me out of there, and we had serious chemistry. I’m stupidly attracted to him.

But was that all it was? Or is that just what I’m telling myself? He paid me two thousand dollars for the night and I slept with him. Am I prostitute now?

It’s almost like last night is my life’s fucked up version of Pretty Woman. But Julia Roberts was awesome in that movie, her character owned what she did and had no apologies for it.

Me? I’m a wuss. I’m confused about what happened, and too damn conflicted. I don’t know if I’m a prostitute or not, and I don’t know if I should be ashamed or give myself a pat on a back, but I’m certainly not going to figure it out just standing here. I need to go. I need to make a quick escape before Colt wakes up. It’s a little after six o’clock and my breakfast shift at Cluckin’ Chicks starts at seven.

I’m outta here.

The door is unlocked and clicks securely behind me as I leave. I rush quickly down the hall, making my way to the elevator. As I ride the elevator down, I feel a little guilty about slipping out like a thief. I wonder if should I have left him a note or something. I could have written something like: Thanks for the good time, here’s my number if you want to reach me…

But then if he called me, I wouldn’t be able to resist spending another night with him. And if we started doing that, I might start getting attached to him—and his money.

But what if he didn’t call? Yeah, it’s probably better I’m leaving like I am. I’ve got enough stuff on my plate to worry about, adding more to the pile just doesn’t make sense.

My walk of shame doesn’t officially begin until the elevator lets me out on the ground floor. I rush through the lavish lobby, feeling completely out of place with my crazy hair and worn, wrinkly clothing. This entire neighborhood is too nice for the likes of me. There’s so much tension and suspicion from the local stuck-ups as I hurry down the street, I’d feel safer walking through the ghetto.

I end up walking three blocks north to catch a bus, afraid from all the dirty looks that I’m getting that the locals think I’m up to no good and are already calling the cops on me.

The bus ride home is uneventful. I get off a couple blocks away from my house and stop to grab coffee for me and breakfast for my brothers.

There’s a moment of panic as I’m twisting the key to unlock my front door—how will I explain where I was all night? But when I step inside all is quiet. I find my mother passed out on the couch, and can hear my brothers still snoring in their beds.

First things first, I check on my mother. This has become such a routine, by now I’m emotionally numb to it. She’s sprawled out on the couch like she passed out, and just from the smell wafting off of her I can tell she spent the night drinking. I check her pulse and make sure she’s still breathing. She is, thank God.

Her thin, lily-white arm hanging over the edge, I pick it up, off of the floor and check for any new track marks. Not finding any, I breathe a sigh of relief.

She’s an addict. Whether it’s booze, pills, or smoke, she’ll find a way to escape. I’ve come to accept it. I’ve wasted too much time, too much of myself begging, pleading, and scheming trying to change it. Begrudgingly I’ve come to accept she’s not going to change unless she wants to change. All I can do is try to take care of her without enabling her. I can deal with her. I can tolerate this shit just for a little longer for the sake of my brothers as long as she’s not shooting crap into her veins. Once she goes down that road, it’s just too much to deal with. My brothers and I would be forced to abandon her. I don’t like thinking about it but I’ve got to do what’s best for them.

Everything I do is for them.

She feels cold to my touch so I grab the blanket off of the top of the couch and tuck it around her. In her sleep she looks so much younger, so much more at peace. I wish she could always be like this. I brush her blonde hair back and she murmurs something softly. I listen closely, my ears straining but I can’t tell what she’s saying. Leaning forward, I brush my lips against her forehead and then get to my feet.

I carry the bag of breakfast sandwiches with me as I approach the bedrooms in the back. I’m hoping the smell will be enough to entice my brothers out of bed.

“Wakey, wakey,” I say cheerfully as I yank Luther’s blanket down to his feet.

“Fuckin’ fuck,” Luther curses and reaches down, trying to grab his blankets. So I just yank them completely off of the bed.

“Whitney?” He blinks, his brown eyes crossing as they try to focus on me.

“Who else would it be?”

Sitting up, Luther rubs a hand down his face. “What time is it?”

“Almost six-thirty,” I say and thrust a breakfast sandwich in his face.

He sniffs. “Do I smell bacon?”

“Yes,” I say impatiently. “Take it. I gotta wake up James.”

Luther accepts the sandwich, unwraps it and immediately shoves half of it in his mouth. I’ve come to learn from experience that teenage boys are ravenous. I spend the majority of my money just trying to keep the two of them from going hungry. My brothers kind of remind me of goats. They’ll eat anything and everything as long as they can chew it.

I shake my head in disbelief as I walk over to Jame’s bed. I yank down his blanket, going through the same wake up routine. Once James is awake and has a breakfast sandwich in his hand, I leave the room. I quickly walk into the room I share with my mother and get dressed for my morning shift. Pulling my hair up into a pony tail, I come out of my room just as James comes out of his.

Shit. I should have used the bathroom first. We both narrow our eyes at each other and then take off, racing for the bathroom.

I curse as James beats me and slams the door in my face. I bang angrily on the door. “I’m going to be late for work!”

“Give me just a minute!” James yells back. “I gotta piss!”

Grumbling, I lean against the wall and wait for him to finish. I hear the toilet flush and then the door handle jiggles.

Boys can be so yucky. “Wash your hands!”

There’s a lot of muttering on the other side of the door and the faucet turns on. A moment later the door flies open. James has a second to jump out of the way before I’m barging in.

“Damn!” he exclaims as I slam the door shut.

I take care of my business and wish I had time for a shower. After washing my hands, I splash cold water on my face. Peering into the mirror I look more tired than usual. It’s going to be a long day.

Yanking open the bathroom door I find James still on the other side, waiting for me.

“Hey, where were you last night?” he asks as I rush past him.

“I was out,” I say vaguely as I rush to grab my purse off of the table.

“What were you doing?” he asks, following on my heels. I turn and look him up and down. He’s still just walking around in his boxers. His junk is practically hanging out.

Instead of answering him I tell him, “You should get dressed.”

“I’m dressed,” Luther proclaims as he walks into the room. He’s dressed in a t-shirt, a pair of baggy jeans hanging off his ass, and he’s wearing his baseball cap backwards. He walks over to the front door and stands in front of it. He shoots a quick, disdainful look towards my passed out mother then spreads his feet and crosses his arms over his chest. He’s trying to look like he means business, and he might have pulled it off if he didn’t have to grab his pants by the crotch to keep them from slipping all the way down his ass.

“James can get dressed and you can fill me in.”

I stomp my foot. “Dammit, I don’t have time for this!”

James snickers as he walks out of the room and Luther shakes his head.

“I guess you better start talking then ‘cause I ain’t movin’ until I get an explanation.”

“I was working last night,” I say vaguely.

Luther’s eyes narrow. “Working? Where? With Brianna?”

I lift my chin in the air. “That’s none of your business.”

“The fuck it ain’t. You stripped, didn’t you?”

“Watch your language!”

“Fuck. I’m gonna kill that fuckin’ man.”

“No,” I say forcefully and point my finger at him. Damn, Luther confronting Ray is the last thing I need. I’m flattered that he wants to protect me, we’re family, we love each other, look out for each other, and take care of each other. Family is what is most important. Family is all that we have. But if I don’t straighten him out he’s only going to get hurt doing something stupid out of vengeance. “You are not going to do anything. You are not going to go near that place or mess with Ray. You got that?”

Luther shakes his head. “Why do you feel like you can tell me what to do? I’m the man here, and I’m going to take care of this.”

“You are not the man.” I waggle my finger at him. “I am the adult and I take care of you. You are just a kid, and you need to trust me that I can handle this.”

“You’re only one year older than me.”

“And I’m the one who is the adult here. I’m the one who works and pays the bills and makes sure you have enough food in your belly and a roof over your head.”

“Fuck that. I can work too and you know it. You don’t need to be takin’ your clothes off for a bunch of sleazy ass men.”

I sigh and close my eyes. I have to take a deep, calming breath. This isn’t the first time we’ve had this argument and I know it won’t be the last.

“You need to focus on school and keep your grades up so you don’t lose that football scholarship. You need to be a good example for your brother. I can take care of the bills. I got it. Okay?”

I open my eyes and we glare at each other. Now it’s a full-blown staring contest.

“Fuck that,” Luther says when I refuse to give in. “Fuck that scholarship!” he exclaims, his voice booming louder. “I don’t want it if it means you have to strip!”

“Yeah, fuck all that shit,” James joins in as he walks into the room dressed just like his big brother. There is only a year separating them but you wouldn’t know it by looking at them. Looking at them they’re almost twins.

I throw my hands in the air in exasperation. I really don’t have time for this. “I didn’t have to strip!”

Luther opens his mouth to say something else and I instantly cut him off. “And for fucks sake, pull up your damn pants! Both of you! You look like fools.”

“Damn, you don’t have to yell at us, Whit,” James laughs and yanks his pants up.

Luther shakes his head but pulls his up as well.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize. “I really appreciate that you both care about me, but please, please, don’t throw it all away because you think I’m stripping or something. You know how hard I work, don’t make it all for nothing. Whatever I do is my business. I need you to trust me.”

“We trust you,” Luther frowns. “But you’re always putting us before yourself.”

“No, I’m not,” I correct him and then hold my hand up to stop him when he opens his mouth again. “But even if I do, it’s because I choose to, and I have that right. It’s my choice. Now, I didn’t have to strip last night, and we’re okay on rent. I got it. And what I did last night is my business. Don’t bug me about it. I didn’t do anything I didn’t want to, and it wasn’t illegal, and that’s all you need to know. Got it?”

James shifts on his feet and Luther narrows his eyes, trying once more to intimidate me into submission. I just stare back. It’s not workin’ bud. By now he should have realized I’m much more stubborn.

Finally, he gives up and sharply nods his head. He’s conceded for now but I’m sure he’s going to bug me about what I was doing later. At some point the truth might come out. Brianna or Naomi or some other girl or guy at the club is going to run their mouth and my brothers may get a whiff of it. But I’ll just have to figure that out later, like during my lunch break or something.

“I’ve got the afternoon shift at Burger Bells and I’ll be there until seven, so stop by for your dinner. Now please move out of the way, I’m going to be late for my morning shift at Cluckin’ Chick.”

Grumbling, they both step to the side. I take a moment to lift up on my tiptoes to kiss them each on the cheek and they hug me back. I’d never get away with this in public, but in private we’re affectionate.

“Have a good day at school, and please stay out of trouble. If you need anything at all, I’m at Cluckin’ Chick until one.”

I pull open the door. I’m just about to remind them to lock it behind me when my mom gags loudly.

I whip around and the three of us stare at her, holding our breaths. Will this be it? Will this be the time she chokes on her own vomit and doesn’t wake up?

She snorts, takes a deep breath, and then rolls over.

I release my breath in a hiss. I’m relieved but then I’m not. I just wish we didn’t have to deal with this shit.

They don’t have to ask; I can see it in their eyes as I look back at my brothers. Silently they’re asking: What do we do about her.

“If she wakes up before you leave for school I left her a coffee and a sandwich in the fridge.”

Luther grumbles something about it being more than she deserves but James nods his head.

“Love you,” I say quietly and then turn to head out.

I smile.

Hearing them both say, “Love you too,” makes it all worth it.