Another week passed, and each day felt more excruciatingly long and tedious to Nyssa than the one before. On one hand, she was relieved that she didn’t have to see clients other than Sebastian anymore. But because he only ever summoned her to his condo once or twice a week, she was left alone in the brothel most of the time, waiting for Kimmie to finish up her work so they could hang out. It was getting old. Fast.
One night, Nyssa was waiting in her room, painting her toenails with some of Kimmie’s obnoxiously pink polish. Usually it was too bright and sparkly for Nyssa’s taste, but she was so fucking bored she needed to do something, anything, to fill up the time until Kimmie got finished with her latest trick. Nyssa was on her left pinky toe when she heard a crashing noise from out in the hall. From the sound of it, the source of the noise was just a few feet away from her door.
“You’re a real piece of shit, you know that?” Katrina’s voice shrilled from beyond Nyssa’s bedroom door.
Nyssa debated with herself for several seconds. I should just stay put and ignore whatever’s going on, she thought. She nodded to herself and resumed painting her nail, but then there was another crash, louder this time, like something hit the wall right next to Nyssa’s door. Nyssa carefully put the nail polish down on the bedside table and got to her feet, tiptoeing to the other side of the room so she could press her ear against the door to listen in.
“Spoiled bitch!” Nyssa almost reared back from the door. It was Sebastian’s voice. Nyssa didn’t know why she was so surprised. He was still Katrina’s boyfriend after all.
“You should know better than to say shit like that to me,” Katrina replied. “You think I won’t call my father and tell him? He could end you in a second.”
“Oh, go right ahead, Katrina. Make my fucking day,” Sebastian said before stomping away. Nyssa could hear the sound of him heading downstairs, followed by a huge slamming noise as he exited the building. She was just about to back away from the door and go back to her bed to pretend that she hadn’t heard anything at all, but then Katrina’s voice rang out again. “Daddy? Yeah, it’s me. Listen, we need to talk.”
Nyssa became hyperconscious of her breathing, afraid that Katrina might be able to hear her even through the door, but she still couldn’t force herself away. She strained her ears as hard as she could, hoping to pick up on every word from Katrina’s mouth.
“Daddy, you already know what it’s about,” she said in a whining tone of voice. She’s on the phone, Nyssa realized. She’s on the phone with her father.
Nyssa forced her head closer to the door, pressing her ear right up on the wood, desperately trying to hear the noises on the other end of the phone conversation, but she couldn’t quite make anything out.
“He’s the worst! I can’t handle him anymore, Daddy. He’s so mean to me,” Katrina whined. She was practically groveling at this point, her voice coming out as a high-pitched moan.
There was another short pause, and then Katrina’s voice changed, turning dark and almost menacing even though she was addressing her father. “You need to handle him. Or I will.”
Nyssa forced her ear harder against the door, knocking her knee noisily against the wood accidentally. Her whole body tensed up, terrified that Katrina heard her and was about to find out that she was eavesdropping, but then Nyssa picked up on the sound of Papa Giustini’s voice booming from the other end of the phone. “You won’t do anything. You know why? Because we need him. Don’t do anything to fuck it up.” There was a short pause where Nyssa could only hear the hard heavy sound of Katrina’s breathing. Then her father spoke again, his voice piercing through the air like a dagger. “At least not any more than you already have. Don’t bother me again with this.” There was a faint clicking sound, and then silence.
Nyssa backed away from the door and returned to her bed, but before she could sit down again, her door blew open, and Katrina was standing there, her chest rising and falling rapidly and her face screwed up into a snarl. “What are you doing, just sitting on your ass?” Katrina spat, crossing the room until she was towering over Nyssa.
“I don’t have anything to do today,” Nyssa said to defend herself. She tried to keep her voice steady rather than letting her tone become defensive. I can’t let her think she’s scaring me, Nyssa thought. I can’t let her have that power over me.
“Then you can clean up around the house. Come on, get up. Get moving,” Katrina said, snapping her fingers repeatedly until Nyssa got to her feet.
“Should I do the bathrooms? Your room? What do you want me to do?” Nyssa asked as she followed Katrina out into the hallway.
“Everything!” Katrina snapped at her, pointing toward the opposite end of the hall, away from the stairwell. “Clean every fucking surface in this house or so help me God I’ll have you out on your ass before you can say ‘streetwalker.’”
Nyssa’s whole body flushed in indignation, but she just balled her hands up into fists and let her nails dig into her palms, if only to have something to distract herself from the anger that flared up from deep in her belly. She marched past Katrina and headed in the opposite direction, but before she could make it to the communal bathroom at the end of the hall, something crashed over her head. Nyssa jumped a little, adrenaline flooding her veins as she looked around to see the broken pieces of Katrina’s new phone on the floor around her.
“What are you fucking looking at?” Katrina screamed at her. “Get to fucking work!”
Nyssa had to fight every instinct in her body in order to follow Katrina’s instructions. It was so fucking tempting to just say, “Screw this,” grab her stuff, and march out of the house entirely. She wasn’t entirely sure why she wasn’t doing exactly that. Nyssa knew it was smarter to do sex work with physical protection like the kind the Giustinis provided, but it wasn’t like she couldn’t survive otherwise. She didn’t need to take this shit. So why was she putting up with it?
Maybe it’s because of him, Nyssa thought as she took the cleaning supplies out of the side closet in the bathroom. Maybe because I might not ever be able to see him again if I leave now. Maybe it’s because that’s what she wants me to do. She wants to get rid of me. Well, she’s going to have to get over it. Because I’m not going anywhere.