Chapter Six
The following few weeks passed in a whirlwind of projects, dates, and cramming for upcoming finals. Although I heard Noah in the hall at times, I made sure to avoid crossing his path and he seemed to do the same.
Late November, my mother called, crying about not qualifying for some tax rebate because her nosey friend claimed the money I’d sent would be seen as earned income.
“What does Sheryl Pinkerton know, Momma? It was a gift.”
“She said it didn’t matter. The IRS would see it as income either way. What if this messes with my welfare, Avery?”
I was smart about a lot of things, but income tax and subsidized programs were a mystery to me. “Why does this even matter now, Momma? It’s November. Sheryl isn’t an accountant.”
“Don’t you get it, Avery Dean? I can’t have you sending me checks or it’ll draw suspicions. You’re gonna have to get me cash.”
“How am I going to do that? No one mails cash.”
“You could come home.”
“No.”
Momma scoffed. “Ain’t you ever comin’ back? You know Bobby Pritcher’s been askin’ about you.”
I frowned. Bobby Pritcher wasn’t going anywhere in life and I doubted he had that broken tooth replaced. When he spoke, never saying nice things, it looked like a slithery snake tongue slipping past his lips.
“That’s not the way to get me home.”
“Then what will it take? You’ve been gone three years. It’s enough already.”
“I thought you wanted me to make something of myself. That’s what I’m doin’.”
“By hooking? That ain’t what I meant, Avery Dean. I don’t know what’s becoming of you. You ain’t even a Mudd anymore. Got yourself a fancy name for all those fancy Johns.”
My jaw locked, but that didn’t stop the sharp prickle of tears burning the whites of my eyes. “That’s not what I do, Momma. I have to go.”
“Don’t you blow me off, young lady. I raised you better.”
“Goodbye, Momma.”
After I got off the phone my mood and focus were shot. Seeing as I was in no state of mind to study, I cleaned my apartment.
Within an hour I had an enormous pile of designer clothes on my bed mixed with shoes, purses, and jewelry that were hardly worn. One by one, I took pictures of each item and uploaded them onto an online auction site. By the time I was halfway through the pile my tears had gotten the better of me and I needed to find a tissue.
I was not a hooker. There was no chance I’d have sex with someone for money, and certainly not with any of my clients. Though there were a few I enjoyed spending time with, like Micah and Josh, there wasn’t any real attraction there.
As I reorganized my closet, I thought about how empty my life was. 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.
They discussed typical things people in their early twenties did, but my life was different. I went out with older men, acting as arm candy and smiling at bad jokes.
“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 being pathetic, giving into shame that shouldn’t be there. This was all because my mom was pissed about something her stupid know-nothing neighbor said. But what if she was right? Still, how the hell had I ended up the bad guy in this scenario?
As much as government assistance helped her survive, I’d been the true hand to feed her and she just took a major bite out of my pride. There was nothing wrong with what I did and it was not even close to prostitution.
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 or my guilt would eat me alive—and Avery Johansson didn’t do guilt.
Reaching into the pocket of my hoodie, I withdrew my phone and scrolled through my contacts. My thumb hovered over a name I hated above all others. It wasn’t because of his bad hair or unpleasant breath. It was strictly a personality thing. But he paid amazingly well and I wanted to make a point. I needed to prove to my mom that she couldn’t afford to be hurtful to me. My thumb tapped down.
“Well, well, well. It’s been a long time.”
“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. All right. 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.
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, which was why I was so pleased to be financing my own education and graduating without a single student loan to my name.
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.
After that, it was my Lit professor, who apparently hated me for some reason and refused to give me anything more than a C+. My last paper was at least B worthy. 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 bottle was empty, 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.
“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. The other night I was out of line and I can see now you were right about things getting awkward between—”
“Now, you can see? And why is that? Does it have anything to do with how I’m dressed?”
“Jesus, are you always such a bitch?”
I drew back. “Excuse me?”
“I’m trying to apologize and you’re twisting everything—”
“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 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. “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. This was going to be brutal.
Blinking up at Noah, I gave him a pleading look, silently begging him not to be another person that judged me. Why it mattered what he thought of me I didn’t know, but for some reason it did.
“I can’t.”
His expression blanked and he turned, only to do a double take on the man now hogging the hall. 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 out 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 was long past normal.
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 thirty-three cents a minute.