Chapter Fifteen
Vince
Carly looks away from me, clasping her hands together and placing them on her abdomen as she stares up at the ceiling. “When I turned 18, I started college. I had a scholarship for academic excellence. I got a 90% free ride as long as I kept my GPA up and met the requirements. It shouldn’t have been a problem. I’ve always been good at school; I was interested in my field of study… It should have been a piece of cake. The problem was, my grandma died. Grandpa had died a year earlier and she’d been having health problems ever since. The bigger problem was that Laurel was still a minor and there were no relatives left to take her in. Only my mother was left, and she had left us both 11 years earlier. She was a complete stranger to Laurel and she made horrible life decisions. Laurel would have been better off in the system than with our mother.”
“That’s shitty. I’m sorry.”
Carly nods her head. “Thanks. So, I fought for custody of her myself. It wasn’t easy. I was too young, they said. I was single and in college. I didn’t have a support system. Long story short, I lost. My mother came back to take Laurel, but of course Laurel didn’t want to go. Her whole life was in Chicago. So, my mom agreed to leave her there with me and let me keep her on an unofficial basis. Laurel was a teenager, so it’s not like she needed actual child-rearing. I had already been essentially raising her from the time she was born; I just thought it was normal at the time, what having a little sister was like.” She shrugs.
I smile faintly. “That explains why you guys seem so close.”
“Super close. I’d do anything for Laurel.” She pauses, swallowing. “So, I kept Laurel, but I had to pay for everything. I had to pay our rent, I had to buy our groceries, clothes, pay for public transportation. I had all the expenses of a household with no income. I got one job, but it wasn’t enough so I got a second job. I ran myself ragged. I was never home. Laurel was responsible, so it wasn’t like she was in danger or anything, but I was just… worn out. Unfortunately, I couldn’t keep up with both jobs and a full-time college schedule. I lost my scholarship. I almost failed my classes, but I went to the teachers and begged them for extra credit just to get me a passing grade, just so I wouldn’t have to pay to retake the courses I couldn’t afford. They were mostly general education classes that semester anyway, so it wasn’t crucial to my degree. Anyway, I managed to pass all my classes by the skin of my teeth. I knew I wouldn’t be able to do it again the next semester. I was devastated. I couldn’t afford to pay the tuition, anyway. So, I enrolled the next semester half-time.”
“Hey, you still went,” I point out.
She nods her head, quiet for a moment. “There was a girl in my class, Sarah. She was beautiful. She always had a handbag that cost what I paid in rent every month, never wore the same outfit twice. She had it all. I assumed she came from money, because how else would someone my age have all that? One day in the middle of an exam I got a call from one of my jobs. They were yelling at me, asking why I wasn’t at work. I was not supposed to be. They did not put me on the schedule. I had a class that day, an exam, so I would have never agreed to that. Anyway, they flipped the fuck out and fired me for a no-call, no-show. I assume you know what that is, working at a bar?”
To be honest, I didn’t until a few years ago, but of course now I do. “Yeah.”
“Since it was an exam, the whole class overheard. I finished the test, but I could barely keep it together. That was the job where I made the most money between the two, and the other would barely cover my rent, let alone anything else.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry. I wish I’d known you. I could’ve helped you out.”
She smiles, reaching down and taking my hand. “That’s sweet. Unfortunately, I did not know you, and I didn’t know what I was going to do. Sarah caught me on my way out of class and asked if I wanted to go to lunch with her. Her treat, she said.”
It doesn’t feel like this could possibly be heading anywhere good.
“So we talked for a bit, then she started telling me how she couldn’t help overhearing that I lost my job. Told me she happened to know of an opening where she worked and she could guarantee I’d make a shit load of money if I could be open-minded about how I earned it.”
Yep, definitely heading somewhere bad.
She releases my hand. “I didn’t know how else to keep my life together. I didn’t know how else to take care of Laurel. So, I went to meet Sarah’s boss. They said I’d try out the first week, keep a quarter of what I made, and if I wanted to keep doing it, they’d bump me up to 40 percent earnings. Room for bonuses, if I brought in new clients. And the first week, working roughly 10 hours, I brought home $4,000. But I had to fuck eight men to get it.”
Aw, fuck. I kinda knew that was where it headed when she started describing Sarah—an obvious recruiter. Wasn’t sure if she dealt in drugs or sex, but considering Carly could easily model, that one made the most sense.
“So, before I turned 19, I started working as an escort. I’m 22 now. I don’t do it anymore, but I only stopped when I moved here.”
I’m not about to do that math.
“I wasn’t always so busy,” she says, with forced lightness. “It’s not like… I didn’t see eight men every week. But I made very good money doing it, so I made the decision to do it for as long as I could, or until I saved up enough to pay for Laurel to finish school, and for myself to finish school. As I got more experienced, I was able to be more selective with my clientele—”
“I get it,” I interrupt, nodding. “I know how… prostitution works.”
She goes quiet. I don’t know if I offended her by using the term ‘prostitution’ when she has been so carefully saying escort, but it is what it is, regardless of what you want to call it. It’s fucking strangers for money.
“Did you work for my family?”
“No. Not your family.”
“Who, then?” I know all the operations in Chicago, so it’s unlikely she made that kind of money and I didn’t know of them.
Carly inhales sharply, then blows out a loud breath. “Castellanos. The upper echelon, obviously not their… lower-income operations.”
I smile, but there’s pure madness in it. Nothing funny about this whatsoever. “So, you’re a high-class Mafia escort. Did Sal send you?”
Carly shakes her head. “No, I never met him. I tried to stay away from anything dangerous, but… well, the job itself was dangerous. Sometimes I had to do jobs I didn’t want to do. Be the payment for certain favors he needed. I never worked directly with Salvatore, but I did see a couple men for him. I set men up to be blackmailed twice. I did illegal shit if they asked me too. Saying no wasn’t an option.”
I nod my understanding.
“I’m out now,” she states. “Really out. I paid a high penalty to sever the ties, which I guess I should have known I would. Anyway, I don’t… I don’t answer to the Castellanos family anymore. But I thought I should tell you. I’ve been keeping that secret since I met you.”
“And you knew who I was by my name when we met.”
“I did,” she admits. “The mob life doesn’t appeal to me in the slightest, so it wasn’t like that, but… I could understand if you had trouble believing that.”
“Does Laurel know?”
“No. I told her I was a club promoter. It didn’t make sense, but she didn’t question it.”
“Right. People tend to believe what they want to believe.”
Carly nods her agreement, but doesn’t say anything else.
“So, this Gavin Halstead guy…?”
“He was a client. Became an admirer. We started seeing each other regularly, but then he started to get angry that I was still seeing other men for work. It wasn’t as simple as quitting, and I didn’t want to anyway. I mean, I couldn’t. I didn’t have enough money saved yet. But things got intense and I had to cut ties with him. He didn’t handle it well.”
“And you’re sure Gavin Halstead is real and not a cover name for Mateo Morelli?”
She smiles faintly. “I’m fairly certain I know what Mateo Morelli looks like. Wasn’t him.”
“You’ve never slept with him? He’s never touched you?”
She draws across her heart with her index finger. “Cross my heart. I never had sex with your cousin.”
At least there’s that, I guess. Maybe she’s fucked a fraction of the other men in Chicago, but at least not that one. “None of my other relatives?”
“Nope. I tried to stay clear of the mobbed up guys, funnily enough.”
Sadness hangs in the air. I don’t know how to respond to what she just told me. It’s not that I judge her for doing what she had to do, it’s just that she’s been lying to me all along. And it’s an awfully big coincidence that a former Castellanos sex worker just so happens to show up at my apartment complex and decided to pursue me, even though she knew who I was and had made a habit of avoiding guys like me before.
Something doesn’t add up.
She’s leaving something out.
And if there’s something worse than all this, I’m not sure I want to hear it. She hasn’t fucked Mateo. That was all I needed to know. I need that to be true.
It’s a little fucking funny, though, that this is the first girl I’ve considered a girlfriend before I slept with her, and apparently every-fucking-body else already has.
“What are you thinking?” she asks me, quietly.
“Nothing very nice,” I say, honestly.
“That’s okay. I can take it. Get it out.”
But I don’t want to. I ignore her, and after a minute she rolls over on her side and tentatively curls up against me. I don’t move to reciprocate this time. I don’t know how I feel, and I don’t want to give her mixed messages.
“I really do like you,” she tells me. “None of this is fake. I wish I didn’t have to tell you this. I wish it wouldn’t change anything. I don’t know if that’s realistic, but… I really don’t want this to change anything.”
“Every time you’ve toyed with me now, it just…feels like you were doing a job.”
“But I wasn’t. When you had your fingers wrapped around my throat, threatening to kill me last night, I didn’t say that to you. I know this isn’t ideal and trust me, it isn’t something I’m proud of, but we’ve both done things we aren’t proud of. It doesn’t have to define us. I’m the same exact girl I was last night.”
“You’re not, though. That girl liked me for me. She didn’t start talking to me because I’m a Morelli. I don’t know how to feel about this.”
“I still like you for you. You think I’d be here telling you this if I didn’t? This isn’t information I ever planned on sharing with any man, ever. People tend to get a little judgmental when you exchange sexual favors for rent money.”
“It’s not the sex,” I tell her, finally looking at her. “It’s the lies. I hate liars.”
“I’m not a liar.”
“Just a person who tells lies?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “I already invested everything in a pretty little liar once, Carly. I went bankrupt. I can’t do it again. I can’t do that again.”
“There’s a zero percent chance I’m a Mia repeat,” she informs me. “I get that I must resemble her, but I’m not her. Your cousin is happily settled. I only like you, no one else. I’m not a cheater. I’m not a liar. I didn’t want to be… I did things I didn’t want to do because people with more power than me told me I had to. If anyone could understand that, it should be you.”
I do understand that, but it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.
“Let me show you,” she implores. “You don’t have to believe my words. Now this is all out in the open, let’s just move past it. Put it behind us. Move on from the past and head into the future together.” She lifts her head, pointing at the wrapped present she brought over, abandoned on my dresser. “I still want you to come over tomorrow afternoon and do the Christmas photo with us. It’s sort of a spin on an ugly Christmas sweaters photo, but it’s more an inside joke sweater photo, and we found one that’s perfect for you. If you still want to be a part of it, open the present and come over wearing it. I think you’ll like it.”
She’s trying to tease me, to restore the rapport we had before last night, before right now, but I’m not there yet. I don’t know if I will be again. I’m kind of over taking chances on people.
She seems to understand. Her smile droops and she sighs. “I’ll leave you alone now. I just wanted to explain.” She climbs over me, sliding off the edge of my bed. She turns back to face me in the darkened room, and she still looks like the same girl. The same blonde hair falls around the same dainty shoulders. The same blowjob lips on the same gorgeous face.
Without another word, she pushes her fingers through my hair like it might be the last time, then turns and leaves my bedroom.
---
As it turns out, discovering your girlfriend is a hooker is not the best way to steep yourself in holiday spirit.
Or, was a hooker. Is a retired hooker? Whatever. At one time, she fucked guys for money.
Of course, at one time, I did far worse for money. For less money, frankly. She was out-earning me, but the career track I was on would have had significantly more potential for growth, had Mia not happened and turned me and Mateo against each other. Can’t really move up in the family if the boss hates your guts, unless you plan to take his seat.
I get up to grab some whiskey, then I head back to bed and drink until the wrapped present starts to look like two presents.
Two o’clock.
Three o’clock.
Four o’clock.
Carly said afternoon. I wasted the whole afternoon… well, getting wasted.
It’s time to leave for work now. I did not unwrap the present. I did not go to Carly’s house.
Walking to work half-drunk seems like an acceptable life decision, so I do that. Between the low temperature and metabolizing the alcohol on the long, cold walk, I do feel more capable of working by the time I clock in, but I still probably deserve to be written up, at the very least. I won’t be. Dodging consequences seems to be my superpower. Whatever power doles out circumstances knew I’d be a pain in the ass in life, so He threw Mia in the way of me getting murdered, and good looks to keep me from going hungry.
My boss can tell I’m already a little drunk when I get behind the bar, but she doesn’t say anything. I don’t really have to try at this job. For one thing, it’s easy. But more importantly, the drunk girls love to throw themselves at me. Firing me would just mean I go work at the other bar, and the drunk girls go there instead. Consequently, I can get away with pretty much anything. This isn’t even the first time I’ve shown up smelling of whiskey and feeling like shit.
It’s a long-ass night, though. A slow-ass night. Lots of downtime to think about Carly and how sad I probably made her by not showing up to her stupid Christmas photo shoot.
She invited me to be a part of her family tradition, and I was too consumed with trying to figure out exactly how many dicks had been inside her over the last few years to show up.
I’m the biggest dick in the equation, clearly.
I check my phone for the 900th time, but she hasn’t messaged me. Hasn’t called. I don’t know if she’s giving me a breather or giving up.
The problem is, I don’t really want either. I miss her, even if she lied to me. Even if she’s blown every motherfucker but me.
That’s mean. I shouldn’t think things like that. She was in a desperate situation and she used what she had to better her circumstances. To take care of her kid sister. That’s a hell of a sacrifice to make for someone. She accepted the burden of shame so someone she loved could have a good life. I can’t be a dick about that.
She could’ve told me, though.
Of course, reacting like this probably doesn’t make her think she should have told me sooner, it probably just makes her think she shouldn’t have told me at all. She could’ve lied some more. Could’ve told me she was living on some inheritance from her dead grandparents. Not like I ever would have known the truth if she didn’t decide to tell me.
It’s late as hell when I get home. I’m fucking freezing, so I take a hot shower to warm up. Carly comes back to my mind, asking if I’m part penguin, telling me what a shitty burglar I must be if I can’t afford heat in my apartment, asking me for help and telling she’s turning into a Carly-sicle.
I miss her, and I just saw her a few hours ago.
I miss everything else though. I miss her flirting with me and teasing me. I miss her looking at me and not expecting me to judge her. I miss her looking at me and not judging me.
I miss talking about her break-in fantasies and her easily controlling my temper with her skilled teasing. I don’t care why it’s skilled. I don’t care if she’s good at playing men. Maybe I need someone who’s good at playing men. Mia only seemed to play them by accident, and that kind of power unharnessed can wipe out fucking civilizations. Sure wiped out mine.
But Carly is in control of her power. She knows she has it, spent time honing it, and now she uses it to make us both happy. Mia’s reckless, uncontrolled power over men brings only destruction; Carly knows what she’s doing, so she uses it to grow nice things. To force a surly, closed-off asshole out of his dark fortress of solitude and into the light with her.
If Carly can get past what she had to do and emerge like a new, shiny person, surely I can get over a little heartbreak and betrayal.
Civilizations fold. It happens. You can curl up and die with it, or you can start over. You can build a new one.
The grudge I’ve been holding, the bitterness I’ve clung to, it all feels heavy.
This new thought makes me feel light. Like Carly.
The weight of a collapsed world on my shoulders is something I’ve chosen. Carly had reason to carry the same weight, but she let it go. She chose a better, happier way.
I admire the hell out of that.
I admire the hell out of her.
It’s time to let go of the dark solitude and step into the light with Carly.