I smirk in response. “Maybe. And calling me ‘hooker’ is really weird.”
“Yeah,” Marty replies, looking at me from under his lashes like he’s a big kid. He’s all smiles again. It’s nice. “I’d rather call you tramp anyway.”
I lightly punch his arm and lean into him. I’m surprised when he pulls me in for a bear hug. Crumpling my dress, Marty holds me so tightly that I can’t breathe. Whatever made him upset with me seems to be gone. Thank God. I need him. I had no idea how much support he gave me until he was gone. Marty spins me around once and sets me down.
Laughing, I smack his chest. “You ass! You wrinkled my dress. And, if you’re going to call me by my nickname, at least get it right. I’m Tramperella. See,” I say pointing at my silvery shoes, “glass slippers.”
Marty laughs, but there’s an oddness to it, like he won’t ever call me that. His eyes dart away. “Better get going, right? It’s not like you can skip it tonight, is it?”
I shake my head. “No. I have to fix this. I’ll see you later. It shouldn’t be all night.” Marty perks up at that. He smiles, says he’ll wait up for me and heads into the dorm to look for Mel. For some reason, she’s home tonight. Maybe she has a stash of cash and only works when she runs out. I wish I could plan ahead like that. I kind of suck at planning. Obviously.
I arrive at Miss Black’s and take the elevator up to her floor. When I step out, Gabe is standing there. I nearly walk straight into him. “Oh,” I say, startled, and step back. “Is Miss Black here?”
The large man nods and says nothing, gesturing for me to go around him. I walk around him slowly and wonder what’s going on. As I walk back toward Miss Black’s office, I hear her heels clicking on the floor, coming toward me.
“There you are. You’re late.” Miss Black glances up at me and takes in my outfit. She looks like she’s going to have a coronary. “Avery, we’ve discussed this. You cannot wear the same outfit day after day.”
I glance at my dress. “Why not? This is a different client and the dress is clean. I don’t smell bad, do I?” My stomach flips as I consider sniffing my armpits. I stop myself and wait for her answer, but Miss Black doesn’t dignify me with a response. Instead, she walks swiftly to the wardrobe she has hanging in her office.
When I walk into her office, Miss Black is reaching into the back of her closet. She pulls out a hanger with a dark red dress. It’s sleek and long, and from the looks of it, way too small for me. “Wear this. And as soon as you work off this debt, you have to purchase your own attire. Is that clear?”
I nod and take the dress. I strip down to my undies and bra before trying to slip into the dress. Black is behind her desk, looking for something. When she glances up at me, she sighs like I’m an idiot. “Lose the bra. It has a built in. Since the client didn’t purchase your company for the entire night, the dress code differs.”
The red gown is around my hips. I’m trying to shimmy it up as she speaks, but it won’t go over my curves. The zipper bites into my thigh. Miss Black stares at me with an expression on her face that makes me nervous. “It doesn’t seem to fit.” I step out of the dress and look down at the fabric in my hands
She doesn’t answer. Miss Black steps around her desk, and takes the dress from my hands. She snaps, “Bra off. Now.” She’s practically tapping her foot. I have no idea what she’s doing. That dress won’t fit me. My h*ps are too wide. I don’t have the guts to refuse, and I need to go on this date, so I yank off my bra and drop it on the chair next to me.
“Arms over your head,” she says and I pull my hands together on top of my head like I’m going to jump off a diving board. Miss Black manages to slip the gown over my head without messing up my hair. The buttery fabric falls into place, clinging to my curves. “Turn,” she snaps. I turn around and Miss Black inches up the invisible zipper on the side of the gown. I can barely breathe, it’s so tight.
“There,” Miss Black says when the dress is on. “Go look in the mirror behind the door.”
I turn from her, walk to the office door, and close it. There’s a full length mirror for me to see my entire figure in this dress. When I look at the glass, I can’t believe it. I look older, more mature, with more curves than I ever dreamed possible. The dress makes my waist look tiny, while making my boobs look ginormous. Even my h*ps look perfect in this dress. I’m a bombshell, all feminine curves with each and every one on display.
I can’t find my voice at first. I’m shocked. “Holy… this dress is amazing.”
“Yes, it certainly is. Come over here.” I walk toward her slowly. The gown is fitted and clings to my body. It doesn’t flare out until it hits my knee. If I had to chase my car down Deer Park Avenue, I wouldn’t be able to run in this thing. It’s so clingy.
“This is your date for the evening. His name is Henry Thomas. Normally, we don’t divulge full names, but he needed an escort for a business meeting. You are to be cordial and polite. Speak when spoken to, but otherwise you are an ornament—arm candy. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
Miss Black narrows her eyes at me. “If you blow this Avery, you have no place here. There are no more chances, no more do-overs. And, the debt will be taken in a different way, and believe me—you don’t want that. So no matter what happens, you are to make sure that Mr. Thomas has a wonderful night.”
I nod slowly, wondering how else they’d take the debt. Swallowing hard, I ask, “What if he wants more? I mean, does he know that things are…” I don’t know what to call it. “Does he know that there’s no sex?”
“Yes, he knows.” Miss Black leans her hip back against her desk. “He requested an escort for a business transaction. Your presence makes the meeting have a more social feel, which he thought would benefit both parties. Tension and testosterone often end poorly. Adding a beautiful woman to the mix makes things more palatable.
“If Mr. Thomas requires additional services, they will not be tonight. There are no changes once a contract is executed. You are expected to act familiar, touch his hand or shoulder, kiss him if he deems it appropriate, but that is all. He is aware of the rules. Since, things have gone poorly for you, Gabe will be your driver tonight. He’ll be watching you and reporting back to me. If things are not up to par tonight, Miss Stanz—”
I cut her off, understanding her warning. “They will be. I will be everything you expect and more. I promise.” She nods, but looks skeptical. After a moment, I ask, “How many times do I have to do this to pay back the money I owe?”
“Too many, Avery. Odds are, you’ll have to be promoted to a call girl again to be able to earn that kind of money. If you manage to do well tonight, I’ll make it happen. There was a gentlemen here yesterday asking about someone like you.”
My heart is stone. The idea of having another man’s hands on me doesn’t make me shiver anymore. I know what I need to do. I know that I need to steel myself so that I feel nothing. Mel’s plan of having fun didn’t work. I seem to be monogamous to my core. It’s not exactly unexpected, but I’m still surprised. I guess I want what everyone else wants—someone to love. Love and sex aren’t the same thing. I know that now. I should have known it before, but that simple fact never fully sunk in.
“Thank you,” I manage. Thank you for letting me be a hooker. Thank you for being my pimp.
I wonder how I fell so far so fast. If someone told me that I’d be doing this a year ago, I would have laughed in their face. Now, nothing is funny. Truth is like that, sharp as a knife and twice as painful.
Miss Black goes over a few other details about the night, and I’m escorted to the front of the suite where Gabe is waiting for me. Gabe walks to the elevator and presses the button. Miss Black and I stand in silence for a moment. The doors slide open and before I can step inside, she clears her throat. I look back.
“Don’t disappoint me, Avery,” Miss Black warns, and turns back without waiting for my reply.
CHAPTER 8
Being an escort is different than being a call girl. This is much less nerve racking. Actually, I feel okay, aside from the resentment that’s floating in my stomach at having to work for free. But, it’s my own fault. I shouldn’t have thrown that money back at Sean. It just made everything worse. I’m not even sure what the point was anyway.
No, that’s a lie. I knew what the point was and I’m so stupid that I’d do it again. I’m good like that. I don’t learn lessons the way I should. My music teacher pointed this out to me when I was in fourth grade. It’s not that I couldn’t learn, it was that I refused to change my way of thinking. I thought Bach was a whiny bastard—I still do—so I played the music that way. I never learned to see that things aren’t always the way I thought they’d be.
I thought Sean would say he loved me. I’m a slow learner.
Maybe it’s more than that. Maybe I just like to root for the underdog. I hoped that Sean could overcome whatever was holding him back—guess I was wrong about that. No, I know I was wrong. The man is hollow. Every last bit of him is heartless. Sex is sex and nothing more. It reflects how severely broken he really is.
Why is it that I feel the need to fix every wounded person I find? Why do I so carelessly lump guys into the poor puppy dog category? I shouldn’t. Some of them like the way they are—and there’s my damnation, my weak link—some of them. It’s like I can’t admit that some people don’t want to be saved, that they like being broken. Or maybe it’s even more malicious than that—maybe they act a certain way on purpose. We all protect our hearts. That part isn’t unusual. Sean just…
I banish the thoughts that are plaguing me. They’re poison. Sean is gone and I’m better without him. I know this, but I don’t feel it inside of me. There’s a certainty in knowing the truth. It locks into your bones and you can feel it. I don’t feel better off without him, not yet—it’s pure cognition that is disconnected from my heart. It’s a thought and nothing else.
I glance out the window of the car. The night air is warmer than usual. People fill the sidewalks and linger outside. It’s a lovely night with bright stars thrown against an inky sky. The moon is delicately perched like a sliver of silver just over the city.
Gabe drives the car and explains that we are picking up Henry Thomas. “Since your services are as an escort, this arrangement allows you both to keep your private lives private. I pick you up at Black’s and then pick him up at the hotel.” Gabe is all brute strength. But, he grips the steering wheel and moves through traffic like a ballerina with grace. There are no jerky lane changes, no blaring horn—not from Gabe. He surprises me.
Smiling, I say, “That and pulling up in my normal car would have freaked him out.”
Gabe laughs unexpectedly. It’s the kind of laugh that sticks in your chest and makes your body heave and cough. He glances at me in the rearview mirror. “You’re a funny kid, you know that?”