As I pull on my dress, I ask, “Do you have more work for me?”
Miss Black looks at me and laughs, like I’m asking for something crazy. “You want more work? You haven’t had sex with two clients yet and you’re asking for more?”
I nod as I zip up my dress. “I’ll take care of Mr. Thomas.”
“You will or I’ll give you to one of the mindless security thugs as a plaything.” Miss Black is shifting through papers on her desk as she speaks. “Since you’re so determined, here is a new client. I don’t have his papers completed yet and I’m still waiting on pictures, but he wanted to book you for next weekend.”
“Me? He specifically asked for me?”
“Yes, although I don’t see why.” She shoves a blank contract at me. “Sign this and I’ll get the rest filled in later.” I take the pen and sign. She shoves a preferences sheet at me. “Update this as well.”
I flip the paper around and look up at her. “I get paid more if it’s blank, right?” She nods. Her dark eyes hold mine for a moment, like she thinks I’m weak. It pisses me off. I’m not weak. I’ve put up with more crap than she has, I’m sure of it. Besides, after what Sean did to me, I don’t see how anything could be worse. I push the paper back to her, blank.
“Do you expect me to be impressed? You play these games, Avery, but can you honestly perform when a client wants to have anal sex with you? What if he wants to use beads? Clamps? Or other things that frighten you? You’re all talk, and I know it. Check off the things you won’t do on the sheet.”
Shaking my head, I say, “No, I’m in this up to my neck. I don’t care what he wants to do, I’ll do it.”
“This client specifically requested some odd things. Last chance, little girl. Don’t bite off more than you can chew, because he will demand it, and have every right to take it from you.” It feels like she’s trying to scare me off, but I don’t let her.
I fold my arms over my chest. “Can I go now?”
She grins triumphantly and I realize that I was played. Her tactics are making me keep that sheet blank. “Yes, dear. Go and make sure Mr. Thomas comes begging for more.”
CHAPTER 7
My stomach is twisting in knots as Gabe drives me closer to the hotel. I fish my bracelet out of my bag and put it on. My hand is shaking so much that I have trouble getting the clasp to lock. When Gabe hits a pothole, I fumble and drop it.
“Sorry about that. The streets haven’t been the same since Sandy.” They really haven’t. That damn hurricane literally ate half the seashore, along with Ocean Parkway and a ton of houses. There are parts of Long Island that look abandoned with houses that look like skeleton’s covered in black mold. Tattered tarps have been shredded to ruins like the building beneath.
“It’s okay. I’m just nervous, I guess.”
Gabe is uncharacteristically silent. It drives me nuts, so I blurt out, “Just say it. Yell at me for not wearing a coat and agreeing to sleep with half of New York. Go ahead and say it. It won’t make any difference now anyway.”
“Which is why I’m not saying nothing.” Gabe’s old eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. The car dips again as it moves over uneven pavement. A car cuts off someone in front of us and horns blare before the telltale sound of a collision.
“Awh, Jesus Christ—” Gabe lurches the car to the side while I try to get my bracelet around my wrist. It catches just as the old guy takes a less conventional route around the accident with two tires up on the sidewalk. He leans on his horn and the pedestrians jump out of the way.
I glance behind us to see a wake of angry people flipping us the bird with extra enthusiasm. I hold onto my ‘oh shit’ strap and try not to scream. Gabe goes down half a city block on the curb before getting around the accident. “Sorry, if we’re late, Black will skin me. She’s in a foul mood.”
“Why? She doesn’t have enough money to roll around in?” My arms are folded over my chest. I repress a shiver but it makes me spasm anyway.
Gabe reaches over and cranks up the heater. “Nah, supply and demand problems. She has more client requests than she can fill. Black knows she’s losing money and pissing away cash ticks her off.”
“What?” This is news to me. I thought I was expendable, as in totally replaceable. “Like she doesn’t have enough call girls?”
Gabe smirks at me in the mirror. “I didn’t say that. Did you hear me say that?”
Crazy old man. I shake my head and smile at him. “Just because you didn’t say it doesn’t mean anything. She’ll kill you if she figures out that you told me anything.”
“Yeah, but I’m the one she sends for shit like that and it’s not like I plan on roughing up my own face, so I think we’re okay.
“Besides, my point is that she needs you. Don’t let her push you into things you don’t want to do. You’re a tenderfoot with all this. You shouldn’t have more than one guy a weekend—she knows that—but she accepted these clients and has to deliver someone.”
“So she’s sending me? What about all that stuff about preferences and trying to set us up with guys that are my type?”
Gabe snorts. “Princess, right now, every guy is your type.”
This doesn’t sit right with me. I glance out the window and wonder if she played me. All those times that Black tried to get me to sign the preference sheet and I didn’t—I wonder if she manipulated me. Am I that stupid?
Maybe.
Mel’s words ring in my ears, It’s fun, like a really good date. But it isn’t. I feel like I’m being bought and sold. I don’t feel powerful or sexy when I do this. No, it just feels like I’ve lost control of my life, that I have to do these things to survive.
Resentment is lodged in the back of my throat. I swallow it down because it won’t do me any good now. I have to cram my emotions into a box and lock them up, or I’ll cry. I can’t even imagine what Black would do with that.
Gabe stops in front of the hotel. Before he opens the door, he shoots me a look. “I’m keeping a close proximity tonight for obvious reasons. Black wants confirmation the deed is done.” The corners of his eyes are wrinkled, like he’s seen too many sunrises that made his gaze narrow with disgust. The guy is a fighter and for some reason he’s looking out for me.
I nod and slip out of the car when the hotel person opens my door. It’s a young guy, maybe a year or two younger than me. His dark eyes sweep over me once and he smiles. “Good afternoon, Miss.”
If this guy complimented me like that a few weeks ago with his flirty smile, I would have felt something, but now I just nod. There’s no normalcy any longer. The young man looks taken down a notch, although I didn’t mean to do it. It’s like the other night when I was talking to Sidney—Peter’s girlfriend. I said something stupid and accidentally insulted her. In my head it sounded light and playful but when it fell out of my mouth, well, I know I was a bitch for saying it. I wasn’t myself that night. I haven’t been myself for a long time. What happens to people when they lose sight of who they are? Can they ever come back? Is the old version of me gone forever, or can I pull her back from the depths?
Since my parents died, my life has been filled with nightmares, and grief so thick it feels like globs of fat, coating my skin, suffocating me day by day. The fake smile that spreads across my lips as I smooth my silk dress, the slight sashay to my walk, the confidence in my stance, it’s all fake. A few male heads turn as I walk by. I know this by now. Something about a confident, well dressed woman makes them look. They wonder who I am and where I’m going, and a good chunk of those guys wonder how it would be to get between my legs. They admire the man who landed me. I’ve seen many impressed glances the times I was with Sean or Henry in public. But the truth is, if anyone dared to look, they’d notice that I have no idea what I’m doing and I don’t care. Maybe if I act like I’m into whatever Henry wants, then he won’t notice that I’d rather be anywhere but here.
If I could only be so lucky.
As walk through the front doors to the hotel, I confidently move toward the elevators. This is the same place I met Henry the last time I tried this. My stomach is twisting in knots as beads of sweat break out across my forehead. The elevator doors shimmer as they open and I step inside. I dab away the perspiration on my face, terrified that I’m going to hurl in the elevator before I even make it to his door, but I’m not stopping. I won’t quit—not that I have the option—and it’s not like Henry is horrible. He’s actually pretty sweet, but I don’t feel like that toward him, and that’s the problem. I don’t feel anything toward Henry, except friendship.
That’s why I’m turning into a plastic person. You know, the kind who are so fake they’ve forgotten how to be real. If it helped me forget the pain shooting through my heart every time it beat, I’d sign on the line and never look back.
The nausea makes my stomach lurch. I open my purse and dig out an alcohol wet wipe. After tearing the top open, I inhale deeply and the over-salivating thing stops. When I was in fourth grade, I had horrible nerves like this and the nurse had me sniff a cotton ball with some rubbing alcohol on it. Apparently, the smell can short circuit the part of the brain that’s pressing the vomit button like a chimp jacked up on Pixie Stix.
I have to hold it together. When the elevator doors open, I manage a smile. My mind keeps replaying the scenes from the last time I saw Henry, which isn’t helping me any. This time the act has to be thicker and the lies falling off my lips have to be so deep that they become real.
Stepping out, I manage to smile and walk down the hall to his room. This is it, Stanz. Jump in or run like hell and hope Gabe doesn’t bother to hunt you down. Before I can lift my hand to knock, the door flies open. Henry is standing on the other side with an ice bucket in his hand. He startles and nearly jumps out of his skin.
“Avery, I didn’t hear you knock. Please come in, make yourself comfortable while I grab some ice.” He holds the door for me. I smile at him and duck under his arm and into the room. “Be right back, love.”
“All right.” I walk into the little room. It’s just a bed and bathroom, like last time. I wish I loved getting wasted because I’d be so schnockered right now. I put my purse down and walk over to the window and look out at the city. The sky is inky blue with a smearing of fluffy clouds that are hard to see because of the tall buildings.
The door opens and Henry pockets his key card. He’s wearing a cream button down shirt that’s open at the neck along with a pair of gray slacks. His hair is a little less perfect than usual, like something’s been stressing him out and he ran his fingers through it a million times.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of ordering champagne. I actually have some exciting news, which is why I really wanted to see you this weekend.” Henry puts the ice bucket down and crosses the room. On the desk there is a bottle of champagne already chilled. He lifts it out and takes up a glass flute like he’s done this a thousand times before.