“Am I wasting time by asking what you’re doing?”
“Maybe.”
“Great. Now I have that to think about all day while I’m checking in ignorant customers and sending the maintenance staff to clean up the messes they make.”
“You don’t have to think about it.”
“Bullshit,” she hisses.
“Seriously, you’re going to get fired.”
“I whispered it. Anyway, like I could forget you telling me, there’s a chance you could make all the money you need to cover travel expenses and a deposit on a new apartment. All in one night. I mean, there’s a limited number of things that could involve.”
“Trust me. There’s nothing to be worried about. It’s totally legal.” I mean, right? Isn’t it? Sure, they’re going to pay me for sex, but it’s a private arrangement. It’s not like I’m being forced into it or trafficked or anything like that.
“But is it safe? Are you safe?”
That part, I don’t have to think about. If I wasn’t safe, they wouldn’t have let me walk away last night. Well, technically, they walked away first, but the point is the same. “I’m completely safe. You don’t have to worry about it.”
“So you’re not, like, a drug courier or anything?”
“No!”
“Because honestly, we had one of those in here like two weeks ago, during the overnight shift. A girl some shady dudes sent in to deliver drugs to their clients. Only she ended up coming to the front desk for help because they were threatening to kill her.”
“Oh, my god.”
“Yeah, no shit. This is the kind of stuff that runs through my head.”
“I promise, it’s nothing like that. And everything is going to be okay soon. I’m sure of it.”
She grunts, though something tells me she doesn’t quite believe my assurances. “I don’t even know why I’m so worried. You’re too much of a good girl to get caught up in anything sketchy.”
I don’t know why, but that sort of rubs me the wrong way. I mean, she’s not wrong. I’ve been a good girl my whole life. The girl who looks both ways before crossing the street—at the corner, too. The girl who always did the assigned reading but stopped short of reminding the teacher to assign homework on Friday afternoon. I was a good girl, but I wasn’t that good.
My whole life, I’ve played by the rules. This is the one time I can’t afford to do that because I can’t afford to spend the rest of my life hiding in this sad little motel, counting my pennies and drinking sludge from the lobby coffee pot. I can’t afford to spend the rest of my days peering out from behind the curtains, afraid to show my face. Expecting a very familiar, very angry face to look back at me.
“That’s me.” I sigh before faking a laugh. “You know you don’t have anything to worry about.”
“That doesn’t mean there’s nothing to worry about. I worry plenty.” Suddenly, her tone shifts. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll be sure to make a note of that in our system, so you’ll be all set for your stay.”
“I guess that means goodbye for now.”
“That’s right, ma’am. Thank you for calling, and we’re looking forward to seeing you.”
“Try not to curse out any guests today.” I’m giggling when I end the call, and it’s a good feeling. I haven’t had many reasons to laugh lately. Not for a long time, actually. Thatcher has been the one bright spot in my life since I lost Mom and Dad.
I met Adam not long after. If it hadn’t been for that stupid fucking drunk driver who ended up without a scratch on him, my parents would still be alive, and I might have been in a better place when Adam strolled into my life. I might have been smart enough, or at least strong enough, to see him for who he was right away. After all, I wasn’t always the good girl, but I was the smart girl. I was supposed to be smart enough to see through somebody like him—a total fucking sociopath.
Instead, I was desperate for comfort and the illusion of safety he provided. At the time, I was flattered and totally smitten. He was the hottest guy in school back when he was a senior, and I was a lowly sophomore. Dad was his football coach, and he came to the funeral to pay his respects. That was where he first made his move, offering anything I needed. Less than two weeks later, we started sleeping together, and a week after that, I moved into his apartment.
He didn’t tell me before then that he’d dropped out of college—no, actually, he was kicked out, but I didn’t find out until later. Until my life was so thoroughly intertwined with his that I couldn’t see a way out. Until I couldn’t remember where he stopped, and I started.
I shake myself, literally forcing my entire body to move as a way of avoiding the spiral that inevitably comes whenever I stroll down memory lane. The past is the past, and there’s nothing I can do to change it.
What I can change is how I act when I go back to the club tonight. They’re not going to give me another shot at this, and I can’t come up with the money any other way. I’m afraid of getting a job, afraid Adam will find me and finish what he started the night I finally woke up and realized I had to leave or else.
It’s the memory of that night that makes me open my laptop and google… what? What am I looking for? Ways to get into the right headspace.