Sugar

I wanted her to love me but accepted she never would, so I paid her to leave me alone. She wanted to be paid. End of story. I honestly don’t think she cared about me as a daughter and the older I got, the less I cared that she might have never loved any of us, which was why we all left the second we finished high school.

Reaching into the pocket of my hoodie, I withdrew my phone and scrolled through my contacts. My sole purpose became finding the money to shut her up as fast as humanly possible.

My thumb hovered over a name I hated above all others. It wasn’t because of his bad hair or unpleasant breath. His personality grated on my every nerve. But he paid amazingly well, and I wanted to make a point. I hit send.

His heavy breathing preceded his words. “Well, well, well. It’s been a long time, Avery.”

“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. 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.

It was all about assuming control. So long as it remained my choice, outside judgment couldn’t hurt me. I was in command of my future, and I was doing what needed to be done. Fuck anyone who didn’t understand that.

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. My profession allowed me to finance my own education so I could graduate without a single loan, and that pleased me more than anything.

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.

On top of that, my Lit professor, who apparently hated me for some reason and refused to give me anything more than a C+, put another massive dent in my GPA. My last paper should have earned at least a B. 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 ran out, 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.