Hush, Hush (Hush, Hush 1)

pping sweat all over me. He sounded like a horse as he was fucking me."

"Did you?"

I smirk. "I got the feeling he was a bit of a creepo, so I made up a story and told him my teacher in ninth grade taught me how to have sex. He was super into it."

She shakes her head in disbelief. "Men are so weird. They like the strangest shit. I have a client this week I have to call every two hours to make sure he's still wearing the pink diamond butt plug I put in him. He only takes it out to sleep and shit."

My face scrunches up in disgust as we trade war stories. "I have no words."

"I told him to buy a vibrator and sit on it with the plug still inside him. He said he can't because he came in his pants too many times the first day and isn't bringing a change of clothes to work."

I almost choke on my sangria.

"I'm telling you, we could write a book about our adventures as sex workers."

"We can call it, The Chronicles of Valentina and Natalia," I joke, and finish my drink. I place the bottle on the counter and reach for my vibrating phone.

Blocked Caller.

A deep sadness runs through me. He calls me every day, and every day I decline it. Crazy enough, the one person I wanted to lean on when I discovered the news about Grammy was James. I wanted to run to him and cry on his shoulder and feel his arms wrapped around me and have him tell me that everything was going to be okay.

"You all right?"

Swallowing, I nod hastily and stuff my phone away. "I'll be back later. I'm going to help Grammy home from the hospital and get her settled in. I'll come back and get the cats afterward. I figure discharge will take a while and I don't want to leave them in the car, even if it's cool out. She'll have my head for that."

Since Grammy waved her rights for treatment, the doctor suggested a nurse come in a few times a week to check vitals and make sure she's taking the prescription medication. I want to be there to meet the woman.

"I'm gonna miss this little shit," Natalie says as she picks up a cat and pets it.

"Yeah, you're gonna miss a cat the way you miss a yeast infection," I say, then blow her two kisses and leave.

* * *

Who knew how much time and stress the day was going to bring.

I'm not complaining, since I'm spending it with Grammy, but between the time it took to discharge her, the prescriptions I fought with the pharmacist over who insisted they weren’t covered by insurance, the traffic that I swear gets worse each day, dropping her off at home with the nurse, picking up all the cats and their stuff back in the city, and then driving back to Queens…

I'm fit to be tied and could use a stiff drink.

Only stiff drinks make me think of James and his expensive cognac. I think back to when we first met and how we hung out all day like we'd known each other for years in that underground private room, sipping his favorite drink and picking at food. I’d thought he was crazy to want to finish off a bottle. We did, though, and it was one of the best days I'd ever had being a whore, as James had so sweetly called me.

I close my eyes as I sit in the parked car in front of Grammy's house. There was such venom in his words the last time we were together. I keep thinking about why it hurt me so much to hear him call me a whore and I think it's because he accepted me, the real me, from the beginning, just like I did with him knowing he was married. It didn't bother him that I get paid for sex. In fact, I think he liked it. The only thing that wasn't me was the name—Valentina—and we both knew that. He got all of me. It's why this separation hurts so much, why I can't eat or sleep. Why I've been falling into a deeper pit of depression each day. He took a part of me without asking and I didn't even know it until it was too late. I've never given myself freely the way I did with him, not even with Daniel, and I don't know how to deal with that missing part of me I'll never get back.

I sigh inwardly and take out my phone when I see a message from Natalie asking to borrow a specific calculator. I send her a response telling her it's in my desk somewhere and to shuffle shit around until she finds it, then I move on to Daniel.

He asked me earlier if he could see me tonight and I told him once I'm done with Grammy, I'd let him know when's a good time. I send a quick message saying that he should bring over a bottle of tequila in about two hours. He responds pretty quickly and tells me he'll bring wine.

Blah. I don't want wine, but beggars can't be choosers. I think tonight I'll open up about Grammy and talk about moving in with him. He's been waiting for an answer and I've been busy avoiding it. Moving in with Daniel could be the start of something good, and just may be the thing to help me forget about James permanently.

Getting out of the car, I walk up to Grammy's house carrying all the cat carriers and let myself in.

I almost burst into tears at the sight before me. Our gazes meet and I force a smile. I can tell she's trying to remain strong for me, but I need to look just as strong for her. I squat down to hide my sadness and fumble with opening the pet cages. The cats run free and one sprints onto her lap. I smile at the image of them.

Crossing the distance, I place a kiss to the top of her head. "I hope you're not giving the nice lady a hard time."

There's medical equipment everywhere, bags of clear liquid, a wheelchair, vials of medicine. Grammy is seated in a tattered recliner while a nurse checks her blood pressure. The woman smiles up at me then focuses on her task at hand. There are black and blue marks at the creases of Grammy’s elbows where blood was drawn repeatedly from her fragile body, and a new IV is sticking out the top of her hand.

She scoffs. "I don't need any of this. I'm fine. I feel great. Honestly."