“You know how to fish?”
“Not really,” Marty steps closer and sits next to me. “How hard can it be?”
“You know you have to touch worms and shove hooks through their wriggling bodies, right?”
“Yup, I brought gloves.” He pulls out a pair of yellow plastic dishwashing gloves, which makes me laugh.
“You can’t use those!”
Marty gives me a sideways look that says he’s teasing, trying to make me smile like he used to. It’s weird how much a person can communicate with a single look. “I planned on wearing a yellow rain coat and matching boots, but I thought the other wharf guys would make fun of me.”
“Ya think?”
“Yeah, but what’s life without a little color?”
“You can drop the g*y thing, Marty.”
“What g*y thing? A guy can’t like yellow?” He bumps his shoulder into mine and I bump him back. I take a few bites of my sandwich before he says, “Are we good?”
I nod slowly. “Yeah, we’re good, or close enough. Gooder, maybe.”
The tension in Marty’s shoulders lessens. I rip off a piece of my roll and hand it to him. Marty pops it into his mouth. “Would you like to come with me? I’m pretty sure the boat isn’t full.”
“Can’t. I have to work this afternoon.”
“Oh.” Marty goes silent. It’s like I took an ax to the conversation and killed it.
“Want to come to dinner with me and Mel later? We’re IHOP-ing it.”
“Yeah, sounds great. I’ll have worked up a manly appetite by then, and will have a serious craving for some crepes.” I laugh again and hand him another piece of my roll. Marty pops it into his mouth and says, “Don’t hang out here by yourself for too long.”
“Because of the bodies in the marsh? Marty that was a long time ago. No one is going to kill me.”
“No, because I don’t want the ghosts of the dead hookers to show up and give you tips.”
I smack his shoulder hard and Marty fakes falling to the side. I grab his arm and pull him back before he really falls off the dock. I punch his arm lightly. It had been a teasing gesture between us once. I wonder if we’ll ever have that back. The corner of my mouth tips up and I shake my head, laughing lightly. “Asshole.”
“I told you I’m not gay. You can call me dick, now.” He says it proudly, like I’m a dick should be plastered on his tee shirt.
“Go catch your boat, dick. They’re going to leave without you.” I shake my head as Marty jumps up. He looks down the dock to where his boat is boarding. A large scruffy man hollers last call.
“See you later?”
“Yeah.”
When did my life turn to shit? Was it before or after I met Black? I’m not sure anymore. It seems that I traded one set of problems for another.
As I watch Marty board his boat, regret squeezes my ribcage with its giant hands. I wish things could go back to the way they were. Life before Black was less complicated. I was poor, but I had friends. Now I have the cash I need to do what I want, but I’ve damaged all of my relationships—and my heart.
CHAPTER 5
When I get back to the room, Amber is gone. Relieved, I jump in the shower and let the scalding water turn me lobster-colored. When I get out, I step from the tiny bathroom with a towel around my body and dripping hair. I seriously need to do wash because there never seems to be enough towels.
My phone chirps, so I walk over to it. Tucking a damp piece of hair behind my ear, I look down at the text message, hoping beyond reason that it’s Sean and that he’s changed his mind. But when I lift it and look at the screen, it isn’t. Hope is stupid. It keeps making me do irrational things. Sean isn’t coming back for me—he’s gone. I need to accept it and move on.
There’s a picture of Marty holding a tiny fish with his yellow gloves. It makes me smile. He’s such a dork, but I know he sent it to try and cheer me up.
Mel plows through the door, and looks up at me. “Where the hell do you think we live? In f**king Banjo-land? Lock your damn door, Avery. I could have been a serial killer for Chrissakes.”
“Or Naked Guy.” Mel and I shudder in unison as our faces scrunch up in disgust. I grab my brush and start on my hair. “He offered to do me after Amber this morning. Real classy.”
“You want me to show him my mad ninja skills with knives? That’ll turn him whiter than he already is.” Mel grins like she’s thinking about something specific, which is a little bit scary.
“You don’t need to cut anyone for me. I’m good.” I flip my hair over and brush it out. “I’ll take a rain check.”
“Oh? You got plans or something?”
Flipping my hair back, I nearly fall over. Mel laughs at me as I blink and steady myself. “Nah, it’s just Black. She kind of scares the crap out of me.”
Mel makes a sound of agreement and plops down on my bed. It’s still made and looked pretty before Mel rolled on it. She kicks off her shoes and pulls her feet up. “So, I guess now that Psycho Romeo is gone, you want out? All that talk this morning was just talk, right?”
“I can’t quit. I need enough money to finish grad school.” Mel doesn’t say anything, but her expression speaks for her. She thinks that I should leave. “I’m going to load up my schedule now, sign a bunch of contracts, and then bust my ass in summer sessions. I have to prove to the university that I can handle the graduate work.”
“How many contracts are you going to sign? I never sign more than one at a time. It seems too risky and Black isn’t someone you mess around with, Avery. That’s a seriously bad plan.”
I feel dead inside, and it comes across in my voice when I speak. “I just want to get on with my life.”
“So do I, but this is a seriously bad plan. Did you tell anyone else?”
My eyes flick up and meet hers. “You mean Marty? Not really. He said it was killing him. I don’t want to hurt him.”
“He’d tell you that you were being stupid. What would you tell him?”
“That I have to stay alive and this is the only way I know to do it.”
Mel shakes her head. “You’re making a mistake.”
I’m so stressed out that I can’t stand to hear her words right now. “I could really use your support on this. It’s going to be hard enough without you telling me that I’m an idiot.”
“Fine, let’s talk. You have a client in a couple of hours. How are you going to do him? Black will start micromanaging you and ask this shit, so spit it out, Avery.” My face flames red as my eyes dart away from hers. “Shit, girl. You still blush? How could you blush? You f**ked Freak Show how many times now, and you still turn cherry red when someone mentions sex. How old are you? Twelve?”
I want to prove to her that I can handle this. I make up a bunch of stuff and say it looking her in the eye. I give enough details that her mouth opens slightly. “I’m not an idiot, I just don’t like talking about it.”
“Well, if you do that with Henry Thomas, Black will never ask you anything again.”
I nod. “That’s what I was thinking.”
“Where’d you learn that shit from anyway? I didn’t think you had it in you.” Mel is halfway stuck between impressed and concerned. The only reason she’s concerned is because it’s me and I’m fragile.
But I’m sick of it. I wanted control over my life, so I took it. I learned what I need to know to do this job and I’ll do it. “I looked it up. There was a Q&A from some chick that works a Vegas brothel. She posted it and a ton of guys said she was right—that it’s majorly awesome. I figured that I have to be beyond acceptable to get Black off my back.” I shrug like it doesn’t matter.
Mel pushes off the bed. “I’m sorry I took you to Black. I screwed up, Avery. And that’s the last I’m going to say about that, because no matter what we do, we can’t change that. Not now. So, I’ll help you out and be Ms. Supportive, no matter what crazy crap you decide.”
CHAPTER 6
Gabe meets me at the elevators. Since it’s Sunday afternoon the offices are empty. “What kind of company is here during the day?”
Gabe gives me a look that says I shouldn’t be asking, but he answers anyway. “Calling center.”
“For what? Insurance?”
He grins. “You could call it that.”
Okay, so it’s not an insurance center. My next guess is something tawdry like a phone sex operator calling center. Do they even have those? As I walk past desks, I imagine what it would have to sound like in here if that were going on, which doesn’t match what I saw last time I walked in when everyone was working.
“She’s not in a good mood, so don’t piss her off. Say yes to whatever she offers and get the hell out.” Gabe talks softly—well, for Gabe—and deposits me at Black’s door. “I’ll bring the car around and wait for you downstairs.”
Gabe disappears and my heart races harder. I knock on the door, lightly.
Miss Black snaps, “Enter.” When I push into the room, I see her sorting through papers, looking beyond irritated. There’s a ruler clutched in her right hand and a pen in the other. “I see you lost another client.”
“Who was the first one?”
Miss Black stops what she’s doing and looks up at me sharply. She drops the pen and snaps her fingers at me. “Take it off. I have no time for you right now.” She snaps again before I realize she wants me to disrobe.
I wriggle out of my black dress and stand there like livestock. At least I’m not nak*d. Miss Black circles me with her hand on her chin and that ruler gripped loosely in her hand. I’m wearing a lacy black shelf bra that doesn’t contain my n**ples. It’s paired with a garter belt that’s holding up lace-topped thigh highs and a panty that’s nothing more than a piece of string.
I seriously hate this part of inspection. As Miss Black passes behind me, I’m whacked on my backside. I yelp and feel the sting of the ruler. I round on her. Before I can say anything, she shakes her head, like she’s upset with me. “You’re not taking care of yourself, Avery. Your backside is too wide.”
“It is not! I weigh the same as I did when I got here.”
“You had more muscle when you got here. Firm that up immediately. Our girls don’t have droopy cheeks.”
I glance down at my ass. It’s not droopy. I want to argue with her, but I don’t. Gabe’s warning is in my mind, so I nod and agree with her. “I’ll fix it.”
“You will or I’ll fix it for you, set you up with some men who will firm it up due to their particular preferences, if you catch my meaning.”
I nod. “Whatever you think, Miss Black.” I despise this part. I wish it was over, but Black stands there with her ruler like she wants to beat me with it.
She snaps at me. “Get dressed. I’m tired of looking at you.”