Chapter 2
Amelia
“You have your pills?”
“Yes.”
“You have the doctor’s number and my number?”
Annabelle groans, pushing me toward my car. “Of course I do. I’m gonna be fine. Get in the car. Leave.”
“Okay, now I feel like you’re trying to get rid of me.”
“Go!”
She laughs as I get into the car, glancing back one last time. My sister stands beside the chain-link fence outside our house, looking like a Scottish maiden bidding farewell to her laird. She’s so beautiful, it hardly seems real sometimes.
Annabelle waves madly as I roll down the window and wave back. The engine barely turns over, and I can only hope my shitty car will get me to my destination without dying.
She’ll be fine. Nothing is going to happen just because I’m away for two nights.
Still, as I begin the long drive, I can feel the guilt rise through me like a tidal wave. I’m leaving her alone with just our parents for the whole weekend. I haven’t done that since she got sick.
I sigh as I maneuver out of our tiny street toward the highway. My parents aren’t bad people. They’re drunks and useless at holding down a job for more than a few months, but they could be a lot worse.
The one thing I know for sure is that they won’t care for Annabelle while I’m gone.
My mom gave me responsibility for my younger sibling when I was only five years old.
I’ve been caring for Annabelle her entire life, and they rely on me for that.
It won’t occur to my mother to ask if she’s taken her pills, if she’s slept, if she needs water or extra food.
Mom’ll head out to her waitressing job, then go on a bender all weekend and get back and fight with my equally drunk father. It’s a scene I’ve been watching since childhood, and it isn’t going to change any time soon.
I put my foot on the gas, willing myself not to turn the car around and drive straight back.
I glance into the rearview one last time, set my jaw, and keep going.
This weekend will be a break, and when I’m back, I can discuss the LUNA treatment the doctor outlined with her again.
It’s hundreds of thousands of dollars, but if I had to put a price tag on my sister’s life, I’d spend millions to save her.
Maybe I should start an OnlyFans.
By the time I arrive, it’s dark. The house Hope has rented for the weekend is enormous with an immaculate lawn. Light spills out onto the grass from the windows, and I can hear the laughter and screams of the other women as I approach. I’m pretty sure I’m the last one to arrive.
The front of the house is full of huge windows, and I can see inside as I drive forward. Several beautiful women are dancing; short dresses and strappy heels on display.
I glance down at my jeans and T-shirt, feeling out of place already.
Nerves bubble up in me. I just hope it’s not going to be too insane over the next two days. I don’t usually drink a lot, knowing what alcohol has done to both my parents, but I doubt I’ll have much of a choice this weekend.
I park the car around the side, grateful that my arrival has gone unnoticed. It gives me time to compose myself before I go in.
“How do you look so gorgeous in just a t-shirt, Mia? I swear to God, I hate you sometimes.”
I grin as I turn to see my best friend teetering out of the house with a glass of champagne in each hand.
“The star guest has finally arrived,” Hope says sincerely, her eyes welling up as she reaches me. “I’ve missed you so much.”
She falls into my arms, a little tipsy already, as I try to balance her.
The glasses slosh alarmingly in her hands as she plants a long kiss on my cheek.
Her scent surrounds me, a mixture of vanilla and lavender, which I think might be the perfume I bought her for her birthday.
Leaning back, she looks at me, handing me a glass.
“Give yourself as much time as you need to settle in,” she says, her dark eyes sparkling.
She’s in a beautiful silver dress, her tan skin lined in light from the open doorway. Hope’s the same height as me, both of us taller than average, but her hair is a cascading mass of dark brown curls, whereas mine is wavy blonde.
“Is everyone here?” I ask, sipping my champagne.
“Yep, but the party isn’t starting until you walk in, babe.”
“It’s your bachelorette,” I say, laughing, and she shrugs.
“They all know you’re my oldest friend, and they’ve been asking when you’re getting here for the last hour. I’m so grateful you came all this way. How’s Annabelle doing?”
“She’s okay. Thanks for asking.”
Hope slings her arm around my shoulders, and I end up draining my glass as we head into the house. I can hear the shrieks and squeals of her friends inside, and she eyes me warily.
“Come out whenever you’re ready. There’s no rush.”
I shake my head. “I’ll be five minutes. I can’t wait to celebrate with you. Rory is the luckiest man on the goddamn planet.”
Her guarded expression evaporates, and she gives me a relieved grin. I love her for trying to help me feel welcome, but we both know this weekend is my worst nightmare. I’m going to have to make sure she believes I’m enjoying myself, because I don’t want to be a downer.
“Give me one sec,” I say, squeezing her fingers reassuringly as she glides back into the main room.
There is a chorus of shrieks, and an elegant woman with short spiky hair hands Hope another glass of champagne as they all start dancing together.
I dash into my room, strip quickly, and pull on my sequined dress. It’s a little too short, and I pull it down over my thighs, slipping on my shoes as I wrap the straps up my ankles.
I did my makeup before I left, which saves me time, and I give myself a quick once-over in the mirror to check how I look. My long blonde hair is tied in a loose braid over my right shoulder, and my makeup is passable but won’t look as perfect as all of her friends’.
I pull my dress down one last time, check my lipstick, and sneak back outside to my car. Grabbing the balloons from my trunk, I stand silently in the darkness listening to the thump of the music within.
Steeling myself like I’m going into battle, I tighten my fingers around the silky ribbons tied to the balloons and run inside, holding them high above my head and bursting into the main room with a flourish.
A gaggle of women scream with excitement and rush forward to greet me as Hope’s party really begins. I’ve barely been there five minutes and I’m already glad I came.
Five hours later, Hope and I are in the hot tub outside. I’m a little buzzed from the champagne, but not feeling too drunk. As predicted, the party is already pretty unhinged, filled with innuendo and sex jokes.
Francesca, Hope’s friend from college, hired a stripper to come and serve us for the evening, and we’d all just finished drinking shots off his abs before Hope and I came out here.
Hope is pretty drunk, but happy, her head resting on the edge of the hot tub, hair pulled up in a clip. I listen to the other girls inside as the pop of a cork explodes.
One of her friends named Bethany, whom I don’t know too well, appears, climbing into the tub. She’s wearing a red designer bikini that looks brand new.
I’ve borrowed my swimsuit from Hope because I never have an occasion to go swimming. It’s too small for me, and my boobs are bulging over the fabric.
I dip lower into the water, self-conscious about how pale I am. Bethany’s skin has a stunning, bronze sheen to it that I can’t help gazing at in awe.
“Hey bitches,” she says with a grin, sighing as she lowers into the water. “I love this place.”
“Isn’t it awesome?” Hope asks, sitting up and pressing the button as the jets spring to life again. “I could stay here all week.”
“Ha! Me too. Although I think my boss would miss me.”
A look is exchanged between Hope and Bethany, which I don’t fully understand. There’s a dark heat to it that sends a little skitter of awareness over my skin.
Hope turns to me, rolling her eyes. “Bethany could probably pay for my entire wedding with her weekly salary. Her boss is generous to say the least,” she quips, and Bethany barks out a laugh as she tops off our champagne.
“What is it that you do for work?” I ask her.
Bethany looks me dead in the eye and smirks. “I’m an executive assistant,” she says blithely. “Officially.”
Hope snorts. “Yeah. Just with extra responsibilities.”
What am I missing here?
“What do you do?” Bethany asks me as I look between them in confusion.
“I’m a waitress,” I reply, and Hope’s gaze turns more serious.
“She’s a waitress, and a delivery driver, and spends half her evenings editing the papers of dumb college students online. Mia works harder than all of us.”
Bethany’s eyes swivel to me. Her gaze is direct and confident; there isn’t a trace of pity in it, either, which surprises me. Plenty of people are worse off than I am.
Usually, the response I get when people find out I work three jobs is dismay. A lot of them try to give me advice about what I could do differently.
Bethany isn’t looking at me like that. She’s thoughtful.
“How long have you worked three jobs?” she asks, her eyes running very deliberately over my shoulders and down into the bubbling water like she’s checking me out. I fidget, unnerved by the thorough appraisal.
“Two years. My sister’s not well, so I work extra to pay for her medical bills.”
“That’s pretty amazing,” Bethany mutters. “I spend all my money on myself. I’m selfish like that.”
“You paid for half this weekend, B. Shut up,” Hope slurs, downing the rest of her champagne as Bethany tops her off again.
Bethany’s suddenly looking a lot more sober. She’s gorgeous, her tan skin contrasting with the white bubbles around her shoulders and full, wide lips that spread into a smile.
“Is your sister doing better?”
I glance at Hope, not wanting to bring the mood down, and shrug. “She’s not great. We’ve been looking into some new treatment. I might have to start an OnlyFans to pay for it, though.”
Hope is frowning at Bethany now, and Bethany’s smirk returns as she raises her eyebrows.
“I might have a better option for you,” she says, her voice like silk.
“Beth, don’t—” Hope begins.
Bethany raises her hand out of the water at Hope. “I know, you’re super protective of this gorgeous creature, but she’s an adult, Hope, she can make her own choices.”
My brow furrows as I watch Bethany. She shifts forward, spearing me with that dark gaze.
“I earn thousands of dollars a week, Amelia. Thousands. And if you’re willing to give a little extra, you can earn even more. My job is eight until five, lucrative as hell, and, depending on the clients, it’s also really enjoyable.”
Hope is stiff beside me, chewing on her lip.
“Bethany, I don’t think—”
“What’s the job?” I blurt out, excitement rippling through me at the thought of earning that kind of salary doing EA work.
I’m organized and motivated, and I’ve worked in administrative roles before.
There’s no way I’d be underqualified. This could be my ticket out of my life and a way to help Annabelle all in one go.
“Like I said, executive assistant. But with benefits,” Bethany says, her voice dropping to a low murmur. She pauses for a second, swirling her champagne as though deciding whether to continue. Then she shrugs. “I work for an escort service.”
Dead silence follows that statement. Bethany is completely unapologetic, sitting up proudly, sipping her champagne, and waiting for my reaction.
And what is my reaction? I don’t even know how to feel about what she just said.
My instinct is to recoil. I don’t like the thought of a woman being taken advantage of by rich men. But then, Bethany doesn’t look like she’s being taken advantage of. In fact, she seems confident as hell.
“You mean like… a full-on escort?” I ask lamely, unsure how to ask her if she means sex or not.
“Yep. As in, I have sex with my boss. He loves it. I love it. It’s win-win. I don’t want a boyfriend right now, and I have an insanely high sex drive. I get laid regularly and thoroughly whenever I want, pretty much. Plus, I earn a ton.”
There’s a high-pitched laugh from the main room, and Bethany’s eyes move to the large window, lingering there for a second. The other girls are all in their bikinis, about to come and join us.
“A lot of the girls in there don’t know what I do. They think I’m just a regular EA, but I feel like it could work for you.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Why?”
“Because you’re working crazy hours just to survive, and that’s not sustainable.
You can’t do it forever. With this job, you could get all that precious time back, and your bank balance will be a lot healthier, too.
Plus, you’re gorgeous, and you look innocent as hell.
The clients love that. If you’re interested, I can give you the contact details for the agency.
It’s called Sterling House. It’s very high-end, and they look after their girls.
I work with eight or so other women who I know pretty well, and we all love the job. ”
I can feel Hope watching me, not sure what expression is on my face, but I’m sure I look as astonished as I feel. I want to refuse outright. The mere idea feels alien and wrong.
Can I really sell my body to someone like that? But then… is it all that different from an OnlyFans?
I stare at Bethany, dumbfounded, not sure what to say.
She shakes her head a little. “Don’t tell them you’re a virgin, though. They won’t hire you.”
I shoot a vicious glance at Hope, furious that she’s told her my secret, but she’s staring at Bethany in amazement.
“How the hell did you know she was a virgin?” Hope asks.
Bethany snorts. “Like I said, you can’t fake that innocent vibe, and you listened tonight, but you didn’t participate in the stories. You’re such a knockout, too. You’ll get a lot of work.”
I drain my glass.
“Think about it,” Bethany says, relaxing back in the tub. “No pressure, but it would mean regular hours and only one job. You’d never have to worry about money again.”