Chapter 3
SERVED
RORY
We were cleaning the chicken coop when a car came down the dusty drive. Chewie started barking. A man I didn’t recognize parked in front of Grammy’s ramshackle house and rang the doorbell.
“Stay here,” I told Josie and Bo. They were busy petting chickens and didn’t take much notice.
I hustled to the door as my grandmother opened it.
“Good afternoon, Ma’am,” the stranger said. “I’m looking for Ms. Dorothy Lautner.”
“That’s me,” she said.
He pressed an envelope into her hand. “You’ve been served, Ms. Lautner. Have a good day.”
He didn’t look back as he hopped in his sedan and drove away, kicking up dust.
“Grammy.” I reached her side. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s fine,” she said, and tucked the envelope into her pocket.
“Who was that?”
“No one my granddaughter needs to worry about,” Grammy said with an air of finality. “Now, please go finish up the chores. I’ve got things to do in here.”
I went back and kept cleaning. But later, when she was having a cup of tea and watching the news, I went to my grandmother’s desk. There, tucked behind the calendar, was the letter the man had delivered.
NOTICE OF FORECLOSURE SALE
It was written in legal jargon, but I understood the gist. My grandmother’s farm was going up for auction unless she paid the bank two hundred thousand dollars.
I blinked as the number swam in front of my eyes. It might as well have been two hundred million…
My grandmother’s family had owned the property for years. I didn’t know when she’d taken a loan on it, but it didn’t matter. We had no money. If we didn’t do something, we’d all be homeless by the end of the summer.
I went to my room and paced. Even if I did video calls on the app twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, I would never be able to earn enough money to save the farm.
What I needed was a magic genie or a winning lottery ticket.
Since neither of those things was going to appear, I had to figure it out, and fast. My grandmother, my brother, and my sister were all I had in the world—they were precious to me.
It was bad enough that Mom had left. I wasn’t going to let this happen.
I pulled out my phone and searched for jobs that earn you lots of money. It was what I expected: professional athlete, CEO, nurse anesthetist, surgeon, computer scientist. My stomach sank.
I kept scrolling, feeling more and more desperate. Finally, a thread on Reddit caught my attention: I earn high-six figures as an escort, and I’m not even sorry.
Intrigued, I read the comments.
More money than I ever made in an office.
I can finally pay my bills.
These men will change your life, but you have to play the game.
I’m stuffing every dollar into a Roth IRA. I’ll be retired by 30.
There are escort agencies in every major city…
I should have put my phone away. Hell, I should’ve become a professional athlete or a nurse anesthetist. Somehow. Overnight.
If it were possible, I would have done it. But it wasn’t.
So, instead, I kept reading.
I spent the rest of the evening online. By the time my phone battery died, I was shaky. It was a crazy idea, but honestly—what else could I do? I’d already resorted to talking to strangers on an app. Was being an escort that different?
Yes, said the voice in my head. But if it meant saving my family from losing everything…
Of course, there were no escort agencies in upstate New York. The closest one I’d found was in Manhattan, with its headquarters in Boston. I’d brazenly filled out their contact form and hit send. Probably nothing would come from it, but at least I’d done something.
I couldn’t sleep that night. Images of a foreclosure notice being tacked to our door, Josie and Bo being forced to sleep in our car, and my poor grandmother saying goodbye to her beloved chickens haunted me.
So I turned on my light and read my library book, historical fiction, until the wee hours.
Then I proceeded to toss and turn in my bed.
The next morning, I woke up to three new text messages.
This is Elena from the AccommoDating agency.
We received your message.
We would like to discuss an opportunity with you.
An opportunity? I sat up straight, looking at the clock—she’d just sent me the message five minutes ago. I took a deep breath and wrote back:
Thank you for responding.
I’d love to hear more.
Three blinking dots appeared before my very eyes.
I’m heading into the office now. Can we do a video conference?
10 a.m.
Please send photos—head shots and full body images.
I immediately sent the pictures, which I’d prepared for the app.
Pictures of me smiling, pictures of me with a sexy pout, pictures of me in short-shorts and high heels.
They weren’t very professional, and neither was I, but I prayed Elena would think I was perfect for whatever “opportunity” she had in mind, even though I was scared.
At promptly ten a.m., I was seated at my desk, my ring light shining down on me. The video call came through, and I was face-to-face with a proper-looking woman in her mid-forties. She had short hair, trendy glasses, an attractive face, and maroon lipstick framing bright white teeth.
“I’m Elena, the owner of the agency. You must be Rory.”
“Hi, Elena. It’s nice to meet you.” I swallowed hard.
“Thank you for the pictures. You’re a very attractive young woman,” she said. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-two.”
She nodded. “And where are you located?”
“Upstate New York. Way upstate.”
She coolly inspected me. “What brought you to our website, Rory?”
I tapped my fingers on the desk, wishing that I could chew on my fingernails instead. “I’m looking for a new job. The one I have right now isn’t earning me enough.”
“And what sort of job is that?” Elena asked.
“I work in internet… sales,” I finished somewhat lamely. Elena arched a well-groomed eyebrow, but she didn’t question me further.
“Let me tell you a little bit about my company,” she said. “AccommoDating is a high-end dating service. We match our employees with clients who are looking for an upscale experience.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I was a lot of things, but high-end wasn’t one of them. Nor was I much of an “experience.” My actual experience involved barely graduating from high school, raising my siblings, and trying to keep us from starving.
“We’ve been in the business for a long time, and we have an impeccable reputation,” Elena continued. “Our clients include professional athletes, CEOs, royalty, and our bread and butter: billionaires.”
Billionaires?
I swallowed over the lump in my throat. “Are you currently hiring?”
Elena adjusted her glasses and nodded. “Actually, I have a new client in need of immediate services. Are you available?”
“Um.” My heart thudded. “Yes…?”
She assessed me. “This is a long-term assignment. I need someone who is able to travel for work and be away from home for several months at a time, likely longer. What is your living situation?“
“I live with my family. My grandmother, my little sister, and brother.” I frowned. “I might be able to travel, but I have some pretty specific needs.”
Elena didn’t blink. “What sort of needs, Rory?“
“Money.” The word felt heavy coming out of my mouth. “I need money, and I need it now.“
She nodded. “If you can pass a criminal background check and a health test, I think I might be able to help you.”
“Okay.” I sounded braver than I felt.
Elena tilted her head, her penetrating gaze sweeping over me. “Are you sure you’re ready for this, Rory?”
I nodded, but my heart hammered in my chest. “I’m ready—I have to be. Just tell me what I need to do.”
“You need to be all in, for starters. I don’t have time to waste.”
“I am. I’m all in.” I didn’t have much choice.
“Excellent. I’ll have my assistant prepare the initial documents. Once you pass the criminal background check, we’ll move on to the next steps. I can tell you more about the assignment after that.”
“Great,” I said, not certain that I meant it.
We hung up, and I crumpled up in my chair. What have I done? I could barely handle sitting in a bra in my own room, talking to strangers over the internet. And now I’d gone and applied to an actual escort service?
I glanced over my desk to the picture of Josie and Bo. They deserved better than to be evicted, to lose another home, to lose their security again. I pictured us living in Grammy’s rusted-out Subaru. They’d be so ashamed, so disheartened, so lost.
They’d already lost enough.
I was going to take care of them. My mother might have failed them, but I never would.
I straightened my shoulders. And when the email came in from AccommoDating’s assistant, I opened it and started filling out the forms without batting an eye.