2. Jenny
JENNY
“You need to get over here, stat ,” Elena growled over the phone. Elena was a madam, and she was also my boss. “I’m packing Dre for an important assignment, and you have to encourage her. You know what she’s like.”
“She’s my best friend, so yeah, I know what she’s like,” I said. “Stop picking on her!”
My friend Audrey—Dre, for short—had recently gotten fired from AccommoDating, Inc., the escort agency where we both worked. Elena had stopped giving her assignments after she ran out on some client who’d given her the heebie-jeebies. Apparently, Elena was giving Dre another chance.
“The client is James Preston,” Elena said. “He’s a real-estate mogul and billionaire. Dre cannot mess this up for us. This could be a game-changer.”
“She’s going to do great. Just don’t make her nervous!” Audrey was a good girl, which didn’t really match up with being an escort. Sometimes, if she got nervous, she did things Elena didn’t like. Like pepper-spraying a client because he threatened to lock her up and hate-fuck her. You really shouldn’t pepper-spray the Johns. Even the kinky ones. They didn’t like it, and an unhappy client could get you fired!
The madam sighed. “Just come to the office, Jenny. You’ve been getting some calls, anyway. I need you back to work.” She hung up before I could protest.
I quickly threw on a dress, brushed my teeth, put on some lip gloss, and fluffed my hair. Then I locked up, which was a production. I lived on the first floor of a shitty building in Roxbury, a tough neighborhood in Boston. Even though it was summer, I closed all the windows and put wooden rods in the sills to prevent break-ins. The rods didn’t exactly work, but they were at least something. Then I pulled down the cheap blinds so people couldn’t look inside. Even though I couldn’t always pay my electric bill, I clicked on the TV so it blared and turned on every light.
If I weren’t gone so much, I’d get a dog for protection. Probably a Pitbull or a Rottie, and then maybe a fat, fluffy mutt of a sidekick to be its BFF. But I could barely afford rent, utilities, and my own food, and even though I was usually broke, I still worked all the time. So, I had no business getting a pet.
I grabbed my keys, my mace, and my bag. It wasn’t a long walk to AccommoDating’s office, which was located in the cheerful, upscale South End of Boston. It didn’t take long to leave my crappy apartment behind and find myself in another world. In this world, I was every man’s fantasy; I could borrow all the nice clothes I wanted, and I never got eviction notices taped to my door. I could pretend to be somebody else.
I took one last look around my apartment. It wasn’t nice, but it was mine. I kept it real clean. The bed was always neatly made, my plants were well-tended, and I vacuumed like three times a day.
It wasn’t much, but it was something. You are taking care of yourself . I hugged myself for emphasis, which was this weird thing I did when I was alone. You got this, Jenny. Go help your friend.
I squared my shoulders, locked up, and headed to work. My friend and my boss needed me, and that made me feel good.
I was something. I was somebody.
No matter what I’d been told all my life.