Chapter 8 #4
“Good! Don’t you forget!” June fled to Sette’s bedroom, where her purse and overnight bag awaited.
Fuck waiting around for Sette to drive her back up to the Manoir.
“I’m a sex worker, Sette!” June called that out like she wasn’t standing in the doorway.
You’re fucking gorgeous, and I hate you.
Suddenly, Sette looked so much younger than she actually was.
A scared baby-face. Great. Great that I can’t seem to resist this bullshit.
Fuck me! June pushed past her. Even though I’d rather run into her.
With her desperate body? With a two-ton car?
Who knew! “That’s not going to change anytime soon!
I’ve worked too hard to give up what I’ve built for a client I met two months ago! ”
“Two and a half.”
“Oh, fuck off.”
Sette remained standing in the doorway. The bed covers were still undone behind her.
“June.”
She stopped halfway to the door, bags in hand. No, don’t talk like that. Strong, but afraid. A woman firm enough to stand by her, but as human and vulnerable as anyone else.
“You love her, don’t you? You love the other woman.”
Tears dripped down June’s cheeks. She refused to wipe them away. “You’re an asshole, Sette. You’re everything I ever heard about doctors and artists. Asshole.”
“You’re a…”
She whipped around, ready to hear whatever slurs passed her lips.
“I’m a what, huh?” June marched to her, determined to slap her if necessary.
Not the first client I’ve slapped, either.
Usually, she charged extra for a slap. “A whore? A prostitute? A hooker? A damaged girl with daddy issues? Go on! I’ve heard them all! ”
Sette’s leveled glare shook her core. “A woman I clearly don’t deserve.”
What was that manipulative bullshit? June raised her hand, the tears now pouring down her face. Her hand faltered. I’m not going to do it. I’m not going to do it! Instead, she made a fist and held it to her chest. “Fuck you, Sette.” Against her better judgment, June lunged forward and kissed her.
Even with her salty tears falling between them, Sette kissed her back, hard, hands in her hair and pulling on her sundress. June wasn’t much better. Buttons weaved in and out of Sette’s shirt. The two of them fell to the floor in a frenzy that screamed at June to put a stop to it now.
She didn’t. For fifteen years, she had been playing it safe.
So much distance between herself and others.
A cool, collected exterior and nothing but calculations in her brain.
Maybe, for once, she wanted to throw all that in the wind and fall into one of the few women she would ever call a girlfriend.
June was in a daze afterward. She resumed her plan to go back to the Manoir alone, having already activated the rideshare app on her phone. “No, no,” she kept saying whenever Sette insisted on taking her. “I need to think. Goodbye.”
She stumbled out of Sette’s townhouse and into the lavender Prius pulling up to the stoop.
A young woman with thick-rimmed glasses waved and smiled.
June was worried the Manoir would be too far away, but after checking in with her boyfriend, the driver agreed to take her all the way up there.
In return, June left her a huge tip and a partial promise that someone else would want driven back into town.
Good thing the woman didn’t want to chat on the two-hour drive into the mountains, because June was busy cleaning herself up and trying to think about anything but Sette.
I can’t believe she made me cry. Nobody makes me cry.
She touched up her makeup before staring at her phone.
Also a good thing that there was a strict policy about never exchanging phone numbers with clients.
Some did it anyway, but June had always seen the sense in such a rule.
Now she really felt it. If Sette were in her phone, she would’ve done something stupid. Like text her.
Also a good thing that Miquela was not in her phone. She didn’t know why, though.
By the time she arrived at the Manoir, her face was back in somber order, but not her head.
June thanked her driver and ascended the stairs to the Manoir, greeted by the bouncer and tended to by one of the maids.
In a few hours, June would be wearing one of her best designer dresses and draping herself across the laps of a few rich jerks.
Before that, however, she had to check in with the boss.
“You’re back early.” Monique gazed at June from behind a piece of paper. “Did everything go all right with Dr. Christie?”
June could only nod. “Any messages for me?”
Monique noted her employee’s mood before answering. “Yes, actually. Ms. Bolivar called. She wants to take you out this weekend.” The end piece of her eyeglasses tapped against her mouth. “She asked to take you out for more than a night.”
“Hope you told her no.”
Monique’s smile was not reassuring. “Au contraire, Ms. Kingsley. You need to go pack your bags for this Saturday morning. By Saturday night, you won’t even be in the country anymore.”
June dropped her overnight bag onto Monique’s Persian rug. That’s what I think about that.