11. Summer
Eighteen sucked.
I sat outside Southeastern Financial, a once large and impressive building. Now, green algae stained where water drained from the broken gutters jutting from the roof. The bushes, once carefully planted, needed a good trimming, and tall weeds protruded from cracks in the sidewalk.
Don”t judge.I tried to convince myself that I was doing the right thing. Besides, my own garden was way worse. Once, carefully tended by my mother, now, a shrine to my past and what-ifs.
I took in a deep breath. You got this.
I”d gone to what felt like a hundred different banks this week and this was the last one on the list.
I”d started at the shiniest and most well established ones, with a bright smile and an optimism that would”ve bowled over Mrs. Kranley, my least favorite teacher at Crestmont Prep.
However, all hopes of easily obtaining a loan to take care of me and my sister until I got a job were quickly crushed. I was too young and didn’t have a credit history. Some of the bankers were sympathetic but most were cold and callous. I was even laughed at by of one of them, and it had taken me a minute or two to wipe the tears from my eyes.
After that, sheer determination had gotten me through the rest of my list but now, as I stared at the aging building, all hope was beginning to wane. I had one card left to play and I prayed that it would work.
I re-read the last text from Amara: this one’ll be the one. You got this. I’d been complaining to her all day, but she’d encouraged me to keep trying. She was right. I could do this.
I just hoped the loan officer would be a guy—after Garrett ghosted me once I’d sent the nudes, I knew what men wanted.
And now, I had nothing left to lose.
Moving quickly to avoid the notice of the car parking a couple of spaces down, I unhooked my bra, then wrangled it through the sleeves of my shirt. After that, two more buttons came undone, and I was following a brown-haired, mousey man up the walkway.
Dressed in a cheap, dark blue suit and matching polyester tie, he opened the door, then turned and waited for me to enter. As I passed, his eyes immediately latched onto my breasts, a barely hidden sneer to his lips. “Nice knockers.”
A blush flamed my cheeks as his meaning became clear.
He”d seen what I”d done in the car.
I straightened, clearing my throat and walked with my head held high, not bothering to thank him.
”You”re welcome, slut,” he grumbled under his breath but I ignored it. He didn’t deserve any gratitude.
The foyer smelled of stale air and rejection. ”Good afternoon,” the only teller in the room greeted me, her two inch bright pink nails tapping on the fake, wooden paneled countertop. ”Can I help you?”
”Hello, I”m looking for your loan department.”
Her eyes narrowed in assessment as she took me in. ”Sure,” her lips turned downward, apparently finding me wanting, ”it”s over there.” She waved in the general direction to my right before tapping on her cell, immediately dismissing me.
I turned towards where she pointed, trying not to let it bother me, and met the gaze of the man who”d opened the door for me. He was staring at me through the glass window of his office.
Great.
I was partly repelled and partly relieved by his rapt gaze on me. At least he’d noticed me earlier, sending a clear signal that he would probably be interested in what I had to offer.
I lowered myself in the grey office chair he indicated across from his desk, trying to appear calm and collected.
”What can I do for you?” His front tooth was stained green—by a small piece of spinach?
”I”m here to apply for a loan.”
His lips turned downward. ”Do you currently have an account with us?”
I shook my head, and that seemed to perk him up a little bit. ”Well, we should start with that first.”
I nodded, feeling a spark of hope. It wasn”t a no. Not yet, anyways.
”What do you need this loan for anyway?” He asked distractedly while tapping his mouse.
”I need a loan to take care of my sister,” I’d already decided to tell the truth this time, as lying hadn”t helped me any before, and I hoped that he might feel some sympathy for me.
”And what”s wrong with her?”
“She…” I paused, taken aback by the question, “well, she needs to eat.”
“What about your parents?”
”They”re dead.”
The tapping on his keyboard paused as he took that in, and he finally looked at me. ”Only recently?”
I nodded, trying not to let the grief suddenly washing over me show. I”d already cried once today, I wasn”t going to start again. ”Yes.”
“I’m sorry.” There was a gleam to his eyes, one that hadn”t been there before.
I forced a polite smile to my face. ”Why? You didn”t kill them.”
His face blanched. ”I certainly did not.”
”Anyway,” I directed my gaze purposefully towards the computer, ”I need a loan to help me out until I can get a job.”
“And how much are you looking for?” He was back to tapping his outdated keyboard.
“It depends,” I didn”t want to appear desperate, ”just a few thousand, maybe five,” I hedged, hoping it would keep the roof over my head for at least another month, “unless I can qualify for more.”
I held my breath, the stress making my shoulders tighten, waiting for the rejection. ”I”ll do whatever it takes.”
His fingers paused, and he eyed me again. He let his gaze linger, moving from my face, crawling slowly down my neck until they paused on my breasts. The predatory gaze made my heart pound but I forced myself still.
Whatever he would find for me on the computer wouldn”t be enough, I already knew it. I was going to have to come up with a creative incentive.
He relaxed, settling back into his chair, a pen to his mouth as he stared at me. “You said your parents are dead?”
“Yes.”
”Is this the first bank you”ve been to today?”
I shook my head, trying not to blush. I hated how desperate I”d become within such a short time. ”More than I can count.”
”I see.” His eyes wandered lower, as if trying to penetrate not only the desk between us, but also my tight black skirt that went well past my knees. ”You say you”ll do whatever it takes?” He leaned forward, his fingers clasping the desk. “And exactly how desperate are you?”
”Ver-y.” The lump in my throat cut off my next words. My chest was so tight, it was hard to pull in a breath. This man was an adult, not like the boys in school. I searched his face for something I could latch on to, some kind of kindness or handsome feature. There was nothing. Just cold green eyes and a tick at his throat. He was lanky, his suit hanging off his frame and his tie was crooked. ”What”s your name?” I asked him.
”Oh, I don”t think my name matters at this point.” As he lowered the blinds in the glass window, I grabbed a business card, tucking it into the folder.
When he shut the door, my heart hammered like a trapped bird.
I forced the lump down my dry throat. This was what I”d wanted. When he sat on the edge of his desk, only inches from me, he adjusted the crotch of his pants and I could see that he was already hard.
He”d probably been hard since he”d seen me take my bra off.
”I need you to be as clear as possible, because I”m not going to jail.” Sliding his cell across the desk, he tapped onto it, showing me what he’d pulled up—a recording app. ”Tell me exactly what you want, right into the recorder.”
“I’m not doing that. You’ll try to use it against me.”
“I swear I”ll only use this if you accuse me of rape, or try to put me in jail. Trust me.”
I huffed a half laugh. I couldn’t trust this man if I wanted to. “Are you serious?”
He smirked, “Unless you don’t need a loan.”
I’d put in several job applications this week, but knew I probably won’t get paid more than minimum wage. At least Callie’s school fees were paid, but that didn’t cover anything else. I could live off Ramen noodles, but I doubted Benson could—didn’t the elderly need more vitamins? He hadn’t looked all that well, paler than usual. And the taxes on the estate were due soon, as well as the enormous electricity and gas bills, just to start. I needed gas for my car and insurance.
He stood as if to end the meeting and I held out a hand, desperation growing. “No, no.” I nodded at his phone, “I’ll do it.”
“Be clear,” he pressed record. “What are you willing to do with me?”
I leaned towards the speaker. “I need a loan, and I”m willing to exchange sexual favors for it.”
“Not that,” he erased the recording. “Make it clear, you are agreeing to sex with me.”
”Yes.” I spoke into it again, parroting the wording he mouthed. “I’m agreeing to sex with you, without coercion. This is of my own choice.”
He tapped on his phone, turning off the recording. ”Good.”
”And you can give me a loan? I”m not giving you a freebie.”
”I”m sure I can find something for you. Especially for only a few thousand.”
”I want twenty thousand.” I could at least fix the leaks in the roof to stop it from raining into the house.
His smile disappeared. ”You”d better have gold between those legs.”
”Oh it is,” I bluffed. ”Except,” I hesitated, ”I don”t have a condom.”
”I have one,” he blew through my excuse.
”You keep them in your desk?” Christ, who was this guy? And how many desperate women came to him?
“The slut, judging me,” he sneered.
I bit down my response. ”So? Do we have a deal?”
He didn”t answer right away. ”How old are you, really? Remember,” he nodded at the file I’d placed on his desk, “I’ll check your ID.”
“Eighteen.”
His confident look faltered, though only for a second. “Plenty old. The age of consent in this state is sixteen.”
The fact that he knew this off the top of his head was troubling.
But, at least, he probably wasn”t having sex with minors. If he was aware of the law, he was probably trying to keep within it—he did seem to be worried about going to jail.
”So?” I asked, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible. ”Do we have a deal? We have sex,” I stumbled over the word, “in exchange for twenty thousand.”
”I need to see what I”m getting first,” his eyes dropped to my skirt.
”You don”t need to see anything.”
“Oh but that’s where you’re wrong.” His shark-like eyes met mine. “I want to see everything.”
“Half,” I compromised. “I’ll let you see my boobs.”
“I am a boob man.” His gaze lingered languidly downward, considering my offer. “Let me see them first.” When I didn’t move, he continued. “I insist.”
Hesitatingly, my fingers went to my buttons. I”d hoped to get it over with as soon as possible, but I had to play the game. He needed enticement. Numbly, my fingers fumbled with them, one by one, dread churning in my stomach until the stale air of the office hit my belly.
His eyes immediately narrowed in on them, staring, and I shifted uncomfortably in the silence.
”Take off your shirt all the way.”
I slid it off and stared at the frayed grey carpeting as he took me in.
Never in my life did I ever think I would be doing this.
Selling myself to a man who I was sure couldn’t even afford to give me the money himself. His tie was probably cheaper than my old hairband.
He leaned in towards me, so close I could smell his cheap aftershave. I clenched my jaw as he softly ran a finger over the tip of my nipple, making it respond. Mortifyingly, it pebbled.
“These will bounce nicely as I take you.” He grinned, straightening. ”You suck my dick for three thousand, and I take you on my desk for the rest.”
”Deal,” I immediately agreed, ”but not until I see the paperwork.” I didn”t want him screwing me over.
”How about we both give and take.” He made his way back over to his chair. ”I”ll open your account, then you”ll come over here and suck me off. We”ll go from there.”
It sounded like a bad deal for me, but I was desperate to leave quickly.
”Okay,” I agreed, grabbing my shirt.
”Keep it off,” he bit out. ”I want to see what I’m buying.”
”You”re not buying anything, you”re giving me a loan that I have to pay off.”
”True,” he admitted. ”A loan that you couldn”t get anywhere else, so keep your fucking shirt off.”
I bit down on my lower lip to keep from responding. He had all the power here, I knew it, so I kept still in my seat, trying to hold back the shame as he sneered at me, staring at my breasts for a long moment, adjusting himself once again.
Finally, after way too long, he grabbed the folder I’d brought. In it, I had some cash and a few forms of identification. His hand slid over to the mouse, moving it to wake up his computer.
”Now,” he didn”t bother to hide the excitement in his voice as he glanced down at my ID, reading it. “Summer D—” He paused, his whole body going still and, for a long moment the office was absolutely silent. Then an angry red climbed up from his neck and he grit out, ”Put your shirt back on, Miss Duvall.”
”What?” I was confused. ”I thought we were?—“
”Your father doesn’t happen to be Douglass Duvall, does he?” He pointedly didn”t look at me now, but stared grimly at the desk.
”Yes?” I was confused. Did he know my father?
”Get out.”
“What?”
He stood, grabbing my folder and shoving everything back inside. “Get out. Now.”
I stood, clumsily jerking on my shirt and clasping closed the buttons.
“Tuck it in.”
“What?”
“Your shirt. Tuck it in. We can’t look suspicious.”
“But I thought—I did the recording.” I scrambled to follow him towards the door. ”I thought we were?—“
”Don”t fucking try to trick me,” he growled, before jerking it open.
He opened the door pointedly, not looking at me and my stomach sunk—I could only stare at him blankly.
What was I going to do? This was my last resort. How would we live without selling everything?
He grabbed my arm to hurry me along, then dropped it like he’d been burnt, giving me a wide berth. ”Have a good day, Miss Duvall.”
I hesitatingly stepped through the door, but turned back, determined to give it one last try.
He didn’t give me a chance, slamming it quickly behind me. I heard the click of the lock as I stared at the closed door in shock.
What the hell?