Mirage - Alice Tribue Page 0,37
mind locking myself in the bedroom with him and staying holed up for days. That’s a new reaction to sex for me, which is ironic considering what in the hell I do for a living. I’ve made a fortune off sex and people's compulsions, and believe me, there are some sick fucking people out there.
It doesn’t take me long to prepare breakfast; omelets complete with bacon, toast, and orange juice. When I’m done, I set everything on a large tray and carefully carry it into the bedroom. Nathan is walking out of the bathroom with his phone in hand when I walk in.
“Hey, let me help you with that,” he says tossing his cell on the bed and rushing over to me. He grabs the tray from me, and I hop onto the bed, crossing my legs. He places the tray in the middle of the bed and sits down next to me.
“Important phone call in the bathroom?”
He chuckles. “No, it rang while I was brushing my teeth, and I ran in here and got it. I think I just secured another security gig.”
“That’s great.” I’m honestly excited for him. He seems to like what he does and that’s refreshing. “So business is good?”
“Business is good.” He takes his plate and digs in. “Mm, this is really good, babe. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” I smile, picking up my own plate.
“You going to tell me about your dream?”
“Not really, no.” I cover up my discomfort with a grin.
“I’m not trying to pry; I’m just worried about you.”
“My childhood was less than stellar, the first few years of my life anyway—once I went to live with my dad, things turned around.”
“Yeah, I noticed that you never mention your mother.”
“Ahh, my mother—let’s see, a drug-addicted prostitute with a lack of common sense and ability to shelter her child from the ugly world she used to live in.”
I see the sympathy in his eyes, and it makes me cringe.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you feel sorry for me. I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me.”
“I don’t feel sorry for you; you’re amazing, but it’s still sad.”
I nod in agreement because, really, it is sad; my mother’s situation is what motivated me to make that type of lifestyle safer for girls.
“So, what happened?”
“She and my father never married. They dated for a while, and they tried to stay together for me, but she was just too much for him to handle. She wasn’t happy with the life that he was trying to provide for us, so she left. She took me with her and moved to some crappy town in northern Jersey.
“My father went to court and tried to get custody, but at the time, she must have had her act together because she was granted physical custody of me. He got me every other weekend.”
“Most judges don’t like to take babies away from their mothers.”
“No, I guess not, but even so, I remember living for those weekends with him. He always made it fun; it was all about me when I was with him. He didn’t neglect me or subject me to strange people around the house. Anyway, eventually, she fell into drugs, started wasting the money my dad would send for child support on it, and when she couldn’t make ends meet, she became a prostitute.”
“Fuck. Did anyone ever…”
“Touch me?” I know what he’s getting at, and the fact that I came out unscathed is a miracle. “No, if she did do one thing right, it was protecting me from her Johns. And trust me, one or two tried, but she always got them away from me. Usually, she’d tell me to go to my room and not come out, but I knew whatever was happening out of my room was bad.”
“How did you end up with your dad?”
“She left one day with a man. I remember him trying to talk to me, but she took me and put me in her room. She told me to stay in there until she left and told me she’d come back soon, but she never did. I was alone in that trailer for two days.”
“How old were you?”
“Four.”
He nods. “Do you really remember all that?”
“Yeah, my dad has filled in some of it, but I remember a lot, more than I should.”
“So, she overdosed? Is that why she didn’t come home?”
“She was murdered.”
“What?”
“One of the men she picked up slit her throat.” I shake my head in frustration. “I’m sorry; can we not