recover from the suspicion.
When the time arrives for Camilla to go on her date, I am the epitome of control and order.
“He has one hour with you, Camilla. Sixty minutes. When the hour’s up, leave. No exceptions.” I activated two more phones after I drowned the first in the bathtub. Handing one over to Camilla, I say, “Don’t call me unless it’s an emergency.”
She’s a goddess in black leather pants and a satin tank top, but her hands tremble and her bottom lip quivers. “I’m nervous.”
“Then don’t go,” I say strictly. “This won’t work if you’re not committed. Don’t waste your time or his.”
Camilla takes the phone from me and slides it into her clutch. In the blink of an eye, she straightens her posture and adopts an indifferent attitude. “How many times do I have to tell you I can do this, Lydia?”
“Then stop second-guessing yourself.”
“I haven’t second-guessed myself once.” She turns toward the door to leave. The fragrant aroma of her perfume lingers in the air between us. “I was only being honest.”
When she leaves, I note the time on the clock and calculate when to expect her home. I don’t have a relationship with other escorts at Hush because I don’t want to understand why they choose this life or to bond over our reasons. This isn’t a sisterhood. It’s a means to an end. Peddling myself to men across the city is one thing, but to send Camilla off to do it leaves me uneasy.
Caring is uncomfortable and itchy, like tiny needles carving into my skin that I give a shit.
I care about Camilla. I care about Inez and Hush. I care that Cricket stopped existing ten years ago.
I suffer, because despite how incompetent she was, Cricket was mine and I was hers, and I miss her. I care that she didn’t do better, and I care that she’s not here so I can tell her that I understand and forgive her.
But most of all, I care about Talent Ridge.
Discounting how he’s changed my life in such a short amount of time did nothing to alter the inevitable, and I care about him.
Maybe it’s more than caring. More complete. More immense.
More than anything I can explain because it’s more than anything I’ve ever experienced.
And utterly undoable.
Waiting for Camilla’s hour to be up, I sit on the hard couch surrounded by her candles, plants, and the paintings she had no idea about and invite Dog onto my lap.
I care about this motherfucker, too.
But he still can’t stay.
I’m going to make those posters.
Trading sex for money is never without difficulty, but the first time is particularly harsh even for the worst of us. I grew up in an environment that lacked ethics and thrived in debauchery, but I felt it when I crossed the imaginary line over from good to morally deficient the first time I solicited myself. I felt permanently labeled, like anyone who ever looked at me again would know I was dishonorable.
Camilla has a tight lid on where she comes from and what led her to Hush, but despite what she’s gone through, she’s managed to stay mostly good. This path was chosen for me, but Camilla is choosing this herself. It won’t be easy. Will she look different, smell different, or act differently? Should I have done more to stop her? Was that my place, or would it have made it harder for her?
When she bursts through the door, I jump up from the couch to face her. We share a brief, breathless, voiceless second where we’re the only two women in the entire universe who understand what she’s given up.
Just as quickly, she covers her mouth with her hands and lets out a cry only those of us who have crossed this particular moral-lacking line know.
“I’m okay,” she says. She holds her hand out to stop me from coming closer. “I just need a second.”
Let this be a lesson to her because I have no intention of getting nearer. If she expected me to welcome her home with open arms and reassurance, she’s wrong. Does she want to hear that everything will be okay, and it’ll get better with time? Because it won’t. It never gets easier; we just come up with better ways to numb it.
“Why are you doing this to yourself, Camilla?” I cross my arms over my chest to keep from bleeding out. I care, but there’s not enough room inside of me to be her confidant. “Do you need