Desire (Desire, Book 1) - By Missy Johnson Page 0,14
the job? Just like that?
“I’m a good judge of character, Kait. I know you’d be a good fit here.” Her confidence in my ability rubbed off on me.
“Okay. I will give it a go.”
The kids were in bed when I got home. Throwing my keys and bag on the table, I sank into the oversized armchair. Ara, spread out on the couch, a book in hand, looked at me.
“How did it go?” She asked. I chuckled to myself, knowing her semi interest in my interview was about to turn on its head, big time.
“Good. Sort of.” I began, dragging my legs up under my knees. “It was a brothel.”
Just as I thought, Ara shot upright on the couch, her book flying out of her hands. She stared at me, her mouth hanging open in shock.
“A brothel?” She squeaked, her eyes wide.
“Shh.” I gestured toward the kids bedrooms. The last thing I needed was the kids hearing. I could just imagine explaining that to Sam.
“Okay, sorry, sorry.” Ara lowered her voice. “A brothel?” She repeated, literally on the edge of the couch, waiting for an explanation.
“Yes. Is that so shocking?” I joked, knowing it was.
“Uh, yes.” Ara made a face and shook her head. “Wow, you in a brothel is something I’d never have picked.” She shook her head again in amazement.
“Gee thanks.” I protested. Ara waved off my response.
“You know what I mean.” She shook her head and flopped back. “Shit Kait, a brothel?”
“I know, I know, but I’m just the receptionist.” I added, trying to read Ara’s expression. “I think it’s kind of cool.” I confessed, blushing. Ara eyes almost popped out of her head.
“You took it?” She squeaked. “I’m not saying there is anything wrong with it. I’m just surprised. I think it’s great, actually.” Ara giggled. “Imagine the stories you’ll be able to tell me.”
Chuckling, I bit my lip. I was still in shock that I’d actually said yes. And I was nervous as hell. I needed new clothes, a haircut and possibly some new make-up. I ran my hand down my leg. And definitely a wax.
“When do you start?” Ara asked, still dazed from the news.
“Tomorrow night. I work ten to two, four nights a week. Are you positive you’re okay with the kids?”
“For you to work in a brothel? Hell yeah.” She giggled. I glowered at her.
“How long are you going to give me shit for?” I grumbled.
“Till I find something else to give you shit for. Like your det-ect-ive friend.” She sang. I groaned and smothered my face with my hands, as Ara laughed.
“Your life is like a soap opera at the moment, Kait. We have drama, romance, and suspense. Seriously, who needs Bold and the beautiful when you’re around?”
“I’m glad you get such amusement out of my life.” I grumbled, shaking my head as Ara threw herself back on the couch, clutching a cushion, giggling.
The next day after I dropped Neri and Sam off, I went shopping.
It didn’t take long for me to blow another good portion of my savings on some new outfits, shoes and makeup, convincing myself it was an investment. Finally pulling the car into the driveway, I was exhausted.
The car backfired. I guess he was exhausted too. I laughed at my little joke as I let myself inside.
As I opened the fridge, I silently thanked Ara for doing food shopping that morning. Grabbing a can of coke, some string cheese and a handful of crackers, I made myself comfortable for an afternoon on the couch. I flicked through the channels, deciding on the crime network, which was doing a special on missing persons.
My thoughts drifted to mom, a knot forming in my stomach. Though we’d had our differences, I really hoped she was okay. It had taken me so long to get past what happened to me, and not having mom’s support during that was hell. I’d have done anything to have the relationship with mom that I used to.
Growing up, we had been really close. Her taking John’s side over mine had broken my heart. What kind of mother doesn’t believe their own daughter when she confides in her like that? Calling the police had been the only way to stop him, but mom had never forgiven me for that. The role of a mother is to protect her children, and to love them unconditionally, yet she had turned her back on me when I needed her most. That was the thing I struggled to get past.
The doorbell