“His name is Peter Wilshire and he’s amazing.”
Grandma’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really? How so?”
“I bite my lip,” I nod. “Well, he’s generous and kind, and so giving too.”
My grandmother nods.
“Yes, but money isn’t everything, darlin’.”
“Oh, I know. It’s not about the money. He treats me really well, Grams, and he wants to take care of me. He wants to take care of you, too.”
Her forehead scrunches up. “Me?”
“Yeah. Remember when you were out of your meds and your inhaler was almost empty and you were having attacks all the time from rationing your pills?”
“Yes, of course I remember those days.”
I nod.
“Well, that’s around the time that I met Peter. He gave me the money I used to get all your meds, and he’s been generous since too. We have plenty for anything you might need, Grams.”
My grandmother pauses, looking thoughtful.
“So, your new boyfriend is spending all this money on me, but not you?”
“No, not exactly,” I smile. “He buys me things, too. Clothes, books, and all sorts of different things. Oh, and stuff for cooking. The good equipment that professionals use so that I can experiment with recipes. He wants me to succeed professionally.”
Grams takes a sip of her tea, still looking thoughtful. “It makes sense that he buys you gifts if you’re dating, especially if you’re using the tools to cook for him. But why did he give you money for my medication when you first met? That’s strange, and it isn’t something most people would do.”
Heat runs up my face and I know I’m blushing. I look at my plate because no matter how well things have turned out, I know that what I’m about to say isn’t going to go down easy. “Funny you should ask…”
My grandmother fixes me with a look.
“Out with it, young lady.”
I stare at my hands, suddenly tongue-tied.
“Well, when we first met he might have been under the impression I was an escort,” I finally manage in a whisper.
There’s total silence for what feels like an eternity.
“Pardon me?”
I hold up my hands.
“I know it sounds bad, but I swear it was all a misunderstanding. I never was and never will work as an escort.”
My grandmother crosses her arms. “Then please explain how this man came to think you were.”
I look down at my plate, still shame-faced.
“Well Grams, we were desperate for money, remember? My Bad Burger job pays minimum wage, so one night after you went to sleep, I answered an ad looking for models. The pay sounded decent, and I knew the money could really help. So I went to the job, and it turns out it wasn’t for modeling exactly. It was more of an escort audition.”
My grandmother merely looks at me, her watery eyes blinking.
“So, I’m assuming this means that Peter was there with the intention of finding a date that night.”
I swallow hard, but nod my head. “Yes. He was. But once I learned what was going on, I let them have a piece of my mind. Peter saw it, and actually took an interest in me because he liked how I stood up for myself.”
My grandmother squints a bit.
“So he knew you were lured there under false pretenses, and that you had no intention of working as an escort?”
“Yes.”
“Yet he still gave you money?” she queries.
“Yes.” I release a deep breath. “He did, but it’s hard to explain. We really needed the money, remember? And after that first night, I made sure it was clear that I wasn’t being paid for sex. I would never do that, Grams, I swear.”
My grandmother shakes her head.
“No. He just gives you money for my medicine, and buys you expensive gifts.”
My hands are sweating, and Grams is looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. She’s not usually so hard-nosed, and it feels like I’m being pushed to within an inch of my life. Then, the elderly woman leans forward and lays her withered hand over mine on the table. There’s a hint of sadness in her eyes.
“Angie, I love you, but you didn’t have to do this for me.”
I shake my head.
“No of course not! I know that, but again, Peter’s not giving me money for sex. We’re in a relationship, so the money is just his way of showing his generosity.”
Grams suddenly looks older than her seventy years.
“But sweetie, are you sure you’re in a relationship? It just sounds …”
“What?” I sit back stunned. “Yes. Of course I’m sure. Why do you ask?”
My grandmother shakes her head again.
“I know that’s how you might categorize your interaction, but how about Peter? Have the two of you had a real conversation about what he wants out of this? After all, he was there to meet an escort that night. And maybe he doesn’t pay you on a strict quid pro quo basis, but he is paying you, have no doubt.”