“Thanks.”
“It was such a horrible accident.”
Accident? No, Mimi, it wasn’t an accident.
Sure, that’s what it looked like when it made the evening news, but Hunter’s death was no accident.
He was found in his car in the woods by the Chicago River. The car, along with his body, was torched. The only thing the coroner could use to identify him was his dental records. What I buried a month ago was his charred skeleton.
“I know I’m your boss, and we haven’t seen each other in years, but please let me know if you need to talk.”
“I will.” The most important thing I’ve learned from my extensive studies on treatment therapies is talking helps. Talking takes the edge off our worries even when we want to keep our feelings locked away from the world. But not if it could get you killed. Like it would in my case.
“I know how hard things must have been losing your husband like that. I can’t imagine what you must be going through.” Her voice deepens with emotion, and she presses a hand to her heart.
“It’s been awful.” Another half-truth.
When I first learned of Hunter’s death, my world ended. At the time, we’d only been married for two weeks. Then not even a full day after the news broke, it became clear that one of the many enemies I didn’t know about must have killed him. I travel in enough circles to know that burning a person up is the best way to cover what really happened.
I wish I could say that to Mimi, but then she’d have questions I can’t or mustn’t answer. Like why am I not looking for Hunter’s killers, or how did I fall so quickly out of love with him.
And why don’t I care? Or maybe she’d skip all that and jump to the part where she’d ask why I think it’s appropriate to work in a sex club barely six weeks after I got married and buried my husband.
None of it is right. But I’m a woman who was given two choices. Become a sex worker on my own terms to clear the debt or do it under forced conditions where I’d belong to Hunter’s debtors forever.
Once again, I’m alone with no friends, no family, and no one I can trust enough to turn to. So this is the way forward.
I lift my chin and pull in a measured breath to steady my mind and the ache in my heart. “Thank you for allowing me to come back here.”
“You know you always have a job at the Dark Odyssey.”
“I appreciate that.” I do, even if I’m praying I’ll never have to work here again after this. As much as I have a wild side which would enjoy coming here for fun with my man—if I ever have one of those again—I’m not sure I’d want to come back ever again. People don’t tend to want to have fun in the places where they lost their souls.
Sympathy brims in Mimi’s eyes. She’s been working here since the club opened its doors over a decade ago. She knows what desperate looks like and what would push a girl to sign her body up for anything.
“I’ve arranged for you to take care of the VIP list,” she says.
That’s perfect, and I’m sure it will help me massively. VIP clients often pay you to be exclusive to them. I got lucky like that last time and made enough to put myself through college.
“Thanks so much.” At least tonight is starting out promising.
“No worries. Tonight you have a group of three guys who are all best friends.”
That translates to guys who like group sex. I’ve had threesomes here before. Adding one more guy to the mix will be different for me.
“They’re here for a business meeting, so you might have a short night.”
“That’s fine.” Short is great, but realistically, it doesn’t matter. What’s important is the end goal. So I need to push aside my reservations and embrace whatever I need to do to get my life back.
“Are you ready?”
“I am.”
“Great, I’ll take you to the dressing room first, then we can go upstairs and meet the guys.”
“Thanks.”
* * *