Without acknowledging me, he pulls his wall out of his back pocket, fishes in it for cash, and then extends it to the side. He doesn’t have to tell me twice. “Thanks,” I say, taking the stack of money. It’s a lot. Way more than I expected. Our conversation earlier wasn’t a bluff. “I appreciate it, Jesse.” At his name, he turns.
Shaking his head, he says, “Did you make a decision about my offer yet?” The money feels hot and heavy in my hand. I fold it up and shove it down into my pocket.
“Yeah, I accept. You’re not giving me much of a choice. I want to get out of the motel, and this is my ticket.”
“And your night job?”
“Yeah, well, that will take some time to get out of.”
His throat works. “Who is your pimp?”
His cavalier question forces me to take a step back. “I don’t have one, and I won’t have one. Not that it’s your business.”
His blue eyes twinkle. “How is that possible? So why don’t you just stop seeing Johns if the money I’m offering is that good? You’re lying. Don’t protect the pimp. Tell me.”
He’d never understand. “I’ve been seeing some of the men for a while. It’s not that easy. I’m not protecting anyone. I don’t have a pimp.” He looks a little shocked, but the emotion vanishes a moment later.
“You’re afraid of what they’d do if you quit on them?” His voice cuts with a sharp edge on that question.
“Not really, it’s just not that easy.”
“It is though. How much will you make tonight? Tips included?” I stare at his painted word art and have to slam my eyes shut from the confusion it brings.
I tell him my best guess. One John’s tips vary by how quick he is. The moment I let my eyelids open, I see him shuffling in his wallet, gathering bills. “Here’s double that. Cancel your night, hell cancel them all forever. You work full time for me now.” That was an order if I’ve ever heard one. I take the money with a lump in my throat. It feels like I’m making a deal with the devil.
“I don’t understand why you’re doing this,” I say. The sweat on my palms has spread and I now feel a sheen underneath my clothes, making them stick in places. Why is this happening to me? Why now? How did this happenstance encounter with a stranger turn into this?
He returns to gazing at his painting. “Sometimes the most fucked-up things can turn into art.”
“Are you calling me fucked up?” I ask, voice low.
He shakes his head, tilting his chin up enough so his scar shows. “No, I’m calling what you do and where you come from fucked up. It’s nothing against you personally. You didn’t choose this life.” He getsitso effortlessly. Jesse turns to me. “Do you have any waiting experience?”
“Waiting?”
“Are you steady with a tray of drinks?” He licks his lips. “I could use more staff for the art show.”
I’m already nodding. “Of course.” I’ve never actually waited tables before, but how hard can it be? “When is the show?”
“Saturday night. Be here at five to help set up.” His gaze turns molten as it drops to creep down my body, then back to my face. “Do you have a black dress?”
I swallow, shaking my head. Well, I have a slutty piece of lingerie that could pass as a dress, but nothing that would be appropriate for this. “I don’t.”
Jesse ignores my response and picks up another piece of art and holds it up next to the other one. “Come over at four and I’ll have something for you to wear.” It’s another order.
“Okay.” He’s fully absorbed in admiring his work. “I guess I’ll see you Saturday then.” I linger for another few seconds, shifting my weight from foot to foot, waiting for him to dismiss me.
I grab my mop and I have one sneaker on when he appears next to me—looming. “Do you have any other friends who need honest work?”
Tingles rise up my spine. I don’t want to share Jesse and hishonestwork. Not yet anyway. Not until I know more. “I don’t.”
“No one else from Dirt Downs?”
What an odd question. “No,” I reply. I’ll rope Callie into this gold mine if it pans out for sure.
His hands are on his hips. “Okay.”
There’s something about the simplicity of his response that annoys me. “Who do you think you are? A savior? Do you just go around trying to rescue the lowly trash of our city?”