I keep thinking about what Ben said last night. Those words run through my mind, over and over again.
When you’ve already reached your dream, it’s hard to figure out what to do next.
For a second, I caught a glimpse of him. Not the version of him that he presents to the world, the cocky rich bastard that I’m afraid to get anywhere near, but another version.
One with depth and truth inside of him.
I’m not used to seeing that from men like him.
I roll out of bed the next morning and stretch a little. I don’t have any work to do until later today, so I throw on some clothes, go downstairs, get my mail, and head back up for some breakfast.
I flip through the bills while I eat a bowl of cereal. Unlike everyone else I know, I still pay my bills with a check through the mail like some kind of Luddite. I don’t know why, I guess it’s just easier that way.
I open the bill for my grandmother’s home and sigh. It’s the same every month and every month the number drives me insane. I do some mental math and realize that unless I pick up some extra work soon, I won’t be eating much again.
I’ve been here before. Hell, I’ve been here ever since my deadbeat dad fucked off forever.
I’ll never forget that day. It was two years after my mother died. He was barely around when she was sick, always out somewhere, either working or spending time gambling. He’s won and lost more fortunes than most people will ever see in a lifetime, but it never mattered.
He never helped. My father was never the kind of person I could rely on. I figured that out young when he was never there for my birthdays, never remembered my favorite foods, never knew anything about me. He was always drifting in and out of our lives, barely engaged.
My mom used to make excuses. “Oh, he works so hard, honey,” she’d say. My father was a salesman for an auto parts distributor, and he was always using that as an excuse to travel all over.
Mom loved him anyway. I don’t really know why. She was so beautiful and talented, but she was stuck raising me and my older brother.
And then she got sick. I was seventeen when she was diagnosed, and eighteen when she died. It all happened so fast, the drugs, the pain, the sickness ravaging her. She used to smile and laugh but I could see all the humor was slowly leaving her, replaced by constant pain.
My dad had no fucking clue. He stayed as far away from her as he possibly could. “Just can’t look her in the eye,” he’d grumble at me before heading to the casino two towns over or to the track to lose more money betting on horses.
So I took over for him. My brother was in college, and although he tried more than Dad did, he wasn’t much of a help. I was the one that was there for her, the one that saw it all. I was the one that dealt with her, laughed with her, cried with her. I was there when she finally passed.
My fucking brother and father were nowhere to be seen.
He stuck around for another couple years, my dad did, living in the same house. When I turned twenty though, my grandmother’s lungs got so bad that she had to have medical treatment around the clock. Dad dumped her in a facility and took off the next day.
I’ll never forget the last time I saw him. “Sorry, sweetie,” he says to me, smoking a cigarette, probably to mask the stench of vodka on his breath. “Can’t sit around here anymore, you know? Your Nana’ll be fine. She’s got money. You take care.”
He left, and I have no clue where he went.
I hope he’s dead.
Turns out, Nana didn’t have that much money at all. I’ve been helping her since the start. I dropped out of school, got a job, and never looked back.
The only good thing I have in my life is music. It’s the only thing I can count on to survive. It pays my bills and makes me hate everything a little bit less.
I toss the bills aside, banishing all those thoughts from my mind. I can’t keep dwelling on this sad fucking story. My dad’s gone, my brother’s useless, and it’s all on me to take care of my nana.
I won’t let her down like everyone else let down my mother.
I have to get up and walk away from my bills. I’ll write checks tomorrow, checks I hope will clear. Right now though, I need to get myself together.
I stand at the counter, taking deep breaths. I go through the motions of brewing some coffee even though I already have a mug. I need something to keep my hands occupied, to stop them from shaking.
This is why I try not to think about my father. I start to lose it, and I can’t afford it lose it. I can’t afford any weakness at all.
My phone rings suddenly, loud and piercing. I jump a little, not expecting it. I stare at the vibrating metal slab and laugh a little.
“Don’t be so stupid,” I say softly out loud to nobody.
I walk over and pick it up, answering without looking. “Hello?”
“Hello, stranger.”
I smile despite myself. It’s almost like a reflex. “Hi, Ben,” I say. “It feels like I was just with you.”
“That’s because you were. In your dreams.”
I snort a little. “Good one.”
“Thanks.”
“To what do I owe this early morning pleasure?”
He chuckles softly. “I want to see you again.”
“Again?”
“Right now.”
“Now?” I chew my lip and check the clock. “I don’t know. I have to work.” That’s a lie and I know it.
Truth is, I’m afraid to see him again. I’m afraid to get involved with him.
Ben has a bad reputation. Anyone that knows the music industry knows about the playboy owners of Somesuch. Ben’s notorious, especially among the people that work for him.
I’ve heard all kinds of things. About his drug use, about him sleeping around, about him missing meetings because he’s too hungover to get out of bed. He’s flighty and he’s no good.
He’s also gorgeous and intelligent and funny. And filthy rich. And interested in me, for some insane reason.
He’s so much like my father though, and it scares the hell out of me.
“Skip it,” he says.
“I can’t. I need to work for money, unlike some people.”
“I’ve worked enough for one lifetime.”
“Well, I haven’t.”
He laughs again. “I’ll buy you out. How much are you gonna make today?”
“Are you… are you suggesting you’ll pay me to spend time with you?”
“No,” he says. “I don’t want to make you feel like a whore.”
“I’d only be a whore if we fuck.”
“Well…”
“Ben,” I say.
I can hear the grin through the phone. “Come on. You’ll be my companion. My paid date.”
“No sex, though.”
“What’s your rate?”
I pause. This is a slippery slope and I know it. Taking this guy’s money can lead to other things, other entanglements… and I know I shouldn’t. It’s so unethical it’s horrifying.
But I glance down at my nana’s bill and I know I have no other choice.
“Two thousand,” I say. “That’s how much I’d make normally.”
“Let’s make it an even three.”
“Three isn’t even.”
“Four then. Cash or check?”
“Check is fine. I hear you’re good for it.”
“Nice doing business with you. There’s a car outside waiting.”
I blink for a second then walk across my apartment to look out the front window. Sure enough, there’s a car sitting there, the same car from last night.
“How did you know I’d say yes?”
“I had a feeling.”
I frown. “You’re impossible.”
“You’re going to make four thousand dollars plus have a really good time. Are you still complaining?”
“No, I guess not.”
“Get your pretty ass in that car. I’ll see you soon.”
He hangs up the phone.
I stare out the window for a second, torn into pieces.
I want to see him. I’m afraid to see him. He’s everything I hate in a man, all the things I hated in my father. But he’s also more than that. I caught a glimpse of it last night.
Plus, I’m pregnant with his baby.
“Shit,” I whisper.
How did things get so complicated so quickly?
I hurry into my bedroom and get dressed. I don’t have any time to think about it, so I settle on short jean shorts and a black t-shirt. I fix my hair, do some quick makeup, and I’m out the door ten minutes later, hurrying down to the car.
I’m probably going to regret this. Taking his money is a very, very bad idea.
But my nana needs it. At the end of the day, I’m going to do what I have to do to help her survive.
With a lump in my throat, I climb into the car and it pulls out into traffic.