“One kiss is all it takes,” a loud female voice sang outside of Effie’s dorm room.
Sitting at her desk, Effie ground her teeth at the intrusion, as she attempted to study for her classes. Especially when the lyrics being sung reminded her of Zander. And thinking of Zander made her insides scramble with confusion.
He seemed genuinely scared of Trisha Banks, and now she knew why.
She tried to kill me.
And then there was all that shit about him not being able to trust himself to have a healthy relationship so that he made her sign a no-contact agreement. This made her heart ache. Just because you screwed up and chose the wrong partner once, didn’t mean you’d do it again. So, why is he so fearful? What on earth did the BitchBanks do?
People had been looking at her differently. Staring at her when she walked across the campus. Tittering about her in class. She hated it. But, she sure didn’t hate Zander. Even though their relationship was in its own class of complicated all by itself, he still managed to make her wet with desire and dream of possibilities that would never exist.
And when her body hummed with desire, she longed to get her vibrator out of her panty drawer and release the ache between her legs—either that or call Zander at work…which would lead to phone sex. Which, while not a bad idea, didn’t help her study for her biomedical science test, at all. She had to admit it—HMM or no HMM, contract or not, Zander made her crazy with desire. He eased the FML reality her mother had always complained about—not that Mom used the word “Fuck.”
Instead, Mom tended to fret to Effie’s father about how hard life was and, “Will we ever catch a break?”
“One kiss is all it takes,” the same female sang again, followed by giggles from several other young women.
Effie slammed her book shut, removed her reading glasses and rubbed her eyes. I need to get to the library for work, anyway. I can study there. She shoved her books, water bottle, energy bars, and wallet into her backpack and prepared to head out the door. Before she left, she glanced at herself in the mirror inside her closet door. She looked…pretty. She cocked her head from side to side. She’d been taking better care of her appearance since meeting Zander. Like, instead of throwing on her Star Trek sweatshirt to go to work, today she wore a long, flowing, blue sleeveless dress with a slit up to her thigh and light blue ballerina flats. Something she never, ever, in a million years thought to wear, ever. But, I also never, ever had unlimited funds to buy clothes…not that I’ll keep them, or anything.
She stepped toward the door, opened it, and clicked the door lock, before exiting.
In the hall outside of the next room over, the female singer and her friends quieted, eying her.
“Hey,” the singer said. She and her friends filled the hall space, making it impossible to pass.
“Hey,” Effie said. “I, uh…I need to get past you.” She gestured with her hand.
They stepped aside.
As Effie strode down the hall, a woman murmured, “Is she still dating that billionaire, Zander?”
“Haven’t you seen Twitter lately?” the singer said. “She’s the Mystery Maiden.”
“No way! Her? What does he see in her?” the first woman said.
Effie hurried down the stairs. Exactly. What does he see in me? Whatever it is, I like it. She knew this wasn’t a basic sugar-baby, sugar-daddy alliance. We’re breaking all the rules. Which means, my heart’s going to be obliterated when the contract ends. Their relationship wasn’t anything like Haley and Arnold. But, she couldn’t help herself.
And, then, there’s all the attention I keep getting. Being the current trending topic in a Twitter shit-storm of Mystery Maiden vs. Bitch Banks hadn’t been exactly fun. She’d hid in her dorm room yesterday, trying to avoid everything and everyone and immerse herself in studying. It hadn’t worked. Between Haley pestering her to look at Twitter, and Zander worrying about her, she hadn’t gotten much studying done. I’m going to fail my Biomedical class for sure if this keeps up. Which will make Zander’s gift of money and this tragic romance all the sadder.
As she hurried toward the library, trying to savor the few minutes of sun between buildings, her phone rang. Hoping it would be Zander, she shrugged her backpack off her shoulders and fished the phone out of the top pocket. She glanced at the screen. Shit, it’s my mother. She thought about not answering it, but knew, from experience, her mother would then make it her mission to keep calling until she received a response.
With a sigh, she connected the call.
“Hi, Mom,” she said.
“Effie,” her mom said, in a disapproving tone.
Effie’s stomach lurched.
Her mom’s voice grated against her eardrums. “Why does my neighbor have to come to my door and show me a picture of you looking like you stepped off the cover of one of those fashion magazines?”
Oh, no. My mother doesn’t look at social media. What did she see?
“I don’t know, why? Is this a riddle? I’m late for work, Mom.” She stepped up her pace.
A canyon of silence met her ears.
The real question is when have I ever talked back to my mother?
“You haven’t taken to shoplifting have you?” her mom finally said.
“What? No! Why would you even think that?” A knot of annoyance formed in her belly. “How on earth did we get from your neighbor to me shoplifting?”
“Answer my question,” her mom insisted.
“Which was what? Why your neighbor stopped by? No clue.” She started to jog, veering left across the lawn she was supposed to stay off, or so said the sign on the tree.
“How do you have money to dress in those fancy clothes?” her mom said.
“Mom, I have a job,” Effie said.
So, it only pays minimum wage.
Her mom kept speaking, apparently not hearing a word Effie said. “And, that photo of you on a—what are those? Fake walls? That photo was the worst. I couldn’t believe you would risk your life by climbing a fake wall. Shocked. I was shocked. Those aren’t the values I raised you with.”
Effie sighed. Her mom could have said a million things, like, “Wow, you look really pretty,” or, “Good to see you trying something active for a change.” But no, not my mom. Her mother wouldn’t listen to her. Her mother never listened to her. Why should this moment be any different, simply because Effie had a surge of confidence? Her shoulders drooped as she stepped into the library foyer.
“Promise me you won’t do any more dangerous things, Euphemia Olivia D’Archangel,” her mother said.
“Mom, I…” can’t promise that. Any more than I promise to love that horrible name you saddled me with.
“Promise me,” her mother insisted. “Or, so help me, God…”
Effie’s shoulders fell. Or, what? She stood in the lobby with lead feet.
“Euphemia, are you listening to me?”
“Yes, Mother, I’m listening.”
“Promise me.”
“Fine,” she said, crossing her fingers behind her back.
A loud gasp met her ears. “Effie!”
“What?” Effie said, in a sullen, sixteen-year-old voice.
“I just put two and two together. Tell me you haven’t become a prostitute. Oh, my baby,” Effie’s mom wailed. “That must be it,” she cried.
The words slammed into Effie like a missile. Shame heated her face into red-hot flames. Like some strange, judgmental, truth-telling seer, her mother had just voiced Effie’s worst fears—the fears she kept tucked far away from her consciousness. If anyone found out about her taking money to be Zander’s companion…more like his sex playmate…she’d die. We shouldn’t have crossed those lines. We should have kept it as it was supposed to be—companionship, nothing more.
Her mouth became dry. She worked her tongue around, trying to moisten her mouth enough to speak.
“No,” she croaked into the phone. “You’re leaping to the strangest conclusions, Mom. I’m not a prostitute.”
Only a bought and paid for sugar baby. And, we have sex. How is that any different?
Mom continued her rant in her usual, hysterical manner. There was nothing to do but wait it out, the same way she waited out all of her mom’s insanity-speak.
The door exiting the library opened, and Mrs. Schneider’s head appeared, peering into the foyer. “There you are,” she said. “We need you.”
“Mom, I’ve got to go,” Effie whispered. She hung up the phone, mid-tirade.
“Trouble at home?” Mrs. Schneider said, a sympathetic expression on her soft, squishy face.
“Sort of.” Effie wanted to run as far and fast as she could. But, instead, she dutifully followed Mrs. Schneider into the library, her feet catching on the linoleum as if it were made of flypaper.
Inside the library, ugly thoughts swirled around her head like vultures. I’m a glorified prostitute. A bought and paid for sugar baby. I could have been a paid date, but no, I chose to have sex like a desperate schoolgirl.
As the thoughts continued, she dropped a stapler, spilled coffee from the coffee pot in the break room when she tried to clean the area and messed up Mrs. Schneider’s neat paper stacks when she handed her a folder. By the time her shift was almost over, she was practically in tears. She sat, slumped in her chair at the front desk, biting her nails, hoping everyone in the library would leave. She’d been too upset to study for her biomedical test and hadn’t really managed to do anything useful except fret about her mother’s accusations. She didn’t have much time before the test next week. A solid schedule of classes, her internship, and whatever Zander planned filled her upcoming week. It’s okay, the test is next Monday, and I can study over the weekend and during whatever time I have in the evening.
When the front door opened, she sighed. Go away, whoever you are.
Zander appeared, bearing a ginormous bouquet of red, yellow and orange flowers.
Her handsome temporary lover rocked a short-sleeved t-shirt and jeans like no man, ever. Remembering her sugar baby rules of “don’t process,” she straightened in her chair and tried to appear happy. What emerged, however, felt more like a stretched-thin grimace. Seeing him only reminded her of the conversation she’d had with her mother.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said.
“Hi, Zander.”
His face fell as he strode toward her desk. “What’s the matter?”
“It’s nothing. Work stuff,” she said, using his line.
He eyed the quiet library, doubt written all over his face. “What kind of work stuff?”
“Okay, it’s my mother. She called me and accused me of all kinds of things,” Effie blurted. “But, I can handle it. It’s nothing new,” she quickly amended, in case she’d said too much.
His brow crinkled. “What kind of things?”
He lowered the flowers to the counter.
“Dumb things,” she said, dismissively. “Mother, daughter things. You know.”
“Not really. No,” he said, still frowning. He shifted back and forth as if he had his own problems. His mouth opened as if he were about to speak, but then he closed it.
What happened? Did he have a bad day at work? Does he need some sort of comfort?
Her insides raced for a topic changer. “Those flowers are beautiful. Are they for me?”
Snapping out of whatever plagued him, he glanced at the lovely arrangement of bright yellow roses, orange, and red lilies and touches of solidago, nestled in green foliage. Then, he lifted them from the counter and presented them with a flourish. “To the most courageous, beautiful girl around.”
Heat bloomed along her cheeks. For another fleeting second she thought about what it would be like if she and Zander could be a real couple. An ache of longing bore down on her heart. She’s been focused on her education since leaving home. Zander made her want more.
“Thank you,” she gushed. “They’re so pretty. I’ll have to find some water for them. I don’t get off for another hour.”
“They’re not half as pretty as you.” He leaned his forearms on the counter and flashed his dazzling smile. “I’m, uh…” A tic began pulsing on his temple.
What’s he nervous about? She clenched her hand into a fist.
He licked his lips. “I’m here with an invitation.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “And invitation? To what?”
“To my parents for the weekend.” His smile broadened.
Shit. His parents? Why? I have enough parent problems. And I need to study for biomedical. And how does this fit with the sugar baby contract? As her mind raced, she fiddled with a paper clip. But, she knew her obligations. No way could she say no.
“What time?”
His shoulders visibly relaxed. “We’ll make it a long weekend. We’re taking my private jet, so…Friday to Monday.” He beamed.
I have my internship on Monday. And, there goes my grade in Biomed. Mentally, she arranged her schedule. I’ll tell Biophys Industries I have a family obligation. Who needs to know it’s not my family? I’ll get up at 5am to study. But, oh, no, the test is on Monday. Her hands fluttered, knocking a few books waiting to be re-shelved off the desk. She scrambled from her chair, stooped, and began picking up fallen books.
“Are those times not good? What about Thursday to Sunday? I’ll have to skip a board meeting, but Kent can cover for me,” Zander said. He stepped around the counter to help her retrieve the books from the floor.
“That would be far better,” she said, accepting the books he handed her. I can pull an all-nighter study session. She stacked the books on her desk. Zander shouldn’t have to miss work because of me. That’s ridiculous. But, then, why should I make his needs more important than mine? Well, duh. He’s paying for everything. Her conversation with her mother began dive bombing her head. She thinks I’m a prostitute and doesn’t want me to do risky things. But, she’s not me. She took a long, deep breath. I’m a straight-A student and a responsible person. So what if I miss a test and a class or two?
She rose to her feet and stepped toward the book cart at the end of her desk. After placing the books on the cart, she straightened her shoulders and turned to face Zander. “Actually, whatever time you’d like to go would be great. I can rearrange my schedule.”
“Really? Because I can miss that meeting.” He leaned back against the desk.
“I mean it. Whatever works for you is fine.”
Who cares if I get paid to have fantastic sex with this man? I get to pursue my education and grow in ways I never dreamed—like becoming an adventurer.
The weight of her mother’s accusation lifted from her shoulders. A genuine smile replaced the grimace.
And, Zander…his face appeared so soft…so open…like she’d just spread the world at his feet. An idea niggled at her insides. They only had a few weeks remaining together. Damn her mother for judging her. This was a beautiful experience. It had truly transformed her into a fit, more confident young woman.
She intended to give Zander the best gift, ever.