Tuesdays were the worst. A close second behind the viscous Monday. I was exhausted from a long day of working and getting yelled at by the higher-ups, who were clearly abusing their power but for some reason wouldn't get called out by HR. I would have quit ages ago had it not been for the simple fact that I'd never get a job as good as that elsewhere.
I just had to suck it up and take it with a smile. At least that's what my mother always says every time I complain about work.
"Hello, are you still there?" My best friend's voice snapped me back into reality.
I switched my phone to my other ear and answered. "I'm here, Em." A lie. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts I'd forgotten she was on the line.
"Okay... As I was saying, just try it, Isla. I promise it will be worth your time."
"I don't know, Em." I bent to pick up my shoes, setting them aside in the cabinet. "I promised my mom I wouldn't go back to that lifestyle."
"And you're not!" She exclaimed. "It's just one night--one! It won't make that much of a difference. You know you need the money."
I did. I knew that more than ever, and I wished I could throw desperation out the window and stick to my morals... but I couldn't. My mother's life was on the line, and I had to do whatever it took to save her. "Fine... where's the address?"
"I knew you'd come around!"
Two hours later, I was standing in front of the city's largest hotel. Plastered on it was the name of the man who made my nine-to-five a living hell. But I wasn't about to let him ruin my night.
I never thought I would be back here, taking on escorting jobs again. It might be just one last time, like Em said, but I didn't trust myself enough to walk away if the pay got too enticing. A hungry man can eat anything after all.
When it came to money, it was always a battle of morals and survival. This time, survival won. "You've got this!" I gave myself a pep talk, took a deep breath, and strutted into the hotel like I had nothing to lose, even though everything was on the line.
The reception gave me the passkey to the room, and I was shocked to see it was the top suite Frost hotels had to offer, with direct elevator access. "Is this a hotel room or a mansion?" I exclaimed, stunned at the size of what could only be a penthouse I was standing in.
Ceiling-high glass windows that overlooked an extravagant view of the city below. From that distance, the jammed traffic looked like starlight, flickering at night. There was a large, white, L-shaped couch in the center of the room and a polished wooden table in front of it, centered above a flush cream colored rug.
I knew the person who could afford to spend ten grand on one night with an escort would be loaded, but this was beyond my expectations. The interior screamed money and luxury, like the house was designed to be shown off. It was beautiful. My broke self knew that much, but it just didn't feel homely. It was cold and detached, much like a hospital. I'd been in them plenty enough times to know that.
Emily texted me earlier and said the man would be running a bit late, so I decided to use that time to get a drink from the fancy bar by the kitchen. I wouldn't be able to make it through the night without it. I poured myself a glass and settled on the stool, pulling out my phone to go through messages.
"Debts. Debts. And, oh look... more debts." My head sank in defeat. I've worked nonstop for the last five years, yet no matter how much I had to offer, I wasn't even halfway through clearing off the debts my father left me before he died. Even in death, he still tortured me. Leaving his daughter nothing but a legacy of debts to inherit.
"Father of the year." I took another sip of the bitter liquid and winced at the taste. Alcohol tasted horrible to me, but I kept turning to it when things got hard. I hated it. Hated the thought that I had something in common with the man I was unfortunate enough to have as a sperm donor. But more so, I hated myself for not being better than he was.
"Pull yourself together, Isla." I poured the rest of the drink into the sink and rinsed the cup when I got a message. Wiping my hands on my dress, I opened it. "You have got to be kidding me." Hot, searing rage consumed as I read the text from my co-worker: 'The ice queen said you should change everything about the campaign... It was absolute trash, and a five-year-old could do better. His words, not mine.'
"Ugh," I could already feel a headache coming up. My amazing boss, with the patience of a sewer rat, whom we've dubbed the Ice Queen due to his cold behavior, had the habit of turning down every proposal our team came up with. You'd think he could run the entire company on his own with the way he acted.
A second text came in, and I nearly hurled myself out the window when I read it: He needs the improved version on his desk first thing in the morning tomorrow. "This son of a bitch!" It was past 10 pm, and he expected me to change everything about the campaign we spent weeks working on in just under ten hours? "Insane! Insane!" I gripped my phone tightly in anger, not caring if it broke. "Fuck you, Damien Frost!"
"I'd hope so. That is why you're here after all."
My entire body went cold and still when I heard that voice. Oh no! Please tell me I'm mistaken.