Break (3 page)

“Bless you. You have a kind soul.”

She seemed unable to say any more. Before I could respond, she moved down the line with her scarf pressed against her eyes.

I smiled to myself. The little things.

* * *

My mood was soaring when I left the kitchen and walked across the parking lot. Everyone loved what I made, even though I was unable to make it exactly how I originally planned. Next time, I vowed to choose a recipe Carol would definitely approve.

The horrible sight of a cracked windshield stopped me cold. A brick sat on the pavement next to the front wheels. I walked around the side of my car to find the driver’s window completely shattered. Glittering glass shards covered the ground like powder.

No, no, no, no, NO!

My hands shook as I unlocked the car door and swept the broken glass from the seat. The glove compartment hung open. My GPS was gone.

Why? Why would someone do this? And why smash in my windshield?

Replacing the glass would cost a couple hundred dollars that I didn’t have. I collapsed beside my car and screwed up my face, but the tears wouldn’t come. It must’ve been one of the homeless. I wanted to blow up the damn place.

“Fuck!”

Simmering with rage, I opened up my phone to search for the nearest auto shop and found one a few miles from the kitchen. I couldn’t believe my luck. Out of all the cars, the asshole chose mine and stole my GPS, which I relied on. Jesus Christ, it was only one year old. Natalie gave it to me for Christmas after I constantly complained about printing out directions all the time. One of the most thoughtful gifts she gave me, and now it was gone.

I pounded the steering wheel in anger as I drove down the street, looking around the cracked glass to see where I was going. A large, peeling sign by the road read, “Randy’s Auto Glass
.
”

I pulled into the parking lot and parked my car, hoping to God that I could get this fixed right away. A man in overalls with his arms covered in grease peeked out of the garage.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah, someone broke into my car.”
I gestured towards it with my thumb.

“Ah,” he said as he saw the smashed glass. “Shouldn’t take more than a couple hours.”

Great.

He led me inside the shop where there were a couple lawn chairs and a TV playing
Seinfeld
reruns. I threw myself into one of them as I handed him the keys, then texted Natalie my car got broken into and I’d be home late.

How was I going to pay for this? My leg jigged restlessly over my knee as I tried to push my pathetic financial state from my mind. Maybe a couple hundred dollars would miraculously appear in my bank account. An hour and a half later, Randy slapped the keys onto his desk and beckoned me. He printed out the invoice as I listened to him drone on about how everything was repaired.

“Total comes to…three hundred and sixty-seven dollars and fifty cents.”

My hands shook as I took it from him, pressing my lips together in a thin line to keep myself from screaming.

I handed my credit card over to him numbly, trying not to think of how the hell I was going to come up with that money. I squeezed my eyes shut as I heard him swipe the card.

“Uh, ma’am?”

I opened my eyes to find Randy looking distinctly awkward. My heart sank as I saw the angry capital letters glow from the credit card reader.

DECLINED

Heat rushed into my face as if I’d been slapped. Without looking at him, I mumbled something about contacting my bank and dialed the numbers, pressing the phone to my burning face.

“
Hello and thank you for contacting Fargo West, my name is Melissa, how may I assist you?
”

I gave her my account information and waited with crossed fingers, praying to every god I knew that she would raise the credit limit.

The unsympathetic voice on the other end told me what I already knew. “According to my records, you were granted two extensions already last month. I cannot give you a third, especially when your account has been delinquent. I’m sorry.”

I never felt so ashamed in my life.

There were several customers waiting behind me and they could hear every words of my conversation. My eyes were raw with unshed tears as I hung up the phone and turned to face Randy, who had a look of mingled annoyance and pity.

“I can’t pay it,” I said in the smallest voice.

His hand closed over my car keys. “Then you can’t take your car. I’m sorry.”

Anger rippled through me until I looked at his tired face. He was just trying to run a business. This was my fault; I ruined my credit and was unwilling to take a shitty job to make ends meet.

I felt like a beaten dog when I asked him to detach my apartment keys. I walked out of there and began the three-mile walk back to the soup kitchen. Maybe I could ask someone there for a ride home.

My phone buzzed with a text message from Natalie:
Are you ok?

In the midst of tapping out a reply, I stopped. The last thing I wanted to do was burden her with another one of my many problems.
She’d drop everything, rush over to pick me up, and pay for my car. It wasn’t fair to her. I wasn’t going to be dependent on her anymore.

The first thing I would do when I got home was fill out one of those sugarbaby profiles. I needed a lot of cash and I needed it now. When I got some, I would pay the mechanic, then Natalie, and then make a credit card payment.

By the time I reached the kitchen, the load on my mind lessened somewhat. Sure, everything was in shambles but at least I knew how to fix it. My mind was strangely clear. I knew what I had to do and I was determined to get it. My life depended on it.

I found Shelly walking towards her car in the parking lot, and I jogged up to her.

“Jessica! I thought you’d left!”

“Hey! Thank God you’re still here. I could really use a lift, if you don’t mind.”

“What happened? Did your car get stolen?”

“No, nothing like that.” I hesitated as I looked at Shelly’s round anxious face. I didn’t want to tell her the truth. “My car broke down, and the stupid auto shop doesn’t have a courtesy shuttle.”

She waved me in. “Yeah, of course!”

“Thanks so much.”

I made small talk with Shelly as she drove me home. She told me how much everyone had loved the meal today. I nodded and forced a smile on my face. Suspecting one of the homeless smashed in my windshield dampened my feelings towards them.

“See you next week!”

I waved as she drove off, and my hands trembled with the keys as I entered my apartment. Natalie would be waiting and would want an explanation. The sound of the shower running made me sigh in relief. At least I could avoid her for a few more minutes. I ducked into my room quickly and closed the door.

My stomach growled with hunger, but I ignored it. This was so much more important. The monitor lit up, and the sugarbaby website filled up the screen as though it waited for me.

After I completed the registration, I paused over the username and weighed using a fake name. I decided to use my first name. Hell, there were so many Jessicas out there, what did it matter? I entered my height and body type. Then I realized I would need a profile picture, and it needed to be good. I grabbed a black cocktail dress from Natalie’s closet and peeked into the hallway. The bathroom door was open. I rushed inside, closed the door, and looked into the foggy mirror.

I was a mess.

My blonde hair looked like a bird’s nest. I attacked it with my brush, bemoaning the split ends that I found.

I wasn’t ready for this, and couldn’t remember the last time I dressed up. I lined my makeup on the sink like toy soldiers. These billionaires probably only cared about having a hot chick dangling on their arm.

Did I think I was hot?

Not really
.
But with the right makeup, anyone can be
.

All the tangles teased out of my hair made a noticeable improvement, but it still looked dry. I squirted some of that hair moisturizer in my hands, then tousled my hair to make it shine. I debated whether I should straighten my hair, and decided not to. I didn’t want to look
too
polished, and yet I wanted to stand out from all the blonde Barbie dolls listed on the website. I did my mascara and eyeliner in black. My cheeks were flushed with cold and the last thing was lipstick. I chose a red lip gloss and smacked my lips.

A pretty, slight blonde woman looked back at me with a bit of fear. The girl in the mirror didn’t look like me. I touched my face and felt something like surprise stirring my heart.

I walked out of the bathroom smiling, and bumped into Natalie.

“There you are! I was getting worried.” She paused in the midst of talking and looked at me. “Wow, are you going out on a date or something?”

She knew I didn’t really date. If I was a sensitive person, I would have felt a bit offended by the shock on her face. “No, I’m not going on a date. Can you take a picture of me?”

“Sure,” she smirked. “Are you doing an online dating thing?”

I faltered as she dashed inside her room to get her camera, and wondered why she was so excited. “Uh—sorta.”

“Well, I think that’s great,” she gushed. “It’s about time you started dating.”

My insides squirmed at not revealing the whole truth. I would tell her soon enough, but I didn’t think she would approve. “It needs to be really flattering.”

“Well, duh.” She dragged me around the house. “Here, lean against the wall and hold one of your arms. Look down.”

“Shouldn’t I look at the camera?”

“No!” she said vehemently. “Models never smile for the camera.”

I rolled my eyes. Natalie had taken a photography class in college, and apparently that made her an expert.

“I just think that if I don’t smile it’ll make me look unfriendly.”

“Stop talking.”

I laughed and was blinded by the flash of her camera. She took dozens of photos, some of me sitting down on the couch, standing, drinking wine, and holding books.

“What’s the point of this?” I whined as I held several volumes.

She kept shaking her head at me as she took pictures.
Am I doing something wrong?

“You’re so pretty. I always thought that you should model.”

I choked out a laugh. “Me? Model? I don’t think so. For one thing, I’m too short.”

She said nothing, but her face looked a bit wistful as she snapped more photos. “Okay, I think that’s enough.”

“Could you send them to me? I’m going to take this dress off.”

I walked back to my bedroom, stripped off the dress, and pulled my jeans and t-shirt back on before returning to my unfinished profile.

How much do I want?

It was tempting to put $20,000, but I knew that was too crazy, so I clicked on the $5,000 − $10,000 per month tab and described myself as an aspiring editor with a Bachelor’s degree in English. I drew a blank at what else to write that would make me sound appealing.
Aquarius? Adept at juggling? Can make a mean French toast from stale bread?

“I sent them!” Natalie’s voice roared through the door.

Her pounding footsteps grew louder, and I half-lifted from the chair.

Crap.

She flung open the door. “So, what is this dating site? And why isn’t your car outside?”

Double crap.

I bit my lip hard. “I ran into some trouble. Someone broke into my car and I can’t use my credit card, so I had to leave it there.”

Her face fell. She squeezed my shoulder. “Ah, Jess. Why didn’t you call me? I could’ve taken care of it.”

My heart pounded against my chest as if she was yelling at me. I shook my head. “No. I’m not going to do that to you anymore.” I turned back to the screen and pinched my nose.

“What is this?” She leaned over my chair. “Oh my God, is this an escort site?
Jessica!
”

The way she said my name made me feel like something under her shoe. “No, it’s not. It’s a dating website f—for rich men.”

She stared at me as if she’d never seen me before. Natalie’s thin arms crossed her chest as she glowered at me. “It says here that you want $5000 to $10,000 dollars a month. I mean, really, Jessica. What do you think they’re going to want in exchange?”

“No,” I said even louder. “That’s not how it works. You go on dates with them and they pay you. It’s an eye-candy thing.”

Her eyes shined with pity. I hated that.

“Look, I get it. You’re desperate for money. But you don’t have to do this! I’ll pay for your car, you don’t even have to pay me back—I don’t care. But don’t become a prostitute, for Christ’s sake!”

My cheeks burned. “I’m not becoming a prostitute. I told you—I won’t do it. I just want to try this.”

“Why couldn’t you try something normal?” she bellowed. “I mean out of all the jobs out there, you chose this? Are you crazy?”

The horrible sound of her screaming rang in my ears. Everything she was dying to tell me blasted out of her mouth. She was frustrated with me—and had been for a while.

“I’m sorry, Nat, I really am,” I said in a tight voice. “But I am desperate—and I need this. I don’t have a family who will take care of me. I don’t have anyone but you. And I won’t keep doing this to you anymore. This is my fault.”

She threw back her head and laughed. “I don’t understand you, Jess. You had a whole year to find something, anything. You turned up your nose at every retail job because you thought you were above it. And then you decide to become a whore.”

She might have as well stabbed me. Her hands flew up to her mouth and tears welled in her eyes. I could see that she hadn’t meant it, but she had hurt me more than she could have ever possibly known.

“You had a whole year to find something.”

The raw honesty in her voice was a bit too real for me.

“You turned up your nose at every retail job.”

It was true.

The anger radiating from my body turned inward. I didn’t want to hear it.

“Just leave me alone.”

She tried to reach for me, but I turned towards the screen. A final furious sob and my bedroom door slammed shut. I clenched my fist on the desk and breathed deeply, listening to the sound of my heart hammering against my chest. I couldn’t remember the last time I fought with Natalie.