The Big Sister - Part One (10 page)

“I don’t know,” I said, grabbing a banana from the bowl of fruit on the kitchen counter. Fast energy, not too filling, perfect for dancing. “My boss has been talking about extending hours.”

“What do you mean, ‘extending hours?’” Jennet asked, giving up on putting her hands behind her head and struggling instead to fold them over the broad belly of her corncob costume. “You work all day as it is.”

“Well, the club has to operate on set hours as it is,” I said. “That can’t be open 24 hours a day. But the escort portion of the business could happen at any time, as long as Parker’s managing it and we’re making money.”

“So, more escorting then,” my roommate said, nodding to herself. “Aren’t you worried?”

I shrugged. “That’s how I got the big boost for Luke’s tuition,” I said. “And it wasn’t bad at all. Literally, the only thing I am worried about is my brother.”

“Yeah, but keep yourself safe for him,” Jennet said, wincing as her costume won again, its girth prying her hands apart.

“Always,” I agreed before smirking. “Why do you wear that thing around, anyway? You could always change once you get to the snack shop — and before you leave for the day?”

“The costume makes people smile,” she explained. “I feel like I’m doing a good deed, bringing smiles to weary commuters on their way to and from work. Plus, I think Luke likes it. I like to make him smile.”

“Me, too.” That was why I needed to escort, why I was actually excited about Parker’s plan to extend hours. More hours to work meant more money, and I would be able to afford Luke’s tuition and other things to make him happier. Nicer art supplies, maybe. A video game system. Some ridiculously priced sneakers I’d caught him eyeing on our last shopping trip before school had started.

Life had been hard enough on my brother. I wanted him to have everything that might make him happy.

If only I could do something about erasing his bad memories.

“All right, I’d better head out,” I said.

“No dinner?” Jennet asked, her nose wrinkling up in concern. “You’re going to waste away.”

“I doubt that,” I said, waving the banana at her and patting my rump. “I’ve got some reserves here. And there’s still some frozen lasagna.”

“Last time I served that up for Luke, he said he was sick of it,” she told me, frowning. “Anything else?”

“I’ll cook up something fresh tomorrow,” I promised. “For tonight, just shove some pepperoni in it and call it pizza lasagna. Works every time.”

“Ugh, my mouth is watering,” she laughed. “Sounds so good.”

It was so easy to cook in advance and freeze everything, thawing it as needed. But my brother did get tired of leftovers pretty quickly, and there was nothing simpler to me than concocting a huge casserole of lasagna. I vowed to scour the Internet for better recipes at my earliest convenience.

The shower — and a quick cup of coffee — helped refresh me, and I found myself looking forward to getting back to work.

“Hey, leave your language arts theme on the table when you wrap it up,” I said, popping my head in Luke’s door. “I’d love to give it a read when I get home.”

My brother looked up at me and pulled a frown over his notebook. “You just want to make sure I don’t tell the truth.”

I sighed. “I want you to tell the truth. But tell the truth about anything but that. Okay? Do you understand why it wouldn’t be a good idea?”

My brother matched my sigh with a heave of his chest. “I understand.”

“Don’t stay up too late,” I said, closing his door to a crack before heading out.

“Good luck!” Jennet called after me. “Be safe!”

At one point, Luke would probably figure out that I wasn’t just waiting tables anymore. He was such a smart kid, and I hated lying to him. But how could I tell my kid brother that I was selling myself for our survival — and his happiness? I hoped that it would be several more years before he started asking the right questions. As it was, I told him he couldn’t eat at my restaurant because it was too fancy — no kids allowed. How long was that story going to last me?

I parked in the employee lot and eyed the customer lot. There were a lot of cars parked, especially for how relatively early in the evening it was. Good. I’d impress all of them with my dancing, and hopefully there’d be at least one client who’d like me to accompany him elsewhere for even more money.

Would I have sex with one of them again? Maybe — if the price was right. I doubted that I’d ever see Marcus again, but perhaps if Parker gave me any other special assignments, vouching for the customer, I’d be able to further secure Luke’s future.

As soon as I got to the dressing room, however, my train of thought was derailed by the sight of sweet, saucy Sol, her face in her hands, crumpled up on the floor.

“Sol!” I cried, rushing to her and kneeling in front of her. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

All she could do was weep into her hands, shaking her head quickly.

I put my arms around her and held her as she trembled and sobbed. What could have happened? I’d never so much as seen her without her wide, bright smile, even when she was first starting off here and unsure of herself. She would practice and practice her moves, determined to master her craft, to succeed at this place.

Could she have been fired? Parker would have to have a really, really good reason. Our boss might’ve been tough, but she was exceedingly fair.

“Don’t worry,” I told Sol. “I’ll talk to Parker. There has to be something we can do.”

My friend shook her head even more violently than before. “No,” she said, hiccupping for air. “You can’t tell her. You have to promise me you won’t.”

I was confused. Not tell Parker what? “I don’t understand what’s going on,” I confessed.

“That’s boy troubles if I’ve ever seen them,” another dancer remarked as she walked toward the restroom portion of the dressing room. “He’s a bastard, honey. No one’s worth those kinds of tears.”

This was apparently cold comfort for Sol, who erupted into a fresh gale of crying.

“I don’t think that helped,” I muttered at the dancer, who shrugged and continued on her way. Could it be boy problems? Sol and I were pretty close, but we rarely talked about our lives outside of the club. There was so much gossip and things to talk about here that we rarely had to.

I searched my mind, trying to gather all the facts I knew about Sol. She’d been so tentative when she started at the club that I knew she’d never done anything like this before. That’s why I’d tried to take her under my wing. If she didn’t have experience dancing and escorting, then the only reason she was seeking out work here was because she was desperate for work — just as I’d been. I knew all about desperate situations.

But she was a natural at dancing once I’d told her the tricks of the trade. Sol was actually better at footwork than I was, though she needed more practice to incorporate the ever-important pole. Her costumes were always clean, always flashy and attention-catching, but they were never as nice as those of some of the more dedicated career dancers. That told me that Sol was spending — or saving — her money elsewhere, just like me. I was creative with my costuming, getting pieces secondhand and refurbishing them, just like my favorite cowboy boots. She did exactly the same thing, embellishing some of her own clothing for costumes.

So what was it that Sol was saving for? And why was she so upset now? More importantly, why couldn’t Parker know about it? Why was my friend keeping secrets from people in her life?

“You can talk to me, you know,” I said, holding Sol at arm’s length, trying to get her to look at me. Her pretty, perpetually cheerful face was a mask of misery, her mascara running like oil slicks down her flushed cheeks. “You can trust me.”

Sol shook her head, her lips pursed and trembling. “I can’t trust anyone.”

I tried to ignore how much that stung me. I’d always thought we were a little closer than most of my other coworkers, but maybe I was wrong.

“You can trust Parker,” I said, putting my arm around Sol’s shoulder and resisting the urge to glance at the clock mounted on the wall. Whatever this crisis was, I still needed to get dressed and do my makeup and hair. I didn’t have time to pry secrets from Sol, especially when she seemed so dead set on keeping them to herself. I was sorry that she was so upset, but I was running out of options. When it came down to helping others and helping my family, I always had to choose my family. It was just what I had to do.

“I can’t tell — I can’t tell anyone,” Sol said, wiping her face and smearing her melted mascara even worse. “No one can know.”

What could possibly be so bad? Even as I asked myself that question, I felt like a hypocrite. My kid brother had a secret so dire that he couldn’t tell anyone. I was sure that if a child could have such a terrible secret, a grown woman could have them, too. Maybe I didn’t want to know what it was. It was hard enough to keep Luke’s from the world.

“If there is anything, Sol, and I mean anything, that I can do to help you, will you tell me?” I asked, looking into her bleary eyes.

“No one can help me,” she said, her shoulders slumping with each syllable. “There’s no one.”

“I know I probably can’t solve whatever it is,” I said. “But if you need a shoulder to cry on, I have two pretty good ones. If you need someone to go shopping with, I can do that, too. If you need a hot meal, I can cook a mean lasagna.” I hesitated for only half a second. “And if you need money, I’d be more than happy to float you a loan.”

Sol exhaled noisily. “You’re so nice, Faith. I wish my problem was that easy to solve. It’s just not, and I can’t burden anyone else with it. It’s my problem.”

I had a problem like that, only I had reached out to Jennet — and Nick, in a way — to help me with it. Did Sol really have no one to reach out to like that? For not the first time, and certainly not the last, I felt a surge of gratitude toward my friends. What would I do without them? Where would Luke and I be without them? I didn’t want to think about where our lives would be now. Maybe Luke’s past would’ve caught up to us by now. Maybe everything would’ve been different.

“Well, please let me know if I can help you throw lasagna at that problem,” I told her, trying to make her crack a smile. “And if you don’t think you have anywhere to turn, think again. I’m always here for you. And you can definitely trust Parker. She is super discreet. And she gave both of us chances, didn’t she? She trusted us even if maybe she didn’t have a good reason to, you know?”

Sol sniffed, and I took the opportunity to grab a box of tissues from the countertop, offering her three or four to help her clean herself up.

“Thank you,” she said, grimacing as she saw the black on the tissues, realizing her makeup was in shambles. “It’s just really hard — really hard to be in this alone.”

“You’re not alone,” I reminded her. “Whatever it is, you have support. It might not seem like it to you, but I promise you that I’m here for you.”

Sol seized me in a tight hug, squeezing the breath out of me. After a half second, I hugged her back. Maybe that was all Sol needed — to know that someone was here if things got too difficult. Maybe something as simple as a hug would help tide her over for now. A hug wasn’t going to solve all her problems, but I hoped it would at least help her stop crying. Nobody liked an unhappy dancer, and if this problem was related to money, Sol was going to have to start getting herself back together.

“Is that the time?” I said, wincing at the clock. “I’m going on in ten minutes.”

“Oh, no,” Sol gasped, practically shoving me back to my feet. “I’m sorry — I’m so selfish. I’ll help you get ready.”

I gave a surprised squawk as Sol abruptly unbuttoned my jeans and yanked them down to my ankles before laughing.

“I can get changed by myself, you know,” I said.

“I feel terrible,” she babbled, dragging me over to the countertop before grabbing my foundation and smearing some over my face. “I don’t want my problems to become your problems. Everyone has to deal with life themselves.”