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Florence, the owner who has grown into a mentor, knows I have a time limit for how long I intend to work for her. She appreciates I fully plan to make good on the promise I swore to when I agreed to become one of her phone sex operators: my mother’s life.
But that’s it.
She chuckled when I explained that I had no plans to renew my contract. “We’re not the mob or a gang, Fallon. I know who you are and why you’re doing this. None of what you’ll say out there will ever bleed into your actual life, nor will it change how you’re seen.” Her chin lifts. “If you didn’t know, would you have expected it from me?”
I drag the contract and check across the surface and sign my name boldly to the bottom of the document. “No, Florence. And thank you.”
“After what your mother is asking of you to keep this a secret, well, the words ‘my pleasure’ are completely inappropriate. But I won’t see you suffer any more than you need to.” She collects the papers, leaving the cashier’s check in front of me. “Let me go and put these in my office and then we can talk.
“Okay.” Leaning my head back against the rich, cream leather of her desk chairs, I recall the agony of the last week in technicolor behind my eyes. After my mother’s oncologist visit in the hospital, I immediately began to discuss our financial options and floated the idea of borrowing the money from the Kensingtons. I wanted to tell them—specifically Ethan—about what was happening. It was less than a second before my mother shot me down firmly. “No, Fallon.”
“But . . . why?” I cried.
“Because I refuse you for you to be in that kind of debt when I’m gone. Having to pay the Kensingtons back when I’m dead?”
“Stop talking like that, Mama.”
She stood, clutching her IV pole for stability, before gripping my biceps. “Listen to me, Fallon. No. I refuse to let you. I don’t want it.”
Lips trembling, I said, “But if I can’t find the money... you’ll die.”
Her head—hair that used to be the same texture and color as my own until she began chemo—fell forward to hide her face. “Then that’s God’s will.”
“God can suck my dick, Mama.”
“I’m sure you’ll try to make him do just that, darling. In the meantime, let’s enjoy the time we have left.”
Flatly refusing to let her go that easily, when I left her to her daily bath, I hoofed it to Galileo’s. I pleaded. I tried everything but dropping to my knees to get Levi to agree to let me work for him for free for whatever duration of time it took me to repay a loan. I even offered my car as collateral, but he didn’t bite.
Despondent, I heard my name being called by one of Galileo’s regulars, Florence. She huffed, “Were you serious?”
Without hesitation, I replied flatly, “As a heart attack.”
She crooked her finger until I moved closer. Then her voice changed before she threatened, “If you ever share a word, I’ll deny everything.”
My brows lowered into a V before I decided I had nothing to lose by listening to her. I’ve never been so grateful to keep my mouth shut then learning how to use it.
When I realized she was handing me an opportunity to pay for the full amount of Mama’s treatment, my jaw hit the floor. “You mean you can just fork over the full amount for the meds Mama needs?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you tip better at Galileo’s?” I demanded truculently.
Florence threw her head back and roared before giving me some additional details. “The number to Devil’s Lair isn’t published anywhere except on the dark web.”
“Oh. So, we’re not going to get some perverts?”
“Don’t you worry. You’re definitely going to get those. They’re just going to be extremely wealthy perverts.”
Truer words were never spoken.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
The number of total enrolled post-secondary students declined by 4.9% from 2019 to 2021, the most significant rate of decline in enrollment since 1951.
While that statistic may shock you, who can remember what significant pandemic was occurring concurrently?
Ahh. Yes.