Page 51 of How We End

“Julian, you know that?—”

“I know that’s what you do.It’s not the sex.It’s the why.Your why is different.Your why is like mine.We have a lot more in common than you think.”

“Are you also sleeping with random men to pay your bills too?”I tried to lighten the mood.“Is that why you’re wearing my underwear?”This probably wasn’t a conversation we should’ve been having over the phone in my childhood room.

“Not sleeping with, but playing the game they demand I play.”

I blinked back the tears.“Maybe it’s best if we?—”

“No.Before you say it, can we at least talk about us?”

“I can’t quit.”Because I didn’t want this life.A life with overfilled trash and cluttered counters.I didn’t want to get lost in the smallness of South Dakota.

“I don’t expect you to.Listen, I’m at the arena, and if Anders wasn’t standing outside my window, I’d sit all day and talk to you about this.”

“I’m pretty sure your team needs their hockey god.”

“There are plenty of gods for them to worship.I want an hour of your time.How much for an hour, all clothes stay on?”

I let the first tear slide down my cheek.“I don’t see how this will work.”

“I do.What’s your rate for that?For just talking.”

I had come to terms with never being in a long-term relationship.Even after I retired, the stigma that came with being a sex worker would follow me forever.It was the price I was willing to pay for my lifestyle.Until Julian Silver walked into my life.“For you, free.I owe you that.”

“No, name your price.I’m not having you skip this meeting.One hour.What is your hourly rate?”

“If you pay, it will mean…”

“Nothing.It means that I have an hour of your time.Tell me, or I’ll call Margo.”

I blinked back the tears.How could he not see how dumb this was?

“I get paid ten mill a year.I play eighty-two games a year.Of those eighty-two games, I play an average of fifteen minutes.And that’s on a really good night.Do you want me to break down how much money that is?It’s just a job, remember?”

“Two,” I whispered.

“Thousand.”

“Yes.”

“When are you back?”

“Saturday.”

“We will talk about this then.I have a game, so midnight?”

“That’s fine.”I nodded, not sure what I was agreeing to.“Be careful tonight, please.I like your face the way it is.”I could hear him smile.

“I should probably be more careful with that.If I don’t have my looks, what do I have?”

“Lots.You have lots of really great parts.Ask Anders.”

“No, that fucker could shut up more.I’ll see you in a few days.”

All I could do was nod, afraid I’d start crying.And I swore nineteen years ago I was done crying over boys.

Too bad Julian was a man.