Page 38 of The Kingpin's Call Girl

Chapter Thirty-Six

EDIE

It’s a miracle that Bender hasn’t called by now. Am I off the hook? Is it possible?

Bad Bunny is blaring from Odetta’s phone, and she’s standing in front of our couch, wearing the mega-sexy, off-the-shoulder dress we refer to as Teal Tango. She got it for almost nothing at a resale shop due to a rip in the bodice, which she craftily sewed up.

“Thank goodness you’re here!” she says breathlessly. “Are you good to zip it with that arm?”

“Of course!” I zip her up. “But don’t you think it’s a little dressy for movie night?”

“Noooo! I’m so sorry. Chad made a massive sale, and the client just threw in a weekend getaway in the Hamptons—at Gurney’s! Five-course meals, couples massage with ocean views, hotel sex. The limo picks us up in like two seconds. Rain check?”

“Of course,” I say, trying not to sound too devastated. “Oh my God, of course!”

“With or without the necklace?”

I focus on her outfit, glad for the distraction from stressing out over what happened with the big Milaga Hotel meeting, hoping that Luka got out of there in time .

“Are you wearing those earrings?”

“Yeah.”

“Take them off. Less is more with Teal Tango.”

She takes them off. “I’m so sorry I forgot about our night.”

“I have to work on Iconic Regret anyway.”

She winces in sympathy. “Worst weekend ever! Is your poor arm going to hold up to write with that thing?”

“I’ve been dictating.” It’s definitely weird that I haven’t shown the injury to her yet, but you can still see the bruises from Bender’s handprint on my skin.

“Don’t forget to keep icing it,” she says.

“Got it.”

She fills her overnight bag with every toiletry possible, and then her phone pings for the limo. “Feel free to finish the carrot cake.”

“Carrot cake activate! Have fun!”

She does ironic pistol hands at me, and then she’s off.

I spend the afternoon and into the evening curled up in an overstuffed chair in the fourth-floor study lounge, legs hanging sideways over the arm, feet clad in the colorful socks Odetta knit for me, trying to first predict what questions might pop up on my Indo-European language exam and formulating answers to them and then search for sources in the Digital Library of the Medieval Manuscripts.

School isn’t that hard if you stay ahead.

But I can’t stop thinking about the big meeting. Sometimes I search for mentions of arrests in that part of the Bronx. There’s been nothing, which is a relief.

It’s not impossible.

I think about being back with Luka that night in his hotel room. He’s standing, swaying slightly at the foot of the bed, beastly and desperate to fuck. I loved him like that.

I’m spreading salve over his back, caring for him with every stroke. Docile for once. I loved him like that, too .

And then he rejects me so totally the next morning. And it hurt so badly.

Could Bender be right? He took away the phone to take away the temptation?

Every time my phone makes a sound, I’m paranoid it’s Bender calling or texting to let me know that Luka is at the restaurant and that I have to go there—or else.

Luka is bound to show up at the restaurant at some point. And then I’ll need to go over like a needy stalker and get his hair and more information—or else.

In what world is that even possible for me to do?

It’s like I’m trapped in a dark maze with no way out, and there are trapdoors hidden all over.

Yes, I’d love to see him again. Just not like that.

But then I realize if the worst-case scenario happens and Luka is at the restaurant and Bender makes me go... all I need is the name of a language and one human hair. Just one tiny human hair. Bender would have no way of knowing who I got the hair from.

Right?

One simple question. One strand of hair. And my sister could be coming home.

During a study break, I spin through outpatient drug rehab programs in the area.

Odetta already said it would be okay for Mary to stay with us for a couple of days, and she would stay with Chad.

It seems like a dream to have Mary with me in the residence hall.

I’d feed her and pamper her. Connect her with whatever support and resources she needs.

I’m under no illusions about the rough road in front of her.

I’d help her find a roommate while I finish my master’s.

It could happen.