Chapter 2

“Very well. I have someone that will pay that amount for your honor. On one condition.” She said

“Name it.”

“You will never do this ever again. I understand you are desperate at the moment, but let it be this once and only this once, understood?” She said, looking at me.

“I understand,” I said.

“Very well. Follow me to my office, and we will discuss it.” She said

I sat in the chair opposite her and listened to her.

“The individual. The client that will be paying remains anonymous. My clients are important men in high places, so their identities must be kept secret. Your identity will be hidden. I will not log or write anything about this transaction because if the client asks for your information, I will need to provide it, and this is a one-off, so no trace. You will meet him wherever he desires. I am assuring you that you will be safe. No names, nothing personal. You will return here tomorrow at seven, and I will dress you. My car will take you and bring you back here or wherever you wish to go, understood?”

“Yes,” I said wearily.

“I understand the desperation, but will it be worth it?” She asked,

I didn’t answer; I stood up. “I need to go. I will be back at seven, and thank you.” As I was about to walk out, I stopped.

“Women out there give their honor away for nothing, for relationships that end, in the heat of the moment, for lust and not love. My honor is worth my mother’s life. Good night, Madam G.”

When I stepped out into the cold night, I felt a very small sense of relief. One night, that was all, just one night, and I could save my mother. I took my time and walked the thirty minutes back to the hospital. When I walked into her room, Clara was still there. I sat beside her.

“Since I was eighteen, I’ve done my all to keep her alive. If I can't now, then what was the point of trying all those years?” I said quietly.

Clara held my hand in hers. “She called me and said you are determined. Yes, you’ll be selling your honor, and I want you to listen to me. Whatever the case or situation is. You will remember it for the rest of your life; it is either a good or bad memory. When the time comes, don’t be conflicted,” she said, and I knew what she meant.

I called out of work. I called Tanya first. She was the manager of the Gilded Lily, then I called Michael at the bistro, and my last call was to Collin at the Portside Grill. They all knew my situation, so I explained that her condition was worse, and I couldn’t come in. They were all understanding and okay with it.

I spent the remainder of the day in the hospital beside her bed. She wasn’t awake, but she knew I was there. I stayed there talking to her, reminiscing about the time when she was healthy.

At four, Clara returned. “My car is outside. Go home, take a shower, and prepare yourself.” She said, handing me the keys. I took it from her and nodded. I kissed my mother’s forehead and headed out.

I had scrubbed floors until my hands ached, served smiles until my face felt frozen, and begged for extra shifts until my voice was hoarse, all for Mom. The only way now to get it was through a whispered, anonymous arrangement, but Mom's gasping breaths were a louder, more urgent command. I needed to do this.

When I pulled into Clara’s parking spot, I turned the car off and sat there for a moment to breathe—just a few hours; that was all. I headed into the apartment. It wasn’t anything glamorous; it was a one-bedroom apartment in Founders Square. This was middle class and poor. It was where you ended up when you were barely surviving. But it served its purpose. It was a place to lay my head, although I rarely slept; all I did was come here to shower and change for my next shift or whatever odd job I could find.

I grabbed a shower, making sure I cleaned myself properly. After my shower I wore simple jeans and a T-shirt, along with my rarely worn sneakers. At six I left for Madam G’s place. When I pulled up, I saw a girl leaving and placing the closed sign.

I walked up the stairs, and she looked at me.

“Sorry, we’re closed.”

“It is fine, Melena; she is here for a meeting,” Madam G said from the doorway.

I walked up the short flight of stairs and into the shop.

“Still sure you want to do this?” She asked,

“Yes.”

“Okay, let’s get you dressed. Have you showered? He has a preference: no lotions, no perfumes,” she said.

“Just body wash that I used.” I said quietly.

“Okay, you will wear this.” She handed me a dress, something that looked like it cost a fortune. She could see my hesitance.

“Go ahead. You will wear a blindfold on the way there. The car should be here any moment, and Ava?” She said

“Yes?”

“Relax and try not to be nervous. It would be better if you tried to enjoy it. It is your first time, and even though it is in such circumstances, it is better to have someone experienced than an inexperienced, immature idiot,” she said, and I nodded.

I walked into the changing room and wore the dress. When I walked out, she stood looking at me.

“That suits you.” She said we heard a car blow its horn outside.

“It is time,” she said, walking towards me with the blindfold. I had one last moment of doubt before I pushed it away. She wrapped the blindfold around my eyes and led me out.

“Madam,” I heard a man say.

“Make sure she returns here,” Madam G said.

“Of course, safety first,” the man replied.

She helped me into the car, and the door closed beside me. I heard the driver get in and close the door. He started the car, and we left. In a million years I would have never done such a thing, but desperation is a strange thing. I don’t know where we were going; after what felt like thirty minutes, the car stopped.

I heard the driver get out. After a few minutes the door beside me opened and someone took my hand.

“Come with me, miss.” The voice said it wasn’t the voice of the driver. He led me, God knows where. We walked for what felt like ten minutes when I heard a door open and then close. I was left standing there.

“Take the blindfold off,” the voice said. It was a man; his voice was smooth, but it cut through the heavy silence of the room. It was a low, resonant rumble; there wasn’t any warmth, but beneath that absolute control, there was something unsettlingly soft, that hinted at a possessive concern, as if he saw my vulnerability.