For Love or Money (5 page)

The
gigolo and the whore

James

I
hold her against my chest as the cab stops. My heart is racing and my mouth is
dry.

Why
was she there, I thought her and that wanker Chad had a thing? Was she with
Andy? Why does she do these things to herself?

I’m
wracking my brain for an answer as to whether or not Andy knows I was there. I
shake her again, hoping she’ll wake up. “Lana!”

Damned
crackheads. I never should have left the party with her still at it.

I
climb in and give the cabbie the crumpled card in my pocket. He snorts and
drives, no doubt laughing at the filthy shit on the invite card alongside the
address of the party.

His
eyes dart in the mirror to the girl in my arms. “Is that Lana Webber? She
okay?”

“Yeah,
she’s just drunk off her ass.”

He
rolls his eyes. “If she pukes you’re paying to have it cleaned.”

I
give him a hard look. “She pukes, she’s paying to clean it. Hell, if I were
you, I’d make her clean it.”

He
laughs. “You sound like my kind of kid. These Ivy League brats are a menace.”
He must think I’m a townie or a barfly.

We
make it all the way to the apartment building before she starts to stir. I’m
preparing a mental speech as to why I need the doorman to let me in, but when
his eyes lower to her face, he just opens it.

God,
even passed-out drunk, doors just open for her.

I
carry her up to the elevator and press the button. Looking down at her sleeping
face I can’t help but want to brush the hair from her face. She’s pretty
perfect—when she’s sleeping.

Her
eyes flutter a bit before one lid cracks and a blue eye starts to take it all
in. She opens her mouth to scream and my hands are full with her so I can’t
cover her mouth, so I press her face into my chest, smothering her a bit. She
starts to struggle. I realize I look like a serial killer so when the elevator
doors close I pull her back. “Stop, Lana. Just stop. I’m not gonna hurt you.
Stay calm.”

She
thrashes about, kicking and making noise so I put her down and point. “We’re in
the elevator at your friend’s apartment. Recognize it? You’re safe.”

Tears
are streaming her face. She backs away from me, covering her chest like she’s
naked but I’ve dressed her. I’ve dressed her and cared for her and carried her,
regardless of how much I despise her.

She
shakes and crouches in the corner of the elevator. Something terrible has
happened to her. I sit on the far side of the elevator, putting my hands out
slowly. We haven’t even pushed a button for a floor yet.

She
shudders. “What did you do to me?”

My
insides clench. “I found you passed out and carried you back here. I figured
your friends would want you with them if you were crazy drunk.”

She
itches like a junky, twitching a little. “I wasn’t drunk.”

“Okay
then, high.”

She
shakes, crying harder. “I wasn’t high. You’re him, aren’t you? You’re the
fo-fo-foot guy.”

Not
drunk or high?

It
dawns on me that she is not okay mentally. She’s damaged from whatever that
freak did to her, the rapist freak. Seeing her like this makes me realize she’s
not okay and someone has hurt her. The mighty and strong can only take so much
before they snap. I’ve seen it back in Nashville. I had friends like
her—strong and confident, and it just takes a true act of cruelty,
something really horrid, to break that kind of confidence.

I
shake my head. “I’m not the rapist. I’m not the foot guy. I don’t force girls
to do things. I brought you here to help you, that’s all.” That’s a bit of a
lie. I brought her here in hopes she won’t remember being at Andy’s house.

She
wipes her face, giving me the shittiest look ever created by a face as pretty
as hers. “Why were you at Andy’s house—” she pauses.

Fuck!

“You
were in my shower?” Her eyes light up a bit and she laughs like she has
succumbed to some sort of madness. “It was you? You’re the gigolo?” I swallow
hard and she slowly becomes the evil bitch she was in my mind ten minutes ago.
She wipes her tears, still looking cracked out and weak. “Andy’s gonna kill you
when he finds out you’re making his mom bleat like a sheep every Friday his dad
is gone.”

Jesus.
She knows my schedule.

My
gaze hardens and I prepare for a life-ruining experience. A thousand bad ideas
cross my mind in a bout of flashes based on my own survival. But trying to stay
calm I ask, “What were you doing there that was so innocent?”

Her
giggle stops short. “None of your business.”

I
shrug, regardless of the panic attack going on inside of me. “At least I got
paid for my indecency.”

Her
eyebrows lift and she nods. “You are a smart guy. Let me guess, wrong side of
the tracks and you need tuition money and your friends’ moms are all MILFs,
thanks to thousands spent on perfecting their bodies. Good for you.” She
stands, moaning a little and wiping her eyes. She’s weak and exhausted, but the
cruel smile on her lips isn’t tired out at all. “You never saw me there. You
never saw me crying. You and I never happened upon each other. I don’t think
either of us wins if this comes out.”

My
heart stops beating.

What?

She’s
willing to let it slide? Her pride is that precious that she can’t be vulnerable?
She’s either worse than I imagined or far better and actually letting me off
the hook, but not wanting me to know it.

I
shrug, nonchalantly. “Sounds good to me. But I just want you to know—“

She
cuts me off. “I don’t want to know anything.” She pushes the floor we need to
go to, ignoring my existence.

We
get off the elevator, discovering the party of the century is over but no one
has left. It’s now a huge orgy of sleeping people who are mostly naked. I hate
rich people. I hate them with a passion. I don’t even know why I want to be one
of them.

She
turns and smiles. “Your friends are still here.”

I
turn and look, seeing them both on the massive sectional
couch—unconscious and half dressed.

Nick
is sleeping but Weaver looks funny. She must see it too because she walks right
to them and touches him. She turns back, giving me a panicked look.

My
gut drops just like it did in the elevator.

“He’s
cold.” Her words are a whisper that feels like they each drive knives into my
spine.

I
shake my head, covering my eyes and dying inside a little. “No way. Come on.
Seriously?” Weaver’s gray in color and there is a small trail of vomit from his
lips down his right shoulder. My insides are so tight I think I might have a
stroke.

“I
don’t know. He might be OD’d.” She pulls a phone from her pocket. “Henry. We
have a problem at Nance’s. We need an ambulance immediately.” She speaks
deadpan and ends the call. It’s like she ordered pizza and not a doctor.

I
run my fingers along his cool neck, finding a faint pulse and sigh. “He’s
alive.”

She
swallows. “I have to get out of here. I suggest you come with me.”

I
almost say no but I don’t. She’s right. I can’t be involved in a scandal like
this. I’ll be kicked out of school. Nick and Weaver both have parents to cover
their asses. I don’t have anyone. I step back, hating every single step I take
with her through the puddle of people on the floor. When we get to the
elevator, she shouts as the doors close, “OH MY GOD SOMEONE HELP HIM!”

We
leave, as they are startled awake. I have to trust the people in that room will
help his punk ass. I know Nick will, but it doesn’t give me comfort. Regardless
of my internal conflict, I follow her to the stairs and we run down them like a
herd of elephants, leaving from the back door. A limo skids around the corner
as we get a block over.

“That's
my car!”

“What
is he—batman?”

She
huffs her breath. For a skinny girl, she’s not in good shape. “He tracks my
phone.”

She
leans on her knees, catching her breath. The limo stops and she jumps in,
leaving the door open for me. I jump in, sitting across from her. She gives me
a smirk. “What a night.”

Heartless.
It’s the only word I can think of when I look at her. She’s beautiful in the
horrible way a storm is or a bird that’s dead, frozen in the snow. It’s
something you want to touch, just to see if it’s real, but at the same time,
you don’t want to get too close. Her eyes are cold and dead, and the scared and
broken girl from the elevator is gone.

I
shake my head at her, disgusted and ruined in a small way. I had hoped she
would be different if given the chance. She doesn’t even flinch at my disturbed
look. I nod at the apartment building as we skid away from it. “That kid is
eighteen years old. You fucking assholes invite people for their looks to these
disgusting parties and get them high as shit and take advantage of them. You
make me sick. I’m gonna hate myself for the rest of my life because I chose my
education over helping him. I made the wrong fucking choice.”

“You
made the only choice. What were you going to do for him? He’s breathing and
alive—do you have life-saving skills that will help his little junky ass?
Because I’m not a doctor, but I’m pretty sure he needs something more than
mouth to mouth or chest compressions. Not just that, but the room was filled
with drugs and booze.” She is smug about a dying kid and I want to slap her. I
hate myself for that too.

I
turn and watch out the window as we make the drive back to school. I don’t want
to look at her anymore. I don’t hit girls and I don’t hurt women, but my brain
is desperately trying to find a way to rationalize smacking some sense into her
like my mom always said to me. I have to chant in my mind that she is a girl
and not an evil temptress demon I must vanquish to protect society or
something. There has to be a way to rid the earth of a hateful thing like that.
It’s no wonder her dad is so upset by everything she does. She’s the
antichrist.

I
can’t believe I’m in a limo and Weaver is unconscious.

The
buck stops here

Lana

Leo
comes into the room, looking tired and crabby. He slumps onto my bed next to me
and sighs. “She’s being hauled home. She’s in so much shit it’s not even
funny.”

I
swallow hard. “I wish I’d been there.” I don’t. I’m glad I left. My dad would
murder me. The last time I got in trouble this serious he looked like he might.

His
dark eyebrow lifts. “That’s the funny thing, the doorman says he saw you there
that morning. Nance’s dad told her.”

My
stomach sinks. “I left at nine. I never came back until the early hours of the
morning and the damage was done. He was on the couch OD’d. I came in, saw him
and left again.”

Leo’s
face changes instantly. He slams his fist on the bed. “WHY DIDN’T YOU COME AND GET
THE REST OF US? WHY DID YOU LEAVE US THERE?”

I
jump a little, not sure what to say. Why did I leave them? I didn’t even see
them.

He
covers his face with his hands. “We would have gotten you out. No one would
have left you there to catch shit with the townies.”

I
gulp. “I didn’t see you or Nance. I saw a room full of high townies and a dying
kid. I didn’t do this to anyone. The party wasn’t even my idea.”

Leo’s
eyes lift and I can see hatred in them, plain as day. He nods. “Fine. Don’t
even see that leaving us there, hanging us out to dry, was the wrong choice.
But when you have no friends because everyone knows what kind of friend you
are, don’t come crying to me.” He gets up and walks to the door, leaving me
speechless. He looks back from the doorway. “Nance was the only reason anyone
even tolerated you these last four years.” He leaves, slamming the door.

My
hand instinctively reaches for my drawer, slipping two pills from a packet. I
drink them down with my diet ginger ale and pull the blankets up to my chest.

I
drift in and out of sleep until I wake to Henry staring at me, startling me
upright. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve
been calling for two hours.” His look grows serious. “Your dad is here.”

Shaking
my head and blinking my heavy lids, I try to wake up. I must be dreaming still.
But when I open my eyes again, he’s still here. I realize I’m just going to
have to get him to repeat it. “What? I don’t understand.”

He
looks at his phone and nods. “He’s waiting at a restaurant downtown. We have
sixteen minutes to be there. It’s an eleven-minute drive.”

“Why
didn’t you wake me up before?”

He
snatches a box of pills from my bedside table. “Because you insist on being a
junkie instead of a young lady. Where are the pills I specifically got you?
Where did these come from? Never mind, you have five minutes.” He leaves in a
huff. He’s never spoken to me like that before.

“Wow!”

Something
has crawled into his ass and died there, leaving him in a foul mood. Adding my
father to my least-popular-bitch-at-school status, and my day just can’t get
better.

When
I get to the restaurant in the hotel my dad is staying at, I am ushered into a
private dining room where my father is on the phone. His PA, Geoff, looks up
and smiles wide. He is probably the only person in the world who likes me.
Henry loves me but I am sure most days he doesn’t like me much. But Geoff is my
friend. He always has been.

He
stands and wraps himself around me. The level of intimacy is intense, and with
any other human being it would be too much, but with Geoff it’s just enough. He
bends and kisses my cheek, whispering in my ear, “Heard you were being
naughty.”

I
shake my head. “I honest to shit didn’t do a thing.”

He
pulls me back, grinning like he’s guessing exactly how much shit is involved in
a broad statement like that one. He slings his arm around my back and helps me
to my seat. The server pours me a glass of water. I look up. “Shiraz, please.”

Her
eyes dart to my father’s. He shakes his head and continues his discussion on
the phone. I sigh loudly. “We going dry, Daddy Dearest?”

His
gray-blue eyes narrow. If looks could kill I’d be a pile of ash to his laser
beams. I roll my eyes back at him and take Geoff’s glass of white wine. I
wrinkle my nose as I take a sip. “I question your sexuality every time I see
you order a drink. Chardonnay? Really? What are you a SoCal soccer mom?”

He
chuckles and takes it back. “I get heartburn from red wine and your dad is too
demanding on my senses for me to drink anything heavier.” He takes a drink and
stares at me. The man has a skill no other human being does. He reads me. He
reads me so well that when his eyes narrow the way they are now, I get nervous.
He leans in. “The incident last week was real, wasn’t it?”

I
shake my head. “It was nothing.”

He
takes my hand, running his thumb down my palm. “Doesn’t feel like nothing.”
He’s the first person to take it seriously. Besides the lady cop, but I think
by the time I left her office, she was back to believing it was nothing. He
leans in closer again. “Tell me what happened.”

I
watch my father get up from the table. Whatever the phone call is about, it’s
bad. His face is red. Great. Whoever he’s on the phone with is warming him up
for me. I owe them a kick in the junk. I give Geoff a sideways look and ask
softly, “Didn’t daddy get a copy of the police report?”

His
eyes dart to my father as his head twitches that in fact my father hadn’t
requested a copy. I can’t even lie a little and say it doesn’t sting. It really
does.

My
gaze lowers to the table as my hand reaches across it, taking the chardonnay. I
gulp back the whole glass and place it back in front of him. “I woke up to
someone in my room. He was using my foot for something unholy and depraved. He
finished and left through the window.”

Geoff’s
hand grips tighter on the chair. “You don’t know him?”

I
shake my head. “I don’t think so. I don’t know. Honestly, it was dark in my
room and I was about two sleeping pills into my dream when it started.” I scoff
at myself. “I was so out of it I didn’t even notice the water was burning my
skin in the shower.” I lift my eyes to his, finally able to meet his stare. If
I had a mother her eyes would look like these. They would be filled with
concern and love the way his are. His heart is broken for me. It makes the
assault on me so much worse. Because he loves me like a little sister, I feel
like I didn’t deserve the thing that happened to me. I blink away a tear,
wiping and shaking my head. “I got second-degree burns, and the worst of it is,
I burned myself like an idiot.”

He
wipes my cheek, letting his hand linger, cupping my face. “I asked Henry to
find us someone to track down the illicit criminal. Henry felt it was all very
real, but he couldn’t be sure, because of the habits you’ve developed here.”

I
sniffle and laugh, squinting and trying to imagine how I am going to explain
the soccer player in the coma and the orgy.

Dad
finishes and sits. “Lana, my dear. How are you?” The question is not one I am
meant to answer. He knows how I am. He knows what he cares about. He looks at
his phone and mutters, “I understand you have been in some trouble with Charles
Hensley’s daughter, Nance, again.”

I
don’t say anything. I have no defense. I went to play sex games with a friend
isn’t a defense at all, and it won’t make this better.

He
drums his long, slim fingers along the wooden armrests. His gray hair is darker
than the last time I saw him. Jesus, is he getting another divorce and starting
his whole manscaping and dying his hair again? Gross.

Geoff
rests a hand on my arm. “We understand that there are some serious implications
lingering in the air about who brought the drugs to the party.”

My
jaw drops. “It wasn’t me. I didn’t bring anything.”

My
dad’s cold blue eyes lift. “Did you mix the drinks for the minors?”

I
don’t say anything.

He
nods. “I have done everything I could think of to make your life easy. I think
it was too much, I see that now. No amount of giving will ever make you a good
person. I can’t make you want to be a good person. That’s your call.”

My
insides wrench.

He
gets up, pacing and drinking his scotch. “I have done everything I can for you
and now it’s time to make you tow the line. I’m cutting you off. Your schooling
is almost over and I don’t think you’re ready for the obligation of the job I wanted
so badly for you to have.” His face turns, and replacing his angry dad look,
comes something of disgust and abandonment. “I’m done with you, Lana. I’m done
pretending that one day you’re going to grow up and be an adult. You’re
twenty-two years old for Christ’s sake. Twenty-two, not eighteen and making a
couple of bad decisions.” He drinks, making a long silence. My heart is racing,
pounding in my throat. The wine I stole from Geoff is threatening to come back
up.

My
dad leans against the chair and points at me. “The first year when you slept
with your professor and I had to stop his wife from going public, I assumed it
was because you were eighteen, not a slut. I didn’t actually know you were a
slut. I didn’t know the papers and rag magazines were right about you, because
you were my baby, and I wanted to believe that your failures in the past and
your mother’s death led you to rebel. I always believed you would find your way
back to me. But now I see no amount of money spent on a perfect childhood and a
perfect education will make you be perfect. You’re never going to be that. So I
can do one of two things. I can wash my hands of you like my father did my
youngest brother, or I can force you to work for your next cocaine fix and
Michael Kors purse.”

My
hands are shaking. It’s too much. It’s all too much. I need a pill. I need all
the pills. I need to get the hell out of here. My eyes dart around, trying to
come up with a strategy beyond sprinting from the table.

He
sits, looking smug. “So I have devised a plan to help you find your way, the
hard way.”

Geoff
squeezes my arm. He’s trying to tell me to stop panicking but I can’t.

My
dad lifts his glass to his lips and grins. His eyes twinkle in a sinister way.
“You aren’t just getting the internship at Webber Records. If it were up to me
I wouldn’t let you take the trash out, but your mother would never forgive me
for abandoning you. So I am giving you one chance to turn this all around. No
more drugs and alcohol and random one-night stands. The buck stops in
September, Lana. And if by then you haven’t proven yourself a worthy human
being, who can contribute to society, I am disinheriting you and you will be
homeless and carless. As far as I understand it, you’re already friendless.”

I
think I’m going to throw up.

He
finishes his drink and nods. “I am hosting a live show called The Next Mogul.
It’s a competition amongst business undergraduates who plan on getting an MBA
and are trying to come up in the business between LA, New York, and Nashville.
The applicant for the intern spot who comes up with the best band, singer, boy
group, whatever, wins. America will vote and whoever wins first place wins the
internship. If you don’t win, you don’t get it. Second place is an internship
in Nashville and third place is a cash prize. If you win one of those three,
you might be okay. If not, you’re on your own, and I won’t lose a single
night’s sleep over it. Because I have done my part. I have been a loving father
and I have supported you in everything. Even when you abandoned your dreams.
Our dreams. Your mother’s dreams for you.” His voice cracks and so does my
heart. “I have been the king of yes and it’s gotten you nowhere. You are the
very thing I despise about rich, spoilt young ladies.” The twinkle in his eyes
has grown to something emotional.

Is
it smug?

I
don’t know but I have the worst feeling he wants me to fail so he doesn’t have
to pay me for anything, and he can be rid of me forever. Does he really want me
gone? I push back on the chair, ready to gag any second. I can’t even speak. I
don’t know what to say beyond telling him to fuck himself and fuck his deal.

He
nods at Geoff. “Get Henry to take her home.” As I stand, my father’s eyes dart
to mine. The twinkle has turned to tears. He shakes his head and speaks in a
way I have never seen. “I just can’t keep letting you break my heart, Lana. If
you want the path to dead in a gutter or infected with diseases they can’t
cure, you’re on the right road. And I won’t watch you do this to yourself. But
if you want to show me you are the girl I have always believed you were, then
take me up on this offer and work harder than I think you can.” He stands and
wraps himself around me.

I’m
going to break. I have never seen my father cry before—ever. My legs feel
like they might buckle and there is a sob, but I can’t seem to reach it. It’s
lodged in my throat, stopping everything including my breath. He lets me go and
I literally watch the emotion wash from his face. “I love you, kid.”

Geoff
pulls me from the room, hugging me to him. He’s whispering things, sweet words
of encouragement. But I don’t want to hear it. I want to get high and let it
go.