Selling Satisfaction (10 page)

At this point it doesn't matter though, because my entire body is pained, inside and out.

I haven't exactly raved about my job, but I've definitely enjoyed it. It has many incredible perks. Then it has times when it truly sucks, and I wonder to myself if I'd be better working a real job. More often than not, I realize this is a job meant for me. Sex, money, luminaries, secrets, entertainment, and most importantly, no strings attached... ever. I've never been to this point, to where I wasn't sure I was going to walk out of the room.

I don't ever want to be put into that predicament again either.

Maybe from here on out, unless they're regulars, I won't allow my body to be for rent. I'll safeguard myself. I know Kandy will understand once I tell her.

Kandy,
shit
. I need to speak with her.

Turning the shower off, I climb out and wrap a towel around me. Twisting another one around my hair. I avoid the mirror entirely as I scurry pass. My reflection is not something I want to look at right now.

My phone is shoved down in my purse- when I pull it out, I have three missed calls and two messages. All from Kandy. She can be worse than a mother. I hit the call-back button.

"Oh, good, you had me worried," she announces as her greeting.

"I'm home, I'm good," I answer back. Closing my eyes I argue with myself, wondering if I should tell her what had happened or wait until later.

Then she asks, "How did everything go? A regular?" I hate that she sounds hopeful. Gleeful even.

It makes it hard for me to answer her back. "I can't see him again, Kandy. None of the girls should."

There is a silence over the line for a solid thirty seconds, seeming even longer due to the antsy feeling the whole situation gives me. I don't want to say it out loud, but there is no point in hiding it now. "What happened?"

"He's... He um..."

"Brenna, dear God, you need to tell me what happened. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I quickly dismiss her worries. Only to add to them. "He got rough. Too rough. I'm going to be sore for a while, and you need to cancel my clients for the next two weeks. After that, I think I'll only become sexual with my regulars, the rest need to be for arm candy and so forth." My eyes still closed, I bite down on my lip, somehow nervous for how she's going to react.

This time when she speaks, I can tell she's choked with emotion. "Sweetie, do you need to go to the doctors? Should you get checked? What did he do? Should I come over there?"

"I'm fine, it's fine, Kandy." I don't want her rushing over here or ruining her business over all this. I am a big girl, I can handle myself fine. That is a proven fact with the last decade of my life. "Seriously. Loose him as a client, and I'll keep in touch with you. Thank you for thinking of me."

There is another pause, then she says, "If you say so. I trust you, Brenn. I love you like a child, you know this."

"I do, and I'm so very thankful for you."

"Okay, sweetie. I'll chat with you tomorrow." The exuberance in her voice is gone. Somehow I feel guilty about it- like it's all my fault, but I try not to.

"Have a good night." We hang up the conversation, and I head back for the Grey Goose, bringing it with me as I head into the bedroom.

*~*~*

It's been three days since
the incident. Three days of healing, and my eye looks worse than it had before. My neck even more so. All the bruising has turned a nasty greenish-yellow, with hints of purple and blue. I haven't left the house for any reason, but I'm running low on liquor.

Dressing in a pair of leggings and a loose tank top, I tie another scarf around my neck, making it look as fashionable as I can- then I add a ton of extra makeup, keep my hair down despite the humid weather, and finish the attire with a pair of oversized sunglasses. It seems that everything is covered up except the fading scratch down my arm and a little scab on the side of my lip. I try to add lip-gloss but all it does is make it more noticeable, so I wipe it back off.

Grabbing the keys and my purse, I head out the door, hoping I don't run into Everett.

I've spent too much time overanalyzing everything. A part of me hates how mean I was to him, another part says I did the right thing- for both him and me. A piece of me wants to go apologize, a larger piece says there is no way in hell. Some of me wants to tell him that some random guy did this while I was out and about, the remainder of me says to leave the entire thing alone. I've listened to that one, despite the continuous voices in my head arguing about.

Nothing some more alcohol can't fix.

Which sucks, because liquor was never my addiction, it was never the thing I ran to when I was feeling low. Instead I used sex, which is how I got to where I am. Now because of sex, I’m running to liquor. I guess at this rate, anything to erase the pain, at least while it’s still fresh.

I head straight to the liquor store and purchase four bottles of Patron, grabbing everything I need to make a few different cocktails. Okay, more than a few. I even decide to grab a couple bags of chips, since I haven't exactly eaten much. I went the last several days without even showering or anything- not until this morning that is. It's been a blurred series of drinking and more drinking. A bit of cuddling with Snuggles and some quick conversations with Kandy.

Other than that, it's been a whole lot of nothing. At least, nothing that I can remember.

I'm sure with a few more days of it everything will go back to normal- at least as normal as it can be after someone strips away the last amount of self-worth you own.

Arriving back at the complex, I head towards the wall of mailboxes to check what I have. I'm sure it's mainly bills.  I figured I could get away with it since Everett's truck wasn't outside. Pulling out the mail, I shove it all into one of the bags I'm carrying, then I head towards the elevator.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I watch him stride into the lobby, his hair a mess the way it was the first time I saw him. He has on a pair of gym shorts and a beater, and I'm angry with myself for wanting to see more of him, but I quickly make it to the elevator, pretending I don't notice it at all. It's easy to do with my cellphone in hand.

Once I'm back in my condo, I break down. I think it's the first actual time I've full on cried in hysterics over everything. I tell myself it's because of what happened the other night with the asshole who roughed me up- but all my thoughts fall onto how I treated Everett, which in return reminds me that I have no one to confide in, because it wasn't all that long before this when I ruined what I had with Hillarie.

Placing everything on the counter, including a new toy I picked up for Snuggles, I scroll through my contacts for Hillarie's number. I'm honestly surprised when she answers. Before an apology can be expressed I break down.

"What's wrong? I can come see you if you need," she gushes out, being the sweet, dear friend she's always been. I hate myself for being so selfish with her.

Despite my best efforts in avoiding telling her the truth, I finally do, not giving her any names or too specific of details. All the way to when I flipped out on Everett.

"I hate to repeat my earlier statement Brenna, but I think you should retire what you're doing."

"I understand why you think that, I do," I tell her honestly. "But I've already told Kandy that I will no longer be with anyone except my regulars. I know and trust them, and there isn't that many. Basically enough to pay my bills and have a bit of extra spending. Nothing more than that." I omit telling her I'll still escort people without sleeping with them, not needing her to worry any more than she does. I've been doing this long enough to know I'll be fine keeping it that way.

She huffs, the noise cracking in my ear. "Okay. I'm not going to argue with you, but if this happens again, please, please,
please
reevaluate the situation as a whole. None of it is worth your life."

"I will, I promise."

"Good. Now, about this Everett fella." I can hear her voice perk up at the thought. "Who is he, why haven't I heard about him before now, and are you in love with him?"

"No!" I gasp. "Definitely not. I hardly know him. He lives in the building with me, that's all."

"That is
not
all of it. Why was he waiting for you at your door the other day? How come you pushed him away like you do everyone else you care about?"

The latter of her words slice right through me. I'm sure she didn't mean to sound so harsh, so I let it slide in one ear and out the other, while leaving a scar along the way. "I don't know why he was here, all I know is he crossed lines he shouldn't have."

"What lines?"

"Being... nosey."

"You mean, concerned."

"No, nosey. None of it was his business."

"Could you honestly imagine if he noticed all your bruises and such, and he
didn't
try to push for the truth? That'd make him a fucking asshole. He was concerned, Brenn, you need to apologize."

"Nope."

She sighs once more, hating that I'm so stubborn. I'm hating that she is so right, so I guess that makes our frustration pretty equal to one another’s. "Fine, you win. He was in the wrong for caring about you, and for having a crush on you, and for being a concerned citizen. How
horrible
of him."

I can't help but smile. She's right, we both know it, I simply won't admit it out loud. Which is where her sarcasm came in, because she knows it as well as I do. "Thank you," I tell her. "That was my thought exactly."

We talk amongst ourselves a bit, and I ask her how things are going with Travis. I'm going to try to not let it bother me that I believe she's throwing her life away, because if this conversation did anything, it proved that neither of us agree with one another in our life choices but we can still respect each other, be concerned for another, and most importantly still be friends.

I feel a hundred times better once our conversation is done, especially when she tells me she'll be back in a few weeks for our monthly lunch date.

Placing the phone on the counter, the silence of my home bothers me greatly, but knowing I can't exactly go lay in the sun with all these bruises, I pull the Patron out of the bag. I'm still giving it a few days before I'm ready to face the real world again. One thing at a time, I tell myself. All in time, everything will be how it once was.

She isn't fooling anyone with
that one piece. At least not me. She almost always has a bikini on, which means she's covering up something, probably many things. Cuts and bruises. Who knows what else.

I don't even want to know how many. Nor do I want to know if she has any that are new.

I stare out the kitchen window, probably a bit too huntsman-like, watching Brenna as she whips her towel to lay flat on top of the sand. She sits down on it before pulling sunscreen from the miniature pink and white cooler that she always has with her.

As she runs her hand along the skin of her arm, Emily pushes up next to me, peering out towards the beachgoers. "Which one is she?"

"Who?" I ask.

I've never mentioned Brenna, nor any female for that matter, to Emily. She's been here since this morning, and has basically been busying herself making my condo look like home. I told her not to, that I can do it myself, but she insisted- called it her nesting phase. Says she loves to decorate, organize, clean, prepare, like her mother instincts are kicking in before the arrival of my nephew.

There is no way after only spending a solid six hours with me does she know that I'm infatuated with someone. I haven't mentioned names, been distracted, or given any hints.

Peeking over at Emily, she grins up in my direction. "You're not the only detective in the family. I may only be a school teacher, but I have that intuition, the same as you. Who is she? What have you done to ruin it?"

"Who said I ruined anything?"

"You, by that nasty scowl on your face as you stare off at..." she looks out the window again. "There aren't many young girls out there, I'm assuming it's the one in the pink."

I look back out but I don't have to check in order to tell her no, she's not wearing a pink bathing suit. Brenna's one piece is navy blue with white vertical strips. Her hair is pulled into a messy bun on top of her head, strands falling perfectly down around her face, and she has on a pair of aviator glasses.

"So what happened?" she asks after a moment of silence.

"Nothing," I murmur, stepping from the window.

She follows behind me, straight to the fridge. I pull out a bottle of Gatorade, and she reaches around me for some water. Before the fridge closes, she grabs a bowl of fruit she bought at the store, bringing her items to the counter. "Don't tell me nothing." She puts the fork into a piece of watermelon, eyeing me the entire time, waiting for something from me. Before taking a bite, she lifts a brow. "Must be pretty bad if you're not saying anything."

I do tell Emily practically everything, unless it involves work. I guess maybe that is half the reason I don't want to say anything- even though Brenna isn't a case for me, I still find it invasive for me to tell Emily the details. Since they'll probably never meet- seeing as Brenna will probably never speak to me again- I sit down on the stool next to her, pressing my face into my hands.

Turning my head to face Emily, I watch her take a few bites of fruit not focusing on anything other than me. She looks a lot like our mom right now, with her brown hair cut short like it is, and those hazel eyes big and round.

"She lives in this building," I admit. "We were barely friends, we haven't even hung out or talked much at all, but I enjoyed being around her anyways. Something about her is consuming. She's different in every way imaginable. It was hard not to be hypnotized by her self-respect, or her bright green eyes, or the way she attempts not to smile when I speak to her. She plays hard to get, but the thing is, I don't think she's actually
playing
it. I don't know." I shake my head. "We were becoming friends, and I was enjoying it, and I wanted to see more of her, but she shut me out for good."

"What happened?"

"Things."

"Such as?"

"Things?"

"Don't make me play the,
I'm pregnant, so you cannot stress me out
card. I will, and you won't like it."

"You bitch," I joke. Emily smacks me upside the head the same way our dad would, and I can't help but laugh. "Fine, fine," I tell her. "I showed up at her place last week, and she had arrived back from somewhere all beaten and battered. I asked her what happened, I was even extremely calm about it all, but she said she fell at work. Hit her eye on a rock. I knew it wasn't true, for many reasons, and I tried to get the truth out of her, but in the end she was screaming at me to leave and she avoids me at all cost. I've only kind of ran into her once the other day, but she looked down at her phone and acted as if I didn't even exist on the same planet as her any longer."

Emily drops her fork into the bowl of fruit, pushing it away. "Wait, first off, do you
know
it wasn't from falling?"

"Yes. I had a feeling she had an abusive ex due to different circumstances, maybe even a family member, but when she showed up looking the way she did, I knew it without a doubt."

"This was last week?" I nod my head to answer her. "And you haven't tried to reconcile with her again?"

"It's pointless."

"It's not pointless. Do I need to smack you again? God, guys are such idiots!" Emily hops down from the stool, rolling her eyes at me. She peeks back out the kitchen window towards the beach. "Which one is she?"

"Black hair, messy bun, blue and white bathing suit. She's laying down about thirty feet straight forward." I probably shouldn't know all those details without looking out the window.

"You need a grand gesture."

"A what?" I turn to look over at her. She's still staring out the window. I'm not sure what she's looking for, but women can pick up on smaller details than men, so maybe she'll give me something.

Turning to look back at me, she leans against the counter, folding her arms across her chest. Her belly pokes out even more clearly this way- and although she's almost six months along, she isn't all that big and round. I expected to see more of a gut by now.

"A grand gesture," she repeats. "You know, running into a wedding when the love of your life is about to get married, and yelling out that you object to the marriage due to the love you have for the bride. Or standing outside her bedroom window with a boom box above your head proclaiming your devotion and love to her. Or showing up to the airport mere seconds before she boards the plane to Europe for a job opportunity."

"Um..." I stare blankly at Emily. I think someone has been watching too many movies lately. "Well she's not getting married, going to Europe, and she lives on the sixth floor, so I don't see any of those happening."

I swear the lust glazing over in Emily's eyes die with the glare she sends my way. "Shut up. They're examples. You need to find something that'll win her back, and this time with a hook and bait. You need to reel her in and keep her."

"You going to help me?"

"Maybe." Emily shrugs. "Maybe if you feed me."

"You just finished off a fifteen dollar bowl of fruit."

She starts to head towards the hallway, rubbing her belly as she goes. "I'll play the,
I'm pregnant with your nephew and flew all alone for five hours to see you, and unpack your boxes, so you better feed me
card."

Yup, definitely a younger version of Mom. I hop off the stool, peeking out the window as I head towards the bedroom to get my wallet. Brenna still lays there, this time on her stomach. Her foot moves, probably to the music in her ears, and I wonder silently to myself if there is any way I can come up with a grand gesture that'll win her forever.

I may not love her, I’m not even sure if I’m falling, but I can tell she's the kind of girl I want in my life. If I don't win her over, someone else will, and it could end up being that abusive jackass that she allowed into her life. I can't have that.

*~*~*

Another two days pass by
without any word from Brenna. Emily has come up with a few ideas, none of which I've been a fan of. Maybe this whole grand gesture thing is not for me. I'm sure one of us will come up with the perfect scenario eventually- at least that is what Em keeps telling me.

Currently she's passed out in my bed, snoring so loud I can hear her from my spot on the couch. Her first night here she started making a bed on the couch, and there was no way in hell my pregnant sister was sleeping on it. She didn't argue with me when I told her this. I have a spare room, but no bed in there. In the few days that Emily has been here, she's converted it into a small office. She agrees I need more furniture, but since I'm not sure if I'll be living here once my work is done paying for it, I've decided to hold off.

Tying my sneakers, I stand to stretch my back out. I didn't sleep for shit last night. This couch may be comfortable to sit on, but to sleep on is something else. My body is sorer than it has been in a long time. I don't feel twenty six right now, more like forty, and for that, I'm going to go for a run.

The air is crisp and the sun has barely made its presence in the sky. In fact, the moon is still off in the distance, disappearing by the second. I know it'll start getting hot sooner rather than later, so I immediately break out into a light sprint, adding speed to my run once I get around the block. I continue along the beach, where there is a trail of concrete parallel to the sea. There are many boats out, and I'm left feeling a bit melancholy over the fact that I never got to take Brenna out deep sea fishing.

When I run past the marina, I spot a smaller sized yellow boat, with the words
de toute beaute
on the side in faded black lettering. I don't speak French, but my assumption leads to the word beautiful. I slow my pace, heading towards the boat which is tied to one of the smaller docks. I head down to it, something about the boat calls to me.

Looking it over, an older man pops his head out of the cabin- what I think is the cabin at least. I've done plenty of fishing, but never in the ocean. Not to mention, we had a pontoon growing up, that is the largest boat I've ever been on. This boat is larger than that one, with a cabin area and what looks to be an area underneath to do down into.

"How's it going?" The old man asks. Throwing a braided rope over to the dock. "Lovely morning isn't it?" He has what appears to be a French accent, which would explain the foreign words on the side.

"Sure is. Nice boat you got here." I run my hand along the side. It may be weathered, but it's definitely built to last.

"Got that right." He climbs out from the cabin area, standing before me. He's short, with not much weight to him. A brown hat covering his head, a pair of nice slacks, and bright yellow fisherman boots on. He certainly looks the part of a fisherman. "She's my pride and joy. Built her fifty three years ago, and she's still going strong."

"You built this?" I ask, nodding towards the boat.

Taking off his hat, he rubs the sweat lining his forehead before placing it back on. Climbing from the boat, he stands next to me on the dock, staring his boat over. "Sure did. De Toute Beaute, named after my late wife. Well, her name was Anastasia, but she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen."

"Sorry to hear that," I tell him- about his wife.

He chuckles mournfully. "She passed on almost a decade ago, nothing to be sorry about now. I've come to peace with it. She wanted to be cremated, her ashes spread at sea while I was on this here vessel. Took me three years to do, but I finally did. Now every time I'm out to sea, I feel her with me."

You can see the love in his eyes- for both his late wife and his boat.

"You got yourself a lady?" he asks.

I glance down at him just as he looks up to me, question in his eyes. "I'm working on that," I tell him, trying to add a hint of playfulness in my words. Running my hand through my hair, I realize that I'm covered in sweat and still have to shower before work. "Say, I got to head into work soon. I just wanted to take a look at your boat, it caught my attention as I was running past, thought I'd come in for a better view."

His smile starts to falter. "She's up for sale, you know. I'm eighty seven. Can't maintain her much longer."

I'm not sure if he is hinting for me to give him an offer, what I do know is that I've never owned a boat, nor do I know much about them. I wouldn't have the first idea the price it'd cost me to own, operate, and store the thing. "I hope you find someone worthy of it," I choose to tell him.

Looking it over, he nods his head softly, trying to smile a little more but failing at doing so. "Wish I had kids. Prostate cancer," he announces. This man sure isn't shy about discussing his life. "Took it when I was shy of thirty. Devastated Anastasia, it did, but here I am. Healthy as a horse. Well most days, but you know how it is for an old man like me." He chuckles, somehow finding humor in all his tragedies. A dead wife that couldn't bear his children, cancer he overcame, and the fact he's probably rounding the corner to his death bed. My heart actually sort of aches for him. Especially at how open and kind he is to a complete stranger, such as myself. Continuing, he says, "Well, I won't keep you. The names Corbin, by the way."

Reaching to shake his offered hand, I tell him, "Everett. Everett Burke."

"Nice to meet you Mr. Burke. Have yourself a pleasant day."