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I take a moment to sip at the water again, thinking as fast as I can. How much can I tell her without revealing just how shitty this whole mess is? Or worse, how I decided to solve it?
"I just owe my stepdad a bit of money, that's all," I mumble.
She raises a skeptical eyebrow. "Seriously? He showed up here with the Goon Squad over 'a bit' of money?"
I groan. "Okay, so it's a bit more than a bit."
She levels me with her trademark Diana glare. "How much is a bit more?"
I shake my head. "It's fine, Di. Trust me. I'll get the money. I've already paid some of it."
Her frown deepens. "How? Last time I checked we didn't have any mysterious tip benefactors at this place." She gestures around the empty shop.
I open my mouth, not sure what kind of lame excuse is about to spill out of it.
Luckily I'm saved by the bell, as the tinkle of the shop door announces a customer. Diana leaves me on the stool and heads for the door.
"Can I help you?" she asks, her voice bright and peppy. I have to admire how fast she can switch from deadly serious while she was interrogating me to upbeat and happy the moment a customer enters.
"I'm looking for Corbella," comes the reply, and immediately my insides flood with warmth and relief. I feel safe, even before I turn to see Gio's familiar frame filling up the door of the shop.
Unfortunately, Diana isn't looking at me. She's too busy scowling at Gio and blocking his way into the shop bodily. It's hilarious, of course, her tiny frame trying to prevent his massive one from coming any farther inside. But I appreciate her effort, even if it's misguided. "What do you want? If you're here to try and rough her up too, I really will call the cops this time."
His expression immediately shifts to dark, boiling anger. But not at Di. "Someone hurt Corbella?" His gaze darts past her to find mine. "What happened? Who was it?"
I clamp my mouth shut. Shit. This is the last thing I need. For him to find out exactly what's going on with me. Why I need his money so much.
If I know anything about client and escort relationships, this is definitely a line you aren't supposed to cross. "It was nothing," I mumble, at the same time that Diana scoffs.
"These crazy thugs came here to attack her. I had to blow the air horn to get them to piss off. And now, she doesn't want to explain what was going on."
Gio wheels on me alongside Di now, and both of them look like avenging angels, ready to rain hell down on whoever dared to mess with me.
"Who were they?" he demands, scowling. "I'll make them wish they were never born."
"It wasn't a big deal," I protest meekly.
Diana crosses her arms. "Looked like a pretty big deal to me. Does your mother know about him?"
"Him? Who him?" Gio glances back and forth from me to Diana. I narrow my eyes at her, and she rubs her temples.
"Cor, if you don't trust your friends, who can you trust?" She casts a sideways glance at Gio. Then takes a longer, more appreciative glance at his body. "I'm assuming he's a friend, anyway."
She lays it on just thickly enough to let me know that she's guessed exactly who Gio is–the mysterious guy I've been spending all of my time with.
In light of everything else she just learned about me, it seems almost harmless to let her believe that Gio is my current hookup.
"Corbella, you need to tell me what is going on."
Between Gio's dark, steady gaze and Diana's fiery one, the shop walls seem to close in around me. It's not that I want to keep secrets from either of them, it's just that I know how much safer they are now, while they're in the dark. After seeing what my stepfather is capable of...
I close my eyes and push myself off the stool.
"Cor..." Diana makes a grab for my arm, but I brush her off and step past her and Gio. Pretty soon, before I realize it, I'm full-out bolting. Shoving my way out of the shop door, I run up the street, through a blinding haze of tears. I don't stop until I notice a little side alley between the pizza and barber shops a few storefronts away. Then I slip into that alley and press my back to the cool brick wall. I slide down it slowly until I'm huddled at the base of the wall, arms wrapped around my knees, face buried in them. I let myself cry for real now. I cry for the impossible situation I've gotten myself into. For my mother, who's caught in the crosshairs of this whole mess without even knowing it. For Di, who doesn't care if it puts her in danger, she still wants to help her friend. For Gio, who has been so supportive and caring, despite the fact that he's just my client, and who deserves to know the truth I can't give him.
Only once I've cried myself out, fished some Kleenex out of my purse and wiped my eyes clear and blown my nose, do I finally lift my head to face the world again.
I almost already knew he'd be there, even before I saw him. Giovanni waits at the entrance to the alley, leaning against the wall, watching me. Not interrupting. Just waiting until I feel ready to talk, I guess.
That, or looking me over. Making sure I'm safe.
A little curl of emotion flits through my belly at that thought. He cares enough to babysit me, even when I just ran from him and refused to give him the answers he deserves.
"Hi," I tell him, self-consciously running my hands over my tear-streaked cheeks.
"Hi." He steps closer to me. Leans over to meet my gaze. "How are you feeling?"
"Stupid," I admit. Then I have to laugh, because it's too true.
I was trying to do the right thing. How did I get here, in this mess?
He drops to a seat beside me, right in the alley. Drapes an arm over my shoulders. "You can talk to me, you know."
Another laugh escapes me. "Pretty sure that violates the client code of conduct."
He lowers his face toward mine. "Then how about we forget about that. Just for a moment. Just for today." His fingers cup my chin, then gently tilt my head up until I'm forced to meet his gaze. "As a friend, Corbella. Tell me what's happening."
"I can't," I whisper. My voice sounds thick with tears, despite all of the crying I just did.
"Tell me," he repeats.
My mouth sets in a stubborn line. "You aren't paying me for my life story, Gio. You're only paying me for sex. You can't make me tell you."
The moment the words leave my mouth, I regret them. There's a sudden sad expression that comes into his eyes. The kind of sorrow that I want to kiss away. And I'm the reason he's feeling it.
"Sorry," I stammer. "I–"
But I don't have time to finish. Because he pulls me into a crushing hug against him, holding me tight to his chest. "Corbella," he whispers into my hair. Then he's kissing my cheek, my neck, down the tendons of my neck to brush his lips over my shoulder. "Cor. I will never force you to tell me anything. I would never force you to do anything you truly didn't want to."
My chest tightens painfully. This sounds dangerously like emotion. Especially coming from him. I wet my lips, tilt my face so I can look up at him from where my cheek rests against his chest. "I thought you liked forcing girls to do things," I try to joke, weakly, forcing a smile.
His eyes darken. He grips me by the shoulders and draws me back from him. Catches my eye again. "Have you ever felt forced with me?" He looks desperate, actually scared of my answer. "Corbella, please, answer me. Have I ever made you feel that you needed to do something you didn't want to?"
The tightness in my chest increases, so tight it's like a burn throughout my body. My heart aches for him right now, seeing the frank pain in his eyes. "No," I say, louder than I meant to. "Of course not." I reach up to cup his cheek. Tilt my head in to kiss the corner of his lips. "I never felt forced with you, Giovanni. Not once."
He shifts ever so slightly, turns his face toward mine so our lips are pressed together. I wrap my arms around his neck, and he deepens the kiss, pulling me tight against him, his tongue exploring my mouth. It feels like a breath of air after hours of holding my breath. Like I am finally safe again, secure, protected from my stepfather and his lackeys, from anything terrible the world could throw at me.
When we finally part again, I sink back into his arms, resting against his chest, worn out. Too spent to lie anymore.
"It's my fault," I whisper. "I
fucked up my life. No," I correct myself, realizing. "I fucked up everyone’s around me life. I ruined everything."
"I don't believe you," he murmurs, still holding me close.
I have to smile at that, although weakly. "I used to work for my stepfather," I continue. He waits in silence, until I'm ready to let it all out there. "Until a few weeks ago, I was his secretary. It was a pretty decent job. Just your usual office work kind of stuff, but I was good at it. Maybe too good."
I swallow hard. "I started to notice some unusual stuff in his accounts. More incoming money than there should be, withdrawals from the company accounts that were off the books. Weird shipments that arrived in the middle of the night, that kind of thing. And..." I shake my head. "Stupid me, I thought it was a mistake. I wrote it off as an accident because I figured no way my stepfather–the guy who swept my mother off her feet, spoiled her rotten, made her feel happy and loved again in a way she hadn't since my father died– could be involved in anything shady. He was just too nice, too charismatic and happy all the time. So I started to investigate."
Gio rubs my arm gently, up and down my bicep. Being as comforting as he can while still listening.
"I was a little too good at that, too, as it turns out," I mutter. "Found out that his whole company was a front. They were selling pharmaceuticals, but actually all the drugs were fakes. Swapped out for imitations his colleagues would make, way cheaper versions, sometimes laced with shit. I tried to confront him about it, and he threatened to blame it all on me. I was freaked out; he knew so many shady people. I didn’t know what to do, so I tried going to the police…”
Gio’s grip around my shoulders tightens. I’m sure he can guess where this is headed.
“They wound up dismissing the whole thing. He paid off a few of the officers, I think, and that’s unfortunately who I reported this stuff to… But his business partners got wind of the police being involved, even though he managed to snuff out the police report anyway. They pulled out of some huge deal, this million dollar shipment he’d been about to turn over.” I shut my eyes, swallow hard so I can keep going. It takes everything I have to speak the rest of this story. “He fired me. Then he told me I needed to pay him back, or else…”
