Tears prick my eyes, and a painful mix of anxiety and anger forms a vise around my chest. While my current caller moans in my ear about wanting to come inside my mouth, all I can think about is the fact that Shane is out in the van listening to my calls and how working at CMA has never felt more wrong than it does right now.
It’s like without Dom sitting in my stupid sex cubicle, nothing makes sense.
“I’m coming!” David exclaims through several harsh pants, and I just sit there, my phone in my hands, staring down at Dom’s last text.
When I’m certain my current caller has officially blown his load, I congratulate him and get the hell off the call. “Thanks for calling Ruby’s line and letting me make your dreams come true. Call me anytime!”
Instantly, I rip my headset off and hit the “off duty” button on my phone.
Tears are streaming down my cheeks now, and I rush out of my cubicle and toward the small bathroom at the opposite end of the hall. Though I only make it a few feet before a gentle hand reaches out tograb my shoulder. I turn on my heels to find Lana standing there, having just walked out of our break room. Concern etches her face.
“Hannah, are you okay?”
“Y-yes,” I stutter, but she eyes me closer. “Okay, no, not really.”
She wraps a tender arm around my shoulders and walks with me to the private bathroom stall, closing us both inside with a click of the door.
I stand in front of the sink and catch sight of the mascara that’s now running down my cheeks. Lana wets a paper towel and hands it to me.
“Thanks,” I say and get to work wiping the smudges off my face. But the tears keep flowing.
“You want to talk about it?”
I shake my head. “No, not really.”
“You sure?”
I meet her eyes in the reflection of the mirror. “Do you like working here, Lana? Like, really like working here and doing this job?”
“Hell no.” She snorts. “But I love what the money from this job does for me and my son.”
It feels like every girl who works at CMA is doing it for the very same reason I am—because there’s no other option.
And how sad is that?
Dom wanted to give you an option,my mind cruelly reminds me.
Which only makes me cry more.
“Whatever it is, Hannah, it’s going to be okay,” Lana says and places a gentle hand to my back as I splash cold water on my face. “Everything is overcome-able.”
“Thanks, Lana,” I say, even though I don’t feel it at all. “You mind giving me a minute?”
“Of course, girl,” she answers and squeezes my shoulder before leaving the bathroom.
But is everything overcome-able?
The past five years have been an uphill battle. And I ended up so tired from the constant climb that I took a job as a phone sex girl just to make ends meet.
And now, without my Dom security blanket inside my stupid sex cubicle, without Dom in my life at all, I feel like I’ve been washed out to sea.
How did I become so attached to one man in such a short amount of time?
Because you love him.
I inhale a deep breath, take a fresh paper towel, and pat my face dry. I give myself a mental pep talk—you know, the whole “you got this” song and dance.
But before I can step out of the bathroom, my cell phone vibrates in the back pocket of my jeans, and I pull it out to find another text.
