Page 89 of Sugar


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I just couldn’t let that happen. She’d see how I was living and feel entitled to everything I owned. She’d never return to Blackwater and having her close would feel like an albatross around my neck.

She embarrassed me too many times for me to trust her in the vicinity of my clients. Micah wouldn’t know what to make of her. And Noah… I couldn’t bear the thought of him seeing anything or anyone associated with my past in Blackwater.

I needed to get that money, and I needed it in as soon as possible. Hating that I had to dig to the bottom of the barrel for a solution, I called my least favorite client, Don, but he didn’t answer.

“Hey, Don, it’s Avery. I haven’t heard from you in a few weeks. I was wondering if you had plans tomorrow night. Call me.”

When he didn’t call, I left another message. He usually got right back to me. He was the only client that I could wheedle a few grand out of in a matter of hours and not feel guilty for taking advantage of him because he was a gross, old pervert. Exactly why he wasn’t one of my regulars.

By Friday, when Don still hadn’t called back, I started to panic. I wasted so much time banking on the fastest solution and blew my chances to earn money in other ways. The weekend was here, and I had nothing.

“Fuck!” I tossed my phone onto my lesson plans as I got Don’s voicemail again. Why wasn’t he returning my calls?

My mom had left six more messages that day, each one promising that she’d be on a bus to Philly if the money wasn’t on its way by Monday. I called Don again.

“Hello?”

Caught off guard by the female voice, I stilled.

“Hello? Who is this?” the voice repeated.

“Is … Don there?”

There was a strange pause. “How did you know my dad?”

My stomach twisted as too many realizations bombarded me at once. One, I never wanted to picture Don’s children or speak to them. Two, why was this woman speaking in the past tense? I knew why. On our last date, Don could barely cross a room without getting winded.

Oh God… He was dead, and I couldn’t do more than sit there in silence.

“Hello? I know you’re there. I can hear you breathing.”

I hung up the phone.

Should I cry? Was there something wrong with me for not crying? My only regret was the loss of income his death caused. What kind of fucked up person thought like that?

Me. I thought like that. Don was my last resort, the one person I always felt better than even when things were at the worst, and I shamefully posed like a teenage girl as his fat, sausage figures snapped pictures and he panted.

God, I knew he masturbated to those pictures, and I didn’t care. I just wanted his money. Even Micah didn’t know how low I’d go when in a pinch and now I was out of options and probably crossing a line into that of a sociopath because I felt no grief over his actual death.

How could I when I was still panicked my mom would show up? I needed to do something.

Rubbing my head, I reached for my phone and dialed the only other person who might give me that kind of money, but it wasn’t the same as asking for it from Don. Don was gross. With him, I knew I earned every nasty penny. But asking Micah…

Micah already did so much for me. My debt to him was becoming top heavy, and my simple services no longer felt reciprocal to the many luxuries he provided. It was wrong to ask for more than he already offered, and I hated taking advantage of his generosity.

I sent him an email asking for him to call me when he had a free minute. My phone rang ten minutes later.

“Avery? You sounded upset in your email.”

“I’m in trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Financial trouble. I didn’t know who else to go to, and I need a lot of money fast.”

“How much?”

“Two thousand dollars. Maybe more. I’m not really sure.”

“That’s nothing to get upset over, love.” My phone pinged. “I’ve just sent twenty-five hundred to your account.”

My eyes closed, but the relief was bitter. “I’ll pay you back. We can work out a trade or—”

“Stop. That’s not how this works. I’m sure you need the money, and I hate to hear you upset. Is it family?”

He had a very sketchy picture of my background but knew enough about my circumstances to discern I was running away from something. “Yes.”

“Is everyone okay?”

“They will be now.”

“Take care of things, Avery. See that they get what they need, but perhaps tell them this is the last time. You work too hard to take responsibility for those who aren’t there for you.”

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