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I tie my hair up into a messy knot. I'm starting to sweat. "You're a dick. How come she didn't tell me sooner?"
"She didn't want you to panic or have the time to back out at the last minute. She sprung it on you just like she does with everyone. The first date is always the worst because your nerves are all over the place. It's better this way, trust me. When I was told when my first job would be, I had a week to stew on it and it was the absolute worst. My stomach was so messed up that I couldn't stop going to the bathroom. I was sweating, I had the shakes."
My jaw drops as realization dawns. I remember her not being able to go to class for three days because she was stuck in bed. That was about two years ago.
"Oh my God! You told me you had the flu."
Her blue eyes widen with confirmation. "Yes, that's when it was."
I frown, brows pulling together. "I don't remember you dressing up and leaving."
"I got lucky. You were with your grammy that night, but while I was getting ready, it dawned on me that I was going to need a cover story and that's how I came up with shot girl."
I apply weight to my heels and just stare at her.
"I can't believe how stupid I was—"
My Valentina cell phone vibrates in my hand again. We both look down.
"Oh, that's Christine. Answer it!"
My fingers tremble a little but I slide the screen open and bring the phone to my ear.
"Hello?"
"Valentina?"
Pulse thrashing, I can barely hear her. It's so strange being called that name.
"Yes?"
"Christine here. You'll have your first job tonight. I expect you to accept it."
I shoot daggers at my best friend, who can't seem to stop smiling. My knees are shaking.
"Yes, of course."
"Wonderful. I’ll send all the information. Check your text messages. Going forward, text message is how we'll communicate, so make sure you have this phone on you at all times." She pauses. "You're not to bring your personal cell phone with you, and do not give this number out. Do not text or call anyone who is not me from this line. It's strictly for work."
I lick my lips and watch as Natalie pours two shots, then snaps a pill in half. "I understand."
"Do not bring any identification with you, you won't need it. No debit cards, nothing that can link you to your true identity."
"I won't."
"Wonderful. Remember the rules. I'm aware of your hard limits—I'll never pair you with someone you're not comfortable with. Whatever he wants is something you've already agreed to."
I swallow the lump in my throat, wondering what I’d agreed to because my mind is a clouded mess and I can't remember.
"Thank you."
"Come by tomorrow afternoon for your payment."
My brows shoot up and I'm filled with unjustified excitement over getting paid for sexual acts I haven't even committed yet. Actually, I don't even know what I'm being paid for, and I feel like that's something I should know beforehand, but I don't ask. I'll ask Natalie. Maybe she'll know.
"I'll see you then."
Just as I'm about to hang up, she says, "Oh, Valentina?"
