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"You heard me. She paid me back two thousand dollars. In cash. And she wasn't even bothered by it." A suspicious look was back on my mom's face. "Did you do this? Did you give her the money to go away? I know she drives you crazy, and I wouldn't even blame you after what she did with Vince—"
"It wasn't me." I swallowed hard. "It was probably Lucas."
I could feel my mother staring at me. She was probably taking in my puffy eyes and the mascara still smudged on my face, that I hadn't bothered to wash off. "Speaking of Lucas, where is he? And whad're you doing here? I thought you weren't coming back until next summer."
I grabbed a tissue from her. "Can we not, please? Talk about him? Or anything to do with him?"
"Did he do something bad?"
"Yes." I blew my nose. "No. I don't know."
"Did he hurt you?"
"No," I said quickly. "He wouldn't do anything like that. He's not like that."
"Why would he give Chelsea money?" Her tone was now gentle, which pushed me dangerously close to tears.
"I don't k-know." My breath hitched. "It might be because she threatened to blackmail me. Or maybe she… did something for him." I wiped roughly at my tears. I didn't want to be crying, and I didn't want to be having this conversation.
"She tried to blackmail you?" My mother put her hand over her heart, as if I was finally doing her in.
I nodded. "She said if I didn't give her the money to go to New York, she was going to tell everybody that I'm an escort. If that happened, Lucas would lose his trust, which is worth billions of dollars."
"Just because you have to expect the worst from your sister doesn't mean you have to expect the worst from Lucas." She patted my hair. "Then that's why he gave her money, sweetie. Not because of whatever else you're worrying about."
I wanted to believe that was true. But that want—that piercing, yearning want—didn't make it true. "But I told him not to. I know she's your daughter, and she's my sister, but she's a Grade-A leech, Mom. If he gives her money, she'll never go away."
"Except that she's packing up to leave and do just that."
It seemed too good to be true, but I didn't want to say that to her.
"I saw her coming out of his office." My voice was low and hoarse. "She was wearing this skin-tight black dress. She strutted through the lobby like she owned it."
My mother put her arm around me. "Your sister always walks like that. She walks through Target like that. It doesn't mean Lucas did anything with her."
"Vince did."
"Vince is an idiot, and you know it."
I started crying, but then I laughed. "Vince is an idiot, and I do know it."
"Lucas shouldn't have to pay for what's happened in your past." Her voice was gentle again.
I shook my head. "You're right. He shouldn't. But it doesn't matter. What happened in my past has nothing to do with him. We don't have a future, anyway. He's my client." I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling as though I was physically wounded.
My mother looked at me and frowned. "If he's your client, and you're still on assignment, why are you home, crying into my afghan?"
I blew my nose again. "I'm not."
"Um, that's my Kleenex you're blowing your nose into. So yes, you are."
"Here. Take it back." I tried to hand her my rumpled tissue, and she swatted my hand away.
"Gross! You stop that right now, young lady!"
Then we were both laughing, then she hugged me, and then I started crying again. My mother patted my back. "Why don't you go back to bed for a little while, honey? I'll make you breakfast. I bet you'll feel a lot better after that."
I nodded and headed to my room, but I knew that sleep and food wouldn't make me better. Nothing could. I slid underneath my covers and looked out at the miserable view of the yellowing multi-family unit next door. I would call Lucas after breakfast. I would tell him I hadn't been feeling well the night before and that I'd gone home so I didn't get him sick. I would live with him for the rest of the year, per the terms of our contract. I would sleep in his bed, make love to him, and do whatever he asked.
