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Chrissy nods, squinting.
“Oh yeah, he was cute but those other girls said he’s heavy into coke right? One of them said she saw him snorting the stuff out in the open even, like he wasn’t even trying to hide it.”
I nod.
“Yeah, that’s him. He’s a loser, and let me tell you, he’s still addicted to all sorts of stuff. But my parents want me to marry him!” I cry out with anguish.
Chrissy squints, confused.
“That is so strange. I mean, I know your parents are weird people but no one has arranged marriages in this day and age. Those haven’t been around for centuries, at least not in the Western world.”
My eyes bug out of my head.
“I know, right? That’s why Victoria and Malcolm are insane!”
Chrissy shakes her head sympathetically.
“Why are they doing this though? It just doesn’t make sense.”
I let out a pathetic sniffle.
“Who knows? You know how my parents are. They have lots of money, so I need to marry someone who has lots of money too. Like somehow, all this money can get together and reproduce and multiply so that they’ll have even more money than before. He even overdosed on our date last night in the men’s room of the restaurant! An ambulance came, and they had to wheel him out.”
Chrissy’s eyes go wide.
“Are you serious?”
I nod miserably.
“His family already sent over an engagement ring. It’s grotesque and gaudy. I hate it already. What do I do, Chris? I mean, you’re so lucky to be with the man of your dreams, but I’m in a bad situation here. I’m going to be married off if I don’t move fast!”
My friend bites her lip, and I can tell from the hesitant look on her face she’s got a solution to my problem probably, but I’m not going to like it.
But what could be worse than marrying Samuel? There isn’t a lot I wouldn’t do to get out of this conundrum. I’m open to pretty much anything. As a result, I fix my friend with a stare.
“I can see the wheels turning in your brain. Spill it, Chrissy.”
She nods, inhaling.
“Ok, but hear me out. Promise me you’ll stay quiet until I’m done? Just listen, okay?”
I take a deep breath. I’m not going to like this, I can tell. But I remind myself that I’m not going to like marrying Samuel either.
“Promise,” I manage through gritted teeth.
My buddy takes a deep breath.
“Remember how I used to work for Curves? You know, the escort service? My manager, Monica, is still there and every once in a while she calls me, wanting me back. I have no interest now that I’m married of course, but she’s always looking for girls and maybe you could be a fit, Prim. You’re gorgeous and I know Monica would give you a job in a heartbeat.”
I stare at her.
“Yeah, but how does that solve my problem?”
My friend shrugs.
“Well, if the groom’s family finds out that you’re working as an escort, then they’d call off the arranged marriage right? What family is going to let their precious son marry a prostitute? No way. You’d be damaged goods, and even better, no one else among your parents’ friends will have you either. You’ll be all on your own to find a man. Think of it: total freedom.”
But I bite my lip.
“Are you sure? What if … I don’t know, there are a million things that could go wrong.”
Chrissy shakes her head.
“Yeah, but there are already a million things going wrong right now in your life, girl. This will make things better, not worse. Besides, I liked my time with Curves and you know that’s how I met the Hulk,” she winks encouragingly. It’s true. Chrissy’s husband is a former professional wrestler who’s big down there, and so he decided to hire a working girl for real satisfaction between the sheets. Little did he know, but he ended up marrying the one woman who could take him fully.
Yet, I’m still unsure and swallow hard.
“I don’t know. I mean, I’m not skinny at all, and you’ve seen my curves. Sure, I have Double D’s, but I also have a Kim Kardashian butt, thighs that jiggle, and a tummy that pooches.”
Chrissy snorts.
“Are you kidding? Do you have any idea how many men ask for curvy girls? Besides, that’s exactly why this agency is called Curves. It’s because they specialize in providing the sassiest, feistiest, curvy girls to a handsome, rich clientele. You’re going to be picked up as hot property in a New York second. So what do you think?”
Still I hedge, biting my lip.
“I’m not sure, Chris. I mean, I know you did it and had fun, but I’m shy.”
Chrissy snorts.
“You’re not shy! You just haven’t met the right guy yet.”
I nod.
“Yeah, but how do I prove that I’m an escort after it’s all done? I mean, does Curves send you a tax form or something?”
