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My balance is a hell of a lot higher than it should be. Ten times higher.
I click on the details, and there it is, right on top of the café'sdeposit: ten thousand dollars, sent to me by one C. A. Hunt.
I shake my head in disbelief. At no point did we agree to that. He didn't say he'd givemeany money. Somehow, the thought makes me feel a little icky. It's one thing for him to pay the thugs, and my school, and my housing, but paying me directly? That's a little too close to prostitution.
Who am I kidding? That's exactly what I'm doing either way. Selling myself to him.
I can't go skating to distract myself, becausesomeoneset everything I own on fire, rollerblades included, and because of my ribs. I can't even walk without pain. Luckily, I think of another way to spend my time.
The ensuite in the guest bedroom has a bathtub. Embarrassing as it is to admit, I've never had a chance to relax in a tub in my life. When I watch women do it on TV, with a book and a glass of wine, I'm always green with envy. The trailer where I grew up only had a shower stall. I considered asking Erica to let me use her bathroom after she moved into the Archer staff house, as she has a tub, but I never got around to it.
I check the temperature of the water, and slowly lower myself into the cool bath. I wish I could have made it warmer, but with my ribs, I decide to stay safe.
I wince as I lay down. I can truly see the appeal. I'd love it if I wasn't so sore. As things stand, now wasn't the best time for this experience. My sides hurt so bad I have a hard time breathing, let alone moving.Dammit. I remain for a few minutes, until I gather the courage to use my core muscles again, in order to stand up.
Dread gnaws at my insides as I slowly get dressed—in yesterday's shorts and T-shirt. I don't have any other option. I bypass the underwear altogether. I should have washed them last night.
In less than three hours, Camden is picking me up, and he can do whatever he wants to me today. I have a fairly good idea of just how he might want to spend today, but the simplest things cause me so much pain. I can't imaginesexin this state. Especially sex with someone like him. I doubt he's a missionary position, two pumps kinda dude.
I return to the comfortable queen bed and bring up the reading app on my phone, trying to concentrate on the book I'm in the middle of as I wait. I have to read most pages at least twice to digest the information. When my stomach starts to gurgle unhappily, demanding my attention, I give up, and slowly drag myself to the kitchen.
"Hey!" Pauline beams, visibly glad to see me, although it's my fault she and the rest of them lost their home, their things.
No one seems to mind.Part of it is that Adrian Hunt's wallet smoothed the way, but Pauline and the three girls she introduced me to are also incredible. They’re the least judgmental, fussy women I know. They cursed my mom's name up and down, but they aren't trying to make me feel bad about this mess.
Harper storms in, black and green hair still wet. She kisses my cheek. "Gotta go. You'd better text. And visit."
She's gone before I manage a word.
"Is Prince Charming picking you up?" Pauline asks me.
I snort a laugh and regret it, bringing my hands to my sides. "Camden's more like the goblin king, or Kylo Ren." Hot, but inherently evil.
"He's letting us stay here rent free all month," she reminds me. "He's Prince Charming in my book. How are your ribs?"
"They feel like they were run over by a bus then set on fire," I divulge. No point in putting on a brave face when I can't walk three steps without wincing.
"Sit," she orders firmly. "I'll get you your meds."
"I already took some, like, three hours ago. I'm famished, though. Is there some cereal or something?"I feel bad for letting her serve me, but not bad enough to look through cupboards and drawers.
Pauline seems as familiar with the place as I am, so it takes her some time, but she finds me cereal, milk, and orange juice she serves me in a mug—they didn't get a chance to buy glasses yesterday. I hope Mr. Hunt is leaving his credit card with them a few more days.
"You're the best. I'm gonna miss you." And it's true.
A few months ago, I thought Pauline was a little dumb around the edges, flighty, and too jealous of Lola.
Though they're cousins, they look like sisters, and are only two months apart. Petite buxom blondes with wild curls Lola tames while Pauline ignores, and pouty mouths too big for their face, they're both adorable.
Objectively, Pauline rarely won the unhealthy competition their parents started, always comparing them.
Lola might not have prioritized studying, but she did okay, passing most classes, while Pauline struggled, her ADHD and dyslexia making academics challenging. Everyone knew Lola's work, but instead of finding it a turnoff, the guys our age took it as a challenge. The thought of making a prostitute fuck them for free must have been an ego boost.They shouldn't have bothered. Lola wasn'tparticularlyinterested in sex, only seeing it as a means to get food on the table.
I'm abashed to have been team Lola by default as she was my neighbor, whereas Pauline's family lives in town,though once I got to know her, I can see Pauline is just as kind, thoughtful, and funny. I truly will miss her.
She's making coffee when the doorbell rings.As it's almost eight, I make a move to stand, guessing the identity of the visitor.
"Stay. I'll get the door, sweet."
