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I barely get the door open before he’s shouting at me. “I got a call from a colleague of mine. I heard what you’ve been up to.”
“What?” I stammer, my eyes dancing between my mother and him.A colleague?
“What are you talking about?” my mother replies, meeting us by the door.
“Of course you don’t know what you’re kids have been up to, Gwen,” he says with a biting hatred toward my mother, and I feel the undeniable urge to step forward and defend her.
I have happy memories of my dad. Memories of his laughter and his smiles. His hugs and jokes and cuddles on the couch. But right now…all I see is the face I haven’t seen in over a year contorted in fury as he looks at me with an expression that shows more disgust and shame than love and acceptance.
“I’m not a kid,” I argue.
“Yeah, well, you’remykid, and I won’t have you selling your body to a bunch of rich perverts!” he yells, and my cheeks flush hot.
I catch movement behind my mom and notice Sophie stepping out of the house to see what’s going on. Swallowing down my nerves, I give her a quick shake of my head. There’s a look of fear on her face that shatters my heart, and I don’t care about me or getting yelled at by my dad or my parents knowing what exactly I’ve been up to these past few months. But if my actions bring any pain or fear to her, then I’ll never forgive myself.
“Keep your voice down,” I mutter through clenched teeth.
“Why?” he replies. “You don’t want your mother hearing that you were at some sex club auctioning yourself off for seventy-five grand?”
My mother gasps and covers her mouth. “Is that where your money has been coming from, Charlie?”
“No!”
Behind my dad, I watch Sophie pull out her cellphone, typing something out before disappearing into the house. I just want her away from here.
“What’s he talking about, Charlie?” my mother asks, her tone laced with fear.
My shoulders slump as I stare at her. “I’m not a prostitute, Mom,” I say, and she takes a deep breath.
“She’s been going to some…some…sex club,” he says with disgust, and I wince. I didn’t need my mother finding out like this. It’s not fair to her.
“Is that where you work? Is that where Emerson…”
“Emerson Grant?” my dad cuts in with a bite in his tone.
I can’t believe how badly I want the ground to swallow me whole right now. This is beyond humiliating, and I don’t have the heart to look at my mother. I notice the way she’s shrinking away.
My eyes stay on the ground, trying to drown out the rage-filled man standing next to me. “Emerson owns the club,” I say delicately. I wish she and I could have this conversation alone. I hate myself for waiting this long. My mom is understanding; she wouldn’t have cared if I could have just told her everything beforehefound out.
“Oh, Charlie…” she says, lowering her head and rubbing her forehead.
“But I neversoldmyself,” I bite back, this time directing my frustration at him.
“Bullshit!” he yells.
“Let her talk, Jimmy. She’s an adult—"
“A guy I work withsaw you, Charlie! He saw you there three times. He said you got up on stage, in some auction, and sold yourself!”
The dark, scrutinizing eyes of the man I saw last night come back in my mind. I knew I had seen that man somewhere, and now I can see it all so clearly. I had met him when I was younger, and I knew he worked at my dad’s law firm. I wince, thinking about him seeing me on that stage in almost nothing, being carted off by Emerson, in thevoyeur room last night with Eden.I groan at the memory.
“That man who won was myboyfriend,” I reply, forcing myself to keep my shoulders up and not cower in shame. Over and over in my mind, I just keep chanting:I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t do anything wrong.
“Oh, your boyfriend,” my dad replies. “I heard all about him too. EmersonGrant.” It’s the way he emphasizes his last name that I know what he’s about to imply. “Beau’s dad, Charlie?”
“Oh, Jimmy, will you leave her alone? She’s an adult. You can’t just come here and—”
He holds up a hand, pressing it right in her face to silence her, and a feeling of red-hot rage flows through me.
