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Sliding it into the envelope as well, I make my way up the spiraling staircase and bolt into my room. Searching through the front of my suitcase, I pull out my cellphone.
Ten missed calls.
Twelve new text messages.
All from Natalie.
Shit.
There’s not even two rings before her voice erupts through the speaker.
“Sasha!”
“Hi, Nat,” I rush out, stepping out onto the balcony.
“So much for calling me as soon as you landed!”
“I know. I’m so sorry.”
“Too busy getting your brains fucked out, I’m assuming?” she sarcastically asks.
I freeze, not knowing how to respond. Confidentiality.
The contract.
“No,” I lie, hating myself for it. “Being his personal assistant is no joke. I’ve been drowning in work.”
“Well, that blows.”
“My signing bonus makes it all worth it.”
“How much?”
“Five grand.”
“No fucking way,” she squeals, bursting into laughter. “Are you serious?”
Gazing out at the ocean, the wind brushes against my skin, and I’ve never felt so at peace.
“This is it, Natalie. This is our chance to change. To change everything.”
“To change?”
“No more stripping. No more selling our bodies to disgusting, drunk men. This is it.”
She gasps through the other end of the receiver, and I can tell that my words hit her hard.
“Sasha… How much are you getting paid for this?”
“We can move. We can go wherever the fuck we want, Nat. We can take that much-needed vacation in the Bahamas like we’ve always wanted to,” I tell her, blinking back tears.
“Holy shit!” she exclaims, her voice cracking. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“No more prostituting?”
“Never again.”
