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Baffled by her reaction, I don’t know how to respond. The dynamic between us has shifted too quickly, and I sense that any explanation I might give would further cool the atmosphere between us.
“Come, I’ll take you home,” I offer instead, gesturing toward the door.
“Thank you, but I can find my own ride,” she says and leads the way back through the club.
“It’s no problem,” I object, that odd sense of wanting to protect her and see her safely inside her front door tightening my chest.
Then again, perhaps that’s exactly why she refused my offer. She might not want me to know where she lives.After all, what does she know about me?Nothing except that I’m a considerably older man who would offer her an ungodly amount of money to sleep with me.
“Let me at least flag you a cab,” I offer, stepping up to the curb and raising my hand.
A yellow taxi pulls up just moments later, and I open the door for Angel.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, her gaze shy once more as she slips into the back seat of the cab.
Then she’s gone, vanishing into the night like a figment of my imagination. And though I assured her that this would only be a one-time deal, I suddenly find that I don’t like watching her drive away.
Something about this innocent, young, Southern Belle stripper has me hooked, and I don’t know that I can just let her go. I didn’t even get to the bottom of her adorably PG curse words.
I might have sworn off love, surrendered to a life in which my family and my role aspakhanare my sole priorities, but I suspect I’ll be making another trip to Lady Venus much sooner than I had anticipated.
7
HEIDI
Tapping my pencil against the textbook laid out before me, I try to focus on my coursework, but my mind is anywhere but on my assignment. Thanks to my one night with Maks, his generous payment wiped away my financial troubles and I was able to enroll in classes for the spring semester.
Now, as spring break swiftly approaches, I feel nothing but gratitude for the leg up he gave me. It was enough money to not only see me through school without having to hold a full-time job, but it also covers the best medical treatment money can buy for my mom.
Not that it’s made a difference.
We might not have to worry about the cost of care anymore, but at the rate she continues to waste away, I fear I’ll lose her anyhow. She’s as sick as ever, with no sign of her Glioblastoma diminishing or even slowing. Thankfully, we can afford full hospital care now, which is what she needs after the last round of experimental treatments left her so weak that I can’t take care of her on my own.
It’s the thought of her bedridden and alone in the hospital that haunts my thoughts now. With midterms in just a week, I need to study, but I don’t like wasting the potential last precious moments with my mom.
“If you keep chewing on your lip like that, you’re going to put a hole through it,” Zoe observes from her spot on my mom’s couch.
While I thought she’d been busy watching the drama-filled reality show flickering across the TV screen, when I glance her way, I find her sharp gaze watching me closely.
“Worried about your mom?” she presses.
My shoulders slumping, I nod. “I haven’t been over to see her today, and she looked so weak and pale yesterday.”
Zoe’s expression softens, and I know she’s at a loss for what to say. All her reassurances that my mom is a fighter, that she’ll kick cancer and be back on her feet in no time, have died off over time. Because Zoe sees it too. There’s no escaping the cold, hard truth of my mom’s condition. Even the hospital has suggested that we prepare for the inevitable and ensure my mom’s affairs are in order.
She’s already signed the house over to me, and with little else to her name, it won’t take much to reconcile her worldly goods. But that seems so insignificant in my mind compared to the gaping hole that will open in my life when she’s gone.
I don’t want to think about it.
I’m not ready to face it.
I don’t know that I ever will be.
“You want me to go with you before work?” Zoe offers.
I don’t know what I would do without my best friend. She’s been around almost nonstop lately, here to support me emotionally, to let me cry it out all I need. But some days are worse than others, and today, I feel sick with anxiety over how frail my mom has grown.
My gut twists at the thought, and I’m shocked to find that sick feeling in my heart could spread to my stomach. Frowning, I shove my textbook off my lap and make a mad dash for the bathroom as I realize I’m on the verge of vomiting.
