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His words and tone throw me off and I find myself letting him steer me over to a big black SUV that’s idling on the curb before I can talk myself out of it.
He opens the back door for me and I hesitate before I can climb in.
“I can just take the bus,” I try to tell him but he shakes his head.
“I’ll be taking you home, princess.”
I look up at him, studying his features. He doesn’t look mad. In fact, he almost looks… happy?
Why would he be happy?
And what’s with all of the pet names?
My stomach flips every time he calls me princess or baby girl and I’m not sure if I like it or not.
If he was going to call the cops, he would have done it by now. He has no proof that I was even in the apartment now that we’re outside.
Alrighty then. Maybe I should let him give me a ride home. Maybe this is karma for always trying to help others out. Besides, it will save me the bus fare.
I decide to just go with it and slide into the backseat. The leather is supple and cool under me and I buckle up as he climbs in next to me.
The driver waits until Davis is buckled up too before he shifts into drive.
“What’s your name, baby girl?” He asks as we pull away from the curb.
Part of me doesn’t want to tell him. I’m really starting to like when he calls me baby girl. Something inside of me seems to click, like it’s the missing piece of a puzzle. Hearing him call me that makes me feel taken care of and cherished. That’s something that I’ve never really had in life.
“Izzy.”
“I’m Davis.”
I nod, not sure what to say back to that, and he smiles at me. My heart feels like it’s about to explode out of my chest at the way his green eyes soften with the expression. When he smiles, he almost looks friendly. It has me relaxing and feeling more at ease around him.
I start to relax as we drive toward downtown and it’s then that it hits me.
“Oh, I live in the other direction,” I tell him, pointing behind us.
He nods but doesn’t ask the driver to turn around.
“How do you know my cousin, Clark?” He asks instead.
“I don’t. Not really. I answered an ad looking for a fluffer.”
“Have you worked in porn long?” He asks, his voice tight with some barely contained emotion.
It doesn’t sound like judgement or disgust though. It sounds like anger.
“What? Oh, no! I don’t work in porn,” I tell him.
“No?”
“No! I had been looking for a job, something to make some money quickly. My old… friend, she was staying with me but she left the other week and took most of my stuff with her. I needed a quick job so I could make some extra cash. I didn’t even know that that’s what a fluffer was, I swear! I thought that it was to help stage the apartment for an open house or something. Like I was going to be fluffing pillows or whatever.”
He nods, seeming to like my answer as that small smile spreads across his lips, and I shift in my seat.
“I believe you,” he says and I sag back against the seat.
“Why do you need money?” He asks me as we turn into a parking garage.
