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Mel
I’m staring at my banking app in dismay, wondering where I’m going to find enough to buy Damian a new pair of shoes, since he won’t wear Elsa’s hand-me-down pink ones, when a call from an unidentified number comes through.
I hate not knowing who I’m about to talk to, but I hate when they hang up and never leave a message worse, so I pick up.
“Hello?”
“Mel Karas?”
“Uh, yes. Who is this?”
“My name is Samantha Reynolds. I’m a reporter with the Heartstone Sun. If you have just a few minutes to talk to me, I’d be happy to offer you compensation. It’s a story that’s of interest to a lot of our readers right now, and I’d really like your take on it.”
“You would?” I lift my phone from my ear for a moment, but the number is still one I don’t recognize, and I can’t work out why on Earth someone from the Heartstone Sun would care about my thoughts on anything... unless...
A horrible prickling sensation starts up on the back of my neck as the woman speaks again.
“We’d love to have the full story about the relationship between you and Jarradek Tarvost.”
I hurriedly think back to the portfolio of approved lines Stuart gave me to memorize, all of which seem to have floated out of my head in the heat of the moment.
Samantha continues. “How long was he a client of yours? How long have you been doing this kind of sex work? Did he have any unusual requests?”
Oh, shit.
Oh, no. Poor Jarra. This is exactly what Stuart was worried about, and why we’ve tried to keep things low key.
“How did you get this number?”
“It’s not a private number, is it, ma’am? My mistake if that’s the case, but I had the impression you might be interested to know that the Heartstone Sun can offer five thousand dollars for your story.”
I almost choke on my own saliva. Five thousand? That money would last me weeks. Months! But I can’t do that.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble. “I think you have the wrong number after all. Please don’t call again.” It’s the only excuse I can think of and one I’m sure she’ll see through straight away.
I fumble with my phone and call Jarra, but the line is busy. So I text.
Mel: Problem! Call me!
My belly feels suddenly very empty, but I’m not hungry. I hate this.
Mel: I’m so sorry. I don’t know exactly what’s happened, but someone found out
I pull up a search engine and type in Jarra’s name trying to push down the sick feeling in my belly. Two seconds later, I see exactly what I’ve been dreading. A photo of Jarra leaning down to kiss me outside my apartment complex. It must have been taken yesterday when he was here. But how would anyone get sex worker from that? That’s the creepy thing.
They must have somehow found out my name and found my listing on Monstrous Deals.
How could I have been so stupid?
I dial the number and wait anxiously for Sofia to pick up. “Monstrous Deals, how can we make your wish come true?”
“Sofia! It’s Mel. I need you to take my listing off your app. Can you do it?”
“Oh, Mel, is everything OK?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. Someone must have found it and leaked it to the media that I’ve been seeing Jarra, and now there’s this ugly story and magazines contacting me...”
Sofia makes an indrawn breath. “Oh, Mel. I’m sorry. I’ll get it down straight away, and I’ll have our lawyers contact whoever ran the story. They shouldn’t be able to pull private information like that without your consent.”
