Page 57 of Release Me

“How did you know?”

“Cheese sent me in to find out. I clocked Sebastian almost immediately because everyone moved different when he was around. Plus, he was the only guy there who didn’t try to fuck me.”

I hate the way my shoulders start to relax after she says that.

“What happened after you realized he was the owner?”

She dips a kebab into a small container of the yogurt mint sauce it comes with. “I sat on the information for a while.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t want to leave. I’ve always liked sex, but Ludus was the first place I enjoyed doing sex work, you know?”

I nod even though I don’t know. Not really. There hasn’t ever been a time or place where I’ve felt good about having sex for money, and because of Beau, I doubt there ever will be. But the lack of first hand knowledge doesn’t mean I don’t understand. Desiree isn’t the first girl from Ludus to say something similar to me. Her friend Carmen and some of the other girls have as well, and while their stories are all different, the thing that’s always the same is their appreciation for the autonomy and control they found within the walls of the establishment Sebastian built.

“Is that why you decided to stay?”

Desiree shakes her head. “No, Sebastian made that decision for me when I came clean with him about why I was there.”

“And when was that?”

“About a month after I started at Ludus. Cheese beat Sebastian’s name out of me because he was tired of me using the search as an excuse to be at the club all the time.”

“He wanted you back out there making money for him.”

It’s not a question, but a statement because I’m intimately familiar with the greed that comes along with exploiting others. Beau had it too. He’d berate me for refusing to work when my period was on, cursing me out for complaining about cramps and bloating, assigning me clients with a thing for blood who didn’t care about my comfort.

“Exactly. I was his top earner, so he didn’t take it well when I said I wasn’t coming back. I had to go tell Sebastian the truth with two broken ribs.” Her eyes take on this far away look, and I know she’s remembering that day. The day her life changed forever. I wonder what it means for us to have both found freedom and goodness on the other side of broken bones and brutality. “He wasn’t even mad. He just sent me to the doctor with the promise to pay my hospital bills and told me to come back when I was ready. When we found out about the hit, I thought for sure he was going to show his true colors, but he didn’t even blame me. He just kept rolling with the punches. Literally.”

“THE HIT?!” I shriek, and Desiree’s eyes snap back to my face.

“Relax, girl. This was years ago. Cheese tried to get him killed for stealing me away, but Sebastian took care of it. I haven’t seen or heard from that man in years.”

I sit back in my seat, slumping against the back of the barstool. “Wow. I’m really glad you got out of that situation, Des.”

I genuinely mean it. There’s no world in which I would ever wish continued violence and pain on Desiree or any other woman for that matter. There is, however, a world where I’ll feel hurt, and maybe even a little angry, to find that nothing Sebastian has done for me is out of the ordinary. That saving women like me and Desiree is just a pastime for him, a benevolent indulgence that makes him feel good about himself. That among all the things I am—an orphan, an ex-sex worker, a capable restaurant manager—I am not and will never be, special.

Not to him.

Deep down, I think I’ve always known that, which is probably why I’ve never allowed myself to fully be in those moments we share even though they feel so natural and come so easily. My heart twists in on itself, and I suck in a deep breath.

“You okay?” Desiree asks, concern pulling down the corners of her mouth.

“Yeah, I’m good. I was just thinking?—”

“About your date with Preston tomorrow?”

I’m grateful for her interruption because it keeps me from having to come up with something to say besides the truth, but I’m also slightly irritated by it because just like this conversation my thoughts when I agreed to go to dinner with Preston were all about Sebastian.

What he would think if I said yes.

What he would think if I said no.

Now, I’m wondering if he’ll even care at all.

“Yeah, I’m not sure what I’m going to wear,” I say finally.

Des is back to eating her food now, absolutely devouring the remaining kebabs with no idea as to what is going on inside my head.

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