Page 4 of Nine

“I know.” She jokes, and makes a silly face.

She walks over to her desk and opens a drawer, pulls out her makeup bag and walks back to me. I start to munch on the food as she cleans up my makeup and fixes my hair.

“How was Dave?” she asks.

I swallow the food in my mouth and clear my throat.

“Oh, you know, ‘Call me daddy. Who’s my little bad girl? Do you want to be spanked?’ Just the typical with him.” I grin. “He brought latex with him, and walked out of the bathroom dressed from head to toe in it. I thought he was going to suffocate in all that shit.”

Jenny laughs. “How do you keep a straight face?”

“I don’t. Nine does. It’s not me out there. It’s her.”

She looks at me in an odd way. I stare back, waiting.

“What?” I finally say.

“You just said it’s not you out there, it’s her.

“So?”

“Sometimes it just feels like you’re slowly checking out of life. It scares me.”

“What does that even mean?” I shake my head.

“For starters, you leave every morning for hours and refuse to tell me where you go. You spend a lot of time holed up in your room, and lately I’ve watched your appetite dwindle down to bird food. Who the hell lives off nuts? It’s not normal. Like I said before, it’s like you’re slowly disconnecting from life, from me. Each day I watch you slipping away. I think you’re lost, Nine.”

I wasn’t checking out, I thought. I’ve just been in a funk these past few weeks. I’m not exactly sure what it is. If I told Jenny where I went every morning, she would die, and I would never hear the end of it. It’s not easy to explain to an atheist that this prostitute goes to a chapel to pray. She would laugh me out of this house, because she would never understand it. I don’t even fully get it myself. I guess I’m just seeking some type of inner peace.

“Like you don’t become someone else when you’re dealing with these clients. You should hear yourself on the phone. All proper and what not. Don’t even get me started on our scouting days. This is who I am now. Plain and simple. I don’t get why we’re even talking about this.”

“You’re not ready to quit yet. Fine. At least let me help.” Her tone softens. “I’m older, more mature now. I don’t mind. I could take the pressure off you. It’s been six years. I know it’s been hard having this weight on your shoulders.” She’s still touching up my makeup as she tells me this nonsense. I push her hands off me and stand up.

“Don’t ever mention that you want to do what I do. The pact we made was that I do this. Not you. You do what you do best. This is where you belong.” I had the palm of my hands out, facing down.

“What’s that? Running errands? Taking new appointments?” She snorts.

“Yeah. Know your place.”

I stand up and walk toward my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. I know she wants to help, but this job isn’t for her. It never was. This industry makes cracks in women that are impossible to repair.

“You’re a stubborn bitch,” she yells through the closed door. “You’re just trying to protect me. I get it.” She pauses. “But I don’t need protecting anymore, Nine. I’m a grown woman.”

I ignore her. She’s obviously on some crazy mission to save me or something. I’ll blame it on her hormones. Maybe her period is coming and she’s completely lost her mind today due to a chemical imbalance. I close my eyes briefly and clear my head of all the noise that is taking up space. I march to the bathroom and throw on some new deodorant and perfume to prepare myself for the next job. I change into a black lace-up leather corset with matching panties, and cover it up with a black slinky dress that ties around the waist. I primp in the mirror for a few seconds, locking stray hairs in place and fighting with my thoughts. Jenny’s right. I’m not the same person I used to be, but neither is she. She knew what she signed up for when she agreed to this. Forget it. I’m not thinking about this for one more second.

I walk over to my dresser, open the top drawer, and take out a little blue box that contains what I would call my quick fix anxiety reducer. I open the lid and pick out one joint. I light it up, take a puff, and then immediately put it out into an ashtray. I hold in the smoke and then slowly exhale. One hit is all I need. It’s just enough to take the edge off and keep me sane on trying days like today.

“Is that weed I smell?” Jenny’s motherly voice cuts through the closed door. She begins to knock hard against the wood.

“Don’t start with me,” I shout over my shoulder, as I stare into the mirror again.

I finally turn around, walk over to the door, and fling it open. Jenny has her arms crossed and forehead wrinkled. I shake my head, silently questioning what the hell she wants.

“You really worry me.”

“It’s just a little pot. We’ve gone over this. It relaxes me. Get off my back,” I say.

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

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