Page 2 of Bait Me
And with a sigh, I tell her what I always do, “Because I can’t afford it, Sade.” And I can’t, not with the crappy minimum wage job I’m stuck in whilst I try and finish the book I’ve been writing for the last year. I keep saying it’s writer’s block, but really, I’m starting to question if I have any creativity in me at all. I mean, I dropped out of college because I just couldn’t focus, went through a few jobs before settling where I am now, waitressing, because I have fuck all qualifications for much else. To say I’m stuck in a rut would be an understatement, and between paying off a loan I took out to buy my car and the two credit cards I thought were a good idea at the time, I have barely enough left to pay my parents the rent money they demand on the first of every month. I guess I stuck with the waitressing because, honestly, I’m so fucking tired of trying and failing at every turn—my writing included.
“I don’t need you to pay me a shit ton of money, Bon, I’ve told you this,” Sadie insists, but I refuse to become a burden to the one person who has always had my back.
“And I told you that I’m not even considering it until I can pay my way properly.”
“Stubborn arse,” Sadie mutters, and I throw a sofa pillow at her, which she bats away as her frustration with me turns into laughter. We’ve been friends since secondary school, hitting it off on the first day, our bond stronger than most marriages. Sadie’s family also welcomed me into their home like I was their daughter, showing me more love than my own. I can see what a loving family should be like, and mine is far from it—more like dysfunctional and just going through the motions because they think that’s what is required. One day, I’ll be free of them, and I’ll be happier for it, but until then, I have to keep riding the storm. You would think that the urge to get out of there would kick my arse into gear, but sadly, being mentally exhausted by life at the age of twenty-three leaves you with no desire to try and make things better. I know I need to, for myself, but fuck, trying to drag myself out of the pit of despair I find myself in is easier said than done.
“What if I told you that you could earn more money than you ever dreamed of,” Sadie says, piquing my interest instantly.
“Go on,” I urge as she chews her bottom lip and looks a little cautious about what she’s going to say next, only making me more intrigued.
“Well… don’t judge me before you’ve heard me out,” she continues, and those words have me sitting up straight and forgetting about my shitty family life for the moment.
“Sadie Pierce, have you been holding out on me about something?” I question, my eyes narrowing on her slightly.
“Maybe.”
“You better spill the tea right now,” I tell her, because as far as I was aware, we have never kept anything from the other one… except for now, clearly.
“Before you get all pissy-pants about me keeping this to myself, I want to start by saying that I had to keep quiet because it’s in my contract.”
Contract?
Fucking hell, I have never been more desperate to hear her next words in my life.
“It’s not because I don’t trust you, far from it, but the contract is so fucking water-tight and the repercussions so severe that it’s kept me from opening my mouth.”
“Until now.”
“Yes, until now,” she says, repeating my words. She clears her throat before asking, “Do you ever wonder how I earn so much money?”
My brows pull together. “Uh, you work in a high-end boutique where you’re tipped ridiculous amounts of money and kiss the arses of the rich and, sometimes, famous.” She’s worked there for the last year and has been able to pay for her own apartment, car, and lives quite comfortably—something I am so fucking proud of her for doing. I should be doing the same, but I’ve not found my calling card… yet.
“Yes, but it doesn’t exactly pay as much as I make out…” Her voice fades off as she starts to look a little sheepish.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I ask, sitting forward a little more in my seat.
“Well, I, uh… I have this client at the boutique who comes to me every week and has done for the last six months. I’m not going to go into details, but he’s a guy with connections to various types of businesses that pay well… really well.”
“O-kay,” I say, wondering where she’s going with this.
“He, um, took me to one of his other businesses when he ran a proposition by me…”
“For fuck’s sake, Sadie, will you stop all this cloak and dagger shit and just tell me already?” I say, my patience on a knife’s edge, eager to be clued the fuck in.
“I’m a paid escort, Bon,” she blurts out, and my eyes go wide with surprise.
“You’re a what?”
“An escort. I go on dates with guys for money.”
“Oh… that’s, um…” She’s managed to do the one thing no one else has ever managed to do and rendered me speechless, so I simply stare at her as she continues to tell me more.
“I mean, nothing like this had ever crossed my mind before, but when he took me to one of the clubs where his clients frequent, he came back to the boutique the next day and told me he’d had multiple offers for me, and I, uh, took the bait, shall we say.”
“And?” I’m fucking rapt, needing to know more.
“Well, he presented me with a file of the men who had requested to ‘date’ me, and I got to look through and pick. Long story short, I went on the date, was treated to a nice meal, was treated like a lady all evening, until he dropped me back home and asked if I would escort him to a work function the following week. I agreed and he’s currently my number one client.”
