Page 25 of Music City Diaries

“I don’t joke about this. And it’s not prostitution. You don’t have sex with the clients.”

“Then what?” My brow furrowed, not understanding her meaning.

“Have you ever heard of a cam girl before?”

“No.” I shook my head. I didn’t think it was something I could do, but part of me was curious.

She smiled wide and handed me a business card. Did I miss that day in high school? What was with everyone having business cards now? It was black with “Candi” on it and a web address. I flipped it over, and the word “try me” was printed.

“If you’re curious, go to that website and enter that password. You can get a free taste of what I’m talking about. I make bank now and only keep this job for the connections. I want to be a singer.” She smiled, winking.

Cupping my hand around it, I nodded, sliding it into my pocket. “Um, thanks.” She waved, heading out the otherdirection, leaving me standing, wondering what had just transpired between us.

I couldn’t deny I was curious, though.

After six hoursof standing on my feet at the laundromat, I was ready to crash into my bed. The whole time, the business card had burned a hole in my pocket. Each time a customer complained about a machine not working or that someone wasn’t respecting the time limit on machines, it burned more.

Maybe it was worth a look? If it was online, it couldn’t be that bad? Right?

Climbing up the rickety stairs of my studio apartment, I unlocked the door and stepped inside. My body relaxed, and I shuffled my feet over to the bed in the corner. My kitchen butted up to my living room, which included my bedroom, and ended with my tiny bathroom in the corner. It was the size of a shoebox, but it was mine, and I loved it for that.

But I wouldn’t mind having more than one room for everything. You know, for all my shoes.

Grabbing some cold noodles out of the fridge, I sat down on my bed and kicked my shoes off, leaning back against the headboard. My body relaxed back into the pillows, and I let myself unwind fully. This was my safe place, my one area where I could be as strong or as weak as I felt. No one to judge me, no one to see. Just me.

It was comforting in a completely sad way.

My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out as I shoved a bite of noodles into my mouth.

Jackass: Hey brat, how was your day? You make it home?

Darcie: Yep. Eating some noodles.

Jackass: Cold, I bet. You’re so gross.

Darcie: Not everyone can afford a microwave. I’m lucky to have a fridge and a hot plate.

Jackass: You know I can send you money.

Darcie: I know. Thank you, but no. I want to do this on my own. It feels important.

Jackass: And you say I’m stubborn

Darcie: No, I say you’re a jackass. There’s a difference.

Jackass: Haha

I smiled, happy to be talking to Chase. We’d weirdly enough become friends over the past few months. I’d finally called him when I’d gotten into Nashville and cried as I told him everything that had happened. He listened quietly and told me Maddox had made the right choice. I wanted to hate him, expecting him to say he was stupid, but he hadn’t.

Darcie: I’m beat. I’ll talk more tomorrow, loser.

Jackass: Always with such caring words there. Be safe, brat.

Darcie: Night, Chase.

Jackass: Night.

I smiled as I snuggled down into the pillows. They’d been the first extravagant purchase I made after my first paycheck. I could live in a tiny apartment where I basically showered and cooked my meals in the same space, but I needed good bedding. Placing the noodles on the nightstand, I pulled the covers over my head and fell asleep, the card still burning in my pocket.

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