Page 92 of Hired Help

I snigger. “Sure. That’s how all non-judgemental comments start.”

“You’re very young to be getting married. I think your father might have a few things he wants to say.”

“You’re still in touch with Dad?”

She crosses her legs, drumming her fingers on the table. “If I need to be, I am. This relationship sounds a lot more like trying to be cool and modern than a genuine connection. How long have you known this other man? This… Daegan?”

“Six weeks give or take. Though for most of that I was a client, so if we’re just starting from the point I stopped paying him, it’s closer to two weeks.” I frown in concentration. “Or is it only one?” I shake my head. “Honestly? So many things have been happening, it’s hard to keep track.”

Alicia grips the edge of her seat with one hand, still mimicking a drum solo with the other. “What do you mean you stopped paying him?”

“He’s a sex worker. That’s how we met. When Harrison dumped me, I wanted to get so good in bed that I could win him back.” I produce an evil smile. “Then I liked my trainer so much, I kept them both on instead.”

To give her credit, she doesn’t flinch at the information. Her face stays impassive, only the crinkle at the corners of her eyes giving away her increasing stress.

“Do you want to come to the wedding?”

She slams her palm flat on the table, making me jump. “Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t marry a sex worker decades older than you. Especially not when he’s the father of your boyfriend.”

“I can.” I open my purse and pull out a confirmation slip. “This says the marriage licence only takes a few days, so I thought next weekend might be good. The less time I give people to object, the better the reception will be.”

Alicia snatches the paper from my hand, reading over the wordage with eyes that jump from the page to me and back again, quick as a strobe.

I remember her wedding. My dress was tight with fussy ribbons everywhere, in the palest gold so I had to be careful not to brush against anything. She’d been so gracious, letting me into the bridal preparations, bending to let eleven-year-old me fasten a brooch to the centre of her collar, so beautiful and patient and kind.

Those are the memories that lingered. With all the kind gestures and reassuring words, I forgot why she came into my life in the first place. Dad was loaded, and she was drop-your-jaw pretty. A match made in gold-digger heaven.

“You’ll love Daegan when you meet him,” I say with studied casualness, as though he wasn’t waiting halfway along her drive. “He’s incredibly handsome and charming. I think he’d get a kick out of asking your permission to marry me since Dad is so difficult to pin down these days.”

Her face twists and she looks about to unleash a torrent of harsh advice upon me. Before she can, I add, “He can show you the engagement ring, and you can show him my sex tape.”

Alicia’s mouth pinches together, wariness lurking in her eyes.

While she fights to maintain her composure, I slump lower in my chair. “Or we could cut the crap now and you can explain why you sabotaged my relationship with Harrison.”

She tosses her hair and I expect her to stall, pretend ignorance, but the hand grips her seat again, knuckles clenching so hard I wince. “You’re too young to get married. In a few years, you’ll regret it, then you’ll be stuck.”

“Hardly stuck. I’m pretty sure Dad has a good divorce lawyer.”

Her lip curls at the mention. “It sounds fine when you say it, but I know you. You’re far too sensitive to get through an experience like that with no scars.”

“So you put my face on a porn actress’s body to look out for me, is that it?” I click my tongue in irritation. “Spare me the help in future.”

“You had a lucky escape. It might hurt now but at some point, you’ll thank me.”

“Right. Or, here’s an idea, why don’t I tell Dad exactly what your help entailed?”

Alicia’s face turns a shade of green only slightly less vibrant than her smoothie. “Once he hears your bright idea of marrying a sex worker twice your age, he’ll be on my side.”

“You know, when Harrison told me what you’d done, I didn’t want to believe it. I thought it must be something altruistic that just came across the wrong way. Like you’d found the video on Warren’s phone or something and thought it was real. That you thought you were doing the right thing.”

Her glacial eyes track every minute movement. Head tilting as she considers where my summary might lead.

“I really wanted that to be the truth because I couldn’t see what you gained from it. It’s not like you posted it online and demanded money to get it taken down. You didn’t even threaten that could be the case.”

“Of course, I’m not threatening you. I’d never do that.” She rubs her forefinger against her bottom lip, frowning clearly enough to show her last round of Botox must have worn off. “It was all done for your benefit.”

“Sure.” I get up from the chair, pacing the room, unable to sit still when my insides are churning, my thoughts are fuzzy, my heart has moved residence to thump in my throat, each beat choking me a little more. Sadness overwhelms me, every word sincere as I say, “You’ve always been so nice to me it makes it hard to think otherwise.”

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