Page 3 of The Whole Package

The word finally tumbles out, raw and exposed. "Experience," I say, my voice barely above a whisper, my lip caught nervouslybetween my teeth. "Do the clients expect someone with a lot of experience?" My eyes lift to meet hers, feeling fear and naivety.

There's a flicker of surprise in Ava's gaze, quickly masked, but not before I catch a glimpse of something softer, something almost empathetic.

"Are you a virgin?” Ava’s question lands like a slap, stinging my pride and forcing my gaze to the floor. My cheeks burn with embarrassment. I’ve spent years hiding, and now here I am, exposed in the most humiliating way possible. Ava doesn’t flinch, her eyes cold and calculating. She’s testing me, and I’m failing. "How old are you, really?" Her voice is sharper now, her gaze slicing through me as though she's already piecing together the truth.

"Twenty! I swear!" The words tumble out in a rush, a desperate bid for credibility.

Ava releases me, stepping back with a sigh. "You said twenty-five when we first met," she points out, a hint of accusation threading through her tone. I had, and it wasn't something I had forgotten, but the lie feels heavier now under her penetrating gaze.

"I know; I'm sorry," I rush out, my voice trembling with desperation. "I just really need the money. My dad needs surgery, and his insurance won't cover it all. We have to pay upfront..." My words falter as Ava raises her finger again, silencing me, her grip finally loosening.

"Okay," she says, her voice measured, but her mind is clearly racing as she paces the room. I can almost hear the cogs turning, calculating the risks and possibilities.

But I can't let her doubts become my downfall. "I’m not backing down.” The words surprise even me, coming out stronger than I feel. There’s no room for hesitation now, this is my one shot, my only chance to crawl out of the pit I’ve beenstuck in. If I have to sell a piece of myself to save the rest, then so be it. I can’t afford to let fear stop me anymore

"This is not how you lose your virginity," Ava asserts, her tone laced with a firmness that brooks no argument. "Our clients expect professionals, not..." Her voice trails off, but the implication hangs heavily in the air; despite her words, her eyes have a softness. Taking a deep breath, I voice the thought, crude but undeniably real. "Bet they'd pay a lot for a first-timer," I say, meeting her gaze squarely.

She dismisses it with a wave of her hand. "You're not that desperate," she says, more a statement than a question.

But her assumption falls flat. "I am," I shoot back, my voice urgently sharp. "You don't understand. I have to do this."

Ava's expression hardens, a warning clear in her eyes. "Once a client pays, there's no backing out. It's not just about you. If we fail to deliver, we lose credibility. Our reputation is everything in this business. Clients leave, and the whole house of cards comes tumbling down."

"My virginity?" I scoff, a bitter laugh escaping me. "It's not some treasured prize, Ava. It's just a part of me I've never had the chance to give away. There's no deep meaning, no one I've been holding out for. My life's been nothing but a relentless grind, trying to save my dad from the inevitable. What kind of daughter would I be if I didn't try?" The words tumble out, raw and unfiltered, revealing a vulnerability I rarely allow myself to acknowledge. I glance down, surprised to find my hands trembling, clenched into fists at my sides. I swallow hard, fighting back the tears that threaten to breach my defenses. I can't cry now. I think, a flash of practicality in the storm of emotion. This mascara will run.

Ava responds with a pragmatism that seems almost surreal against the backdrop of my confession. "Let me make some calls," she says, her tone even, businesslike, as if my soul-baringmoment was just another transaction. Who is she planning to call? The thought sends a shiver down my spine.

"We'll aim for the highest bidder," she continues, and I can barely process the words. It's really happening. "I'll screen him myself, ensure he treats you right. Everyone deserves that much, at least for their first time." Her words carry an unspoken weight, a hint of something personal, something painful. But I don't probe; I'm too caught up in the whirlwind of what's unfolding.

"Go change," she instructs, returning me to the present. "I'll find someone else for tonight." Relief washes over me, mingled with a thousand other unnamable emotions. Ava's giving me a chance, an opportunity no one has cared enough to throw my way, and right now, that's all I can ask for.

CHAPTER

FOUR

L i l y

One hundred thousand dollars.

The amount echoes in my mind, surreal, almost laughable in its absurdity. It's like being thrust into one of those reality TV shows I used to daydream about but never actually believed I'd be a part of. Now, here I am, feeling like I've just been handed the grand prize.

"I assume by your reaction that's a yes," Ava's voice snaps me back to reality. I'd almost forgotten she was there, constantly at her usual table in this unassuming cafe. She's an enigma draped in wealth in such an ordinary place. Why she chooses to frequent here has always been a mystery to me. But then, in Ava's line of work, appearances are rarely what they seem.

Her gaze is fixed on me, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of her lips. It's a look that says she's seen this reaction before, that she's familiar with the shock, the disbelief, the dawning realization of what this kind of money means. And yet, beneath that, there's an understanding, a recognition of the gravity of what she's offering, almost like she doesn’t want me to accept.

My response is a nod, words failing me as I try to wrap my head around the reality of this offer. A simple 'yes' feelsinadequate for the enormity of what's unfolding. "Fuck yes," is what I want to say, but it's trapped behind a wall of disbelief.

"As you know, the house takes a twenty percent fee," Ava begins in her business-like voice, but I cut her off in eagerness.

"Of course, yes, I understand," I blurt out, perhaps too hastily. Her gaze sharpens a silent reprimand that I've overstepped. "I wasn't finished, Lily," she says, her tone softening in a way that throws me off balance. I'm not used to this side of her, and it leaves me bracing for whatever comes next. "Since this is your first time, the house won't take a cut. Everything will be charged directly to the client. All that money is yours."

Holy fuck.

The words reverberate through me, a tidal wave of shock and elation. It's an unprecedented gesture, a show of... what? Trust? Support? The impact of her words hits me like a wave, and without thinking, I lean across the table, wrapping my arms around Ava. It's an awkward embrace, constrained by the confines of the small booth, but it's what I need in this whirlwind of emotions. I need something tangible to anchor me to this moment, to confirm that this isn't just a dream.

"Thank you, thank you so much!" The words spill out, mingled with tears I can't hold back. As I pull away, I'm acutely aware of the wet streaks on my cheeks, the raw openness of my gratitude. Ava, for her part, seems taken aback by the display, but there's a softness in her eyes that I haven't seen before.

"Don't," Ava murmurs, a faint smile playing on her lips that doesn't quite illuminate her emerald eyes. "You all start with gratitude," she continues, her voice low and laced with a bitter truth. "But there will come a time when the self-loathing creeps in when your reflection becomes your enemy. And when that happens, you'll need someone to blame. That someone will be me, Lily. So don't thank me now for a path that might lead you todespise yourself and, by extension, me. I'm not saving you from anything; I'm just doing my job."

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