Page 37 of Debts and Desires
When he handed me my plate, I smiled and thanked him, realizing just how hungry I was. Carter really had been nice, well nicer.Which made it a little easier to talk about it this time around. So I thought.
“So, I was thinking. We should talk about me getting a job again,” I said. The moment the words came out, I regretted them. He looked at me for a long time, his eyes darkening.
“I don’t,” he finally responded.
“But Carter I?—”
“Em, I really don’t wanna talk about it. The answer is still no.”
“I’m bored,” I whined. “I need something to do other than sit here all day.”
“Not my problem,” he said, resuming his lunch. I gave it a few minutes before continuing.
“Can I come to the shop with you, then? Not to work or anything. Just so I’m not stuck here all damn day.”
“And have you distract me? No.”
“I wouldn’t distract you. I’d stay in the office most of the time.”
“You bein’ there would distract me. I’d be too busy thinkin’ ‘bout fuckin’ you than I would be about workin’.”
“Then we set some boundaries.”
“No. Stop askin’ and eat.”
And just like that, the silence was back. He finished, sitting his plate in the sink and then left without a word. He slammed the door, making me jump. I finished my food not long after.
With yet another sigh, I stood from my seat and cleaned everything up. Mac was already back on the couch with a look that said, “Yeah, I know. He’s a dick.” I laid back down on the couch and Mac laid his head on my legs.
After a while my mind went back to other ways to gain hours back as fast as possible. Without a chart, though, it would get hard. I could keep the note on my phone, but I was afraid of being accused of changing hours. If we had something on display, it would help. Well, sort of. I was still here by myself for the whole day and he could still accuse me of it. Which would be all the more reason for me to get a job.
“Mac, stay,” I said, standing.
I gave Mac a scruff of his chin before heading down to what I dubbed the masturbation station in the basement. I opened Carter’s computer to make a chart. Or attempted to. I had no idea what to do.
I could do a bar chart?
Then how do you subtract hours if Carter adds on to the sentence?
Maybe a color graph?
But same thing…
I need to be able to both subtract and add hours.
I was tired, closing out of the spreadsheet program. I ended up being nosy and looking at his search history again to see what else I could use in my arsenal. But it backfired. One self-inflicted orgasm later, I got myself back on track. I hadn’t meant to make myself so…needy, but looking at some of those videos had me hot and bothered.
I guess it really is the masturbation station.I almost laughed to myself.
After a little research, I ended up with a lined calendar where I would keep track of hours gained or lost with tallies. Each day was split into four sections. I made sure to put a ‘start day total’ at the top and an ‘end day total’ at the bottom. In the middle two sections were the words ‘plus’ and ‘minus’. The date itself was shaded in, so that I could differentiate between days. For added days, instead of putting twenty-four tallies, I just put a plus sign and ‘one day’ or however many were being added. I filled it out with the tallies for the duration I’d been there, having a separate calendar for August and one for September. It was the eighth and I realized I had been there for sixteen days—fifteen working, and one ‘free’ day. It felt much longer. I wished I knew what I was getting myself into with Carter early on. I would’ve never taken his “week” deal if I knew he’d be tricky about it. But truthfully, it wasn’t all that bad. I had a free place to stay. He hadn’t brought up a rent fee since the first night. I had a feeling he wasn’t going to. But if he did, I had to be prepared. Plus, I was still waiting for him to look at my car and give me a total for that, too.
When I was finished, I hung the calendar on the fridge, keeping the pencil on the counter. I put the next few months’ worth of calendars on the side of the fridge because I knew I’d be here for a while. If he didn’t charge me for the work on my car, I’d have my freedom by October if I did the basic five hours a day. But I knew Carter well enough now that he would more than likely add a lot more than a week. I was giving myself a headache and a small panic attack.
I wished I could talk to Mia. But what would I tell her?
“Hey Mimi, so get this, my car broke down and this hot as sin, grump of a mechanic rescued me. But because I had no money, I’ve been paying for the tow and the work with my body.”
Yeah, cause that would go oversowell. She’d call the police, or worse; her brothers and Cal.
