Ann’s reply, however, is short, simple, honest, and blunt.
I no longer want to have to work for money by the time I'm 30.
I laugh outright when I read her answer. But then I start to wonder when she actually decided to apply to work at the agency? Was she telling me the truth when we met, that she was there to interview Belinda for a news article? Did Belinda somehow convince her to spontaneously apply? Or did she lie to me and she always had intended to get hired at Violent Delights?
Or did she possibly do it because of me?
Is that the reason why I get to see her file this soon, and not to mention in a state that can hardly be considered complete?
I need to know, and as of right now, there's only one person who can give me the answers I’m looking for.
Belinda Barry.
Chapter Six
Ann
What the hell am I doing? When I agreed to sign up for this ridiculousness, Miss Barry warned me that it would be highly unlikely for me to attract any of the clients' interest.
"Not with these pictures," she said, after taking a few quick shots of me. "And not for the amount of money you're asking."
I didn't care about her warnings, and I made it clear that I'd rather hear nothing back from anyone than to have to sell myself for an amount that wouldn't secure my financial future for good, even if it meant I'd have to sacrifice a few months of my life.
I walked out of Violent Delights a few days ago, my notebook filled with quotes and notes from the interview with Miss Barry and my head filled with silly thoughts and fantasies.
"So you actually want to do this?" she asked. "For real? You want to be added to our catalog?"
I was somewhat stunned by her question, because it was only in that moment that I realized what I was about to do.
"Yes," I said. "Let's give it a shot. Why not? I have nothing to lose, right?"
She looked at me with her eyebrows raised and her lips pressed together into a tight, thin line.
"I mean, I don't have to do anything unless I sign a contract with a particular client, right?" I reassured myself.
Miss Barry nodded. "That's correct."
"Okay, can't hurt to see what it's like then," I told her. "In any case, it might prove to be helpful research for my article, if I hear back from a client soon enough. I'm working on a deadline and-"
"If you hear from a client at all," Miss Barry interrupted me. "Our clients have very specific, very elaborate, and very defined tastes. They're willing to pay a lot, but they're also expecting a lot."
She cast me a reprehensive look, and I gathered myself, nodding to signal to her that I understood. I'm no professional, no pin-up model, no class act hooker whose sole purpose in life is to serve men. Of course, I can't compete with women like that, and I felt silly for even thinking that I could.
This was just my mind running wild. The idea that I would just have to spend time with some rich dude and be paid so generously that I might actually be able to save up a fortune to make my dream of not having to work for money come true, is just too enticing.
Especially if it was with a man like the guy I'd just met a few minutes before...
Even having sex wouldn't be out of the question, if it was with a man like him.
"Sure," I said. "I understand."
"But there are things you could offer to make up for your lack of... expertise," Miss Barry added, causing me to tilt my head to the side in question.
"Would you be willing to stay at a client's side for a little while longer?" she asked. "Even in public?"
"You mean, would I be willing to play some rich guy's girlfriend?" I clarified, and she nodded.
"Yes. I think I could do that."
"What about your job?" Miss Barry asked. "Wouldn't that interfere?"
I explained that I'm a freelancer and would be willing to set aside my work for a few months, if necessary. It's not like I would have to quit altogether, something I don't even think I could do. Even if I was to become a millionaire, I'd still want to write stories and continue working as a reporter. But it would be nice to do these things just because I enjoyed them, and not with the pressure of having to make a living.
Still, I was only going to go through parts of the application process for research purposes, to see what it's like to become one of Violent Delights’ girls, one of the most infamous escort agencies in the area. I just wanted to gain a sense of their process, their working conditions, what they offer to both their clients and the girls who work for them. It was purely for research.
Until Miss Barry asked me if I wasn’t sure I didn't want to give it a real shot.
That's when everything was set into motion.
"So, you actually want to do this?"
She asked me the question again before I signed the agreement, and at that point, I didn't even think twice. We had hashed and rehashed the whole idea for so long that I just wanted to leave having made a decision that would fuel my life with a pinch of excitement. I know if I hadn’t agreed to do it, I would've wondered for days and weeks about it.
But that woman confuses me. On one hand, she's been trying to keep my expectations low, telling me that I shouldn't expect to hear from any client in the near future because I have "so little to offer", but then she starts asking for reassurance from me over and over again before finally letting me sign the agreement. Why was she being so cautious when she didn't even expect any of her clients to show any interest in me?
Now I know why.
It’s only been two days since I visited the agency when I startle at my desk from an unexpected phone call. Just like always, Brandon's piercing blue eyes dart right through me from across the desk, warning me not to speak for too long or raise my voice. I glare back at him as I answer the call without first checking the caller ID display.
"Porter," I say, partly distracted by Brandon's hateful glance.
"Ann, this is Belinda," an incisive female voice greets me from the other end.
Belinda? It takes me a few moments to realize who I'm talking to.
"Oh, Miss Barry, hello!"
"You sound surprised," she says. "Is this a bad time?"
"No, not at all," I hurry to reply. "I'm just... yeah, I am surprised. Is there something you wanted to add to our interview?"
Belinda Barry chuckles, making me feel somewhat dumb for assuming she'd call about the interview.
"No, dear. I've said everything I wanted to say. I'm actually calling to let you know that one of our clients is interested in you."
"What?" I blurt out. "Seriously?"
"Yes, seriously," she retorts, a hint of annoyance lacing her words. "He wants to meet you in person, as soon as possible."
I inhale audibly and my cheeks start burning up instantly. My eyes scurry rapidly around the room to see if anyone is listening in, but even Brandon is seemingly not paying attention to me at the moment. Yet, I feel like I've been found out. As if the whole office suddenly knows about me signing up to be an escort.
Is that what I did? Will I turn into a high-priced call girl if I agree to meet up with this man?