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“He probably doesn’t even need me,” I say. “Most of these guys just need a good therapist or someone who can mother them, not an astronomically-priced ‘girlfriend’ healing immersion.”
“He wouldn’t have requested you if he didn’t need you. Money is nothing to these men,” Madame says, templing her fingers. “They see their shrinks, go to church, synagogue, prayer services. They pay for pricey escorts for events, or kink, or whatever bug is up their ass. Yes, they come to Ma Maison for that, but they don’t request someone like you unless they want a girl who can help them with their darkest, deepest concerns. A girl who can help them heal.”
I wave a dismissive hand. “He’ll do fine without me.”
“Maybe yes. Maybe no.”
The night I accepted Amelia’s request to go on a ‘date’ for $500 cash, I was a big, fat bundle of nerves. I met Amelia and two well-dressed, thirty-something guys for drinks at a trendy River North restaurant. They were in from Kansas City for a trade show. We chatted and flirted. No one pulled down his pants in the middle of dinner. No one snuck their hand under the table in a shady attempt to slide it between my legs and cop a feel. I had the best meal I’d eaten in years. Two and a half hours and four courses later, Amelia and I hit the ladies room and she slipped me five bills.
“Was that so awful?” she asked.
“No,” I said, my fingers trembling as I tucked the cash into my wallet and zipped my purse up tight.
“Told you.” She leaned into the mirror, fluffed her hair, and applied a fresh coat of lipstick.
“It’s not always this easy, is it?”
Amelia was always impossibly coiffed, had everything together, and I was the weirdo, sweating the details, not knowing how or if I’d pay the next phone bill.
“It is tonight. Say goodnight to your date on your way out. Take his card to be polite. No, you don’t have to call him.”
I thanked the guy for a lovely evening and accepted his card. No wizened penis wanking in my direction. Instead he shook my hand, a perfect gentleman. I stared at the ceiling that night on my lumpy mattress and imagined all the debt I could pay with those five bills. It was so easy. I was smart. I was better educated than the vast majority of people making a better living than me. Why couldn’t I become an escort?
‘Bah, who becomes an escort?’ My old pal Queasy, opined. ‘You want some ancient man peppered in liver spots feeling up your private bits?’
Er, no. What was wrong with me? Was I losing it like Mom did? This idea was batshit crazy. I could get another job after my twelve-hour work day. Sell something weird on eBay and make a fortune. Become a Walmart greeter on the weekends.
The next day Mom’s shrink phoned and told me she was a candidate for TMS.
“What’s TMS?”
“Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation. It’s similar to ECT. The next wave of technology for re-setting the brain,” Dr. Winters said.
“But electro convulsive therapy never worked in the past.”
“This is different,” he said. “They use magnets. Early study results are amazing. If we get your mom into a study program it could turn her life around. She could live on her own again.”
“You mean live with me again. She can’t live with my sister Ruby – she’s in college.” As much as I loved my mom, we were like oil and water when it came to living under the same roof. It’s a wonder we hadn’t killed each other all the times we’d tried to make that work.
“No, Evie. If successful, she might be able to live on her own.”
“What’s the catch?”
“It’s pricey.”
“How pricey?”
“Six figures pricey.”
“Got it,” I said, my throat closing.
“I already spoke with the program’s administrator. She’s a friend. I’m almost certain I can get your mom in.”
“Great,” I said, my skin turning hot like someone had doused me in alcohol, lit a match, and tossed it on my head. “Then we have to do it.”
“Excellent.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “The down payment is due upon program acceptance.”
“Right. I’ll get to work on that.” I hung up the phone and sobbed, kissing my life as I knew it goodbye. I called Amelia, catching her on a night between dates. We ordered pizza at her place, drank beer, and binge watched Alfred Hitchcock movies.
