THE MORTON QUADRUPLETS

CHAPTER 8 - ELLIE

I reach out to pick up the stack of cash set on the table.

Tears fill my eyes and run down my cheeks. I have been paid for sex. Marcella was right after all. I am what raised me.

I do not bother to count the money in my hand but I can see that it is more than I have ever made with any side job I have tried before. My heart aches.

There is a sharp angry knock on the door. I walk to the door in my stupor.

When I open the door the very uptight receptionist stands in front of the door with a security guard just behind her.

"I am sure where you come from things are done differently," she states without greeting. She is upset and it clearly shows in her demeanour. "Check out time is at 10am. It is now almost 12." She gives me a stern disapproving look.

She takes the money out of my hand and counts through it. She takes out two of the notes and hands them back to me.

"You have also yet to pay your room. Consider it paid now. You have exactly five minutes to clear out.

I turn to take my clutch from the table and put my shoes on while they watch. I walk out the door and the receptionist close it behind me and holds out her hand for my key card. I hand it to her. She storms off down the hallway back to her workstation.

I look at the security guard who is left with the task of throwing me out. He looks at me with great sympathy.

"There are cheaper rooms across the street" He offers in a soft voice. "I have not seen you here before, I am sure that you are not familiar with the best way to do your business around these parts." I stare at him in utter shock. He also thinks I am a hooker. I shake my head slowly.

"When you girls do your martini drive, you usually go to the hotel across the street. The rich men around here do not mind to go there and most of them would pay for the room as well." I can hear that he is honestly trying to give me good advice but I am too shocked to defend myself.

"Martini drive?" I ask in a small voice. I feel mortified and cannot muster enough confidence to reflect in my voice.

"Yes. You order two Martinis and sit with them in front of you for a while before you drink one. When a client joins you and you approve of the client you will drink the other and if your client approves of you, he will buy you more drinks. It's a silent contract. If he buys you a strong drink and you do not decline the drink, he will be allowed to live out more of his fantasies when you leave to your room." The security guard looks at me puzzled.

I thank him and walk down the hallway. I turn to take the steps down towards the reception area and make my way past the receptionist to the front door.

The further I walk the angrier I get. Marcella placed the second martini in front of me. She knew the terms and conditions of the silent contracts.

I am fuming. I walk down the sidewalk until I feel tired of walking. It is a hot day and the heat is getting to me. I also feel hungry and emotionally drained.

I sit at a very small table of a tiny coffee shop tucked away between two larger buildings. The waiter comes to introduce herself. I ask for a glass of water while I look at the menu. I open my clutch to see how much money the receptionist handed back to me. The room must have been very expensive since the money I have left is not even enough to buy a decent meal.

When the waiter returns, I order a toasted cheese and tomato sandwich. I put my elbows on the table and rest my head in my hands. I am terribly tired and I want to cry. I sit like this until the waiter comes with my meal.

I try to eat it as slow as possible. It would look terrible in this part of the city if I gobble down my food like the starved woman I am today. I finish my meal and drink my water. The waiter returns with a second glass of water. I must look worse than I thought.

I need to get back home. The only plan I can think of is to find the driver that brought me to the hotel and ask him to take me back to the private airstrip. I then need to find the pilot and beg him to take me back to where he got me. From there I will be able to make my way back home.

I will probably need to pay off the driver and the pilot. I need money.

I finish my second glass of water and lift my hand to draw the waiter's attention. I pay for my meal with one of the notes the receptionist handed to me and start walking back to the hotel where Marcella left me. I need to find the driver. I walk slowly. Looking at every driver driving a big shiny black car.

By the time I reach the hotel entrance I feel miserable and defeated. I cross my arms and stand on the sidewalk, looking into the street. I can hardly believe my eyes when I spot the driver who brought me here.

He parks his car across the street and gets out of the vehicle. He walks around the car and stands on the sidewalk to light a cigarette. When he takes his first draw of his cigarette, he meets my gaze. He smiles brightly and waves at me. I cannot describe the amount of relief I feel. I look around at oncoming traffic and make my way across the busy street to where he is standing.

"Good afternoon!" I almost yell in utter gladness. My excitement even takes me by surprise.

"Good afternoon, Bella." He greets me with a heavy French accent. "How can I help this lovely lady today?" He asks while his eyes scrutinise me from head to toe. His smile fades instantly.

"I need you to help me get back to the airfield where you picked me up. Please" I can hear the begging tone in my voice. I feel a bit embarrassed and know that it shows on my face.

"Ah Bella, I cannot take you back there. I only take the ladies where the men pay me to take them. It is my job to make sure the entertainment arrives safely." He shrugs and smiles at me. I realise that this is a whole system. Every single person I came into contact with yesterday thought I was a prostitute. I feel unbelievable embarrassed.

"Please just help me get home?" I take the note from my clutch and hold it out towards him. He looks at it and smiles sadly.

"Bella, Bella, Bella," he takes a step towards me and folds the note back into my hand. He holds my hand in both of his while he continues. "I come here every day. You will need about ten of those notes to afford me to take you back to the airfield." He shakes his head slowly before he continues. "You will need twenty times this amount just to talk to the pilot who brought you here." The look he gives me is one of sadness. He feels sorry for me. "Bella, it will not help for me to take you to the airfield today. You do not have the means to travel all the way to where you came from. I am sorry"

He lets go of my hand. A man calls him from a few feet away. He smiles at me and walks away giving me half a wave as he turns. I am at a loss for words. I look at the note in my hand.

I fold my arms over my chest and hug myself tightly in an attempt not to lose myself in a bout of panic. I make my way across the street. I stand a moment in front of the entrance to the hotel. My limbs feel heavy and my heart feels shredded.

I walk slowly into the hotel, making my way to the bar where Marcella met up with me. The bar is quiet. There are a few women sitting at a table in the corner. They look like tourists, taking selfies, laughing at each other's jokes.

I take my seat at the bar. The barman comes closer. He rests his wrists on the bar and looks at me. The place is not noisy yet.

"Tough day?" He asks in a soft voice.

"Yeah" I answer, biting back tears.

"Working tonight?" he asks. His voice a little more compassionate than before.

"Yeah" I can feel the tears fill my eyes as the words leave my mouth and I look away from him quickly.

"Coming up" he says softly and turns away.

My heart goes numb when he places the two martinis in front of me.