Whitney can be any one you like. Cleo, Spice, Cherry, Scarlett, Lacy, Brandy, Angle, Ginger, Aspen or Trixie depending on which of her A-list celeb clients book her. She keeps her list short, only ten clients, but they have all been chosen very care...
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"Oh, Whitney!"
"Hello, grandad. You having a good day today?"
"Every day is grand when I see you, dear girl."
"Excuse me, Whitney, may I have a word?" the doctor asks from behind her. She turns and nods then follows him out into the hallway. "He remembers me today," Whitney says, she can't hide her smile. The doctor avoids eye contact with her as most men do. She intimidates them, she never intends to. "Yes, but don't get used to it. Alzheimer's is a hard disease and tomorrow he may not know who you are. He is deteriorating quickly," the doctor says. "How quickly?" she asks. "A few months. I am sorry," he says then nods and walks away. Whitney's heart drops, he's all the family she has. She wipes her cheeks and steps back into her grandfather's room. "You want to go for a walk down to the lake, grandad?" she asks softly tucking a blanket over his legs. "Yes please, dear. Are you staying for tea?" he asks. "Of course," she says wheeling his wheelchair down the long hallway and then out to the lake. Parking it on a hill and then sitting on the grass in front of him and pulling her knees to her chest while he plays with her hair like he did when she was a little girl. His disease has changed him so much that she can only hang on to these moments when he is himself and remembers her.
He thinks she is a lawyer, but she gave up law school. It just wasn't for her. She wonders what he would think of her if he knew she was a prostitute. She doesn't think he would care if she told him she was a high-end prostitute to A-listers. Prostitution is prostitution no matter how you try and spin it. She has only ten clients by choice. She is Cleo, Spice, Cherry, Scarlett, Lacy, Brandy, Angle, Ginger, Aspen, and potentially Trixie if she takes Austin on - she hasn't decided yet. They have all been chosen very carefully, all A-listers, all very rich, and all playing a part in helping her build a nice little nest egg. Some she has had for the last eight years, some for three or four years, a few for just over a year, and now one potential new client. She feels her phone vibrate and pulls it out of her pocket. It's a message.
Hi, Cherry. I will be in LA on Friday. Would like a weekend visit. Harry.
Harry, like Marshal, has been a client for years so she gives them the option of booking her for a full weekend - a perk she offers to long-standing clients. It costs them, but they are filthy rich and very secretive so it works in her favor. They are both also very generous gift-givers so it's always a pleasure.
I will be at your house on Friday, 6 pm and leave Sunday, 6 pm. Any requests?
See you then. The box, please.
She sighs and puts away her phone. She is not working right now and needs to spend all the time she has left with her grandad so she turns around and smiles up at him. "Tell me a story grandad," she says and her grandad smiles, launching into stories of his time in the military, of his favorite memories of her as a little girl, and how happy he was to have her. It takes him a good two hours before he starts to fade. Before he starts to forget his memories and before he starts to forget her. Then he looks confused and asked her to take him for a lie down as if she were one of his nursemaids. She pushes him back into the nursing home and tucks him into bed. "See you tomorrow, grandad," she whispered as he falls asleep. This is the best nursing home in LA and he gets the best care - she pays for it all. She would pay double, he deserves the world. He is her favorite person.
