Friends With A Prostitute

Chapter 27

"I gave him my card but he hasn't called yet. It's been 5 days. Should we try a different plan?" Stacy stood up from the sofa and started pacing up and down in her living room. Cynthia was on the other end of the phone she was speaking into.

At the Lancasters', Cynthia was hugging a washing basket to her chest, while tilting her head to sandwich her phone between her hear and her shoulder.

"What can we do? You think you should maybe go back up to the office – No, that won't work. He might get suspicious. Now he probably thinks you were just a random guest over there. If you show up again, he'll start asking too many questions."

"Why wouldn't he call though? I don't think it was for lack of intrigue." Stacy had stopped by her window to stare absentmindedly at the traffic outside. "I mean, no offense, but I don't think he would have forgotten such an experience so easily. Unless of course, he has someone else who would do the same..." She paused as she realized her friend might be offended. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I–"

"No, it's alright. I'm over him already. Good thing I never really loved him to begin with. Thanks for the kids, but he can go choke on a clit for all I care. Right after I take half of what he owns, of course." A sly smile crept onto Cynthia's face. She put down the washing basket next to the washing machine and leaned onto the counter.

"Oooh Mrs. Good Wife Gone Bad I see!" Stacy joked. On the road outside her window, an angry driver was flipping off a biker. Stacy turned around before getting too caught up in the scene. The paint on the other end of her living room was beginning to peel off. She would have to tell the landlady about that. "Sorry, what's that?" Cynthia had just gone quiet on the other end, making Stacy snap back from the distractions.

"I said, what if he lost the card?" Cynthia repeated, "What are you up to over there? You seem a little distracted. Bad time?"

"No. Just some distracting traffic. These drivers have no chill."

"I blame it on the traffic out here. It just gets way too crazy sometimes, you can't help but get crazy with it."

At this Stacy gave a hearty laugh, "I can't relate. Never owned a car of my own. Can't even drive." Stacy laughed again. "My goodness!"

"Don't worry. As soon as all this is over, I'll teach you myself. And we'll get a nice car for you."

"Thanks, dear. But you know..." Stacy paused. She was thinking of how she didn't want her first car to come from her escort money. It would be tainted. It would always remind her of her filth. She wanted to buy the car with clean money. After she had made it out of the scum. "I want my first car to mean something. I don't want to be a prostitute forever you know."

"We'll get you out of there, Stacy. One way or another. You still have everything ahead of you. You can work your way out."

"You really think so?" Stacy asked. It was a genuine question. Was she not damaged goods already?

"I believe it. You're one of the most phenomenal people I've met and you deserve the best that world can give. And I want to see you get the best."

"Thanks." Stacy wore a genuine smile on her face. "But first, we take that bastard of a husband down. You have one of my cards around there somewhere?"

"I can look around. I haven't seen one."

"I think I gave one to Mary to play with the other day. She might still have it."

"Oh. I'll check in her room. Then... I can just slip it into one of his jackets I guess. Right?"

"Perfect. If he sees it again, he'll remember to call."

"Alright, I'll text you if I find it."

"Sure."

"And Stacy... I don't know if I've said this already, but thank you. For everything. Thank you!" Cynthia wished she was standing next to Stacy so she could hug her.

"If I do it for a friend, I do it for myself. I've got a client to prep for. Text me later."

"I will. Cheers!"

"Bye."

Cynthia stayed leaning on the counter and staring at her phone for a while. A loud beeping noise from the washing machine brought her attention back to the task at hand. She lifted the washing basket onto the counter next to her top loader. Then she proceeded to sort the laundry on semi-autopilot. Her mind was a few miles away. With Stacy. What did Stacy want to do with her life? Go back to school? Start a career? Whatever it was, Cynthia was ready to help her to the best of her abilities.

Leaving the now very noisy laundry room, Cynthia went upstairs to the pink room to begin her search among the toy baskets.

Over at Stacy's apartment, Stacy had to finalize some details with the client she would be meeting later that day. It was a foreign scientist that was there for a conference and apparently for some infidelity as well. She had Googled him and he was married back in his home country. There was not a single negative sentence in all the articles she had read about him. How long would it be until she didn't have to be part of the dark sides of the stories of such esteemed people?

Stacy stood up again and walked to her window. The traffic had subsided. She pictured her own car in the empty parking space at the bottom. On the shelf, next to the window was the book she had been reading. She picked it up, opened at the bookmark and stroked the page.