Одри Карлан: January (Calendar Girl #1)

She tsked her tongue, “Ah ah, here you will call me Ms. Milan.” I rolled my eyes for dramatic effect. She narrowed hers in return. “Doll-face, first off, don’t roll your eyes. It’s rude and unladylike.” Her lips pinched into a tight line. “Second of all...” She walked around my form assessing me as if I was a piece of art, a statue. Something cold and impenetrable. Maybe I was. In her hand, she held a black lace fan that she opened and closed then flicked against her open palm during her perusal. “...never call me Millie. That woman is long gone, died when the first man I ever trusted fried up my heart and fed it to his dogs.” Such a vile image, but Aunt Millie was nothing if not honest.

“Chin up.” She smacked the underside of my chin forcing an immediate adjustment. Then she did the same to the bare patch of sensitive skin at the base of my spine where my tight concert t-shirt didn’t quite meet the painted-on jeans I adored. Instantly, I straightened my spine, thrusting my chest out. Her red-lipped smile widened showing perfectly bleached, straight teeth. The teeth were the nicest money could buy and a regular expense for the rich girls here in Los Angeles. I couldn’t spit five feet without hitting someone who sees their dentist more than is medically necessary, but just barely less than they see their dermatologist for their monthly Botox injections. Aunt Millie was obviously a regular paying customer at veneers-R-us. Still, as she kissed the edge of fifty, she definitely had it going on.

“Well, you’re definitely gorgeous. More so once we get you into something presentable and take your test shots.” Her face twitched into a grimace as she took in my very biker-on-the-go threads.

I stepped back and banged into a leather chair not far behind me. “I haven’t agreed to anything.”

Millie’s eyes narrowed into a point. “Did you not say that you needed a lot of money and fast? Something about my no good brother-in-law being in the hospital? In trouble?” She sat down slowly, crossed her legs, and laid both arms delicately on the white leather arms of the chair. Aunt Millie never liked my father. Which was unfortunate because he did the best he could as a single dad, especially when her sister, my mother, abandoned her two daughters. I was ten years old at the time. Madison was five and, to this day, doesn’t have even one tiny memory of our mother to hold onto to.

I bit my lip and looked into her pale green eyes. We looked so much alike. Aside from all the little nips and tucks she’d had, it was like looking into a mirror twenty-five years from now. Her eyes were the same light green, almost yellow, that I’d had people rave about my entire life. Green amethyst they’d say. Like looking into a rare green diamond. Our hair was exactly the same shade of jet black, so much so, that when the light hit it, you’d swear it was midnight blue.

Adjusting my shoulders against the uncomfortable chair, I took a breath. “Yeah, Dad’s got himself in big this time with Blaine.” Millie closed her eyes and shook her head. I bit my lip, the memory of my father pale and gaunt, bruises covering every inch of his body as he lay lifeless in the hospital. “He’s in a coma right now. Four weeks ago they beat him pretty bad. He still hasn’t woken up. The doctors think it could be the trauma in his brain, but we won’t know for a while. A lot of his bones were broken. He’s still in a body cast,” I finished.

“Jesus Christ. Savages,” she whispered and slid a hand up to her hair sweeping back a strand around her ear silently composing herself. I’d seen her do this before. Millie was a master manipulator and could control her emotions better than anyone I’d ever known. I coveted that talent. Needed it.

“Yeah. And last week when I was holding vigil at Dad’s bed, one of Blaine’s goons came to see me. Said, this was it for Dad. If they didn’t get their money with interest, they were going to kill him. Then they’d come after me and Maddy for the money. They called it “survivor’s debt.” Whatever that is. Either way, I have to come up with a million dollars and fast.”

Aunt Millie pinched her lips together and flicked her first nail against her thumb over and over again. The incessant ticking almost made me lose my shit. How could she be so calm, so callous? A man’s life, my life, and the life of my baby sister hung in the balance. She didn’t care for Dad, but she’d always had a soft spot for me and my sister.

Millie’s eyes shot to mine, fierce and sparkling with an unknown excitement. “It can be done, in a year. Do you think they’d give you a year if you made payments?” Her eyebrow came into a point as she focused her full attention on me.

The hairs on my arms started to rise, and I jutted my shoulders back in defense. I shook my head. “I don’t know. I’m sure Blaine wants his money, and since we had a thing a while ago, I could probably plead. That sick, sadistic fucker always liked me down on my knees begging.”

“Keep your sexual escapades to yourself, doll-face,” she grinned wickedly. “Looks like we’ll just have to put you to work right away. Top dollar accounts only. We need to move up everything. I’m going to need you here first thing tomorrow morning for the photo shoot. It will be an all-day event. We’ll shoot stills, some video, etc. I’ll have my guys get them up on the secure site by the following day.”

It was all happening so fast. The words “ It can be done” rang through my ears like a life line, a raft out in open water surrounded by sharks, but still afloat.

“But do I have to sleep with them? I mean I know there’s different kinds of escorts.” I closed my eyes waiting until I felt something warm clasp my hand. She had covered both of mine with hers.

“Doll-face, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. But in order to make that kind of money, you ought to consider it. My clients and I have an unwritten agreement, if you will. My girls sleep with them, and they add twenty percent to their fee. That twenty percent is left in cash, in an envelope in my girl’s room. None of that is exchanged with me or my service, as prostitution is illegal in California.” Millie touched her chin with her index finger. “But my girls should get more for the convenience, don’t you think?” She winked. I nodded lamely, not knowing what to think but going along with it anyway.

“I’m going to book you by the month. It’s the only way to make a six figure paycheck each month.” Her pale green eyes looked bright. So much so that I almost believed this could be easy if I just had an open mind. “You’ll be flown wherever the man is, and be whatever he needs for that month. However, I do not sell sex. If you sleep with them, it’s because you want to, although when you see some of the men I have on a waiting list, you’ll think twice about not hopping into the sack, not to mention the extra payout.” She grinned and then stood. She walked around her glass desk, sat down, then turned to her computer silently dismissing me. I felt stuck to the leather seat incapable of moving. Thoughts of how the hell I’d make this work swirled like vicious vultures through my mind, hunting and pecking at my morals one by one as if they were living prey available for the taking.

“I’ll do it,” I heard myself whisper.

“Of course you will.” She looked at me over her computer. Her lips turned into a crooked grin. “You haven’t any other option if you want to save your father.”

***

The next day was a whirlwind of activity. I felt like Sandra Bullock’s character in Miss Congeniality . I’d been prodded at, scrubbed, plucked, and waxed to within an inch of my life. I felt like a human pin cushion and almost ended up punching out the beauty consultant Millie hired to “fix” me. Her words, not mine. I couldn’t deny the proof was in the pudding. When I looked in the mirror, I barely recognized the woman staring back. My long black hair was shinier than ever, falling into perfect waves down my back and over my shoulders. Everywhere the light touched my skin, a shimmer effect twinkled back. The normal sun-kissed tanned look that I’d worked on for weeks in the California sun now shone like a fine honey, really highlighting all of my best features. The dress she had me in was lavender, comfortable and slinky. Fitting perfectly along each rounded curve and toned edge giving it the desired effect. Sexy and sleek. I looked like a dark angel as the photographer set me on a cold white marble bench. He moved me this way and that, and before long, I actually got the hang of pouting prettily and staring blankly off into the distance devoid of emotion. That’s what I had to be now. Emotionless.