“Thank you.” I sit patiently while she dumps the napkin-wrapped cutlery beside the dish and then turns on her heel.
I’ve come here for lunch most days since Jinx brought me to the place. You’d think she would have gotten accustomed to me by now, yet it’s as though the more I show my face, the more the mystery around where I’ve been this past decade annoys her.
I unwrap the utensils and then set the paper napkin aside. With crispy lettuce stabbed onto my fork, I wake my phone screen and resume my lunch break admin. Income has been down since I moved back to Temperance—no surprise there. The limited new content, restricted to pieces I filmed in advance before I moved, has taken a dip in views. People like assurances, routines, and knowing they don’t have to guess when they’ll have new content. My sporadic posts with little explanation have likely upset many of my followers, even though I adjusted the membership prices to reflect the reduced perks.
I jam a mouthful of salad in and put the phone to sleep while I ponder where to go next with the service. Hell, for all I know, having the site is still grounds for prosecution in Minnesota, never mind the fact that I haven’t filmed anything since I got here. I don’t fully understand how these new laws work, only that they took away an honest income stream for a lot of women.
Pornography isn’t often a first choice, but when it’s the only choice, a person soon gets accustomed to the lingering shame that accompanies it.
Or maybe that’s just me? Perhaps that’s my father’s judgment in the back of my mind, making me question if I’ll come to regret sharing my body in such a way.
If I’ll cause heartbreak when the truth potentially comes to light.
I open my email app and find a reply waiting from the clinic I’d enquired to on behalf of Mom. Absent-mindedly stabbing at the salmon in the bowl, I scroll through the email to find what I wanted: their fee schedule. I knew it’d be pricey, but the amount still floors me when I read how many hundreds it’ll cost for an initial consultation. No treatment plan. Just the doc sitting there while Mom details her history.
It’s daylight robbery. I bet men wouldn’t have to pay this much to see a gender-based specialist.
“How are you liking the salad?”
Mouth full of fish, I startle when I register the woman who stands beside my table.
“Vanessa,” I manage around my mouthful before swallowing it. “Hi.”
She tugs out the seat opposite and drops into it. “I had a hard time convincing Theresa to put it on the menu, but I think it was worth it. A few people seem to like ordering it.”
She really is striking. Long, black hair pinned back into a half-up, half-down do, dangly earrings with blood red dropletsresting against her jawline, and the kind of makeup I’ve tried and failed to do for quite a few years now, long lashes gently sweeping as she blinks, waiting on me to say something.
“It’s great. I like the dried cranberry in it.”Jesus.Could I sound more stilted?
“We haven’t had a chance to talk yet. I’m sorry. My name’s?—”
“Vanessa,” I finish for her. “I’ve heard about you.”
Her brow furrows slightly, shoulders tense.
Fuck.“I mean, in a good way.” I press my hand to my forehead. “I’m an absolute mess today. Can you tell?”
She chuckles. “Takes the pressure off it always being me who’s the mess.”
She stares at me for a beat, and I find myself comfortable doing the same to her. There’s something I can’t place my finger on, but she feels so familiar. As if we’d been friends as kids and then lost touch over the years. Yet I’ve never met this woman before. Don’t know her. So why do I have this tug in my chest to stay a while? To talk to her more.
“How’s your mom?” she asks, breaking the spell.
I tilt my head and frown.
“I’m sorry. I overheard Jinx tell Chaos that it’s the reason why you came back. You don’t have to answer.”
A strange flutter takes flight beneath my ribs.Does he talk about me at the club?Of course, he would. I’m the goddamn Sheriff’s daughter.
“She’s doing okay.” I gesture to the darkened phone. “I was researching somewhere new to take her, actually.”
“Promising?”
I sigh, setting the fork in the bowl. “You never know until you try them, really. So, who’d know?”
“I get what you mean.” She stares out the front window as she talks. “I’ve lost count of how many thousands I spent at therapy before I found someone who actually made a difference.”
“I’m sorry.”
