Me
It’s my job. It’s how I pay my bills.
Derek
Wrong. Sucking my dick is how you pay your bills. Or have you forgotten?
I putmy phone back in my pocket, not bothering to look when it goes off again. Shame washes over me. I would absolutelydieif Talon read that message. I’m proud of myself for doing what needs to be done to survive, but there’s still a lot of shit in my life I’mnotproud of. A lot of skeletons lurk in my closet.
My arrangement with Derek is one of them.
Suddenly, there’s movement to my left, but Talon’s already on the move by the time I realize what’s happening.
“Hi!” he says with a wide smile to the couple waiting at the host stand. “Do you have a reservation?”
They give him their names, and he clicks all the right buttons on the iPad, asking if they’ve been here before, and laying out our procedures and expectations perfectly while I struggle to pull air into my frozen lungs following Derek’s messages.
Things between Derek and me weren’t always so tumultuous. When we first got together, I thought he genuinely liked me. As it turns out, he doesn’t genuinelylikeanybody…including himself. We’ve been together four years now, and I’ve never even met his family. He never brings friends or coworkers around, and he occasionally shows upherejust to letmyfriends and coworkers know I’m unavailable. Of course, when he shows up, he’s dripping in sweetness. More than once, I’ve thought he should audition with those skills, but Derek wouldn’t be caught dead in the theater. Not as a spectator and definitely not as an actor. It remains a source of tension between us.
I’d be surprised that Derek still allows me to go to the theater and interact with people he doesn’t know, but it didn’t take long to figure out why he’s okay with it.
It gives him something to hold over my head, a way to keep me in line because he knows the theater is my sanctuary.
‘You’d better get on your fucking knees unless you want me showing up backstage, telling all those losers how pathetic you are, or having a fit during your monologue and disrupting the stupid thing.’
Talon disappears into the foyer of the restaurant with the couple he just checked in, getting them seated before returning a few minutes later, carrying two steaming mugs.
“Not sure how you take your coffee, so I opted for hot chocolate,” he says, holding a mug out forme.
Since he also brought one for himself—and I know for a fact that hot chocolate and coffee are both free to employees on the clock—I accept it.
“Two creams, one sugar, but this is perfect. Thank you,” I tell him, pulling the mug close, trying to let the warmth seep through my gloves into my frozen fingers.
“Don’t mention it,” he says easily as my text alert goes off again. “A couple minutes inside really helps get the blood circulating again. Why don’t you give it a try? I can manage out here.” I’m about to tell him no, but then my phone starts ringing. His brows raise, and his lips fold in on each other before he says, “Sounds like someone needs to get a hold of you. Go on. I’ll be fine.”
Pulling my phone back out, I see Derek’s name on the screen.
“I’ll only be a second,” I tell him, heading for the doors, clutching my hot chocolate as though it can somehow give me strength. It’s best to get this over with.
“Hello?” I answer, heading straight for the employee lounge.
“Why didn’t you answer my last text?” Derek demands.
“I’m atwork, Derek. What do you need?”
“Ineedto know when you’re paying me for your half of the utilities. The power bill is due tomorrow. Or do you not have enough to cover it…again?”
“I’ll get it to you tonight,” I say through clenched teeth. Inhaling through my nose, I release an exhale and ask, “Where’d you go last night?”
I always wonder ifthiswill be the time he finally admits he’s running around on me. In a weird way, it would hurt. Not because I’m in love with him or anything, but because it would just confirm that even after allowing him to use me, break me, and control me, I’mstillnot good enough.
Sometimes I think if he admitted it, it would finally be enough to make me leave, but then I have to laugh.
I have nowhere to go.
“Why do you care? It’s not like you missed me,” Derek pouts. “I bet you’d miss me if I threw your ass out, though.”
Here we go again.
