I melt onto the floor and show her how dramatic I can be, by slowly falling into the pile of clothes and pressing my hand to my forehead.
She ignores me and starts tugging clothes out from under me.
“Here. Plenty of options,” she says, throwing shirts on me.
“They’re not theone. I can’t go.”
She growls and tosses a shirt at me hard. It almost hurts because it hits me right in the face.
“Cassius, you know damn well you’re going to go because this could change our life.”
I huff, then lean up and grab her around the waist to pull her down into the pile with me. Both of us barely fit here, betweenthe two beds, but we fit well enough. I rest my head on her shoulder.
“I know. I just need to let out my frustrations now, so I don’t take it out on him.”
Her arm goes around me, and she rubs my arm. “If he wants to pay you for sex, you better not do it.”
I jerk my head up, and glare at her. “He’s hot as hell!”
She breaks out into a grin. “Okay, do it then!”
“Uh, I planned on it.”
“Well, you better hurry up because the driver is going to be here in three minutes.”
“Shit!”
I scramble up and look through the options that Cammy tossed at me.
“Guess I’ll go with this one.” I pick up the light grey sweater-knit polo.
“It makes your eyes pop.”
“At least I have something going for me.”
I pull the shirt over my stained white T-shirt and go into the bathroom to brush my teeth and my hair, which is extra messy today but somehow working for me.
“You’ve got the Damon Salvatore thing going on extra hard right now.”
She must be binging that show again…
We have a stock pile of DVDs that Mom doesn’t touch for some reason. When Chrissy, Cammy, and I are home together,we cuddle up and watch them. There’s nothing else to do around here.
“Shut up,” I mutter, shoving past her to go into the bedroom and put my shoes on. I’m shoving my feet into them when a car horn blares outside. I glance at the clock hanging on the wall above the door frame. 8:00.
“Wow. They’re punctual,” I say as I get up and pull Cammy into a hug. “Have a good day at work. I’ll see you when you get home.”
“Good luck!” she calls after me. “Hopefully he’s not a creep! If you aren’t home when I get home, I’m calling the cops!”
I laugh as I leave the trailer, jumping over the holes on the deck as smoothly as I can. I feel better that he isn’t here to see the dump I live in, but no doubt his driver will let him know. In fact, it may even make him change his mind. If I were him, I know what I’d think about me—a mistake waiting to happen.
The driver, who is dressed in the typical driver get up finished with hat and all, is waiting outside the car with the back door open, ready for me to get in. The ground is muddy from the snow melting, though there are still some bigger piles pushed toward the fences, behind people’s trailers. I try not to get mud all over my shoes as I hurry to the car.
“Fancy,” I mutter as I hop in. He closes the door and I put my seatbelt on. We pull off as soon as he gets into the car, no small talk or anything. Guess there’s not much to say, right? But I’m nervous, and I’ve never been quiet when that happens.
“So, you worked for this guy for long?”
Yeah, I’m an idiot. I don’t even know his name.