Breaking Into the Business (12 page)

The
only name I could think of that, still had a slight degree of honesty, was my
middle and maiden name. I used those two to construct a whole new name
altogether. It would take someone a lot of work to connect “Clare Crane” to me.
When I spoke with the cell phone representative, it took a little coaxing to
get him to bypass his rules regarding identification. Luckily, my middle name
was on my license and he took my word for it on the last name.

After
that, I decided that I needed a few new outfits. I couldn’t keep parading
around in jeans that fit like I was a grandmother, and shirts that I had owned
since the children were babies. After three department stores, and more than a
dozen personal fashion shows in front of the changing room mirror, I had
finally chosen six complete new outfits. I considered myself shopping savvy, so
deals and sales abounded on my receipt, but I still hated to spend the money
while I was in crunch time. For every dollar I spent, it put the kids and me
just a little closer to living on the streets.

However,
I told myself, a new outfit was part of my new business venture. I didn’t have
the foggiest clue what was the practical purpose of me looking good, but
something told me that I couldn’t let Greg have a pimp that looked like
someone’s older aunt who had a lot of cats.

I
chuckled, but then I stopped, realizing that I hated the word ‘pimp.’ The
visuals that the word brought up didn’t look anything like me, nor did it
reflect anything about why or how I was getting into this business. I just
couldn’t go around calling myself that, even though the word perfectly
described what I was doing.

A
new name was required. There wasn’t much to work with, and I wasn’t very
familiar with the profession in the first place. The only word I could think of
was madam. I only knew about that term from the movies, but from what I had
gathered, the title was assigned to a woman who operated a brothel. It didn’t
really fit me at the moment, since I didn’t really own and run a brothel, nor
did I have enough people working for me to consider myself anything other than
a lonely, single woman doing whatever she could to make money.

I
decided right then and there, on the way home from buying some new outfits,
that I would be called a madam. That’s exactly what I would be. At least in my mind,
the term brought some degree of sophistication and professionalism.

What
I really needed was some more girl time. With everything that had happened, it
was time to tell the girls about my new venture. They would be honest, and at
the very least, I could trust them not to blab their mouths about what I was
planning. I fired off a quick text with the time and location for our proposed
meeting, and quickly got affirmative responses from them that they would be
there.

I
loved Pearl and Betsy dearly. They could always be counted on to come through, even
if all that was needed was a simple dinner and conversation.

By
now, the phone had activated, so I called Greg using the new number. He was
happy that I had gotten so far in setting up our new business.

Before
going home, I stopped at the office supply store and had a thousand business
cards printed up for Greg with the new cell phone number on them. I got a few
scant looks from the frumpy, middle-aged woman who was handling my work order,
but I didn’t really care. I had too much to do to be bothered with her silent
judgment.

My
new phone rang. My heart started beating fast, wondering if it was already a
client. I wasn’t in front of my schedule, so it would be hard to book Greg at
the moment.

When
I looked down at the caller id, I saw Greg’s number flashing.

“Hey,”
I said as I answered the phone.

“Hey
there,” he said. “I figured I should start using your super-secret line now
that you have it.”

“You
can call me on either phone,” I said and immediately regretted it. He was
right; it would be best if he just used the new cell number, because even
though she had slept with him and liked him a lot, he was still a part of her
secret life.

“I
just wanted to let you know that I changed the number on my online ads, so you
may start getting calls,” he said. “I’ve e-mailed you my available times, so
feel free to fill it up.”

“Got
it,” I said. “I have decided something that I needed to tell you.”

“Okay,”
he said apprehensively.

“It’s
not that major of a deal, but I have decided that I don’t like the term pimp.
From now I want to be referred to as a madam.”

He
didn’t stop laughing for an annoying minute. I stared ahead at the road,
holding the phone a short distance from my ear while he finished further
embarrassing me.

“What’s
wrong with that?” I asked when he finished laughing.

“Nothing’s
wrong with it,” he said. “It’s just funny that you’re so uptight that you’ve
spent energy worrying about your job title.”

“It’s
important.”

“No,
what’s important will be the money that we start raking in.”

“I
meant to ask you earlier. Do you want to keep your normal hourly rate, or
should we increase that.”

“Two
hundred dollars an hour is a lot,” Greg said. “Do you think that people will
pay more?”

“For
what I had last night? Sure.”

“Was
it that good?”

“You
know it was.”

“What
about this morning?”

“Nothing
happened this morning.”

“That’s
not what I remember.”

“Look
Greg,” I said. “That was great, too, but you have to be strong. You and I
cannot be anything more than friends while we are working together, and I mean
it. I enjoyed being with you in that way, but once I start booking your
appointments and sending you off to spend nights with other women, there is no
way that I will be able to handle dating you.”

“Who
said anything about dating?”

“Me,”
I said. “I may be discovering this new side of me and all that crap, but that
still doesn’t mean I don’t have dreams of finding another man that I can settle
down with. I have my kids to focus on and this new business. Worrying about a
boyfriend who sleeps with one or two women a night is not something I need on
my plate right now.”

He
was silent for a moment and I worried that I had jeopardized our business.
“You’re right and I’m sorry. I’ll do my best to keep our new relationship
professional.”

“Thank
you,”

“Any
leads on some new men to add to the business?” he asked.

“I’ve
got a few in mind, but I want to take that part slow. I just got the calendar
set up for you and I don’t even know how that’s going to work, so I want to
make sure that I can handle more.”

“Smart
move,” he said. “We should probably get together on a regular basis to go over
business stuff. I can’t tonight because I put on the calendar that I’m
available for clients, but I’m available tomorrow night. Want to get some
dinner?”

I
almost accepted his offer, but then realized that I had just made plans earlier
that morning. “I’m sorry, Greg, but I can’t.”

“Why,
you got a hot date?” I could tell by the tone in his voice that he was just
kidding. But what he didn’t realize was that he was spot on.

I
guess he assumed the answer by my silence.

“So
you do?”

“Yes,”
I said. “It was a guy I met at work a few days ago before I met you. He wants
to take me out to dinner, and he finally called me this morning to schedule.”

“I
have to be honest. I’m a little jealous.”

“I
can’t control how you feel, Greg, but you have to understand that if we’re
going to be platonic friends, I might date other men. Just like I can’t get
jealous of you seeing clients.”

“I
know,” he said. “It’s just a little hard to hear after what we shared.”

“I
understand. I feel strange going out with him, too. But I really do have to
move on.”

“But
what if I quit the business?”

Wow,
I thought to myself. In the short time, we had known each other, that prospect
had never been anything he would have entertained. I didn’t think he was
serious, but to hear him say those words was crazy.

“You
would never do that,” I said.

“You’re
right,” he agreed. “We can’t quit when we just started. I just wanted to know
what your hypothetical answer would be.”

“If
you quit gigolo-ing? You would definitely have a chance with me.”

“Well,
that’s just something I’ll have to keep in mind.”

Even
over the phone, I could tell he was smiling that over-confident way in which he
smiled. I shook my head and rolled my eyes.

“Enjoy
your date with the work friend,” he said. “Let me know if you hear anything on
the new super-secret phone.”

“I
will,” I said and then hung up the phone.

Luckily,
I had made it home before my new cell phone rang. As I answered the line, I ran
across the living room and sat in the kitchen chair in front of my laptop.

“Hello,”
I said as I accessed the calendar and got my mouse ready to click on a date. I
just realized that we didn’t have a name for the business.

“Did
I reach Greg?” a voice said on the other line.

“I’m
his associate,” I answered. “But you have the right number.”

“Okay,”
she said, slightly confused and abundantly uncomfortable.

I
realized that I needed to come up with a word track or some other way of
answering the phone that didn’t immediately put off the caller.

“So
you would like to schedule a time with Greg?” I asked.

“I
guess I do.”

“Are
you not sure?”

“I’ve
never done anything like this before,” she said.

What
was I supposed to say to this woman? Was I suddenly her counselor and life
coach? My personal answer for her was that she should hang up the phone and try
to find sex and companionship in a more traditional way, but I knew that I had
a business to run. I needed money like a fat kid needed a treadmill.

“Don’t
look at it that way,” I said. “Keep in mind that you are buying temporary
companionship and that is all. Many people do this sort of thing and there’s
nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I
guess you’re right,” she said softly. “When can I schedule the visit?”

“He
has openings tonight,” I said.

“I
am available tonight. Or really any night,” she added in a whisper that I knew
wasn’t meant for me. “Yeah, tonight is fine.”

“How
does eight o’clock sound?”

“That’s
fine.”

“For
how long will you be requesting Greg?”

“How
long does it take?”

“It
depends on what you’re looking for,” I said, cringing to myself. This
conversation was harder than any walk of shame up my driveway after a one-night
stand. I wanted to claw out my throat with my hands.

“Would
one hour be enough?” she asked.

I
had a mortgage to pay and children to take care of. For me to make money, Greg
would have to work hard.

“I
think you would want two hours minimum,” I said finally.

“Okay,”
she agreed. “Then I would like to schedule him from eight to ten.”

“Good,”
I said. “That will be four hundred dollars total. You can pay him when he
arrives. Now, I need the address of where you would like to meet him.”

She
gave me the address, which I quickly typed into the notes on the calendar.

“We
appreciate the business, and if you like your experience, please feel free to
call back or tell your friends.”

That
last part I added on my own without planning to. I thought it was nice little
touch. Return customers were instrumental in any successful business.

“Okay,
thank you,” she said and hung up the phone.

As
soon as I set the cell phone down, I felt the remorse well up in me. I had helped
some lonely woman find her way into the arms of a man who slept with women for
money. Somehow, she felt like she was being dragged down into some dark, seedy
underbelly of society, and she couldn’t stop herself. There was no way she was
backing out now, but she still couldn’t escape that feeling of dread that she
was taking herself down a course that she would not be able to turn back from.

Chapter Eleven

Even
though I was eating with the girls, I still made dinner for the kids, and poked
a little at my plate while they ate.

Jake,
of course, was interested in why I hadn’t come home the night before. How he
had figured that out, I didn’t know. Mallory couldn’t have been any more disinterested.

“So
did you have fun last night?” Jake asked.

“Of
course,” I said.