Color Me Your Color

"Shut up!" Morgan shrieked. "Come on, Becky, you've had your fun..."

"By the way, I'm not the only person in this room other than you who's fucked Tate." She tossed her platinum hair and watched me crumple with a wicked smile.

The floor began to shake. My stomach roiled. My heart thudded. "What?"

Morgan pushed Rebecca towards the door. "We have to go. I'm sorry, I'll explain later."

"What is she talking about, Morgan? Tell me it's not true!"

She shook her head and disappeared out the door, leaving me alone, once again, with only the gifts Tate gave me to keep me company.

*****

I took my necklace off slowly. The stupid latch stuck; I nearly broke it in the process of removing it from my neck, which probably would have made me feel even more satisfied. Next to go were the earrings. They felt like heavy stones in my ear. One dropped on the floor and I just left it there. There was no point in picking it up.

My bedroom felt too small, so I wandered out in the living room and saw remnants of Morgan's things. Unfortunately everything Rebecca, the crazed call girl who shared the name of my crazed sister, said came back to me in an unpleasant rush of details and images that turned my stomach.

When did he have sex with Morgan? It couldn't have been that long ago if she still had his contact information. If she thought of him for me. Bile rose up in my throat. I ran to the bathroom and threw up for an eternity. When my stomach calmed down I sat on the floor and wept. I cried and cried without even knowing why. I signed up for this life. Tate never promised me anything except a paycheck. And Morgan never claimed to be my friend.

I didn't have a right to be angry, or even disappointed. I had been naive, so stupid. Just because Tate asked me not to fuck anyone else didn't mean he planned on being monogamous, too.

My bed seemed to be singing my name. I crept under the covers and blared music to drown out the sorrows haunting my mind.

What was I going to do? I couldn't stay here but I had nowhere else to go. Home to Mom? She couldn't afford me. Even with all the money I'd already made off Tate, it would fly by in a few months and I would be back where I started, but worse because I'd be in a house of depression. I couldn't go to my sister, Becky, not only because she shared the bitch's name, but because she was pregnant again and had lost herself. Iggy couldn't let me live with him, either. His husband wouldn't love the idea, for one thing, and I didn't want to ruin our friendship by imposing. What was left of our friendship, anyway. I sent him a text just the day before and he responded vaguely, never addressing my other messages. It just wasn't like Iggy to be judgmental, nor was it like him to completely neglect me.

And I sure as hell couldn't turn to my father. That thought was laughable.

I would have to stay. I would have to live in close quarters with Morgan, someone I thought was my friend, who brought creatures like that girl over. I would likely have to stay with Tate because, as much as a I was a neophyte when it came to this world, I knew no one would treat me quite as well as he did.

After a few hours, I got up to remove my makeup and stared at my naked reflection. I had enough of playing dress-up, of pretending to be this worldly woman educated in all things sex instead of the novice that I was. It was time to become that woman, that call girl, and stop feeling at all.

My bank account would thank me.

*****

Morgan came home the next morning. She stunk of booze, smoke, sex, and shame. She looked horrible. Her red-rimmed eyes stared at me as I poured myself a cup of coffee. I exuded calm.

"Jo. Please. We need to talk."

I put milk and sugar in the cup and stirred, stirred, stirred. "Now you want to talk?" I laughed. "Sure. Let's talk."

"It was ages ago. Me and Tate. When I first started out. I didn't stay with him because... Well, he's easy to love, isn't he?" She sucked in a breath. "We can't love them, Johanna. We can't because it's the slowest way to die. We have to keep them at arm's length."

My heart broke again but I kept my composure. "I'm learning that."

Her smile was tired. "Yeah, you had to learn in the worst way imaginable, but I'm glad you got something out of it." Her smile quickly faded. "I warned him in the beginning. I told him to take it slow, to make it clear to you it was strictly a professional relationship. I tried, Jo."

"Did you know he worked for my dad?"

"No! No, I swear I didn't, but I wasn't totally surprised when you told me." She sat down at the table across from me. "I know your father's firm. They hire me sometimes. I've never met your father, though! I know that much."

"Who is this pimp Rebecca was talking about?"

She let out a long breath. "The less you know about it, the better. Don't get involved with him. It was a mistake. I just..." she broke off, tears falling from her eyes. "I needed the money, Jo. Once Roger broke up with me I didn't know where to go next. My well was dry."

I sipped my coffee and thought about how weird and down she'd been. It all made sense. I also remembered her intense conversation with Tate the night before he took me to Nobu. She must have thought he was taking things too far too soon.

Morgan was in the wrong ten thousand times over, but I couldn't deny it appeared as if she were looking out for me.

"Do you forgive me?" she asked. "You won't believe this, but you're my only friend. I don't want to lose you."

I put my mug in the sink and tied up my hair. It was time to go to work, back to the diner where everything smelled like fries and loneliness.

Glancing back at Morgan, I shrugged. "No, I don't think so. Not yet. But I'll work on it."

*****

Tate came back to the diner and sat in my section.

"That gorgeous guy is back!" Lauren laughed. "Can I please, please have him?"

"No."

"But..."

"I know him. He sat in my section on purpose." I left her behind me, her lips flapping like a fish. I liked New Johanna. Call Girl Johanna. She didn't take shit anymore.

"Hello," I greeted him, happy to catch him off guard for once. He was surprised and a bit sheepish. I supposed Morgan told him I knew, and I also supposed he expected me to come flailing over, screaming, or possibly even crying. None of that for Call Girl Johanna."How are you?"

He nearly stuttered when he said, "Fine. You?"

"Tired. What can I get for you?"

A small smirk graced his face. "Well, that's a dangerous question. I guess I'll be easy on you and say coffee."

I nodded once and disappeared, pouring his scalding cup of coffee and ignoring how much I'd love to pour it all over his dick. Lauren was complaining about me to our manager, Lou, who was basically ignoring her. There was nothing to fight about; Tate was in my section, after all.

Because I fucked him just right.

I put the coffee down a tad bit roughly. "Whoa, that nearly got all over my shirt." Tate was a bit pissed. Good.

"Poor baby. What do you want to eat?"

He put a napkin on his lap and glared at me. "Freddy's Surprise. When do you go on break?"

"Twenty minutes."

"Good. I want you to sit with me and explain this shit. I don't do games, Johanna."

"Neither do I," I assured him. "I'm a businesswoman."

*****

He watched me as I ate my soup. I could tell he wanted to burst out saying a million different things, but being a practiced asshole he managed to wait me out.

"What did you want to talk about?"

He smiled but it wasn't kind. "Johanna. I know you know about Morgan and me, and you think you know about me and some sex party. For your information, I wasn't anywhere near that shit."

"Wonderful." I smacked my lips together.

"So you've decided to play this like an immature brat?"

I finished off my lunch and finally looked Tate in the eye. "No. I'm being what you pay for. You pay for no drama. You pay for me to get on my knees and my back for you. Let's not confuse this. Why should I care about what you did before?

"He didn't look like he believed me but he threw some bills on the table and stood. "You're exactly right. It's none of your business."

I stood, too, and stared back at him. "So what time are you picking me up tonight?"

Here I was, playing the part. I should have been proud but there was nothing left but hollow disappointment.

A small smile began to play on his lips. "Seven." He walked away but paused before the door. "And Johanna? This conversation isn't over."

*****

Morgan fussed with her hair and then glanced back at me. I was in the bathtub shuffling through an old magazine, antsy and frustrated.

"Did you flip out on Tate?"

I sighed. "There's nothing to flip out over. I got too caught up in the glitz and forgot all about reality."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," she said for the millionth time that day, watching me from the mirror. She applied some mascara and cursed when it smeared across her eyelid.

"You were probably right not to at first," I decided. I thought long and hard on the train ride home and figured Morgan had her reasons for not disclosing that very important detail to me, and while they were stupid, they weren't malicious. "I would have backed out. Or looked at him differently."

"Maybe that wouldn't have been a bad thing."

I looked up from the suds. "To back out or to look at him differently?"

Morgan blew out a breath and turned to sit on the edge of the tub. "Maybe both. I hate what this is doing to you. One day's worth of disappointment and you've turned into a hardened, tough-as-nails girl who, from what you told me, managed to stare a pissed off Tate in the face and not shrivel before him. Pretty impressive."

"I might just be becoming who I'm meant to."

"I don't know," Morgan whispered, playing with my hair. "Just don't hold the past against Tate. I'm sort of glad you got this wake-up call, even though I'm still really, really sorry. You were all glazed eyes and glowing hearts. This isn't that kind of world we're involved in. Especially not me."

"I know. I understand it now." I took her hand. Even though I was still so pissed, I was already on my way to forgiving her. "Why do you hang out with Rebecca?"

Morgan's expression closed and she got up, running her hands down her skirt in an anxious gesture. "That's a whole long story not worth getting into at the moment. I have a date. Wish me luck," she laughed with irony.

The bath got cold and I got out shortly after she left. I was just in my robe when someone knocked at the door. Through the peephole I saw it was Tate. Ugh. He was two hours early!

Not in the mood for him, I yanked open the door, prepared to show my irritation. Before I could say one word, his lips were on mine and he was pulling me into the apartment.

My robe was off before I could think to stop him. I forgot being mad. I forgot being hurt, or disappointed, or disillusioned about what we had. The kisses were so sweet that I figured this was Tate's version of an apology.

Then he pushed me against the sofa, climbing on top of me. His clothes disappeared somewhere along the line; I was so distracted that I didn't notice. The look on his face had me shaking. I couldn't remember him ever being so focused before, and that was saying something, since every time we had sex before it was with a certain impressive level of order and precision. He lazily ran his hands over my curves, as if he were tracing them for the first time.

Something had shifted. I just didn't know what.

His kiss grew harder as he slipped inside me, crushing his weight against me in one solid thrust. We moaned into each other's mouths. Tate moved faster and faster; the passion got lost somewhere. I fought hard to bring it back, writhing and reaching with my body to get closer. The kiss grew cold and hard.

Finally it dawned on me what this was. He wasn't really sorry. He was angry, for whatever reason, and he was punishing me. Tate got what he paid for with every slick glide. All too quickly he came inside me, grabbing onto my breasts while he shuddered and cursed and prayed to a God he very likely didn't believe in.

I lay there as he stood, zipping back up his pants and throwing on his shirt. His breath was heavy and fast when he looked at me.

"Can't make it later. Thought I'd stop by." He plopped a thick envelope holding an unmistakably large wad of cash. I noticed his hand was shaking, but he had no other emotion on his face. He was ice cold, and it hurt. "This is how you wanted it, Johanna. Remember that."

I cried when I heard the door shut. I was a china doll, smashed by my own hand and glued back together with Tate's money that would never make me whole again.

****

It was windier out than the weatherman said, so my brunette hair that Morgan had lovingly curled for me flung every which way. I ignored her worried looks as we walked down the busy city sidewalk and picked up the pace, trying to leave her annoying concerned face behind me. Morgan grabbed my wrist and tried to pull me back.

"I really don't like this, Johanna."

"I don't care. You owe it to me."

"This will only lead you down a..."

"Spare me." Just then I tripped on a groove in the pavement. I wasn't used to wearing such immensely high heels. Morgan steadied me, and I unfortunately had to look at her.

"I know you're hurt. I know, okay? And it sucks that Tate let you down so much, and that I let you down so much. And it's awful you're seeing all the not-so-glamorous parts of this job. You just have to remember it's a means to an end, not for fucking life! And if you meet Thomas and you get into the shit storm I've gotten myself into, you'll be doomed forever. Please, let's just go back home."

Her words were valid. I knew I was doing something from which I would possibly never be able to extract myself. At the moment, it seemed like a good idea. I was eager for self-destruction. I was inexplicably disappointed in Tate and I wanted to lash out. All I could think of was the way he shed the cultured facade he had and took me, treated me like a whore, and left me shaking on the sofa. If he wanted me to only be a whore, I'd be a whore. I wanted to ruin whatever was between us. I wanted a brutal reminder of what world I was in. Meeting Thomas would be that.

Perhaps I should have just gotten hammered or got a tattoo or pierced my eyebrow. Something drastic and damaging, but something that wouldn't be equivalent to selling my soul.

Rebecca stepped out into the street a few blocks down. She was far away, but I could still make out her challenging stare. I ran hands down the red dress I wore, smoothing its wrinkles and its catches on some of my more unflattering curves.

"We're going."

Morgan followed behind, muttering something under her breath. Then, "You know Tate's not going to like this, right? I know that's the whole point of you doing this but I want you to understand he's probably going to drop you. He doesn't share, and he doesn't deal with girls who have pimps."

"I don't care," I said. My heels were going to wear off at the rate I was stomping towards the bar.

It was a tiny dive, smoky and cramped. The scents of cigarettes, spilled tequila, and shame assaulted me as I made my way further into hell. It was empty except for the tall thin man I imagined to be Thomas, Rebecca, and two other girls. They were all so skinny I wouldn't have been surprised to hear they were on coke.

Immediately Morgan's demeanor shifted. She grew quiet, tense, and submissive in a way I never saw before. She moved to stand in front of me and gestured to Thomas in greeting.

"Who have you brought me?" Thomas asked. He grinned at me, but there was a calculating gleam in his eyes that made me shudder.

Morgan looked back at me, her eyes softening. She shook her head minutely and then turned back to her pimp. "Her name is..."

"Come here," he ordered, his black eyes focused on me. "I want to see you up close."

On shaky legs I crossed the floor. Rebecca snickered when I bumped my hip into a table.

Thomas sighed."Rebecca, I'm sick of you. Leave the room." His words were apparently enough. Rebecca quickly made her way out like a frightened child, not sparing me another glance. Thomas' grin returned. "I don't like it when my girls fight, and I don't tolerate petty jealousies. Now, come here."

I finally made it to him and forced myself to hold still as his soft hands ran through my hair. He fingered my bangs and rolled his eyes. "I really don't like bangs. You'll have to pin them back."

Finally having a chance to get a good look at him, I wasn't impressed. He looked about thirty-five, and though he was tall, he was extraordinarily skinny, which gave one the idea he was weak. But that glimpse at what lingered, unsuspected beneath that facade was enough to have me hold very, very still. He circled around me, touching my hip, stroking my back, poking my stomach. He pressed his hand against my tit and barked out a laugh when I jumped.

"Sit down, baby. Let's go over a few things."

I sat down at a table that looked like it might collapse at any moment. He plopped down across from me and gestured to one of the other girls. She quickly ran over to the bar and said something to the aging bartender cleaning up. He poured a glass of beer that she nearly spilled in her rush to get back to Thomas. All while this went on, Thomas's black eyes never strayed from my face. He wanted me to see this display of power, I guess, and he wanted to watch every emotion and thought play across my expression.

"What is your name?" he asked.

I had to clear my throat of its nerves before I could answer. "Johanna."

"Why do you want to work for me?"

"I need money. And I'm not making enough on my own."

He smiled briefly. "Of course you're not. You should know I take sixty percent of everything my girls make. Sixty percent. Sounds like a lot but you're going to be making more than you know what to do with. Understand? I have lots of rules. Going into this you have to know so you don't make a mistake. I don't like mistakes." I just nodded. "From now on, I own you. I own everything you do. You're not allowed to do anything without my say-so. You want to buy a dress? You call me first and let me decide if you need it. You want to take a nap? You need to ask me first. You want a steak dinner? You beg me for it. Got it? You can't say no to anything. I decide what you can do and what you can't."

It felt hot and small in that trap of a bar. I was sweating and probably visibly shaking. I should have run, but I'd come this far. I felt Morgan's clammy hand on my shoulder and I took a heavy breath.

Thomas watched the scene, watched my reaction, and nodded. "This is real shit, JoJo. I want you to fully understand what this is before you accept, because once you do there ain't no going back. And one last thing: I get to sample the goods before I take you on."

Now I knew I was shaking. My knees were knocking together and I couldn't get them to stop. I couldn't even keep up the brave face anymore; I'm sure I looked terrified. Thomas reached over to cup my cheek. "You look like Little Red Riding Hood in that dress, baby. I like it. I like feeling like the Big Bad Wolf. I want you to wear red every day. That's your first test, little Red."

I swallowed down bile and forced myself to hold still. He brushed his fingers against my lips.

"I'll try you in two days. Saturday. Be waxed. Come back here and I'll take you. You can go, JoJo."

I stood too fast and almost fell on my face. Morgan steadied me and took my arm. We started to leave but then Thomas called us back.

"Morgan?" She slowly slid her eyes in his direction. His grin was disturbing and dark. "Good job."

It wasn't lost on me that this was the second time Morgan had introduced me to a nasty world, but I had definitely asked for it.