“And here I was thinking I didn’t need to includeprostitutionto the list of shady things you shouldn’t be doing.”
“Can you please just take the money?”
“Why did you do that? You have a job interviewnext week!”
“Because like you just mentioned I’m brokenow. Even if I get that job I wouldn’t get paid for a while. I barely had enough gas to get to that hotel.”
“I would have given it to you.”
“I know.” Renley let out a frustrated sigh, unable to look at his friend. “But you’ve done enough already.”
“And I’ll continue to do it as long as I know you’re doing your best.”
“It’s been three months since I got out and still haven’t gotten a job.”
“That doesn’t mean you result to turning yourself out. You are aware that’s illegal, right?”
He gulped, the gooey feeling that had lingered since the hotel quickly fading. “I know.”
“I should kick you out.”
“Fine, I’ll pack my shit and leave,” he growled, leaping to his feet.
Shannon snatched an arm to stop Renley in his tracks. “I said Ishould. But I won’t because I know you meant well and I’m even more certain I know you won’t do it again, right?”
“I won’t.”
“Good, now grab yourself dinner and come sit with me.”
Embarrassed and ashamed, he did as he was told. With a full plate, he returned to the couch.
“So, what kind of kinky shit did you do?” Shannon asked once the first plate was devoured.
“Nothing kinky. She just wanted someone to spend a few hours with.”
“But you did have sex?”
“Yes.”
“And got paid for it. Lucky you. Was she at least pretty?”
“Gorgeous.”
“Jackpot.” Then with a serious tone, he added, “Don’t eventhinkabout doing it again. You can get into some serious trouble.”
“I know.”
An hour later, he pulled the blanket over himself and tried to get as comfortable on the couch as he could. He loved Shannon for being his voice of reason, but after his enjoyable evening, his words had left a bitter taste in his mouth.
A week later, he tried to disguise his nerves as he stepped into the office of Harris & Gomez Construction. He’d worked in construction before, but once employers found out about hischarges, they turned him away. With damp palms he stepped up to the reception desk, flashing the woman there a dazzling smile.
“Can I help you, sir?” the young brunette asked.
“Renley Taylor—I have an appointment with Mr. Gomez.”
“I’ll let him know you’re here.” She picked up her phone, pressed a button, and waited for the call to connect. “Your ten o'clock appointment is here.”
She’d barely hung up the phone when a man in his late forties pushed through a set of frosted glass doors. He stepped forward with a smile, taking Renley’s hand in a firm handshake. “Mr. Taylor?”
