I stared at her, not knowing what to say, or hell, what to think. All this time, she'd been broke? And I'd had no idea?
It couldn't be true. But what if it was? Why hadn't I known? I claimed to love her. Ishouldhave known.
I swallowed a lump in my throat. "Chloe–"
"Don't 'Chloe' me," she said. "What the hell? Have you been rich so long that you've forgotten what it's like to live in the real world?"
The real world – yeah, I'd seen it, alright. But for some reason, all this time, I'd pictured Chloe as this rich girl who never knew what it was like to need anything.
On raw instinct, I moved toward her. "Chloe, you need money? I mean, shit, why didn't you say something?" I reached toward my wallet, thinking to offer give her whatever was in there, anything to make things better.
She lifted her chin. "I don't want your charity. As you so aptly observed, I just got paid. So I'm practically rich, right?"
"But you just said–"
"Iknowwhat I said. Quit rubbing my nose in it, alright?"
None of this was making sense. I stared down at her. "But what about your waitressing job?"
"What about it?"
"So you dothatfor the money too, not–?"
"For the ego trip?" She gave a bark of laughter. "You ever work as a waitress? It's fucking hard work. I take shit all night long from people who act like they're better than me just because they're sitting down, and I'm standing up. I dress like some bimbo and act like I'm stupid, for God's sake."
She tugged her hair. "You know how many times I've got to wash this to get the hairspray out? You think I'm doing this for some sort of ego trip." She made a sound of disgust. "That's rich. At least with this job, I get to dress how I want. And I get to live in a nice place where people treat me half-way decent."
The way she was talking, it ate me up inside. Half-way decent? What didthatmean? That the guys didn't beat her?
How had this happened? It's not like I hadn't seen this sort of thing before. I knew girls in my old neighborhood. Some of them weren't too bad. And the thingstheydid for money…
But this was Chloe. How the hell had I missed that?
In a quiet voice, I said, "And that's good enough for you?"
"It's gotta be." She squared her shoulders. "I've just got to keep doing what I'm doing, that's all."
My thoughts were churning, and I didn't know what to say. All this time, she'd been so broke, so hurting for money, so desperate, that she'd been selling herself. And I hadn't seen it. What kind of asshole doesn't even know that his girlfriend has no money?
"But Chloe…" I shook my head. "You don't need to. Not anymore."
"Oh yeah? Why not?"
"You just don’t." I shoved a hand through my hair. "So, you want a loan or something? I mean, if you won't take money…" I blew out a long, unsteady breath. "All I'm saying is, you don't have to do this. Don't go back there, alright?"
The pain in her eyes was a knife to my heart. All this time, she'd been desperate, and I'd been blind to everything. There was nothing that could make me feel shittier – or so I thought, until she started crying.
Chapter 44
Unable to stop myself, I moved forward and wrapped her in my arms. She felt small and fragile against my chest. I wanted to protect her. Ishouldhave protected her. She shook against me, her muffled sobs going straight to my heart as I held her close and whispered soothing sounds into her hair.
"Baby, don't cry," I said. "I'm sorry. We'll work it out. You can move in with me, alright?"
She leaned closer, and I felt like a giant shit-heel, listening to her cry.I'dmade her cry – not the guy from this morning, and not the douchebag who'd paid her.
A hypocrite – that's what I was. The thingsI'ddone for money. I'd beaten men bloody. I'd partnered with violent people. In a way, I'd letmybody be used, too. And why? Because desperate people did desperate things.
I wasn't desperate anymore. And I didn't want Chloe to be either.
