Twenty Friggin Million Dollars???

Chapter 4

Catherine’s POV

“I’d offer you 20 million dollars if you can turn my son straight.”

I scoffed. Rich people and their stupid conditions. He was probably joking but he did look like the type who could throw that kind of money at a stranger without blinking. Still, the other part of my brain would not shut up. What if he was actually telling the truth?

“You’re joking right?”

“And do I look like I have the time to be joking?”

“Well,” I shrugged. “I don’t know you tell me.”

He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a checkbook. His pen moved fast across the paper. When he stood and held it out I saw the number clearly. Twenty million dollars. My breath caught. I reached for it on instinct but he pulled it back just as quickly, folding the check once and slipping it away again.

“But you’re not getting this until you can actually fulfil the contract.”

“And what makes you think I can?”

“You’ve got the moves and if I’m thinking correctly, the wits too.”

I chuckled even though nothing about this felt funny. “I don’t understand, why can’t you just let your son… I don’t know… be gay in peace?”

“It’s disgusting.”

“But it’s way better than him being a rapist or a killer or sumn.”

“I’d have preferred him being a killer then.”

I stared at him. The words sat between us like something rotten. I could not understand how a man could look at his own child and choose violence over honesty. Some people really could not accept their kids for who they were no matter how grown they claimed to be.

He did not wait for me to answer. He slid a business card across the small table and then pulled a thick bundle of cash from his pocket, dropping it beside the card.

“Anyways, here’s my business card in case you agree. And here’s another tip.”

He walked out without another word. The door clicked shut behind him and the room felt larger and quieter at the same time. I picked up the cash first. It was real. The card he’d given me sat heavy in my hands with a name and an address printed in clean letters. I shoved both of them into my bag and left the VIP room before anyone could stop me.

The whole ride home my mind would not stay still. Twenty million. One hundred days. Turn somebody’s son straight. The words kept circling. I had danced for money before but never for something this big or this strange. Part of me wanted to laugh it off as some rich-man madness. The other part kept calculating how many months of rent and food and school fees that kind of money could buy. By the time the bus dropped me near my street I still had not decided anything.

The alley leading to my building smelled the same as always. I was halfway up the stairs when I heard a familiar shouting. There he was, my landlord standing in front of my door, finger pointed at the babysitter’s face, voice loud enough to wake the whole floor.

“This old bastard’s back.”

I groaned as I took the last steps two at a time and grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the door. He swung around too fast and his elbow caught me across the cheekbone. Pain flashed my face in a second.

“Fuck,” I muttered, hand going to my face.

He turned on me immediately, words already slurring. “There you are. Where’s my money? You think you can keep living here for free? Pay the rent or I haul the whole lot of you out tonight.”

I reached into my bag, pulled out the bundle of cash the man had given me, and shoved it straight into his hands. “Here, this is it. Leave us alone now.”

He thumbed through the notes under the weak hallway light he’d refused to fix, counting slowly. When he finished he looked up with a crooked grin. “Even added an extra tip. Guess you’re finally into the hookup business. Can’t wait to patronize you myself.”

I sighed and breathed through the urge to swing at him. I wanted to find a way to break something on his body and make it hurt for days. As if the universe had been listening, the old fool took a step back, missed the edge of the stair, and slipped. He landed hard on his backside two steps down.

“I’m okay, I’m okay.”

Like I cared. I only scoffed and pulled the babysitter inside, shutting the door firmly behind us.

“I’m so sorry for this, here’s your f*e.”

She took the money and tucked it away without counting. “It’s fine. Really.”

“How were the kids? Any issues?”

“They’ve been asleep for hours. No trouble at all.” She picked up her bag, then paused and held my hand for a second. “I can see you’re trying hard. But you need to find a way to move out of this neighborhood. It isn’t a good environment for them.”

I nodded because she was right and because I had nothing useful to say. She left quietly. The moment the door closed I stripped off the club clothes and walked to the bathroom. I turned the shower handle and nothing came out. Of course. How great.

I went to the kitchen next, opened the cupboard, and stared at the empty shelves. Not even a sachet of anything useful. I muttered under my breath, “You know for a bitch who knows how to give advises, she eats like a friggin pig.”

I reached into my bag, pulled out the instant ramen I kept for nights like this, and poured warm water from the kids’ flask over it. I sat on the couch and ate it slowly, the only sound in the apartment was the soft breathing of the twins in the next room.

I was just about to stretch out and close my eyes when a loud moan tore through the thin wall.

“Yes baby. Destroy my cunt. Aaah!”

My neighbors were at it again.

“Can you motherfuckers keep it down?”

The girl only moaned louder.

“How about you go get a man to fuck you stupid bitch.”

Another long, dramatic sound answered me. As if that was not enough, the twins started crying at the same time, high and sudden.

“Son of bi–”

I dragged myself up and went to them. One needed a clean diaper. The other just wanted to be held. I moved between the two of them in the half-dark, rocking and whispering until the crying finally slowed. By the time both were quiet again the clock on my phone read a little past four in the morning.

I sat on the edge of the couch and stared at the business card I had left on the table. My cheek still throbbed where the landlord’s elbow had caught me. The apartment smelled like instant noodles and old paint while my neighbors had finally decided to go quiet even though I knew the silence was temporary.

I picked up the phone and dialed the number on the card before I could talk myself out of it. He answered on the second ring, voice alert.

“Why are you calling at this time?”

“I figured you’d probably be working.”

“Well you’re not wrong. So you agree?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, meet me at my office tomorrow.”

“But I don’t have formal clothes.”

“My secretary would sort it out when you’re here.”

“And–”

He cut me off before I could finish the sentence. The line went dead. I sat there holding the phone, the side of my face still aching.

I sighed and tried to settle back against the couch. Sleep felt far away but the decision was already made. Maybe if I could get this deal through I could change my life just this once.