Chapter 2

Anna POV

Working as a waiter has its rewards, I think. I nearly always come home with cash, and occasionally I come out with considerably more than I expected. The drawback is that some nights, I come home with considerably less than I expected. It's never stable. But it's all that I have right now. This is the only business that will pay me $8 an hour plus whatever I make in tips. I don't know of any other waitress that earns that much.

As the shift dragged on, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. As I read the name on the computer, I sigh vocally. James is calling, yet again.

"What do you need? I'm at work." I snap into the phone.

"Nice to hear from you, too," he reacts. I could nearly see his attitude from here. Not that mine is much better.

"What do you want,James?""

"I need my keys back.Now," he says simply.

"Well, that's not going to happen. I'm at work. You may come and fetch them when I get off tonight or you can wait until I have time to deliver them to you." I snapped. Why the heck does it matter when he gets his keys back? He has his own set, and I'm surely not going to break into his flat.

"I'm coming by tonight to grab them. Just put them in your mailbox. I don't want to see you." He snapped back.

I roll my eyes and hang up the phone. I am starting to worry that my relationship with James will never get any better. I miss the man who used to be my best friend.

"Hey, I'm coming over after work. I want to show you something." Saral murmured, interrupting my thoughts.

"Show me what?" I grumbled, taking some additional pens before walking onto the floor.

"You'll see." She grinned widely. I stared at her suspiciously and proceeded to wash down the tables. "Oh, don't look like that. It's nothing bad...well, I don't think so at least."

"What does this involve?" I inquire curiously.

"It's just a website.Plus, it's an excellent opportunity to generate a little bit of additional income," she states.

"I'm not doing p**n." I laugh. I'm desperate, but I'm not that desperate.

"It's not p**n. I'll tell you all after work." She chuckles as she walks back over to her table.

I kept what she said in the back of my head for the duration of my shift and couldn't quite get my mind off of it. I need money. Desperately. I despise having to rely on my phony pleasure towards clients as my only kind of revenue. Maybe I need to find a part-time job elsewhere. Retail is always an option, and because they work insane hours to begin with, it may even fit with my availability.

By the time our shift finished, Sara and I did the same thing we do every night. We sit at the diner counter and count our tips together. I made enough to reimburse what my dad lost in the casino. Being the only waiter in this restaurant, I am extremely thrilled with the quantity of cash in my palm. It could always be worse, I guess.

"Are you still coming over?" I ask, grabbing all of my belongings.

"Yeah. I'll just follow you there." She smiles as she ties her long hair into a ponytail.

When we come to my house, I ignore my father entirely and head directly to my room. He should know better than to attempt to talk to me right now.

"Okay, so tell me this brilliant plan of yours to make extra money." I giggle, attempting to disguise how fascinated I truly am.

"Don't judge me, alright. I haven't told anyone this before." She says anxiously.

"You know you can tell me anything." I react honestly.

"Okay. I'm a sugar baby." She admits.

I must have appeared as perplexed as I anticipated since she quickly attempts to justify herself.

"Don't judge me! It's not horrible, I swear!" She laughs uncomfortably.

"I'm not, I'm not! Just...define sugarbaby,?"" I ask.

"I go on dates for money."

"What? How?" I ask, utterly startled. I know what a sugar baby is, but I don't know what she's doing, either. "It's this website I found one night. It's called SeekingArrangements.com. You just establish a profile detailing what you are seeking, and you may discover others in your neighborhood who are prepared to pay for you. It's not strange like prostitution or whatever. I don't sleep with any of them." She assured me. Relief floods over me instantaneously. I don't want to contemplate my best friend sleeping with old males for money.

I must still look astonished and perplexed because she grabs my laptop and opens the page with a grin on her face. This can't be good.