Intricacies of the heart

I was completely zoned out and lost in thought, as my cranky old landlady droned about kicking me out of my apartment, if I didn’t pay up my rent before the end of the week. As a jobless twenty five year old without money or a means of raising any, I was positive I would be homeless by the end of the week.

After the meeting, I did the next best thing I could think of. I called Cherry, my only friend from college. I met Cherry my sophomore year in college, in a baking elective I took to fill a credit. She wasn’t even supposed to be there, she’d wandered in late, smelling faintly of vanilla and cigarette smoke. Somehow, she convinced the professor to let her stay. She was loud where I was quiet, fearless where I hesitated.

We became fast friends over burnt cookies and late–night diner runs. She’d talk about dreams that changed every week, modeling, acting, “maybe just being rich for a while.” I talked about kitchens and flavors and how I wanted to cook for people who’d never been cooked for. We didn’t have much in common, except that we were both a little lost and trying hard not to show it.

Holding the phone against my ear with my right shoulder, I started folding the heap of clothes I’d left on my rickety couch. My apartment wasn’t much to look at. Most of the furnitures were second hand items purchased from yard sales. Few seconds later, I heard Cherry’s shrill voice over the phone.

“Hey Sasha, been a while”, she sounded out of breath. I’m guessing she was  either on a treadmill or on a dick.

“Yea I know, I’ve been quite busy” I lied.

 Between being unemployed and having nothing going on, all I had was time. She was quiet on the other end of the phone so I spoke.

“Hey listen any chance we could catch up over drinks this weekend?” I didn’t want to outrightly tell her I needed help. We made plans and hung up.

The weekend came by faster than I anticipated. Tonight, I was meeting Cherry. I’d normally just throw on a pair of jeans and a crop top. But, I wanted to make an effort on my appearance. So I sleeked my auburn hair into a bun, applied some make up on my face. I tossed out all my clothes from the broken wardrobe, in search of the prettiest dress I owned.

It was a black, short sequined dress with lace at the back. I’ve had it for three years and it still remains the best clothing in my wardrobe. I stood in front of a mirror to admire my effort and I was satisfied. The dress hugged my curvy body in all the right places. Albeit, my cleavage was a little more exposed than I would have liked. The black fabric a stark contrast to my porcelain skin, my minimal makeup highlighting my hazel eyes, the red lipstick making my lips look fuller.

Already running late, I grabbed my pair of gold sandals, black purse and off I went. The night in Pilsen felt thick enough to touch. The kind of heat that clings to your skin and makes every step slower and heavier. My phone vibrated in my purse, I brought it out and there was a text from Cherry. She was already at Simone’s, one of the most popular bars in Pilsen. A couple more blocks.

The closer I got to 18th and Morgan, the louder the nightlife became. By the time I reached the bar, I could already hear Cherry’s laughter from the patio. The familiar sound cutting through the mix of conversation and bubbly music. I pushed open the door, the air inside was cooler but thick with bodies. I strutted as elegantly as I could to the small sitting area, where Cherry was flirting with the bartender.

Once I was in her line of sight, she hopped off the high stool where she was perched on and hugged me dramatically. I wondered if she was already drunk. She smelled like vanilla and musk wood. Petite, pretty, with a kind of easy confidence that makes people notice her without trying. I suppose with these qualities, she didn’t have to try hard as an escort.

Life took us in different directions after college. Me as chef and Cherry as an escort. Honestly, that never changed how I saw her. I wasn’t judgmental, especially as I was about to ask her to introduce me to her world. Well, not permanently of course, just until I am able to sort out the financial mess my life is in right now.

Three magaritas later, I finally told her I wanted in as an escort. She laughed, and then stared at me like I had grown a second head and four tits. For a second, she didn’t say anything, just blinked. Lips parted, eyes wide, like she couldn’t decide if I was loosing my mind or joking.

“Wait…what?”                                            

Her voice was soft but sharp enough to cut. She downed the shot of tequila the bartender placed in front of her, shook her head and said.

 “Sasha what’s going on? You tell me this very second”.

 I fiddled with the hem of my dress, looking at her mortified expression.

“ I lost my job at the restaurant, they’re closing it down, my landlady is kicking me out because I can’t pay rent Cher.”

She looked at me sympathetically. “ why didn’t you tell me? What about your savings?”

 I glanced around the lively bar, deciding if I should tell her.

 “I spent most of it keeping Monica in rehab.” I admitted.

 “She’s  my baby sister and my only family, she needs me, I can’t turn my back on her regardless of her shortcomings. Family is family.”

Cherry looked me dead in the eyes. “She’s a little ungrateful shit, how many times times has she relapsed and you had to pay for her rehab over and over again?”                           

I was beginning to get irritated. Talking about my little sister, wasn’t exactly one of my favorite topics. She’s my family. All my parents left me with and that’s that.

She noticed my withdrawal from the conversation, then took another shot of alcohol. “In two hours, I’m meeting a high profile client, if you’re really serious and if you’re up for it, we can leave in an hour, my car is parked out front.”

 I nodded, downing the rest of my drink.