The VIP deal

ROSALIE 

I sat on the tiny plastic chair in Celine Parker’s kitchen, staring down at my cup of cold tea. My best friend Celine was leaning against the counter, her eyes filled with big, warm tears as she listened to me.

"I still cannot believe he said those horrible things to you, Rosalie," Celine whispered, her voice shaking with anger. She pulled a chair close to mine and sat down, wrapping her soft hands around my cold fingers. "I told you to leave Roman a long time ago, remember? I saw how selfish he was. But you were so blinded by love. You thought he was an angel."

"I know," I sobbed, hiding my face in my hands. The memory of Roman with that red-haired woman flashed in my mind, making me feel dirty and small. "I was so stupid, Celine. I thought he loved me. I thought he was my safe place. Now he is gone, and I am completely alone with all these dark problems."

"You are not alone, Rosalie. You have me," Celine said softly, rubbing my shaking back.

"The nurse is coming again in two days," I said, my voice breaking down into little pieces. "She needs the money for Zara’s next batch of injections. If I do not pay her, she will stop coming. And my company... I already begged my manager for another loan yesterday, but he said no. He said I already owe them too much money from my salary."

Celine stood up immediately and reached for her handbag on the table. "Rosalie, take my card. I can give you the money right now. Do not cry anymore."

I shook my head violently, pulling my hands back. "No, Celine! I cannot take your money again. You already paid for Zara’s medicine last month, and you paid for our groceries last week. I cannot keep taking from you like a beggar. I have my pride left."

"Rosalie, this is for your sick sister!" Celine argued, her voice rising with worry. "Forget about pride right now!"

"No," I insisted, wiping my wet cheeks. "I am not taking your cash. I need to find my own way."

Celine sighed loudly and rubbed her forehead, pacing around the small room. She stopped suddenly, her eyes opening wide as an idea popped into her head. "Okay, fine. If you will not take my money as a gift, then let me give you a gig."

"A gig?" I asked, frowning. "What kind of gig?"

"My brother, Nolan, works as the manager at that high-class club downtown," Celine explained, leaning closer to me. "They are hosting a massive party tomorrow night for super rich people. They had a dancer booked to entertain the main crowd, but she called in sick an hour ago. They need a replacement fast."

"No way," I said, shaking my head instantly. "I am not a stripper, Celine! I do not even know how to move my body or dance in front of a giant crowd."

"Wait, hear me out!" Celine pressed, grabbing my arms. "If you are too shy for the big stage, Nolan can set you up with a private VIP client instead. Just one rich guy in a quiet room. You just entertain him privately for the night."

"I cannot do that," I whispered, my heart thumping wildly against my chest in fear. "That is crazy."

"Rosalie, listen to me," Celine said, her voice turning super serious. "It is just for one single night."

I wanted to say no again, but then I remembered Mrs. Helen’s harsh warning from this morning. She had told me she would stop coming to watch Zara if I didn't pay her salary by the end of the week. And I pictured Zara lying on that thin bed, gasping for breath without her weekly injections. My whole world was falling apart, crushing me beneath its weight. I had no other choice left.

"Okay," I choked out, tears spilling over my eyelashes again. "I will give the private VIP gig a try. Just for one night."

By the next evening, after my tiring work shift, I got dressed in the best outfit I could find. Celine picked me up from my apartment building in her black car and drove me straight to the noisy club. She led me through a dark back door, down a long hallway, and straight into a large office.

A tall man with sharp eyes stood behind a wooden desk. It was her brother, Nolan.

"Nolan, this is Rosalie," Celine said, pushing me forward gently. "She is the girl I talked to you about."

Nolan looked me up and down, his face very serious. "Alright, Rosalie. Celine says you need cash fast, and I need someone reliable for our highest-paying guest tonight. The money for this private room is very big, so you do not have to worry about your sister's medical bills after this for a while."

"How... how much is it?" I asked, my voice trembling in the quiet room.

"Fifteen thousand dollars," Nolan replied flatly.

I gasped loudly, covering my mouth with both hands. Fifteen thousand dollars was more money than I had ever seen in my whole life. It could save Zara for months. It could pay off all my debts.

"Listen to me very carefully now," Nolan said, stepping closer and lowering his voice. "Our VIP clients wear masks over their faces for complete privacy. They are big billionaires, politicians, and famous people. Nobody can know who they are. So here are the rules."

I nodded fast, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

"Rule number one: Never ask the client his real name," Nolan said, counting on his fingers. "Rule number two: Never try to take off his mask, no matter what happens. Rule number three: You do the dance, you smile, and you keep him happy. Most of these rich guys do not want much talking anyway. And rule number four: You always make him use protection. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," I whispered, swallowing the dry lump in my throat.

"These rich men pay a lot of money for their privacy," Nolan warned, his eyes glaring into mine without a single smile. "If you break any of these rules, you are out on the street immediately. And the club will not help you if you get into trouble with them. Do we have a deal?"

I looked at Nolan, then at Celine, and finally down at my own shaking hands. I was terrified, but I thought of Zara’s pale face back home.

"We have a deal," I said softly.