The Hour He Never Gave
After Pierce Emery and I got back together, I started "renting him out."
Every time his old flame, Daphne Roach, called him away, I stopped crying and causing scenes like before.
I charged by the hour instead.
Ten grand an hour during the day. Twenty at night. Triple on holidays.
Three months later, my account was up almost two million dollars.
Pierce had promised to help me pick a dress for a banquet, but Daphne called him crying, saying she'd sliced her hand while cooking.
I didn't even look up. I just held out my phone with the payment screen open.
One night, I came down with a brutal fever. While Pierce was driving me to the hospital, his phone rang again.
Daphne.
He stared at the screen for a long second before answering.
Her voice came through shaky and tearful. "Pierce, the thunder's so loud. I can't sleep. Can you come stay with me?"
I quietly pulled out an umbrella and told him to let me out at the next intersection.
He looked at me like he wanted to explain something, but I just smiled.
"Don't forget to transfer the money."
The same thing happened again on the day our daughter went in for her routine checkup.
Except this time, she was the one asking him for money.