Fallen Woman(16)

“No hanky panky?” Her words were stern, but I knew it was from a place of protection and love. In this neighborhood, women either turned to drugs or tricks.

“No, ma’am. Nothing like that. I get a nice dress and get to go out to a fancy dinner. And he’ll pay for a babysitter.”

She reached across the table and patted my hand. “Sugar, you need nice boys in your life. That sounds lovely, but don’t let it turn into something you wouldn’t be proud of. Understand?”

Giggling, I give her hand a light squeeze. “Yeah, I understand.”

Women got desperate around here. When you had kids to feed, it was easy to either get lost in the constant disappointment and try to escape it with drugs or try to turn a fast buck and trick to make ends meet. I’d seen it countless times with girls I grew up with, and with my own mother. She’d chosen drugs over me—it was easier to dull the pain than it was to find a way out. My guess was she’d likely overdosed at this point, but no one would ever contact me. Unless I went to find her, I’d never hear from her again. It had been years since I’d seen her and even longer since she’d been coherent enough to know who I was. It saddened me a little to think my mother didn’t know she had three grandchildren or even care where I was, but it was the way things happened in areas like this. That’s why people believed they were destined to stay here, and that’s why I needed to get my kids the hell out before it’s all they knew.

~~~

I wasn’t comfortable with Drake showing up at my apartment, but there was really no other way for me to meet up with him. Taking the bus down to the Hyatt on Main and stepping off in an evening gown wasn’t exactly classy, so I’d relented and allowed him to come here, but with the understanding that it was meet me at the door and go. He wasn’t allowed to buddy up to my kids or meet Miss Pearl.

He wasn’t Jase.

His cologne welcomed me when I opened the door. His shaggy blond hair was neatly done, his face clean-shaven, and he looked quite dapper in his suit. We were headed to some fundraising event, but I wasn’t sure what the cause was or his involvement. I hadn’t asked a lot of questions, hoping to give us something to talk about during the course of the evening. And unlike Jase, he didn’t take me shopping. He started an account for me at the same shop Jase had bought my first dress so I could buy what I wanted.

At first, I was a little hurt by the coldness of it all, and then realized this wasn’t Pretty Woman and I wasn’t falling in love with the handsome man. This was truly business only for him, and that was the way it needed to stay. So I went to the shop on my lunch break, and the same sales lady helped me find a gorgeous black cocktail dress and matching accessories. I tried to be conscious of the price tags and was lucky to get out for a couple of hundred dollars. When I’d mentioned the total, she told me there were notes on the account that I had an uncapped spending limit. She saw the dumbfounded look on my face but assured me I wasn’t the only lady in town with this sort of arrangement and to enjoy it while I had it.

So I put it to the back of my mind, took my dress and expensive costume jewelry, and went home. I hadn’t thought about it again until I opened the door.

“That dress is stunning, Gianna. You look fantastic.” Drake leaned in and kissed both cheeks before holding out his elbow. I locked the door behind me before taking him by the arm. The crowd around his limo startled me. I wasn’t expecting him to show up with this kind of fanfare and draw the amount of attention to us he had. But he took it all in stride and opened the door, helped me in, and followed behind me.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you’d be in a limo.” I was embarrassed by the horde that had flocked to his car while he came to my door.

“No big deal.” He stared at my legs, and I was suddenly very self-conscious. I moved my hands to my knees in an effort to conceal them. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Gianna. I apologize.”

The formality seemed foreign. I wanted to hang out with the Drake I’d met a couple of weeks ago with his friends. “You didn’t. Is everything okay?”

He fidgeted in his seat. “That apparent, huh?”

“You just seem uncomfortable.”

“Truth be told, I don’t really know how to do this.”

“Do what?”

His kempt hair suddenly looked the way it had when I’d seen him before. He dragged his hand through his locks, giving him an instant bed-head look that was adorable. When I giggled, he gave me an awkward smile.

“Date,” he finally answered.

“Then don’t think of it that way, because it’s not, right? I mean this is just two people accompanying each other to dinner with a couple hundred other people present.”

“And you’re really okay with that?”

“Am I not supposed to be?”

“I’m sure Jase has pounded this into your head, but you really don’t understand. The women we know—the women who are around these types of events—this is a business for them, and I’m not talking about the fundraising. I’m talking about landing a husband.”

I shook my head. “I’m not looking for a husband, Drake. I have three kids, ages four and younger.”

“Exactly, who needs a husband more than you do? I mean look where you live.” Instantly, his cheeks reddened, showing how much he regretted the slip.