Make It Legal
913 Words
~ingrid~
I just needed five minutes with Madame. I stood outside the club, shivering in the night air, but the bouncers wouldn't let me past the velvet rope.
"Ingrid, you should leave," one of the security guards warned, his massive frame blocking the entrance.
"Please. She can't fire me like this. Just let me talk to her," I begged. My voice cracked, and I hated how pathetic I sounded.
He reached for my arm to drag me away. "You need to leave."
"She's with me."
The voice was quiet, but it cut right through the thumping bass of the club. I turned around. It was him. The man from the VIP room. I just stared at him, confused.
"Aren’t you coming?" he asked.
"Sir—" the guard started, but stopped immediately as he stepped aside, looking to the ground.
"Go ahead," the man told me.
I didn't have it in me to push back, so I followed him inside. We walked straight to the VIP section. My stomach dropped when I realized we were going back to the exact same private room as last night.
The door shut behind us, blocking out the noise. He didn’t say a word. I stood awkwardly by the door for a second before finally sitting on the far end of the sofa.
He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. The same silver watch was on his wrist, catching the dim light again.
He didn't try to look intimidating, but his presence was overwhelming. Not loud. Not flashy. But heavy. The kind of presence that made the room feel smaller. Money. Power. Control. You could feel it on him.
Smoke started to fill the room, and I coughed. "Do you ever stop smoking?" I muttered.
He glanced at me briefly, then reached for a bottle and poured himself a drink.
"Why did you help me get in?" I asked.
He set the glass down and lit another cigarette. "Seems like you wanted to get in," he said, finally looking at me.
His gaze was intense. Unreadable.
"How much?" he asked suddenly, his eyes moving over me.
"I charge a lot," I said, lifting my chin slightly, almost daring him.
A quiet laugh left him. "I’m not interested in having a stripper right now," he said, pouring another drink. This time, he held it out to me.
I hesitated… then walked over and sat beside him, taking the glass. I didn’t understand what was happening. But I stayed. We talked. Or… something like talking.
The conversation blurred, drifting from one thing to another, but my attention kept slipping back to the watch. It was expensive. It could fix everything.
"Do you want it?" he asked suddenly.
Caught staring, I just nodded. He unclasped it right there and handed it to me.
I took it carefully. It felt wrong to hold something so valuable. "Can I really take this?" I asked.
He nodded, already lighting another cigarette.
"What do you want in return?" I asked quickly. Nothing is free. Especially not for me. Taking this felt dangerous.
"You can’t give me anything I need," he said with a soft laugh.
My fingers tightened slightly around the watch. "You said you were going to die," I said, turning it over in my hand. "Were you serious… or just being dramatic?"
He took a slow drag of his cigarette, watching me. "Do I look like I joke about dying?" he asked.
"No," I admitted.
He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "My kidneys are failing."
The words didn't register at first.
"End-stage. Dialysis is just buying time," he said.
It got very quiet. I gripped the watch tighter. "But you're rich," I said. "Can't you just fix it?"
He gave a dry laugh, almost like he found my innocence amusing. "Money can't grow organs," he replied, his gaze locking onto mine.
"So what are you waiting for? A donor?"
"A match," he corrected, lifting the cigarette back to his lips.
I went quiet. My fingers tightened around the watch. A thought crept in, slow, terrifying. Stupid, desperate, but possible.
"...What if," I started, my voice barely steady, "you already found one?"
His hand paused in mid-air. He stared at me.
"I can be your match." The words slipped out before I could stop them. "I can be your donor."
It felt like a sudden, insane glimpse of hope. I squeezed the watch so tightly the metal bit into my palm.
"You know it's highly illegal to suggest that, right?" he said, looking at me like I had lost my mind.
"Then make it legal," I said, my heart racing. "You have money. I have a working kidney. Pay off my debt and give me enough to take care of my brother till college. That's it."
He didn't speak. He just watched me. His eyes moved over my face slowly, like he was trying to decide if I was serious… or just desperate enough to be dangerous.
"Do you even understand what you're offering?" he asked . "You’re willing to gamble your life for money?"
"I can't keep living like this," I pleaded. I was so tired of being terrified. "If this goes on, those men are going to kill me anyway. Let me do this."
"You might not be a match," he warned. Almost like he was giving me an option to leave.
I looked him in the eye.
"I will be," I said. " I have to be."
- Writer
