A DEAL WITH MY BESTFRIEND’S HUSBAND— HARRINGTON HOLDINGS

Nathalie. “Ugh,” I groaned, staring at my reflection. The blush had fallen way below my cheekbones, muddying my features and giving my face a completely shapeless, potato-like look. Annoyance flaring, I snatched a makeup wipe and aggressively smeared away thirty minutes of careful blending. The clock was ticking, and the club wouldn’t wait, but the glam had to be flawless. I spent the next half hour meticulously rebuilding my face, blending a seamless nude look until the blush finally sat perfectly, and striking against my skin. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I slipped out of the bedroom I shared with Emily and walked into the living room. Immediately, the heavy weight of my mother’s stare pinned me to the floor. I froze for a second, swallowing the knot of anxiety that always twisted in my gut before a shift. “I’m off to work,” I muttered. Her eyes raked down my body, “You call this disgusting trash you do work?” she scoffed, dragging the word out like it was something rotten on her tongue. The breath caught in my throat. A stinging heat pricked behind my eyes at her venomous tone. “Mother, I know it’s not ideal,” I said, my voice trembling, “but I don’t exactly have other choices, do I?” She rolled her eyes, leaning back. “Girls your age are out there making something of themselves without selling their bodies to every man who looks their way.” “Why would you say that?” The accusation hit me like a physical blow. My chest heaved as I fought back the sob clawing at my throat. “You know that’s not true. You know I don’t just sleep around, Mom!” “You do, Nathalie.” Her voice was a flat, icy deadpan as she rose from the couch, towering over me with a venomous glare. “Just because you pay the bills in this house doesn’t give you a free pass to be a whore.” I shook my head, taking a step back as disbelief washed over me. “I don’t just pay the bills, Mother. I cover Ethan, Noah, and Emily’s tuition. Every single private school fee. I begged you on my knees to transfer them to a cheaper school because the cost is drowning me. But you refused. You said they deserved the best, and I agreed! But how am I supposed to bring in five thousand dollars a month with a corporate job? A job I can't even get because I don't have a degree!” Instead of shouting, she burst into a hollow, mocking laugh. I flinched, my eyes narrowing in a mix of confusion and sudden hurt. “Nathalie, you are such an ungrateful child,” she spat, thrusting a crooked finger into my face. “The fact that you keep a mental ledger of everything you buy for this family? It's incredibly selfish.” “No, Mother, I—” “It is your responsibility to take care of us!” she cut me off, her voice dropping into a harsh snap. “Do you expect your sick mother to go out and work? Or should your younger siblings abandon their dreams and ruin their futures because you're too lazy to provide?” The air left my lungs. A suffocating wave of guilt crashed over me, crushing the anger right out of my chest. She was right. They were my family. Keeping score of my sacrifices was disgusting. “I’m sorry, Mother,” I whispered, looking down at my shoes. “I never meant it that way.” “I don’t care, Nathalie,” she commanded, her voice dropping into a cold tone. “The rent is due, and we need to renew the lease before the end of the month. We also need groceries, and the fridge is dying. We need a new one.” I nodded numbly, the heavy weight of her demands settling onto my shoulders. “I’ll handle it.” “You better come up with it before the end of this week,” she threw over her shoulder, her bedroom door clicking shut behind her. I let out a shaky, trapped breath and finally stepped out of the house. Outside, New York City was a roaring ocean of motion, its neon lights casting a brilliant, mocking glow over the bustling streets. I raised my hand, hailing a yellow cab that swallowed me into the backseat and sped off toward the club. Throughout the entire ride, my mind was dangerously silent. It was like my brain had short-circuited under the sheer volume of things I had to fix by Friday. They deserved the best. I kept telling myself that. I didn’t care about sacrificing my dignity, my body, or my youth if it kept them safe. God knows I have tried the honest route. But the standard corporate pay was an insult; I had spent months drowning while working two weekday jobs and nannying on weekends. The bills just kept multiplying. When my mother’s diabetes flared, threatening to take her from us, I couldn't risk it anymore. I finally accepted the lifeline thrown by a former coworker who had already transitioned into s*x work. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass of the window, wishing desperately that Caroline was sitting next to me. Just her presence could usually quiet the storm in my head. She was the only person I had ever truly let past my walls, but ever since high school, life had pulled her into a completely different orbit. She was always too busy. The cab pulled up to the club's rear entrance. I stepped out, smoothing down my clothes as I hurried through the back door. The two towering bouncers offered me familiar high-fives as I blew past them, but the warmth faded the second I hit the hallway. Even after two years of working alongside these girls, the other dancers still pierced me with dirty, judgmental stares. I hurried into the dressing room, finding Candy already fully zipped into her outfit. She whipped around, her eyebrows shooting up. “Girl, you’re later than usual.” “Had a bit of a crisis with my makeup,” I half-lied smoothly, shrugging as I jammed my bag into my locker. “Well, I’m up next on the main stage. Wish me luck,” she said, playfully twirling a sleek ponytail that cascaded all the way past her knees. “Good luck, Candy,” I replied, my voice tighter and a pitch higher than I meant it to be. Once the door clicked shut, leaving me in the silence of the room, I stripped down. I stepped into a crimson thong and fastened the matching lacy red bra. I pulled on thigh-high lace stockings and strapped on towering pageant heels that forced my posture upright. My makeup was already a flawless mask from home, and my own hair was secured into a neat, low ponytail. Before the dread could paralyze me, I grabbed my phone from the locker. I quickly typed out another text to Caroline—asking for the hundredth time when we could finally grab a coffee, and hit send. Then, locking my phone away, I took one last deep breath, put on my professional smile, and strutted out toward the VIP section to find my first client. Pushing every heavy thought to the back of my mind, I forced my chin up. I focused entirely on the numbers—the rent, the tuition, the new fridge. I needed to give this my absolute best performance if I wanted to walk out with heavy pockets. My client for the night was an older man who had paid premium cash for a private, sexy dance session. The moment the heavy bass began to throb through the walls, shaking the very air in the small VIP room, he leaned back on the leather couch. His eyes, thick with undisguised lust, locked onto me. I stepped into the center of the room, letting my body dissolve into the rhythm of the music. My hands traced slow, deliberate lines down my body, from my chest, over my ribs, down to my thighs. Turning my back to him, I arched my spine and let the music dictate the movement of my hips. He let out a low, irritating groan that made my skin crawl, but I actively blocked out the sound. For an entire hour, I danced through the haze of loud music and flashing lights. At one point, the old man sloppily tipped his glass, pouring expensive whiskey down my skin, the alcohol stinging against my pores. I didn't break character. I kept moving until the timer buzzed. He slapped a cool, crisp thousand-dollar tip into my palm before I left. Exhausted, I retreated to the dressing room, scrubbed the smell of stale liquor off my skin in the shower, and changed back into my oversized, casual clothes. By now, most of the girls had finished their shifts. A group of them stood huddled in the corner of the locker room, whispering fiercely. The low murmuring dropped whenever I got too close, but as I walked past, my ears caught the sound of my own name. I ignored them, keeping my eyes glued ahead. I unlocked my locker and pulled out my bag. Snatching my phone, I checked the screen, and my heart instantly leaped into my throat. The heavy, dark cloud that had been hovering over me all night suddenly evaporated. There was a text from Caroline. Caroline: Tomorrow morning at Bennett’s Café.