Chapter 2

I couldn't read Evan's emotions. I wasn't particularly smart, but I tread carefully enough to avoid trouble. I wouldn't do anything to piss Evan off while I was around him. As such, I turned down the client's name card and professed my undying loyalty toward Evan. Everyone who heard this burst out laughing, but not Evan. He sat as still as a statue and leveled an unreadable look at me. I flashed him a dazzling smile in return. When it came to elaborate affairs among bigwigs such as this one, the real fun only started after dinner. The battlefield shifted as we adjourned to the spacious drinking lounge where bottles of expensive alcohol bedecked the coffee table. The madam led a small group of men and women into the lounge as if they were delicately wrapped presents waiting to be picked off the shelf. Some in the group I realized had only just passed the legal age. We had to be shrewd to survive in this line of work, and I could tell at one glance if another escort was young or only pretending to be young. Evan had the young lady, who looked barely 18, stay. I immediately grew wary. I didn't mind playing dirty, but I could not wage a fight against the young lady. I could pretend to have the kind of wide-eyed naivety these young ones so effortlessly touted, but she was the real thing. "First time dealing with punters, huh?" Evan asked. The young lady nodded shyly. Her nerves got the better of her as she poured him a drink. Her hands trembled, and some of the liquor spilled. Evan did not get angry and instead shot me a look. I understood the silent command in his eyes. It was my job to pour the drinks and leave the entertainment to the young lady. I kept my eyes and ears open even as I worked the crowd. I poured the drinks, sang karaoke, and even danced suggestively when I felt like it. I vaguely overheard Evan chatting up the young lady and asking for her name and age. The young lady was 18 and hailed from a remote coastal town. Someone in her family was sick, and she needed money. It was such a typical and overused sob story that it bordered on cheesy. I couldn't bring myself to use it. When Evan asked me why I became an escort, I told him I was too lazy to make an honest living. I wanted to make easy money. I believed he was drawn to me because I was forthcoming and unpretentious. Alas, I watched as Evan bought the young lady's sob story. He even reached for his checkbook and wrote her a check! I was shocked. Had I known a sob story like that could butter him up, the young lady wouldn't stand a chance! He could have told me he was into tragic backstories! I was known for my moving essays back in school, and I could have come up with a devastating backstory for myself if that was what Evan liked! It was three in the morning by the time the drinking crowd dispersed. Evan left with the young lady but wasn't so heartless as to forget about me. He had his driver give me a lift home as a reward for my stunning services tonight. The driver had turned on the air conditioning to just the right temperature, but I was flushed from the drinks. I sat in the backseat and willed my stomach to stop churning, but in the end, I had the driver pull over. The car had barely rolled to a stop before I hurtled out and braced myself against the dirty roadside trash bins. I threw up violently. A year with Evan had taken a serious toll on my ability to hold my drinks. I'd had all kinds of wine and liquor tonight, though not more than seven or eight bottles. And yet, here I was, throwing up like a pathetic drunkard. The driver probably took pity on me as he got out of the car to hand me a tissue. At some point, I was coughing up bile, and the bitter taste in my mouth made me grimace as I thanked the driver for checking on me. "Are you all right? Shall I take you to the hospital?" he offered. "I'm fine." I waved my hand dismissively. "It's no big deal. I can handle this." This wasn't the first time I'd hurled after drinking. I wasn't that delicate. I held on to whatever was left of my lucidity until I got home. My brain felt like it had turned to mush, and if I closed my eyes now, I was certain I would pass out like a log. However, I lost all sense of sleep as soon as I lay on the bed. I had a strong feeling that I was about to be replaced by the pretty young thing Evan had spoken to tonight. Damn it. How could she be so lucky as to land a sponsor like Evan on her debut? I couldn't even begin to describe how jealous I was of her. My gut feeling proved right. I did not see Evan again for the rest of the week, but I heard from various sources that the young lady from the other night had unsurprisingly become his new favorite. She was famous now. I cursed myself for adopting a compassionate and understanding persona instead of a demanding one. If I were the latter, I could have marched right up to Evan and forbidden him from sidelining me after hooking up with someone new. The days passed, and my contract with Evan ended. Astute as I was, I packed my things and left before Evan could throw me out of the villa. In truth, I knew he hadn't brought up the contract renewal because he didn't intend to keep me around. Still, that didn't make leaving behind the material comforts of living in a villa and having a housekeeper any easier. Evan had his secretary discuss the details of our severance with me including my new abode. As it turned out, he had arranged for me to move into an apartment near the city center. It was valued at around six million dollars. I immediately considered putting the property on the market and cashing in on it. After all, I did not have much savings and had loose spending habits. After a few months of staying in a fancy apartment like that, I'd stop being able to afford the management fees. The day after I moved out of the villa, I was handed a name card—the same one I had turned down during Evan's business gathering at the clubhouse the other night. My friend remarked, "He's not a bad sponsor. Besides, you and Evan are no longer a going concern. You've got to act fast!" I hesitated. "But the guy's from Fernvale, and I don't want to move to a new place." My friend sighed. "I wouldn't even be worried about that if I were you. With the kind of money and status he has, you won't be his only sugar baby. I'm sure he has lovers in many places; he probably has countless of them abroad. "Get him to rent a place for you here so you can tend to him while he's here on business. You know we can't go without a sponsor for too long. Even a short break could cost us our careers. "Why would anyone bother to bankroll your lifestyle and keep you as their sugar baby if you don't go to parties and keep up a friendly relationship with your sponsors?" When I did not respond, my friend narrowed his eyes at me. "Please don't tell me you've had a change of heart." "You're right," I finally said, pulling myself together. "I can't stop. I've got money to make." "There's a golf thing this weekend. I could bring you," my friend offered, satisfied with my reply. "Make it count." I looked into the Fernvale businessman's preferences and put on a pair of gold-framed glasses on the day I was slated to golf with him. I even wore a blouse and a fitted pencil skirt to look like a polished office lady with a cushy, white-collar job. I felt the Fernvale sponsor's gaze linger on me when he saw me, and I knew the cat was in the bag. He chuckled and grinned at my witty commentary. I told him I didn't know how to golf and leaned close to him. I toyed with my golf club while he toyed with me, both of us seeking what we wanted and needed. In the distance, a golf cart was approaching us. I looked up and inadvertently saw Evan with his arm around the young lady. He eyed me indifferently as I leaned into my new sponsor's arms. Like a pair of conjoined twins, we swung our arms back and brought the golf club down in a sweeping arc. With a firm thwack, we sent the golf ball flying. I watched as it took on a strange trajectory and hit Evan squarely on the head.