Читать книгу Diary of a Manhattan Call Girl - Tracy Quan - Страница 19

A phone call this morning from Jack! “Suzy? Are you available today?”

“I’m sorry,” I said carefully. “I, um, have an exercise class in five minutes—can’t talk.” You should never tell a John you’ve blacklisted him. He’ll want to have a long conversation with you, attempting to explain himself, pledging to reform—or trying to convince you that he’s innocent. Or he’ll try to find out who spread the word of his misdeeds, if he’s vengeful. So I’m accidentally unavailable when Jack calls. Unlike Eileen, who feels the need to confront her foes, I’m very clear about not wanting to have enemies in this business. “Can I call you back?” I suggested, as a stall.

“No, don’t call me at work,” he said nervously. “My son’s in the office. Okay, fine, call, but if he answers, just act like you have a wrong number. Call me before five—I want to see you,” he added abruptly. “I’ll come right over.”

My other phone started ringing, and I quickly hung up.

“It’s me!” Allie announced. “I just saw Jack!”

“But he just—When? Where? What’s going on? Where are you?”

“I just got home. We had lunch at La Côte Basque.” She giggled and added, “He gave me an envelope. You’ll be proud of me. I stood my ground! I told him we couldn’t have sex. He said I should keep the envelope anyway. There’s enough in here for…oh, wow. I think I made the right decision.”

“Well, he just called me.”

“He called you?” Allie sounded incredulous. “When?”

“Just now!”

There was silence. So Allie met with him, took his money, and left him with an unrequited hard-on.

“And what did he want?” she asked. “Did he talk about me?”

“What do you think he wanted? Look, if you insist on playing head games with Jack, he’s going to look for satisfaction elsewhere. And no, he didn’t say anything about you. The man is not a eunuch. Even if he agrees to act like one when he’s having lunch with you.”

“Well, I’m not possessive! I don’t care who he sees.” There was a pause in which I said nothing. Doesn’t care who he sees? Nobody asked her! But I didn’t want to be the one to point this out. “And don’t forget the NYCOT meeting,” she reminded me. “You promised to come! See you tomorrow?”

That meeting. Ever since Allison got involved with “the sex workers’ community,” I’ve noticed a definite loosening of standards. I think I preferred it when she was a Recovering Hooker, trying to kick the habit.

“Allie, you’re playing a dangerous game,” I started to warn her. “You’re not being professional about this—” But she had already hung up.