6. Heller

6

HELLER

E li isn’t home when I get finished putting Lark to bed, so I slink off to my bedroom downstairs. I don’t want us to talk about the dada thing again without Eli here.

I don’t work at the club on Wednesday nights. That means I can settle in for the evening. I put on my silk robe and fix myself a drink at the wet bar I paid to get installed in the living room downstairs. On nights when I don’t have company, I drink club soda with a bit of lime. I’ve seen too many Gentoo sex workers become alcoholics to drink booze by myself.

The living room now has a luxurious chaise lounge, several velvet couches, and a large coffee table with folded up backgammon and chess boards. The walls are covered with framed playbills from the burlesque club and photos of my travels. I’ve decorated this space more carefully than my own apartment.

Maybe that’s why I spend more time here.

I sprawl out on the chaise lounge and grab my phone. There are messages from the group chat at work, an unknown number, and Grandma. I open the message from Grandma first. She’s the only one I’ve stayed in contact with from my Gentoo family. That’s because she funded my escape by giving me a priceless necklace she received from a lover when she was younger. The proceeds from that necklace paid my bills until I figured out what I wanted to do with my life.

How is my little fire doing today?

My heart warms at that. She’s sent a message exactly like it more times than I can count, but it always makes me feel happy.

I’m doing great. Work has been fun, and I have a trip planned at the end of the month. I’m going to New York City!

I want to tell her that Lark called me “Dada” again today, but I can’t. She doesn’t know I had a child. When Lark was born, I figured it would be best to not mention them because I was giving them up for adoption, and now that things have become more complex, I don’t know how I’d explain it all to her.

I send her one more message:

How are you doing? Did the biopsy come back yet?

She said the doctor told her it was just a routine thing, but I still worry.

I pull up the group chat with my friends at work and spend the next few hours texting and laughing with them. Most of them are performing tonight, so everyone is in a good mood. It isn’t until the chat lulls that I pull up the message from the unknown number.

This is Sergey. Thanks for giving me your number.

Well, well, well. I wasn’t sure if he was going to text me. How subtle do I have to be here? Can I just send him a nude pic, with a cheeky message like, “Oh no. I lost my dildo. Do you have anything that I could use as a substitute?” or “What are you doing right now? Because I was hoping you might want to do me.”

No. This guy is working with Cy. I have to keep things somewhat G-rated until I’m sure he’s interested in something sexual.

Hello. It’s nice to hear from you.

Look at me, being all polite.

He messages me back.

Well, you did mention that you were fun. So I figured I might as well.

The word fun is a good sign that this is headed in the right direction.

It’s true. I am fun. Maybe I should show you how fun?

I send him a few flirty emojis and wait. He doesn’t respond. So instead of sending him a full-on nude, I let my robe slide down one shoulder, and take a picture where I’m mostly clothed. I may be fucking the camera with my eyes, but at least it isn’t obscene.

There’s a long pause before his response.

You’re gorgeous, Heller. I’m in a meeting at the Ice Bear Pub right now. I think it will take another hour or so. But I’d love to buy you a drink if you happened to show up here…

I glance at the clock. It’s a little after ten. Not too late for a little rendezvous with a hunky alpha. Besides, The Ice Bear Pub is my old stomping ground. It’s where I bussed tables right after leaving home, and where I tried out sex work for the first time. Even if Sergey gets caught up in his meeting for a while, I’ll have plenty of friends to catch up with until he’s free.

I just need to figure out what to wear.

My heart races as I climb out of the chaise lounge and retreat to my bedroom where my closet awaits, stuffed to the brim with clothes. This is one of my favorite things about one-night stands. They always have that thrilling first date energy. I select a soft, thin sweater with a swoopy scarf and pair it with some jeans that show off my ass to its best advantage. Underneath it all, I wear something sexy I hope he’ll get to see later on in the night.

Upstairs, I hear Eli return home. His and Max’s voices float downstairs. I can’t understand their words, but I hear something like, “welding opportunity” and “be home before midnight.” Then the front door opens and closes again.

I creep upstairs, not sure if I’ll run into Max or Eli. It’s Eli who’s relaxing on the couch in the living room with a glass of water and an e-reader.

“What are you reading?” I ask.

He looks up from his device. “A book about the toddler brain. It’s really interesting. I can loan it to you when I’m done.”

My heart warms at that. He and Max are such good dads.

I sit down next to him on the couch. “Any words of wisdom you want to share?” I worry for a moment that I’ve overstepped. Technically, I’m not parenting Lark with them. But Eli doesn’t miss a beat.

“Apparently, we’re not supposed to use the word no. We’re supposed to redirect Lark,” he says.

We . Does that we include me? I’m too afraid to ask.

“You look ready to go out. Any fun plans?” he asks.

“I’m meeting an alpha at a bar.”

He grins. “Fun. Is he cute?”

“Yeah. It’s just a casual thing. We’re going to his hotel room after.” I shrug, hoping Eli gets the hint that I don’t want to talk about it. He often asks about the men I sleep with like it matters if he knows who they are or what they look like. I never spend more than one night with an alpha unless they’re paying for the privilege. That keeps things simple.

“Have a great time. Would you mind picking up some bananas on your way home tomorrow morning? We’re out because Lark wants one with every meal, then only takes two bites.” He laughs, even though he’s fastidious about never wasting food himself.

He grew up in a Gentoo family like mine, where there was never enough to eat. Our childhoods were different because he was raised on the Slope, but I’ve always felt like Eli understood me in ways that very few people do. Gentoo poverty is harsh. The isolation paired with the hunger is a unique kind of misery.

I’m so grateful I got out before an alpha put a fidelity necklace around my neck.

“I’ll pick up more on my way back. Am I still okay to take Lark to storytime tomorrow?” I ask. The public library’s toddler storytime is my weekly outing with Lark.

“Of course.”

I’m aware that most uncles don’t get to have a weekly outing with their niblings. Max and Eli are incredibly kind. I stand up and head for the door.

“Thank you, Eli.”

He waves my thanks away. “You don’t need to thank me. Lark loves going to storytime with you. Anytime I bring it up, they clap their hands and say ‘mow tisses.’”

Tears burn in the corner of my eyes. “Yeah?” The word comes out as a croak.

“They love you, Heller.”

I open the door to the cold night before I start crying in front of Eli. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

By then, I won’t be a mess thinking about my little Lark, eagerly awaiting our storytime outing. The question that keeps burning in the back of my mind, resurfaces.

Did I make a mistake by giving Lark up for adoption?

It isn’t the kind of thing you can take back. And it isn’t the kind of thing that you can be forgiven for. It’s the kind of thing that’s too big to mess up.

I really hope I didn’t do the wrong thing.