The Lover’s Secret (No Exceptions #1)(26)
Author: J.C. Reed

The icy knot in my stomach intensified at the thought of having no means to fully provide for my child while I kept pretending to everyone that life couldn’t be better. Sooner or later, with all the expensive trips Jett insisted on taking and his need for a lavish lifestyle, he was bound to notice that I couldn’t keep up with him. And what would his rich and famous friends and clients think of me? Probably that I was a gold-digger, using him for his money.

I shuddered at the idea of anyone thinking that. It had been hard pretending to Jett that in my free time, I was going shopping when all the while I spent my time with things I could afford, like reading the free newspapers, talking free walks, and chatting for free with Sylvie via Skype. Basically, all things that were free. Sooner or later, he was bound to notice.

There was no question whether I wanted to grow up. I literally had to, and quick, if I was going to solve my problems. If I just knew how.

I drew a long breath and let it out slowly, but my heart continued to slam into my ribs. My stomach was still a frozen mess, and my brain frantically searched for a solution. Maybe I could discard all the letters and pretend I never received them for the sake of calming myself, because obviously stress wasn’t good for the baby. Come to think of it, it wasn’t such a bad idea. I could leave them on the table or trash them outside. Once they were gone, it would be like they never existed, and I could pretend for once that I didn’t have the problems I had. That would give me both the clarity and the time needed to figure out my next move.

Or maybe, if I prayed hard enough, the banks might just make a mistake and transfer a huge sum of money from someone else’s account into mine, which would help me gain more time to repay them, say in fifty years.

I sighed inwardly.

God, that would be so cool…but immensely unlikely. As in entirely impossible.

From the periphery of my eyes, I noticed the barista inching closer to my table. I looked up and found her gazing at me with a worried expression on her face. She wasn’t much older than me. Her glossy black hair was held together by a girly red flower clip, and her nametag read “Thalia.”

“Everything okay?” she asked.

I hated that question. More often than not, it required the need to lie, and I didn’t want to. Not today. Not when I was hormonal.

Biting my lip, I smiled, even though I doubted I could fool anyone.

“The coffee’s great. Thanks.”

“I wasn’t talking about the coffee,” Thalia said, definitely not fooled.

Instant shame burned through me at the thought that she presumed I was on the verge of having a mental breakdown and might be about to cause her trouble in her place of work. I wondered how scary it must be to encounter an apparently mentally unstable customer who liked to crumple letters and throw them across the table. She clearly feared she might have to kick me out, or that I’d throw a hissy fit—or worse.

“I’ve seen better days.” I smiled again and waved my hand dismissively, as though almost one hundred grand in debt wasn’t a big deal. “But don’t worry. I’ll be gone in a minute.” I stuffed the letters inside my bag and reached for my coat.

Only, too late.

“Look, I don’t mean to pry, but I just thought…if you need work, we can always use an extra hand around here during the week from one to five.” She pointed at the cashier. “She’s the manager. I’m sure she’ll give you the job if you tell her you’re in trouble.”

I stared at Thalia, open-mouthed. “How did you know?”

She pointed at my bag. “It wasn’t hard to guess. I have experience with that kind of mail, and the red ‘final notice’ warnings on the paper made it pretty clear, even from across the room.” She paused to watch my expression.

I just nodded, too shocked and embarrassed to say anything.

She took a deep breath and continued, “What I’m trying to say is I know how plain annoying banks can be. A job here might help.”

For a few seconds, I remained stunned. My smile turned bitter as I realized that even a second job as a barista or waitress wouldn’t solve my problems.

“I really appreciate the offer. It’s just…” I moistened my lips, carefully considering my words so I wouldn’t offend her kindness. “Well, I’m already working full-time with more unpaid hours than I can count. Even if I had the extra time to work a second job, it wouldn’t pay enough to repay my student loans.”

“I see.” She scanned our surroundings quickly, as though to make sure no one was sitting close enough to hear us, and then she turned back to me with a facial expression I couldn’t decipher. “You need more money? I know how you could repay your loan quickly, without having to quit your job.”

I narrowed my eyes at the word “quickly.” I didn’t like quick. Quick was never good because, for some reason, I associated it with danger and illegal activities, such as robbing a bank. Unfortunately, my curiosity was piqued, if only to know what she was getting at.

“How?”

“You’re a pretty girl, and I know someone who needs a pretty face.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, which didn’t help diminish my suspicion at all. “It’s a good job. All you have to do is pose for photo shoots.”

I frowned. “Shoots?” I asked in disbelief. “Are you talking about modeling?”

“Yeah.” She smiled. After another quick glance behind her, she slid into the seat opposite from mine and leaned forward. “Sexy, provocative photo shoots. All you have to do is pose and look pretty. Consider it freelance work; basically a bonus that pays as much as three jobs would here,” she said, pointing around her.

I almost choked on my coffee at the word “provocative.”

Okay. Not a dangerous job—just…indecent.

It was almost as bad as I thought.

I couldn’t possibly pose naked. For one thing, I didn’t possess that kind of confidence, and for another, my body was currently going through major changes. I figured no one wanted to see those.

“I’m not really comfortable going nude,” I said.

“Heard that one before.” Thalia laughed out loud before her voice dropped to a whisper again. “I’ll be honest with you. Obviously, nude shoots will make the most money in this profession, but that wasn’t what I meant. I’m talking more along the lines of working as a pin-up girl.”

“Oh.” My mind conjured up pretty girls dressed in fifties garb, dangling on a swing, maybe even leaning against a vintage car.