Chapter 3 Saints And Sinners

• Saints was already buzzing with the usual Monday afternoon rowdiness when they arrived. The place was packed, and not just from their colleagues. The bar was a crowd-puller every day—except Sundays because it was closed—attracting an impressive number of patrons from the big five banks and several tech startups in the Central Business District.
• Natalie clutched Emily's hand, squeezing through the mass of sweaty but smartly-dressed drunken bodies as they made their way to a miraculously free corner booth near the restrooms.
• "What do you want to drink?" Emily yelled over the blaring music, a catchy tune from last summer but still played to death on all the radio stations.
• "I'll have a margarita!" Natalie shouted back.
• Emily said something about hopping over to the bar to get their drinks. Natalie waved her off and checked her emails but quickly closed them when she saw too many zeros in the quote from Amber. There was no way she could afford that on her salary.
• To her relief, Lennie, the owner, or maybe one of the waitresses, changed the music to something soft and sultry. She relaxed in her seat, glad she and Emily wouldn't have to spend the afternoon yelling just to hear each other.
• Her friend returned moments later with three glasses of happiness and set them down on the table before taking her place on the other end of the booth. "One margarita for you and two cosmos for me."
• Natalie smiled as she watched her guzzle her first drink in one go. "Were you that thirsty?"
• "You have no idea," Emily laughed and picked up the second glass.
• Natalie stared at her with mild horror, convinced she'd gulp it down also. Surprisingly, Emily simply held it in her hand and twirled it side to side as she appraised her from beneath her long fake lashes.
• "I might have a solution to your problem."
• Intrigued by the announcement, Natalie leaned forward in her seat with her chin in her hands. She liked solutions, and after seeing all the zeros on the cost estimate for her brother's dialysis treatment, she'd need plenty. "I'll do anything as long as it's legal."
• "I'm glad you said that," Emily nodded as she pulled out her phone, her slender fingers softly tapping the screen as she swiped up and down. "Here you go—Dreams."
• "That's where you moonlight, right?" asked Natalie.
• She didn't know much about websites, but Dreams looked sleek and high profile. Nothing like the banner ads she'd seen on the internet for escort services.
• "Yeah, it's a great place. The pay's good too!" Emily sipped her cocktail and allowed her eyes to feast on a guy with shoulder-length dreadlocks—a true definition of tall, dark and handsome—as he made his way to the dartboard with his crew.
• Natalie laughed at the ridiculousness of the site's name and her friend's undeniable interest in the tall stranger.
• "Couldn't they come up with a better name, though?"
• "Well, technically, they are fulfilling everyone's dreams, the clients' and the companions'," Emily replied, her gaze still on the guy. She was practically drooling over him, and Natalie had to intervene.
• She waved her hand in front of Emily's face to get her attention. "That's what they call them, companions?"
• "Sorry, Nat," she smiled sheepishly as she sat straight and focused on their chat. "Wealthy people don't like people to know they use escorts, and it doesn't matter how classy the establishment is. So, companions, it is."
• Natalie fidgeted in her seat and twirled a lock of black curly hair around her finger as she stared glumly at her untouched margarita. She should have headed home and sent out her CV instead of sitting here, contemplating what was undoubtedly a ridiculous idea. If she knew Emily's sure-fire solution was escorting, she wouldn't have gotten her hopes up.
• "Do you want to check it out?"
• Without waiting for her response, Emily gave her a quick site tour on her phone.
• "Where are all the companions and the clients?" Natalie asked. She'd expected to see them all on display, like in a police lineup.
• "The clients see the gallery with all the companions, and we get matched according to their requirements," Emily explained. "So, do you want to try it?"
• "I don't know," Natalie sipped her margarita, relishing the strong kick of the tequila as it hit the back of her throat. "What's the money like?"
• "Depending on your comfort level, you could make as much as thirty, forty thousand a night."
• "That much?" Natalie could see rand signs swimming in front of her eyes. Her two months' salary in one night? Now that was...Promising?
• "Huge disclaimer, though," Emily continued as she drained her second glass and set it down. "Sometimes, clients have weird preferences, and there's always a chance you'll find yourself in a situation you never anticipated. Callouts are the scariest because nothing is in your control."
• "Why do you still do it?" Natalie struggled to understand why anyone would gamble with their life like that and carry on with the risk longer than they had to. "You've made enough money; you have a car and an apartment."
• Plus, Emily lived in Rock Castle—the right side of town.
• "I want more than a car and a nice apartment. I want to travel and see the world, fuck a random stranger in Greece, swim with the whales in Cape Town, and bungee jump off the Himalayas. Natalie, there's so much I haven't done and still want to do, and Dreams will pay for all my adventures."
• "But you get paid to have sex."
• "So?" Emily shrugged. "Some people hate having sex with their spouses, and they don't even get paid for it. I don't see why I can't make money from something I love."
• Fair enough, Natalie thought. But she was having a hard time understanding her friend's attitude. She wasn't a prude by any stretch. But sex was sacred to her, an act she wanted to perform only with someone she shared an emotional connection with. On the other hand, Emily saw it as a means to an end. Something to be used as a commodity. A way to assert power and control over her life.
• "Look, Nat, escorting isn't for everyone. But it works for me. I get to do what I want, when I want, and with whomever I want. At the end of the day or night, I take home a nice money bag and don't answer to anyone. It doesn't get better than that."
• "But, what if you meet someone and fall in love?"
• "Gosh, you're so cute! You still believe in love!" Emily laughed and flicked her hair over her shoulder. "Anyway, I'm always careful that my real life never collides with my moonlighting. We never use our real identities on the job, and of course, a disguise is always recommended but not a must."
• "What happens if you meet someone you know in real life on the job?"
• "I've been doing this since I was twenty on and off, and I guess I've been lucky I've never met any of my clients outside of Dreams," Emily said, slipping her phone back into her bag. "I'll send you the link, and you can decide whether you want to do it. You can't access the site without a referral. Check it out, and sign up if you want to. If you don't want to, we'll figure something out for Jamie."
• Natalie nodded absently, her attention now on a group of guys wrangling over the pool table. Any second now, one of them would say something stupid, a fight would break out, and Lennie would chase everyone away.
• She was right.
• A testosterone-fuelled brawl broke out not even ten minutes later between the group. Screams pierced the room, bottles and chairs flew over their heads, and Natalie grabbed her stuff. She had seen enough. She had CVs to send out.
• Emily wanted to stay and watch the drama. Natalie hugged her quickly and headed out.
• She broke into a light trot as she circled back to the office to catch the 4:00 PM bus home.
• The forty-minute ride turned into a two-hour trip because a Van Holt Industries freight truck had jackknifed, and the highway had to be closed for a while.
• By the time Natalie got to her flat in Beacon Hill in the south, she was cranky, sweaty and generally miserable. She took a quick shower and whipped up something to eat.
• As she made a cheese and ham sandwich and a cup of black coffee, she looked around the open-plan living space and tried to see her apartment through a stranger's eyes—through Emily's eyes.
• And what she saw filled her with despair.
• The ugly grey walls could do with a new coat of paint. The second-hand furniture left by the previous tenant belonged in the nearest dumpster. The appliances were old and faulty, and every time Natalie used the stove and microwave, she ran the risk of electrocution.
• But, as shabby as it was, this dump was her home for the past three months, her tiny piece of Rock Union. She'd wanted to do more with it when she had enough money. But now, with Jamie's medical expenses, her new couch and wallpaper had to slip further down her bucket list.
• She sat at the rickety round dining table, pushed her sandwich and coffee to one side, and pulled her laptop closer to crunch the numbers.
• Jamie's annual treatment at a private facility would cost around a hundred thousand rands. If they were lucky to be donors, they'd need another hundred and fifty at the very least for the surgery and other costs.
• Natalie hated, hated asking people for money. But even if she managed to get a second and third job, it would still take her at least five years to save half of what they needed.
• Jamie didn't have five years.
• With a goal in mind, Natalie set up a fundraiser page, and as she wrote Jamie's bio and motivation for the fund, she thought back to when she had to write her mother's obituary. It was the same feelings of sadness, grief, and heartache but different circumstances. One was a celebration of life after her mother passed away, and the other was a motivation for her brother to live.
• When she was done setting up the fundraiser page, Natalie searched for her second dream job.
• Not many places were hiring. The recession had forced hundreds of businesses to close. But Saints was an option. When she left the place earlier, she'd seen an ad for a waitress on the community board.
• The salary was probably way below her expectations, and she didn't have any waitressing experience, but she sent her application through anyway. She was a quick learner; she'd be bussing tables in no time.
• With her job search complete for the night, Natalie closed her laptop and went to bed. The used cup and plate, tomorrow's problem.