American Below-Average

What is rock bottom? It's the point where one cannot go any lower, desperation sets in, when one's life is in it's lowest forms. Assuming there's a 'rock bottom', that means there is an bottom. When you fall, are you more afraid of the fact you're falling, or that you're hurtling towards the unforgiving ground? On television, when people fall from buildings, or ships, or planes, are their screams of fear, or relief?

Who knows?

I begun to avoid having to move a lot. Wasting the days away under my fortress of warm and comforting blankets was far better than facing others. I couldn't tell if Ashley was still mad at me, and no one bothered checking on me, so I figured they didn't care. The only time my fortress became cold and lifeless was when I had a client. I'd gotten better at taking the verbal abuse some of my clients tossed down at me. The venomous words were now my detox shake. They rid my body of the toxin called confidence. But, in this place, confidence was worse than slapping Madame Gigi. Confidence could make you think you're worth something, and that's not how things work in this house.

You see, if you think you're worth something, then the clients are then forced to see you as something other than a sex toy, and that's not what they want to do. For my job is to pleasure, not to believe in myself. So I don't anymore. Not that I believed in myself very much when I'd first arrived here. So what was I worth? Sixty on weekends, and fifty-five on weekdays.

I'd returned into my room on shaky legs after having some politician plow into me roughly, to find a book on my bed. A note was taped to the top of it in cursive, loopy, scribble. The words legible, but very gender-less.

Oli with and H,

You were wrong. Read it.

-Oli

Well, I'd be damned. He'd remembered. It'd felt like it'd been so long since I'd made that ridiculous bet with Oli. I hadn't even spoken to him since that day. That made me wonder if he ever left the library downstairs. Well, he must have to drop the book and note off. Whatever. I was looking forward to leaving the harsh reality of my life for a few hours and crawled under the covers. I began to read, my eyes followed the black inked pages.

The book wasn't even about a nerdy girl. The prince was gay, and his parents had no idea. He was arranged to marry some girl he'd never met, but he'd already fallen in love with his second-cousin. It was a bit odd and kind of incestuous.

"What're you doing? Reading?" Missy asked, her tone condescending. I glanced at her above the book spine. "That's a waste of time. You won't get any smarter." She was completely naked. Her skin a tad pale and blue lines coasted beneath her skin like small rivers. Her back was to me as she got clothes out of the closet.

"I'm not trying to be smarter." I replied flatly. She scoffed.

"My ex used to do that too. He'd read to me all the time, but he claimed that he read for, get this, for fun." She laughed bitterly. I raised an eyebrow at the comment. Missy never mentioned her past life before she came to the whorehouse to anyone.

"Why's that so surprising though?" I asked her. She shrugged and slid on some jeans over her legs. "Reading can be fun."

"For people who're smart." She went over to the vanity and brushed out her wet hair. "English wasn't my best subject. I never really cared for reading though."

"Oh, well, what was your best subject?" I asked curiously, turning a page in my book.

"Sewing. I had wanted to be a model, but alas, that's not 'realistic'." She muttered. I chuckled, agreeing.

"Ironic, isn't it? They tell us to dream and shoot for the stars, and when we do, we do anything but fall among the stars." I replied easily. Missy turned to look at me, a weird glint in her eyes.

"That's...beautiful, and true." She whispered. Her eyes narrowed at me, analyzing me for a few seconds. "You're smart, why're you here?"

"I thought no one cares about my sob story?" I fired back. She set down her hairbrush.

"True. No one really does cares about your sob story, but at the same time, should that stop you from telling it?" She asked me. Well, she had a point, but what good would it do to tell her? Missy was a bitch, a true and definition of a bitch.

"I'm broke." I said bluntly. "Can't afford college, can't get anywhere without a college degree."

"Didn't you get any scholarships?"

"Nope, my grades were good enough to pass. I didn't play sports, I wasn't special enough. I was sentenced five to life of average."

"Sucks." She turned back around and continued brushing her hair.

"What about you? Why're you here?" I asked, a bit on edge. She knew my story, yet I didn't know her's. She shrugged.

"Unlike you, I was born rich. My dad was also born rich cause my granddad invented something, I dunno. Anyway, I'd always had money. I'd been kind of a slut my whole life too. Lost my virginity at twelve to a sixteen year old." She fell silent. "Long story short, I had sex with a black guy, got pregnant, and daddy got pissed. He told me that the baby was a 'nigger' and wouldn't be allowed to exist. So, I got an abortion and was cut off from the family." She took a deep breath. "Unlike you, I'd quit school in sophomore year, I'd never went back, and have been here since I was legally able to be."

She didn't look like she could've ever been pregnant. Her skin pull taught over her bones, figure slim and slightly curvy. I stared at her backside as the silence fell upon us.

"Did the guy know?" I dared to ask, she shook her head no.

"This really is my last resort, I have nowhere else to go. No family, no friends. This is my home." She stood and cleared her throat. "I'm done talking about this. I'm hungry, and we'll never talk about this ever again." I nodded.

"Agreed. What's for dinner?"

"I dunno, cuntface." She snapped at me. I blinked, confused by her sudden change of character. "What? Remember, I still fucking hate you." And there was the bitch that Missy truly was. I sighed and nodded. Even a heart to heart couldn't thaw that girl's heart.

___

I finished the book in two days. I'd been lying on my back, the thin novella clasped in my two hands. Turning the last page, a content sigh seeped past my lips. The world around me began to seep back into my mind. I sat up and closed the book slowly, attempting to hold onto the world hidden between the off-white pages.

The prince had chose to be with his second-cousin, and his parents had found out about them. The couple facing two 'immoral' crimes were sentenced to death by hanging. It ended tragically, the two dying, side by side, their last words being 'I love you'. Odd. The prince hadn't married anyone, nor proposed to anyone. I found the title to be very misleading, perhaps Oli thought the same thing.

I trudged down the stairs, leaving my comfort zone within my bed to return the book to the library. I opened the door and shut it back, the scent infiltrating my nostrils once again. I searched the aisles, looking for a certain hazel-eyed man. I'd almost bumped into him when I'd went to the back section of the library.

"Hey, there you are." I said with a forced grin as I handed him the book. "You were right, I was completely wrong."

"Yeah, you were. You liked it?" He asked, taking the book from me and turning to go return it to it's rightful place. I followed behind him.

"It was really good, the tittle a bit ill-fitting." I replied quietly. He nodded and kneeled down, sliding the book back onto the carefully organized shelf.

"True. My favorite part was the end." He said standing and looking down into my eyes. I found it hard to hold his gaze, as his eyes held life to them. Life I know my eyes were surely lacking. "I like tragedy."

"Why? Tragedies are sad and infuriating."

"That's why I like them. They remind me of life. You see, life isn't 'all happily ever after's, or beautifully written 'the end's. Life is tragic, it's depressing and it's infuriating." He walked past me. "Or maybe it's more that I'm a masochistic fuck who really finds pain and tragedy appealing."

"Let's go with the prior." I said with a giggle. "You're very x-rated."

"If honesty and vulgarity are x-rated to you, then what the fuck are you doing here?" He asked me. I shrugged. "I'm curious, how did such an innocent girl wind up in this business?"

"I'm not innocent." I retorted with an eye-roll.

"You're not gonna answer my question, are you?"

"Nope. How'd you end up in this business then, Oli?"

"I- Nope. You don't answer my question, I won't answer your's."

"Dick."

"Deceptive skank." He chuckled and pulled out a random book. "Care for another wager?" I raised an eyebrow and a smug grin graced my face.

"You bet your ass I do."

___

Shay was bouncing on my bed, his legs criss-cross in front of him, his eyes wide and innocent. He reminded me of a young boy, but he was a year older than me. He beamed and squealed when he'd caught sight of me. His bright eyes sparkling.

"C'mere! C'mere!" He waved me over and I cautiously went over to him. I sat across from him, tucking my legs beneath me. "So, I know how you haven't been having the best week..."

"It's okay, things can only get better once they get worse." I said through a tight-lipped smile.

"Shut it, I'm going to give you a make-over!" He took my hands in his and started bouncing excitedly once again. I stared at him, completely confused and caught off-guard about his offer.

"Shay, do you even know how to do makeup?" I asked him, trying my hardest not to offend him in anyway. He scoffed.

"Bitch, I probably know more about makeup then you do." He stood and took my hand and tugged me to one of the vanities. He stared at our reflection in the small lit-up mirror. "When I'm finished with you, you'll be glued to this mirror."