Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 176002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
“This Josh guy,” Dad says. “He’s a, what’s it? Entertainer as well, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, he is, and he loves it, too.”
“Isn’t that a bit fucked up?”
I shrug. “No. It’s our job.”
“Some job,” he says, “I’m sorry, but no matter how you sugarcoat it with fancy names and bulging bank accounts, you fuck people for money, and so does this Josh bloke.”
I flinch at that but stay calm. “You’re right,” I say, “technically we are prostitutes, whores, whatever you want to call it. But I’m not standing on street corners, flashing my thighs and looking for tricks. This is high-end, no risk, extremely well-managed, and both me and Josh are bloody good at it.”
“And how does your boyfriend feel, being with you after you screwed a dirty old man?”
“Ted!” Mum says, “there’s no need for that.”
“Yes, there is, Mum,” I say, “You’re right, Dad. Apart from the dirty old man bit. My boyfriend is fine with it, and so am I. Having sex on the job when entertaining is very different from having sex with someone you love.”
He goes red at that, and I can see him searching for more words.
“You taught me something, Dad,” I say, “as I was growing up.”
“And what was that?” Dad looks me in the eye and I can see the turmoil.
I think back to the time I remember clearly. It makes me smile. “I think I was only around seven or eight, and that awful neighbour, Robson I think he was called.”
Dad huffs. “Robson Black, let his dogs shit in every garden but his own.”
“That’s the one. Despite him being a boxer and twice your size, you asked him nicely to put a stop to it. And when it kept happening you asked him again. When it still happened the next day, and you saw him just standing there, letting his dogs crap on our lawn, you were seething.”
“That’s right,” Mum says, “you went and bagged that mess up, knocked on his door and gave him the bag, despite him being built like a brick outhouse, you stood up to him, told him there’d be trouble if it didn’t stop. I was so proud of you.”
Dad huffs again, but at least there’s the hint of a smile. “And what did that teach you?” he asks me.
“I remember when you came back in the house, how Mum hugged you and yes, I remember her saying she was proud. And you said something. You said that we should always have the courage of our convictions, no matter who we have to stand up to. That you were simply standing up for what was right. You repeated that a few times as I was growing up. And you passed that thinking on to me.”
“How so?” Dad says.
“My very strong convictions are my job, and my boyfriend, and how I will stand proud and defend my job – my life – until the cows come home, as Mum would say. I believe that what I’m doing, the path I’m on, is most definitely the right one.”
Dad hesitates, but can’t help himself. “Whoring yourself with other people then going home and fucking your boyfriend is a lot different to picking up dogshit.”
“It’s not at all different, Ted,” Mum says, “I can see so much of you in Ella. How headstrong she is, how determined.” Mum squeezes his arm. “You know what they say. Different strokes for different folks.”
He pulls one hell of a face. “Not the best analogy.”
I can’t help myself, I have to laugh at that. Different strokes, for different folks. Perfect. I’ve got my eyes closed tight when I hear Mum’s laughter. Dad tries to give a you two, in a disapproving tone, but he breaks, and chuckles along with us. It’s such a welcome relief to the tension.
“You’re right,” Dad says, “everyone should have the courage of their convictions. Glad I taught you something.”
I use the opportunity.
“Will you meet Josh, please? Give him a chance? You’ve seen the pictures. You’ve seen the way we are together. Just, please, give him a chance to introduce himself. You can see our place. You can grill us all you want, and Josh won’t mind. He’ll answer you.”
Mum looks at Dad, but Dad is staring at his tea mug.
“Ted?” she asks. “What do you think? Shall we do it?”
“Not sure.”
“If you think he’s a prick, you can tell him,” I say. “Just give him a chance, please. That’s all I’m asking. And I really want to show you my place.”
Dad keeps staring at his tea mug.
“Ted?” Mum prompts again, but there’s no answer. She looks at me instead, and sighs. “Fine, well I’m coming. Screw it, I’ll give Josh a chance, and I want to see your place, Ells. I want to know where you’re living now.”
She gets up from her seat, and heads for her handbag. Dad stares up at her with one of those unspoken looks between them, but she shrugs.