Chapter Text
“I’d like an iced white mocha with two shots of expresso, one shot vanilla, one shot caramel. Oh! And like, use only half the ice you normally use. I know you guys do that so you cheat me out of a full cup. Next drink will be-”
You wrote down three drink orders, each more complicated than the last in quick succession before handing them over to one of your coworkers. The lady in front of you vanishes only to be replaced by another. Rush hour was a bitch. Even more so when you worked smack dab in the center of one of the most high-priced shopping districts in the city. The average customer was high maintenance to put it nicely. They weren’t all bad by any means but privilege was prominent. Even your favorite regulars would occasionally say something from time to time that would remind you of the difference in wealth between the two of you.
Not to sound bitter, but when you first took this job it was because you were banking on big tips. Well, turns out these people thought minimum wage paid enough. You’d be a waitress if you could but with your issues being on your feet for that long and running around like that was immediately off the table. Here they let you have a stool to sit on at least. Your boss also liked having you on the register. Nicer than the teens you worked with. Or, to be more accurate, you could fake being a customer service robot like it was nobody’s business. That unfortunately meant you were the one dealing with the Karens. You should get a raise for that alone.
Thankfully, you didn’t encounter any during your rush, only a snide comment from an old lady about you sitting on the job. Just because you didn’t look like you were on hospice doesn’t mean you’re still not sick. It’s whatever at this point. You’ve heard it all by now over the years.
It’s at the tail end of your shift that anything noteworthy happens. With ten minutes to close not many people come in or stick around. Your other two coworkers are cleaning up, leaving you to man the counter and make the drinks. It’s no issue for you, anything to get you out of here sooner. Then she walks in.
The high heels of her boots signaled her approach louder than the chime of the door. A short skirt that showed off long slender legs. Her long-sleeved top had a deep V, revealing her ample cleavage. As she strutted, and you do mean strutted, over to the counter she was in the middle of a phone call. She didn’t even bother to stop talking to the person on the other end. Just kept right on talking as tinted lips gave her order without missing a beat. She did pull down her oversized sunglasses to give you a wink as she thanked you. Lovely dark brown eyes shine at you just as brightly as her neat rows of straight white teeth. You give a closed smile back, having become a little self-conscious of your own.
You make her drink and she takes it, sitting down at a small table that has yet to be cleaned. You don’t know exactly why but you focus in on her. That’s when you notice a few things. The pastel pink belt with a Dior belt buckle. The neat stitching on both her bag and the side of her skirt reads Prada. A pair of earrings that you are certain are real diamonds. Her dusty blonde hair neatly trimmed with perfect highlights. The designer logos on the begs she has. It wasn’t an uncommon sight, this was a high-end shopping district after all. Hell, you didn’t even know what a Gucci was until you started working here. But something about her drew you in. Had you tuning into her conversation more. That wasn’t hard to do either. She had the other person on Facetime now that she’s sitting down so everything was being broadcasted. The young woman talked with fast words and heavy lingo that has your head spinning.
“Like, Oh my God Mina, he just handed me his card and told me to have fun for a few hours while he drove back to his office. I mean, yeah, I was totes annoyed with him at first when he had to go but, like, that def made up for it.”
Her friend Mina, was just as loud as her, if a bit grainy through the phone.
“AHHH! Camie! You’re so lucky, What have you gotten so far?”
Camie sighs at that looking a little ashamed.
“Ugh, honestly not a lot. Like, I got some super adorbs shirts and some jewelry. Look at my new earrings. They are gorg,” Camie leans in to show off the diamonds in her ears then pulls back. “But other than that I haven’t gotten a whole bunch. I’m hoping to convince him to take me out to that really nice place that just opened up around the corner when he gets back for supper. Speaking of he should totally be here by now!”
“Ya know you seriously make your job look fun. You make me want to try it out. If only I didn’t have to do that with a weird old guy.”
Camie lets out a huff. She rests her elbows on the table and frowns a little. Her voice gets a little softer and you, being a nosy nelly, feign cleaning something or another closer to her to hear.
“So, like, I won’t lie. It’s not great. Kissing and stuff is easy. It’s the sex that sucks. Like, he doesn’t get me ready at all and sometimes it hurts but at least he’s quick. And he’s not that old. I think he’s like thirty or something so he’s not wrinkly.”
“Camie that’s awful! If he’s in his thirties why does he have to pay for a girlfriend?”
“Cause he is totally awkward and I wouldn’t say I’m his girlfriend. When he first took me out I literally could have died from the awkwardness. I almost called it off but then he gave me my allowance and I was like, this won’t be so bad. It’s gotten better too. He’s nice to me and treats me well, most of the time. Oh! I just saw him. I gotta go. Bye!”
Camie waves bye at her screen before hopping out of her seat and going outside. You watch as she walks up to a man and wraps her arms around his neck. She pushes her chest against him and gives him a peck on the cheek. Said man turns as red as a beet and smiles down at her. He is a tall and lanky individual dressed in a simple but nice all black suit. His black hair was long and his bangs practically covered his eyes. He wasn’t that bad looking but you could see just how awkward he was. Camie sure wasn’t lying about that. She was the one leading him along, holding onto his arm as she talked. Probably trying to get that fancy dinner she wanted.
You smile to yourself, hoping she gets it then you frown. A little jealous of the extravagant life she must live. But how could you not be? Sometimes, the cards just aren’t in some people's favor. You don’t like to have pity parties over your cards but they did suck. It seems like you’ve been fighting an uphill battle for a long time now. It started your second year of college when you first fell ill. It got to the point where you had to drop out. Hospital bills piled up and made going back to school impossible. Your parents were beyond helpful and by the time you turned twenty-five they helped get you out of debt but it wasn’t for long. What you had led to a life time of complications. Sending you into bouts of illness. This time you kept your money troubles to yourself, not wanting to burden your parents anymore than you have. Your mom still sends money to you from time to time. Enough to help keep you fed.
The job you currently had was one in a long string of never-ending customer service positions. You actually had a decent job working at a call center before this only to be fired due to downsizing. Whatever, that robot can have your job and the shitty boss with it. You like working at this overpriced hipster cafe better. People can get really mean when they don’t have a face to attach to the person. You like your coworkers here better too and your boss was chill. The only downside was the pay but it was enough to get by and the low hours kept you on the government assistance you needed to be able to live. Nobody wants to have to rely on handouts like this but if you made any more money you’d get taken off and with your health, you can’t work in a factory for twelve hours five days a week and make a livable wage. Fuck, you’d pass out on the assembly belt on day one.
If only you could do what Camie does. You wouldn’t mind lying on your back for five or so minutes while some dude went to town as long as he’d pay your bills. Pain wouldn’t be an issue either you are always in a little pain. What’s some more added to it? You could also definitely fake liking them like Camie. Laugh at their boring jokes and smile whenever they are around. You let out a sigh as you flip the sign to ‘closed’ and lock the door for the night.
It’s fun to pretend but who would want you? Guys like that want people like Camie. Young, barely legal, pretty, big tits, perfectly fit body. Not a recently turned twenty-seven-year-old who can’t work out because they’d have to have an ambulance called for them after running on the treadmill for ten minutes, true story. You pull on your jacket and look down at your chest. Certainly nothing to write home about. You were happy with them but they wouldn’t be bringing any CEOs or tech billionaires to your doorstep any time soon.
You say goodbye to your coworkers as you head towards the station. You wish the commute was better For a normal person, it’s not too bad, but you get winded easily and need to take a break halfway there. You must not be doing great today because by the time you reach the single lone bench that is on your commute, you’re huffing and puffing, leaning on your cane too much for comfort. Thank the universe it’s empty today. You gracelessly land on the bench and focus on your breathing, trying to reclaim air your lungs refuse to take in properly. Another thought runs through your head.
If you had a rich guy giving you money you wouldn’t have to put your poor left lung through this torture. You need a new one. That’s what the doctor told you about nine months ago. The list you are on is long and you are on the bottom and will be for some time. Needing a new organ isn’t as serious as some think. Sure, there are people who need it bad in a few hour's time or it’s lights out but then there are those like you. People that have years, hopefully, if the doctors are right. The damage you have is ongoing and the meds you take slow it down but over time, your left lung will give out. So, you were put on a list that you will remain near the bottom of until every breath feels like your last. Constantly having people jump leaps and bounds ahead of you while you watch on, looking at your cards and trying to find a royal flush when all you have is a pair of twos.
~~
You finally make it home to your little studio apartment. Upon opening the door your neighbor's cat, Sumo, rushes up to you, weaving between your legs in greeting and meowing up a storm. The little idiot likes to jump the balcony from his owner’s apartment to yours from time to time. The problem is Sumo can’t seem to figure out how to get back over. You keep your balcony door open for him so he doesn’t have to be outside until you get back. Though it wouldn’t be a problem in the first place if Shinso remembered to lock his fucking balcony door before he left for work. Shinso won’t be back till the morning so it looks like you get to cat sit till then. You pick Sumo up and bring him inside. Setting him on your pushed-in futon while you go and grab yourself food from the kitchen.
You open the refrigerator door to a sad sight. You need to go grocery shopping. Thankfully you have half a container of takeout from when you were too nauseous to finish it the other day. You heat it up and your tummy rumbles at the smell. It’s a fickle thing. One day it demands nothing and then the other it craves everything in your fridge. When hungry you may tend to binge eat. You know, it’s a bad habit but not one you care enough about to break. The small fupa you’ve gotten from it was here to stay and quite frankly, you don’t mind the extra fat. The last time you had a health dip you couldn’t eat anything. You were a walking skeleton for a while. You saw your dad cry for the first time during those dark days. He was convinced you would die any day. Being skinny has always felt like a scary thing since. So the extra roll or two you’ve gotten since isn’t a hated thing.. Your doctor said it was even a good thing for you to gain some weight.
Sumo meows at you from the ground looking like he wants to jump up on the counter. You glare at him and you are certain he glares back. He knows better than to be on your counters. At the beeping of the microwave, you take out a small dish to set some chicken in it for him and place it on the ground. You take your food to your futon, sitting crisscross apple sauce while pulling out your phone to lose an hour or three on TikTok. It’s while you are shoveling fried rice into your mouth that you scroll onto a video that nearly has you choking.
A very beautiful woman, with a very questionable outfit, stands in front of her phone telling you about the different types of ‘Doms’ and that’s how you fall down the rabbit hole of learning what BDSM is and how terrifying that all sounds. Hey, if that’s someone else’s cup of tea then drink up buddy but nobody is going to be putting a leash on you anytime soon that’s for damn sure. It was certainly informative and intriguing. You were beginning to step away from the niche topic you found and were branching out into slightly more tame things. It started as learning what a pay pig was then that meandered its way into sugar daddies and their respective matches, a sugar baby. That’s when Camie came on your screen.
Camie was doing her make up answering a comment someone left on her last video. How did she become a sugar baby? She explained that she found her current ‘Daddy’, ew why are they called that, on an app. FindingSweets. Who names these things? Camie does state that it’s not for everyone though and you are reminded of her phone call earlier that day. She doesn’t go into much detail about it but it’s implied that you may end up doing things that you are not comfortable with and if that's the case then you should take care of yourself and find someone better. Shop around. And that made you laugh out loud. The sound startled Sumo who had crawled into the crevice created by your legs for a nap. You apologized to him for the rude awakening but you couldn’t get over how ridiculous that sounded. Wouldn’t it be the other way around? It seems like these men and women, don’t be sexist now, held so much power in these relationships.
You clicked on Camie’s page. She had a lot of followers and it was easy to see why. She, and sometimes her friends, would partake in nearly every dance trend that came around. Her other videos, the ones you were after were buried in between the dancing. God, Camie was actually good too. Good for her. After several hearted videos, you find more of her advice slash lifestyle videos. Camie was really open with it all. She explained a lot. What’s expected, the proper procedures, and such. You were deep into their page when you yawned and checked the time, it was late. You needed to take your night meds and sleep.
After following Camie you closed the app and prepared for sleep. Yet as you lay in your pull out bed your mind keeps going back to Camie. No, to the app she mentioned. . . It’s silly really. What’s the harm in downloading it though? Just to see? If it’s anything like Tinder you won’t have to set up a full page to snoop on other people. Because that’s all you wanted to do. Snoop. You download the app and within minutes your making an account. You put in the barebones information. Unfortunately, a picture is required and here you give pause. What are you doing? Are you really considering this? Have someone pay for your expenses in return for being arm candy? Not to mention nobody is going to want someone like you. With your health issues? The amount of fun you can have is limited. You need a walking cane for Christ's sake. That’s not attractive.
But why can’t you at least try?
What’s the worst that can happen? Nobody clicks on you? You’re used to that from other dating apps. And what is wrong with taking their money if they want to freely give it? It’s not like you would be doing anything wrong. You hesitate a moment longer before finding some recent photos of yourself. Thank god for your mother or you would be an anti-social mess. She encourages you to go out and do things with her. Recently, she took you to the opera with her so you had a nice picture of yourself for the header. You threw in two more for variety's sake. Then you went back to your bio and settings. If you are doing this then there isn’t going to be any half assing it. You make a decent bio and make sure to put a note about your health in there this time. You know that will affect your chances but it wouldn’t be right by these people to not tell them something that important about you. They don’t need to know everything either but what you wrote is good enough. After that, you take a look at your settings. There is an age bar but you don’t mess with it too much. Camie said not to worry about older guys. They tend to be nicer and only want a date or two. Nothing explicit really happens on those dates either and you typically discuss what is expected from the date beforehand.
Speaking of, that leads right into the next setting feature. Do you want long-term, or short-term? There were several options but that’s what it boiled down to. You choose short with a discussion open for long. You don’t really know what’s better. Having just one person or meeting multiple. Shop around. You still giggle at that but Camie had a point. If you do stick with one person you want it to be someone you like. You look through your settings one last time and spot a feature you somehow missed. Who to match with? It’s automatically set to only men. You switch it to all options. You certainly were never one to care about what a person has in that department just as long as they were nice and funny.
Your last girlfriend was an absolute peach. You still miss her. The break up was a bit unexpected for you but after all this time you understand her point of view. She couldn’t handle all the medical stuff. Late night ER trips and long hospital stays. She was young, you both were, but she had a choice unlike you to leave this scary uncertainty behind. And she took it. You get it. You would leave this behind if you could too. Didn’t make it hurt any less. You haven’t tried dating again since.
With a heavy sigh, you hit finalize but one last screen pops up. Prices. A little embarrassing you forgot about the main part of this so soon. Now you’re nervous. You did watch a video of Camie going over prices. Know your worth she said. Don’t undersell yourself but be realistic. Camie said she charges 500 for dates if the man just wants to go out once or twice. She’ll add to that price or subtract from it depending on what the person wants to do. A simple one-hour dinner date would be 400, while a whole day hang out with intimacy included would be about 1000. Long-term relationships have monthly allowances but you're not thinking that far ahead yet. She also said your stated rate can and will most likely be negotiated. There is a lot more to this than you thought.
However, you are not Camie. Reality check here, you can’t be asking for a 500 dollar dinner date. You tentatively set your price to 250 and hit finalize. Your nerves have you closing down the app. A little overwhelmed with it all. A little shocked you went through with it. You plug in your phone for the night and lay down on your less-than-ideal bed. The last thought you have before drifting into sleep is how if this works out for you, you’re buying a new one..
~~~
Sumo screams at you at the same time your alarm goes off in the morning. He stands by your head letting you know it’s time for him to go home. Asshole. Sumo has the same personality as his owner. Grumpy and impatient, but when it’s been a shit day and you need someone to bitch about life with, he’s okay company. You sit up and stretch. Sumo jumps down and runs over to the door. You throw on a pair of pants before stumbling after him. He bolts out the door and over to his door, patiently waiting for you to summon Shinso for him. This has happened so much that you’ve grown tired of being the polite neighbor, there is no calm knocking but loud insistent banging because Shinso was apparently deaf except for when it was his Uber Eats order. Several minutes pass before the door finally opens and the tired eyes of Shinso meet the tired eyes of you. Sumo meows and squeezes his way into the apartment through the small crack of the open door. You both watch the cat enter then look back at each other.
“Thanks for looking after him. I’ll try to remember to close it next time.”
You know he won’t. Shinso has an awful memory. You can’t even be that upset with him either. The people who live in your building all have something in common. You are all on government assistance for something or another. Shinso’s something was his insomnia. It was pretty bad and caused a whole list of health problems. His memory was one of those. Thank god he has the wherewithal to not use the stove otherwise he would have burned down the apartment complex by now. Though being a nineteen-year-old dude who recently moved out of his parent’s house you doubt his cooking skills are at that level yet.
“It’s whatever, just give me some litter so I can clean his box.”
He nods his head before heading further inside, opening the door for you to come in if you wish. Shonso did feel bad about having Sumo invade your home. He pays for anything Sumo might break and the litter box you keep so no messes can happen in your home. You take a step inside, waiting in the entryway. Shinso’s apartment is the same as yours. A small studio with a kitchen counter directly to the left. You don’t mean to snoop but the letter from the complex’s office stares you in the face. Shinso comes over with the litter to see you staring.
“It’s bullshit what they are doing. Have you read yours yet? I saw it taped to my door when I got back this morning. I think they are trying to price us out so they can gentrify the neighborhood.”
“I haven’t. Seriously? This is supposed to be subsidized housing. How is that even legal?”
He hands you the letter and sighs.
“Not for long, they’re changing that too. If I have to move back in with my dad I’m going to be pissed.”
You nod in agreement.
“Fuck, tell me about it. My parents just turned my old room into a home gym too. I’d be sleeping between a weight rack and bench press.”
He snorts at that and walks you the short distance out.
“Life’s a bitch ain’t it? I’ll see you around ______. Take care.”
“You too.”
He closes the door behind you and you head into your home, grabbing the letter taped to the door on your way. Shinso wasn’t lying, they are raising rent and the building is going through the proper channels to take itself off of government funding. Pricks. Why is money always your number one problem? At that last night’s memories surface and you pick up your phone but hesitate. You want to open the app and check to see if you have any messages but you don’t want to bum yourself out by seeing an empty inbox. You set it back down on the end table. You’ll open it later and probably delete the account. Thinking about it with a clear mind today you feel ridiculous for making one in the first place. Really, what came over you? It was nice to dream though.
You got ready for the day a put the app out of mind. Work came and went. Nothing of interest to report there. It was at the bench you were taking a breather on that you finally let curiosity take hold of you. Pulling out your phone you clicked on the app, ready for nothing and to delete the stupid thing. Yet you were not met with nothing.
Inbox: 13 unread messages.
.
.
.
Huh.
Well, it’d be rude to not take a look at them. You click on the first message from someone with the username Beyond+Ultra and read. Isn’t that the name of a sports drink?