Chapter Text
Rey scrounged under the couch, her hand tickled by dust bunnies nestled underneath the piece of furniture that she has been closely acquainted with for the past few months since she had self-exiled herself after she made the dastardly discovery that the cheap Craigslist mattress she had snagged had some creepy inhabitants (read: mother-kriffing-bed-bugs) hidden inside the folds of the plush material.
It was disgusting, and she yelled at the inanimate object far longer than she would like to be proud of, and had hauled the dreaded thing down to the dumpster as fast as she humanly could. Well, Finn helped-and yes, he warned her that it was too good to be true for such a deal-but Rey was, by all accounts broke.
Broke that she was living off ramen noodles (topped with an egg for some healthy protein thanks Finn) for her meals - something that she had experienced when she went to the community college for two years - to which she had sworn she would never do again. Not like she had a choice in-the-matter for her current situation.
Rent had to be paid, her electricity and water payments were due, while all she wanted was to skimp on her responsibilities and buy something nice for herself in due to the holiday season. Well, and maybe throw something special for Finn and his maybe-maybe not girlfriend Rose.
Rey scrunched her nose as the dust particles swept into her nostrils as she retrieved her hand, where clutched against her palm was a few hard metal coins. Not much, but it’ll have to do. Enough for a bus fare at least so she’ll be able to make it to work, and maybe the almost holiday season would coax the customers to add their spare change into the tip jar. Who still wanted to carry the heavy coins anymore these days - hint: it’s Rey, who really wanted that spare change - and she internally cringed at her own desperation. She pushed herself off the ground, and mildly winced as the hardness of the floor pressed against her sore knees.
She missed yoga - the stretch exercises and flexibility she kept as a routine when she first came to America all starry-eyed and freshly-faced - was no longer an option when all she could do was not collapse on the floor after a full-day shift running around (sorry: she meant briskly walking around the tables in a controlled manner), up ladders trying to get stock and squat down to move products. That was her workout now. Her nice gym clothes were stuffed somewhere in her closet, probably collecting dust.
God, was there anything in her apartment that didn’t have space, hair and skin particles splattered on her stuff?
With an already irked disposition in the morning, she hastily stuffed her work-issued apron into her ratty backpack, where she had thrown in her keys and wallet the night before.
"Shit, where is my bloody phone?”
Rey knelt down, and peered underneath, as every breath mirrored a heightened curse and she felt so done. It was still morning, and she hadn’t even started her shift. She slid her arm against the couch seats - her arm grazed the soft material like butter, all smooth until she hit something hard. Something rectangular.
“Aha! There you are, you darn thing.” Rey exclaimed as she snatched up her most expensive possession. Second to her bike, which currently was chained up due to the wretched weather that had drowned the city streets. Hence, public transport.
With her keys in one hand, she closed her door and gripped her umbrella. The hallway was empty; not unusual, but the pounding rain that pelted against the closest window she glanced at told her enough that today was going to be a rough day.
Just seven hours. That’s how long she needed to survive before she could come home and just fall into her bed. And let the next day wash over her to do again.
“You know. I’m sure you do some Internet modelling. You have a nice enough body for it. Or, like maybe sell used panties.” Kaydel sniffed as she capped a filled cup with a steaming hot peppermint tea concoction the store had offered for the Christmas season. “Hell, maybe you can do some camming. I know a few people who could get you started.” The blonde winked - to the customer or to Rey, the latter was unsure if this warranted a slight grimace across her mouth and eyebrows.
“Kaydel. I-uh, appreciate the offer, but I rather not have my face with that type of stuff. Not shaming anyone,” Rey hastily added as wiped the milk nozzle down with a slightly wet fabric piece, “but just in case it bites me in the butt.”
“Your loss.” Kaydel shrugged all well-natured, as she flashed a brilliant smile to the next customer and asked for his order. “You definitely have the potential to be arm-candy on some stupidly wealthy person.” The blonde waved her observation like it was a passing thought. “Anything else for you today?” She cooed to the customer who blankly looked at her with apprehension before he gave a nod to one of the baked goods in the clear glass.
Rey rolled her shoulders as she used the coffee grinder to make a new batch for the current customer into the filter basket, and tapered it before she returned to the machine with the filled portafilter. With practiced hands, the brunette pressed the button to start the espresso drip. She steamed the cold milk, and watched how the creamy liquid swirled and the air sizzled and spat into the metal jug. There was something that made the process a relaxant to herself, a sequence of steps that she had imprinted on her brain. The routine had been etched enough into the back of eyelids that she could finish this shift in the least amount of pain.
“You wanna take a break now? It’s quieted down a lot now that the morning rush is done.” Kaydel’s voice broke through the mess of her thoughts, as the blonde tapped a finger on the table to capture a response.
“Oh. Is it already my turn now?” Rey spoke back, and fumbled with the apron until it was finally off her work outfit and onto a nearby chair. “Be back in fifteen.”
“Don’t sound too excited.” The blonde said as she slipped into Rey’s previous position of being in charge of drinks.
Huddled against the storeroom was where Rey found herself in the short breath of air allowed, free from unruly customers and barked orders. She fiddled around for some paper and a pen, and jotted down the expected amount for her bills in the upcoming two weeks. The zeros kept appearing, twos and threes at a time, and she punched the numbers in angrily into the calculator as she hotly exhaled in the cramped space. The digits piled up, and the young woman threw her arms up in the air when she came to the conclusion that nothing short of a miracle would pay for her living expenses.
“I’m going to have to eat cardboard for the next month.” Rey wistfully sobbed into the air as she scrunched the piece of paper into a ball.
“I hope not. I don’t think cardboard has any nutrients for you.”
Rey whipped her head around as she sought out the source of the new voice.
“Morning Rey. You want a granola bar? Rose accidentally bulk-bought a truck-load of them. I’m sick of eating the same honey and almond mix for the past few weeks. You’ll be helping me by taking it out of my hands.” Paige said as she handed the aforementioned snack to her fellow colleague.
“You’re a saint Paige.” Rey moaned as she unwrapped the bar and bit into it with thinly-veiled glee. “I haven’t had breakfast yet.”
“I thought so. Budget isn’t looking too hot this month is it?” The black-haired woman pulled off her duffle bag and stacked it in a corner. “What’s the verdict on whether you’ll give up an organ?”
“The closer the deadline gets, the more it seems like a good idea.” Rey joked back, as she threaded her hair through her slightly greasy hair. “Kaydel mentioned I’ll probably be able to pull in some big bucks as a cam-girl or as a trophy-wife.” She gave a snort as she threw the rubbish ball into the bin in one successful swoop.
“Of course she would.” Paige grinned back as she pulled on her apron. “But I mean, I can totally imagine you doing it.”
Rey cocked her head to the side in amusement, and questioned the response, “Stripping for the camera?”
“Being a trophy-wife. Closet thing you could realistically is become a pretend-girlfriend for someone.” Paige noted absentmindedly as she handled her long black locks into a ponytail.
“A what?” Rey parroted with softened intrigue in her inflexion.
“Pretend-girlfriend? It’s something a friend of mine was hired to be once for a family gathering. She had a client who had a conservative family who expected their son to be already married and popping out babies. Well the parents got a fake fiancée, and she got half a grand for a couple hours in pretending to know a stranger. Got a good meal from the gig as well. She got booked for the holiday season, took in several grand all-in-all.” Paige explained slowly as leaned towards the inching ever so closer companion who seemed enraptured with the discussion of the details of a paid girlfriend-role.
Rey felt her mouth dry up as she mouthed the expected figure with her lips. Several grand, just to pretend to be a loving girlfriend to a couple of strangers and even get a hot meal for the day? Yes, that sounded like a good deal.
“How would I even start?” The brunette asserted with blunt interest as she stared at her new source of Hope.
“Well, I don’t know the exact details, I’ll have to ask her for that. But,” Paige said matter-of-factly, “I don’t think you’ll have too much trouble trying to rope I’m some clients. You’re young, cute and British to boot. There’s probably a line of suckers begging to make you their real girlfriend at the end of this.” The corresponding comment was punctuated with a friendly tap on the shoulder as the older girl smiled in assurance.
“Thanks.” Rey murmured into her mouth as she peeked at the time on her phone. She shorted her sigh, and flexed her shoulder muscles, “Break’s over.”
“Hey, I’ll let my friend know you’re interested. She’s got the details on the whole business. I’ll send you the info when I can.”
“Thanks a lot Paige.” Rey maintained her appreciation as she soothed out her outfit and walked with her co-worker back to civilisation.
Inwardly, Rey felt apprehensive at the details of the whole girlfriend-role but that money was hard to ignore. She didn’t have to fuck them right, just play nice and smile for a few hours?
She could do that.
Work was not fun. She had lied to herself about the rest of the day as a breeze. It had not been, not with the spills, the temper tantrums from both kids and adults and the amount of forced pleasantries she had plastered on her face had hurt. At least not as much as her feet did.
The walk up her stairs was pure agony. Her feet screamed, her brain screamed and she was half-in thought that she should just yell her anger into the stairway well just to top-off her shitty day.
She should probably save her voice for tomorrow. Logistically she knew it was the better choice.
She settled for her anger to be dispersed into her cupped hands when she entered her apartment. She gave herself a minute to compose her mind and her bearings before she stood up where she had slumped against the doorway and threw her belongings onto a table. A hot shower would do magical things to her mood, and she had decided that she deserved such an occasion (no matter what her water bills would say about that).
Ten minutes later, Rey emerged flushed and much more soothed in her soul. She wrapped a towel around her wet hair and scrubbed through the tangled tresses as she took a look at her phone. There was message sent from Paige.
Her attention zeroed to the mentioned link. The website seemed to be quite straight-forward to explain what it proposed. Plain and simple. Something she had been described as completely encompassing in every inch of her five foot seven body.
Rey sighed deeply, like the breath was a hassle to pass through her lips. She rubbed her eyes as she squinted into the darkness and thought.
There had to be a ludicrous industry for fake girlfriends for the holidays. Just to show pesky families that yes, their child was doing fine and had a long-term girlfriend to show their superb stability in their current life. She could fill that mold, it would take some time for her to learn the necessary script (but she had done some time in the school play in her primary school back in England), so it wouldn’t be anything too out of her comfort-zone. She gnawed at her bottom-lip, her thoughts raced through loud and clear like fighter jets across a clear sky, and she squeezed her nails into the palm of her hand in short bursts as she settled herself.
Yes, she could do this. She just had to summon the some sort of invisible force to help her make the decision to sign her lead up to this scripted role of hers. She flirted with her hands across the keyboard and tapped into the website that had been mentioned before and clacked the ENTER key with a renewed surge of energy.
The site loaded after a few beats - no thanks to her shoddy Internet provider - and it seemed more sleek than she expected. A simple UI Design, with free-flowing scrolled options fit for mobile use, bordered by options that linked to other parts of the site; all done in a sans-serif font that oozed professionalism. How a font had done that was beyond Rey’s comprehension, but she admired the appeal anyway.
There was an Introduction of the site’s facilities, done in a monochromatic colour scheme that outlined the services the site offered. An interactive, reputable and engaging girlfriend experience for the user, that could be trusted to be discreet and effective for any sort of request (within ethical and legal reason). A link to the male counterpart; a boyfriend for hire was added to the end of the opening statement.
Rey thumbed through the varying testimonials by totally real and satisfied customers. It tasted a little over-the-top, like extra sugar sprinkled onto an already towered gelato bowl. She soldiered on.
There was a sign-up option, nestled between the Scenarios and the Contact Us options. With a final sigh, Rey resolved herself to this self-inflicted fate and she pressed down and waited for the new part of the site to load.
She sighted empty boxes. Loads of them. The bold titles that hovered above each rectangle spoke of her First Name, Surname, her Age, her Personal Contact details of her Number and Email, little questions littered with scales from one to five about her experience, her comfortability levels she was willing to go do, was she Sexually Active, did she want Short-term or Long-term Clients, it carried on and on-
Rey closed her phone; she watched as the screen went black as she tried to avoid the bombardment of personal jabs that had been outlined in the questionnaire. There even had been a space to upload multiple selfie shots with requests for written responses or objects to be featured in the photos; undoubtedly done to weed out bots and catfishes that this service must have attracted.
She had to ask herself, was this worth it? Was selling her details, and her dignity really worth the hassle?
Rey scrutinized the couch she currently sat on. She missed the feeling of an actual mattress underneath her body at night; the strange contorted moves she made on the living room furniture had started to catch-up to her spine and her back ached more than it should as a young twenty-three year old woman.
Okay, yes so she felt a little desperate by now. She chewed her lip and clicked her phone back to life. So be it.
With resumed taps, Rey filled the details out, with a slight pause at the amount of money she wanted to aim for at fifty to a hundred dollars. 'That didn’t sound too greedy since she just started', her brain had justified at the double and triple digits.
She submitted her form, and the box that popped up that read ‘Our quality services demand quality assurances from our company. We’ll review your application and contact you as soon as possible on a response. Thank you for understanding and have a great day.’ made Rey huff. Guess it would have been too easy if she got into the business as easily as a finished form.
In the second time through the span of the past ten minutes, the lonely brunette closed her phone and placed it on the nearest table. Her hands snatched up the quilt she had spread across the couch; a sandy brown material that felt more like a poodle’s butt than a cover where she snuggled underneath and wistfully dreamed about the money she didn’t have, and the bills that she did.