Selene's pov
The hospital corridor smelled like bleach and the horrific medications the doctors forced down the patients .The fluorescent lights overhead flickering every few minutes, as if even they were tired of pretending everything was going to be okay.
I sat on one of those hard plastic chairs that dug into the backs of my thighs, clutching the hospital bill like it might suddenly change its mind and rewrite itself into something I could afford.
"100,000 dollars".
The number on the thin paper stared back at me. A hundred thousand dollars just for the first surgery, initial dialysis sessions, the medications that would supposedly buy my mother more time.
The doctor had spoken in that calm, practiced voice doctors use when they know the patient's family is about to shatter.
"Miss Hayes, without immediate funding, we can only provide palliative care. The disease has progressed too far for delay."
Palliative care sounded like nothing else to me but fancy words for "we'll make her comfortable while she dies."
I pressed the heel of my palm against my forehead, trying to push the headache away, but it only made the tears come faster.
Mummy was in there, behind the glass door of Ward C-12, hooked to machines that beeped like they were counting down.
She looked so small under the white sheet, her once-full cheeks hollow, her skin the color of old parchment.
The woman who became my everything after daddy died and left us with nothing but debts and memories was fading right in front of me and I was failing her.
My teaching salary,20 dollars per hour, was nothing after tax and union dues,it barely covered rent, food, and the little extras I sent home every month.
I had nothing left to sell. My laptop was ancient,my wardrobe filled with sensible skirts and blouses suitable for a primary school teacher. No jewelry, nor savings.
The crushing weight of knowing that if I didn't find a Hundred thousand dollars soon,my mother would die hit me.
That was when Rita's voice crept into my head, uninvited but impossible to ignore.
"Girl, if you ever need quick money,real money!,my line is always open. You don't have to judge me forever. Sometimes a woman has to use what she has."
I'd laughed at her the last time she said it. Actually laughed.I called her wayward and told her she was selling herself short, that there had to be better and honest ways to make money. Rita had just shrugged, painted lips curving into a knowing smile.
"Honest ways don't pay bills, Lena. Call me when you're ready to stop pretending."
I hated that she'd been right.
My fingers shook so badly I almost dropped the phone when I pulled it out of my bag. The screen read 4:47 p.m. Visiting hours ended at 5:00. I had minutes before the nurses would politely ask me to leave.
I hit her name before I could talk myself out of it.
It rang twice.
"Selenaaaaa! Babe,it's been quite a long time ! What's up with you?"
I tried to speak and only managed a choked sound.
"Rita…" My voice cracked. "Mom is sick.The doctors said it's kidney failure and are asking for a hundred thousand dollars to start treatment. I don't have it. I have nothing Rita."
Silence stretched for three painful seconds.
Then softly ,"Oh, baby girl. I'm so sorry."
I swallowed the sob trying to climb out of my throat. "They said weeks. Maybe less. If we don't start…"
There was another long pause before she spoke again, obviously addressing the elephant in the room, "You know what I do, right? You always said it was cheap. But it pays fast and easy."
My stomach twisted into knots. "I know I judged you, I'm sorry. But if there's a way… one time, just enough for the deposit please."
Her exhale was long, almost relieved. "Listen to me, Lena. This isn't about shame. It's about survival. You have a pretty face, soft body, and you're smart.
Men pay top dollar for classy and clean. One night can clear that bill and leave change. I'll set it up tonight if you're good to go."
Every part of me screamed no but the image of Mom wasting away on that hospital bed drowned it all out.
"Okay," I whispered. The word tasted like ash. "Do it."
Rita let out a small whoop. "That's my girl. Come to my place by 6. I'll dress you up. You'll look like a queen, trust me. And remember,it's just business. Your body, your rules."
The line went dead.
I stood, wiped my face with the back of my hand, and walked out of the hospital into the thick, humid Los Angeles evening.
*****
By 6:15 p.m., I was standing in Rita's one-bedroom apartment downtown, staring at a stranger in the mirror.
The red dress clung to me like a second skin, shorter than anything I'd ever worn.The black stilettos made my legs look longer, more elegant.
Rita had swept my hair into an elegant updo, leaving soft curls framing my face.I had insisted on mild make-up against the monstrosity she always wore and I could not be happier she listened to me.
"You look like money," Rita said, stepping back to admire her work. She sprayed one last cloud of perfume over me. It smelt floral and expensive.
"The client is new who just flew in. Big spender and wants discretion. Room 1333 Hotel de mont. Get drunk if you need to buy make sure you get him satisfied."
My heart slammed against my ribs. "Rita, I don't know if I can—"
"You can." She grabbed my shoulders, eyes fierce. "For Mom. Go on now and text me when you're done. I'll be waiting."
The taxi ride to the Hotel de mont felt endless. I kept my arms crossed tight over my chest, trying to hold myself together throughout the ride.
I got to the hotel around 7:30pm.The hotel lobby was all marble and gold chandeliers. Heads turned as I walked through—bellboys, receptionists, a couple in evening wear. I kept my chin up, pretending I belonged.
The elevator ride to the 12th floor was silent except for my breathing, shallow and too fast.
Room 1333.
I knocked once hoping there would be no response so I could run away.
The door opened.
The man who stood before was nothing but perfect,he was tall,broad shoulders stretching the dark suit jacket, no tie, top buttons of his shirt undone.
He had a sharp jawline, dark eyes that swept over me in one cool, assessing glance.
"Selena?" His voice was low, carrying the faint edge of an accent I couldn't place,maybe American mixed with something else.
I nodded, throat too dry to speak.
"Carlos."
No last name. He stepped aside and I walked in on legs that felt like they might give up.
The suite was massive. A king-sized bed lay in the middle with crisp white sheets. My eyes immediately met the bottle of champagne chilling in a silver bucket, untouched.
He closed the door behind me. The soft click sounded like a lock turning.
He didn't speak at first. Just watched me, like he was deciding something.
Then he reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a thick stack of hundred dollar notes and dropped them on the bed.
They fanned out slightly, a small green waterfall of money.
More than I'd ever seen in one place.
He met my eyes again.His eyes were cold and lacked warmth
"Undress," he said.
The word landed like a slap.
"Now."