A Terrible Whore

'Hi Rachael,' he said quietly.

'Hi.'

There was silence, as both of us figured out what to say and what tone to use, and if the other was angry at us.

Dean was first to speak.

'Simmo called me today,' he said. 'He told me you got fired.'

'Yep. Got fired last Friday,' I agreed. 'Someone rang the company and told them I'd used fake references, as well as the circumstances surrounding my leaving my last job. They did some background checks, found out it was the truth, and terminated me on the spot.'

'Sweetheart, why didn't you tell me?' he asked. 'Why just run away?'

'Because it was someone you knew who rang up and dobbed me in,' I replied. 'Dean, I have a daughter. I literally started sleeping with you because I couldn't afford to raise her on my wage. Now I don't even have a wage.'

'I really, really doubt it was anyone at the dinner,' he said.

'Then who do you think it was?' I asked.

'I don't know. Have you asked your ex-husband?'

'No, but Dean, you have to admit the timing points to Simmo or one of your friends. I know everyone's saying 'it's not me', but why would they admit to it?'

Dean let out a heavy sigh.

I didn't know what it meant, but for some reason it absolutely infuriated me. A rage I didn't know had been harbouring suddenly burst out of me.

'Fuck you!' I screamed at him. 'Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you! This is my life you cock-sucking fuckwit! What do you think I'm supposed to do now? How am I supposed to pay my rent, or the orthodontist, or buy food? Who the fuck do you think is going to hire me? Do you have any - any, any at all - idea of what you and your mates have done? Fuck you. I hope you burn in hell. I wish to God I'd never fucking laid eyes on you.'

Dean hung up the phone.

I let out an anguished cry and dropped to my knees. I was crouched on the floor, shaking with rage, when Elise knocked on the door.

'Mum?'

'What is it?' I asked.

She opened the door and stared at me. 'Did you get fired?'

There was no point lying. 'Yep.'

'How are you going to pay the rent?' she asked.

'Short term, there are no worries,' I replied.

'Long term?'

I shrugged. 'I don't know, sweetie.'

'You don't know?' she asked, scared. 'Really?'

'Really,' I admitted. 'I really don't know.'

'Maybe you could ask your Dean for money.'

'I'm not with Dean.' I replied. 'It's his fault I don't have a job. One of his friends recognised me from when I was working for Tim. They knew I'd used false references to get my new job and they all gossiped about it. One of them rang up the accountants last week and told them.'

'Are you sure it's one of Dean's friends?'

I paused. Dean. She'd said his name twice now and I was pretty sure I'd never mentioned him by name. 'How do you know his name?'

'I think you told me.'

I wracked my memory for the details of when we'd discussed Dean. It had been on the afternoon I'd lost my job, and the stress I'd been under that day, and ever since, made it difficult to remember. 'I see.'

Elise chewed her fingernail.

'Honey, go to bed,' I said tiredly. 'I'm just stressed. Forget what I just said. We'll work things out.'

She tore a ribbon of nail off her index finger. 'Mum...'

'Bed,' I repeated. 'Please. It's late, and I'm tired and there's no reason for you to stress.'

She knelt down and hugged me. I felt sad, terribly sad, that I was such a shithouse mother to her. I'd worked for a fraudster. I'd been on welfare for over half a year. I'd slept with a man for money. I'd gotten fired from a job. She was a good kid. She didn't deserve the stress of me or Carl. She deserved so, so much better.

'I'm sorry sweetie,' I whispered. 'I love you.'

'I love you too, Mum.'

~~~~~~~~~

The next week proceeded slowly and miserably. Elise was stressed. I was stressed. There was no money to go anywhere. I didn't even dare drive my car unless it was absolutely necessary because of the cost of petrol.

Carl came around to pick up Elise on Sunday morning. He came to the front door and asked me how everything was going.

'Good,' I replied. 'You?'

'I wanted to know if you want to come out to lunch with Elise and I,' he offered. 'My treat.'

'No thanks.'

'No?' he repeated. 'Come on. How about I make an effort, and you make an effort, and we see what happens?'

'I got fired last week.'

'Really?' he asked. His tone was matter-of-fact, as though nothing surprised me. 'Why?'

'Someone told them I lied about my last place of employment and used fake references.'

'That's a shame.'

'That's all you're going to say?' I asked. 'I'm pretty pissed off about it.'

'Well,' Carl shrugged. 'Who do you think did it?'

I didn't respond.

'How about lunch?' Carl said. 'My treat. Order whatever you want.'

Carl is as blue collar as Dean, but the difference is that Carl's family own the business in which he works, it's far more profitable, and Carl finds as many reasons not to do actual work as possible. He won't do the manual side. He won't do the white collar side. He just draws a salary. But hey, his parents adore him and in their eyes, he can do no wrong. When they die, he'll inherit a sizeable amount. When I needed to collect child support and complained to the welfare agency that he wasn't paying it, his parents reduced his salary by half and paid him the remainder in cash so he wouldn't need to 'give it to me'.

'Sure,' I agreed. 'Why not?'

When he wants to, Carl can be hugely entertaining. He can verge on too much of a show, and lean towards becoming patronising, but it's bearable. I didn't enjoy lunch but I didn't hate it. I just told myself to do the right thing and suck it up for Elise's sake.

It probably would have been better if, as he was dropping us back home, he hadn't asked me if I was seeing anyone.

'No,' I replied, remembering that he'd obviously done enough investigations to know I was seeing someone, and know Dean's occupation. God knows how he'd learned that much, but Carl is someone whose commitment to research can't be faulted. 'You?'

'No,' he replied. 'What a coincidence, huh?'

Mercifully, he left before saying anything else.

After he'd left, Elise turned to me and said 'at least that's one more meal we won't need to pay for.'

'Elise,' I said. 'We're not on the breadline.'

'Yet,' she said.

'Not even close,' I told her.

'I wish I was old enough to get a job.'

'I'll get a job. Don't you worry.'

Elise seemed to draw some comfort from my assertions. I was jealous of her optimism. I'd already applied for near on fifty jobs and wasn't expecting to get a single one of them.

A new week started. A new week of happy, bright, shiny people heading off to work. Of course, having been recently employed I knew damn few people were actually excited by the start of another working week, but at least they had some goddamn security. They had a place to go. Not me. I cleaned, applied for jobs and watched television. I did up budget after budget. I tried not to stress.

On Wednesday morning I received a phone call asking if I could come in for an interview the following morning. I was completely shocked that firstly anyone had called and secondly, they'd called so soon. The caller told me the name of the company and their address, and asked me to be there at nine.

I'd applied for so many jobs I had no idea which one they were actually calling about. As soon as they'd hung up, I went through the spreadsheet I'd created of positions I'd applied for but couldn't find anything matching the company name I'd listed. That wasn't entirely surprising; I knew a lot of places had a trading name and a business name, or would pass resumes onto subsidiaries or associated businesses, so I went and did a search on the company that had actually called me. They were a meat wholesaler who dealt with restaurants and gourmet butchers.

When Elise arrived home, she looked worried.

'Cheer up,' I told her. 'I have a job interview tomorrow. It probably won't amount to anything, but it's a start.'

'That's cool Mum, but I broke a bracket off my front tooth,' she replied miserably. 'Sorry.'

'Show me.'

Elise bared her teeth.

'Okay, I'll call the orthodontist,' I said. 'They told me they'd fix this sort of stuff for free. Don't worry.'

Sure enough, when I called the orthodontist, they said to come in that afternoon and they'd fix it between other patients' appointments. I brushed my hair, found my shoes, Elise got a snack, then we got in the car and went to the orthodontist's office.

'Should we tell them you lost your job?' Elise asked.

I parked the car. 'Nope,' I replied. 'I'm well ahead on payments. I did the sums and I think we'll be fine for six months.'

'How long were you unemployed for last time?'

'Seven months.'

Elise grimaced. 'It might get tight.'

'Sweetie, we'll find a way,' I reassured her. 'Please don't stress. That's my job.'

We went to the orthodontist's office and checked in.

'Hi,' the receptionist greeted us. 'Take a seat. We'll be with you in about ten minutes. It's a nice, quick, easy fix.'

'Thanks,' I replied.

Elise was still worried about money. 'Do we need to pay for today?' she asked.

'No, honey, it's included in your course treatment fee,' the receptionist told her.

'When do we owe the next payment?' Elise prodded. 'I know Mum's been making some extra payments, but how far in advance are we?'

The receptionist shook her head. 'Honey, there are not further payments. Your account was paid in full. Your uncle paid it. I know your Dad was a bit surprised by that last week, but the money all cleared.'

'I'm sorry, there must be some mistake,' I interrupted. 'Her name is Elise Banks. We definitely owe you money.'

The receptionist frowned. 'No, look right here,' she said, swivelling her monitor around. She showed us the zero dollar balance on our account. 'I think Elise got called in straight away at her last appointment, so she wouldn't have overheard the conversation, but I told her father that we'd been contacted by a family member who wanted to pay the bill. Everything definitely aligns, and I checked with the other receptionist, the one who spoke to the family member and took the payment, just to confirm.'

Elise and I looked to each other in confusion.

'Do you know the name of the person who paid the account?' I asked.

'Sure,' the receptionist replied. 'Dean... oh gosh, I can't pronounce his surname. Deezhug...'

'Dzhugashvili,' I said flatly. 'Dean Dzhugashvili.'

'Wow, I'm glad you could understand it,' the receptionist said. 'I had to write it down for Elise's father. It was only when he saw it written down that he knew who it was.'

I felt as if the world was moving under my feet. So this was how Carl had learned about Dean. As for Dean paying for Elise's braces... God, I didn't want to go there.

At that precise moment, the dental assistant popped her head out and told Elise to come straight through.

Elise looked to me for guidance.

'Go in,' I told her. 'I'll sort this out.'

Elise followed the dental assistant to the treatment room.

I'm not sure what I thought I was going to 'sort out'. I asked the dental assistant when the account had been paid, and after checking my calendar, it seemed the payment had gone through the Tuesday after I spent the night with Dean.

The receptionist seemed concerned by my lack of enthusiasm.

'You should be happy,' she said brightly. 'Elise's father was. When I told him there was nothing owing, he asked who it was who'd paid, then happily put the money for this month's payment back in his wallet.'

The confusion and shock I felt was joined by rage. Carl, the motherfucking sonofabitch, upon learning that no more money was owing, had stolen the month's orthodontal payment from me.

~~~~~~~

I got the job. I was honest about my past experiences and I still got the job. I was so excited I didn't even ask the rate of pay. I didn't care. All I needed was an income.

It wasn't like any position I'd had before. The hours were atrocious; from four in the morning to one thirty in the afternoon plus five till ten-thirty Saturday mornings. Fifty hours a week once you exclude breaks, but when I saw my first payslip and the amount of overtime that I'd earned, I just about burst into tears with relief. Sure, I was working longer and shittier hours than at the accountancy office, but I was clearing over a hundred a week more. Only low paid people can appreciate what a difference a hundred and seventy-four dollars extra a week make. Not only would I be able to afford my bills, but I'd be able to continue paying Elise's orthodontist.

After my first week in the job, I was feeling more and more confident. I loved the work and my colleagues were all very friendly, welcoming and helpful.

Carl wasn't pleased. He came around on Sunday twenty minutes early and stalked around my living room, picking things up and putting them down, as he waited for Elise to finish getting ready.

'I can't believe anyone would hire you,' he sniffed dismissively, picking one of my work shirts out of my ironing basket and inspecting it.

I snatched the shirt away, not wanting him to know who my employer was. 'Well, thankfully someone did.'

A smile carved a path on his face. 'Oh Rachael,' he mocked. 'I've already seen the company name. As if you could hide it.'

I didn't respond.

Carl sidled over to me and plucked the shirt from my hands. He held it up, reading and re-reading the name. 'Do they know about the arrangement you had with Dean?'

My heart began to thud.

'What arrangement are you talking about?'

Carl raised his eyebrows at me. 'Don't play coy with me, Rachael. I know exactly what you two were doing. Sex for money is the oldest exchange men and women make. I'm just... surprised... you'd sink so low.'

I grabbed the shirt again and balled it up. 'How do you know?'

'Your phone messages.'

'My phone is locked,' I replied, my eyes narrowed. 'Even Elise doesn't know the password.'

'Yes, but your messages show up as a preview,' Carl replied with a shrug. 'I couldn't help but see it, a few weeks ago when I was over. You were being ridiculous, as usual. I was in the kitchen, getting myself a glass of water, and you had your phone plugged in to charge. I saw the message come up.'

I was mute with shock.

'You should change your settings,' Carl advised. 'Privacy. And you wouldn't want anyone reading inappropriate messages, would you?'

'No,' I whispered.

Carl smirked. He'd won and he knew it. 'You wouldn't want anyone to find out, would you? You've already lost one job. Wouldn't want to lose another.'

That was when I knew who it was who had rung the accountancy practice. Not Simmo. Not Dean. Not either of the men's friends.

'You rang and told them about me,' I said. 'You! You did it!'

Carl shrugged. 'You shouldn't lie, Rachael. Men don't like that.'

Elise came out of her room.

Carl turned to her. 'Ready to go princess?'

I was in a complete state of panic. Oh my God. Carl had cost me a job. Carl was threatening to make me lose another one. What the fuck was I going to do? I was going to need every dollar I could get my hands on. And that meant trying to extract the money I'd given Carl to pay for Elise's last orthodontal payment. I hadn't been planning on trying to retrieve it, figuring it would be more hassle than it was worth, but if I was going to be on the dole queue, I was going to get that goddamn money.

'Wait a second, Elise,' I requested. 'Your Dad and I just need to make some arrangements about the money I gave him for your last orthodontist visit.'

'Oh yes,' Carl replied. 'I used it to buy you lunch last week, and to buy Elise some clothes.'

I stared long and hard at my ex-husband.

'I'll see you in a few hours,' he said. 'Let's get going, El.'

~~~~~~~~~

Despite the panic and fear, the nauseating gut feeling that Carl would indeed do as he threatened and ring my new employer, I pushed my terror aside and made two phone calls.

I called Simmo first. His phone diverted to messagebank, so I stammered through an apology. I apologised for the false accusations, walking out on him, and the tears. Then, suddenly realising there was nothing left to say, I hung up.

The second call was harder to make. Several times I tried to will myself to push the 'call' button and several times I failed. Eventually I told myself to get a grip. The worst he could do was tell me to fuck off, and given I'd already said that to him, I'd be getting nothing more than I deserved.

Dean answered with a quiet 'Hi Rachael.'

'Hi,' I replied timidly. 'I rang to say I'm sorry for yelling at you. It wasn't Simmo who rung my employer. It was Carl.'

'Carl is your ex-husband?'

'Yep. I'm sorry Dean. I'm really, really sorry.' I licked my lips nervously. 'I also need to give you back the money for Elise's braces. I can't pay you a lump sum, but I'd like to pay you back bit by bit.'

Dean sighed tiredly. 'Just keep it, Rach. I shouldn't have done it.'

'It was really sweet of you, but I can't keep it.'

'It wasn't 'sweet'. You mentioned the name of your daughter's orthodontist at the dinner with my mates. The next morning, when you were in the shower, I went through your purse. I found your Medicare card, and saw your daughter's full name.' Dean paused. 'I'm sorry. That was so far out of line it isn't funny. It's stratospherically bad.'

'It's not as bad as Carl. He saw one of your messages on my mobile. He knows what our relationship was.'

'I reckon everyone knows that, Rach,' Dean replied bluntly. 'Women are only with me if I'm paying for them to have a good time, or I'm paying them to let me have a good time. So if you're worried that your ex might ring your boss and tell them, don't worry. They already know. Simmo got you that job. He clued your boss in on what had happened in the past. And knowing Simmo, and knowing who you work for, I can guarantee they both know and don't give a shit about what you and I did together.'

'Simmo got me the job?'

'To be fair, he got you an interview. You got the job.' Dean paused again. I could hear a lighter flicker and knew he was lighting a smoke. 'I spoke to Simmo yesterday. He reckons your new boss is really happy with you. They struggle to get good people who'll work those hours. I know the pay's not great but it should get you through, right?'

'I really like it,' I admitted. 'I'll have to call him and say thanks.'

Dean didn't reply.

'Dean,' I said. 'I'm sorry for yelling.'

He sighed again. 'Get off the phone Rach. Don't worry about apologies, worry about finding yourself a lawyer. Your ex isn't going to stop until he destroys you, and that's a problem. That's a damn big problem girly.'

'What about you?'

'What about me?' he laughed softly. 'I have something pretty and silly with huge tits coming around in half an hour. I need to get off the phone. If I keep speaking to you, I won't be able to get hard and that'll be money down the drain.'

Before I could sufficiently conquer the jealousy I felt to rummage up a reply, Dean hung up the phone.

~~~~~~~~~~

Carl rang my employer on Tuesday. I found out when my boss called me into his office and summed up his feelings in three words.

'Get a lawyer,' he said.

'I don't have the money.'

'Find it. Seriously, Rachael, you need to find a lawyer. What he's doing is inhumanely cruel.'

It's all well and good for people with money to say 'get a lawyer' as if it's that easy. Carl had money. His family had money. Even if I took out a loan to pay for a lawyer, Carl would be able to legally exhaust my finances within months. Fuck, it wouldn't even take multiple months, just one.