Shannon handed the cashier her credit card to pay for the mountain of groceries that had just been scanned. The cashier handed back the card, “I’m sorry, ma’am. Your card’s been declined.”
“That’s odd,” she replied handing over another card.
The cashier handed back the card. “This one’s been rejected, too.”
“Okay,” she replied growing panic straining her voice. “Let’s try the debit card.” Shannon rarely used the debit card. He didn’t like it. It was easier to track finances using the credit cards.
“Ma’am,” the cashier said, not without sympathy. “If this doesn’t work I’m gonna have to ask you to move aside so I can help the other customers.” She didn’t look over her shoulder. This young lady manned the only register open and Shannon felt the disgruntled stares of the people behind her deeply enough without having to meet their eyes.
At night, in her home, Shannon sat on her sofa and shook. Walking out of the store without her groceries she got into her car and called the numbers on the back of the cards. The accounts were closed or empty. After all, they weren’t actually her cards. They were her husband’s. She was just the secondary. Meaning she had access but he had control. Control was very important to Freddy. She’d managed to get home, get dinner on the table. To fight with her kids about chores and homework. To finally get them into bed. She waited until she knew they were asleep. Then she quietly and carefully fell apart.
Freddy had just left that morning. For a new job, he said. The money would be great, he said. They’d always had enough money for the things they needed but now there would be enough money for the things they wanted. They could take the kids to Disney World! The only problem was the job was three months on, three months off.
She was very careful not to let the relief show on her face. Inside she was joyful. Three months without Freddy. Three months without being hit, without being belittled, without having to…her mind shied away from the image. She almost didn’t care about the money. Shannon tried to figure out the role Freddy wanted her to play. Should she be happy and supportive? Distraught at the thought of him leaving? Resigned she knew however she chose to react it would be the wrong way.
He did things to her. The usual unusual things. Soft tissue damage to her thighs and buttocks. Always careful to stay away from major organs. He didn’t want to kill her. And never the face. The beautiful face that becoming a face beautiful for its age. Afterwards he was contrite. Chastising her gently for forcing him to do these things to her. But he stayed nice. He stayed the man who courted and married her. For weeks. Right up until his departure.
Now this.
Was he never coming back? For a second Shannon’s heart filled with hope. Then she deflated. If Freddy didn’t come back, what would she do? They moved to this town less than a year ago. The fourth place they’d lived in their fifteen year marriage. Freddy kept her isolated. She didn’t know anybody and she hadn’t spoken to her friends back home in years. She had one brother, ten years older. He’d joined the military straight out of high school and never come back. Shannon had been seven. Her mother was dead and father had been an alcoholic. An abusive one. He’d reached out to her recently, Dad had. Said he was recovered. Shannon didn’t care. She blamed him for Freddy.
If her home life hadn’t been so fucked up maybe she wouldn’t have run off with the first safe haven that offered itself. She wouldn’t have been wounded, leaking emotion that had the predators circling and tracking. So here she was, same age as Jesus on the cross, with a mortgage, two kids, a car note, and bills, bills, bills. No money though. Quietly and carefully Shannon picked up the pieces of herself. She logged onto the WiFi they could no longer afford and applied to every open position in town.
Two weeks later she was even more desperate. No experience. No education. Times were hard. It was a recession. There were PhDs working at gas stations. Even if she got a job she wouldn’t be paid for a week, probably two. Not that any job she applied for paid enough to cover even half their bills. She couldn’t even sell anything. The house, the car, even the internet- it was all in Freddy’s name. On interviews she’d been propositioned more times than she cared to remember. Shannon knew enough to understand she would simply be exchanging one hell for another. But the kids were starting to notice the empty fridge and cupboards. And still no word from Freddy. She turned the card over and over in her hands.
Both she and her interview suit were looking a little worn around the edges. Meaning Shannon fit right into the decor of the trailer that housed the office at the used car lot. Chuck ’em Charlie, the owner, was trying to let her down gently.
“I’m sorry, miss. The position has already been filled.” Shannon nodded and started to rise to leave when Call me Chuck waived her back into her seat. Chuck leaned back in his chair and eyed her up. “You are a very attractive woman.”
Chuck wasn’t a bad looking man, but he was at least sixty years old. Shannon opened her mouth to halt what she knew was coming when Chuck once again stopped her. “I am not hitting on you, just stating a fact. Some might even call you beautiful.”
“Maybe. Once.”
Chuck looked uncomfortable and indecisive for a moment before nodding to himself. Sitting up he pulled a card from his desk drawer. “I have a friend. She runs an agency.”
Shannon took the card. “An escort service?”
“It’s totally legal. They even offer health insurance and a 401 plan.”
“So, I wouldn’t have to…”
“Give my friend a call. Or not.” He stood and offered his hand. She stood and shook it. He gestured to the door. “Have a nice day.”
That had been interview number eight. Since then there had been five more. Thirteen interviews out of more than forty applications. Cashier, receptionist, cleaner, daycare worker. Not a single call back. No experience, no education.
She contemplated the card again then picked up the phone. If she was going to work from her knees she might as well get paid well to do it.
The agency was higher end than Shannon expected from a friend of Chuck ’em Charlie. Or, for that matter, from a woman named Roquelle. While Shannon may have had no higher education she came from the right class to be able to talk to her clients. Dad’s alcoholism limited itself to after work. During the day he was a functional member of society. A lawyer no less. Shannon had gone to a very good private prep school. She’d read the classics and knew which fork to use at a business lunch. Her Christie Brinkley meets Heather Locklear looks reminded men of the girl next door. Even her age worked to her advantage. It wasn’t long before she had a couple of regulars. It wasn’t long after that negotiations resulted in extended services. It was all so easy.
Noticing a few crumbs on the counter she scooped them into the sink. Checking her watch she hurried her steps. It was ten forty-five and she had a brunch date at eleven. A new guy who wanted her at his side to impress so clients from Europe. A chance to oil up her rusty high school French. Shannon opened the door.
“Hi, honey.”
Things went really dark after this.