Emma was out of her depth. God knows what she would do next. She couldn’t work out how she had let it get this far. One minute she was in bed with Jay, thinking that she had a chance with him and doing her upmost to please him, the next thing she knew, Jay was persuading her to “entertain” one of his wealthy “friends”. Jay had made it sound glamorous. He said that he had “friends” who would pay good money for Emma’s company, “friends” who wanted someone young and eager like Emma. Not only would she make lots of cash, but he promised that he would keep her in a constant supply of coke.
The first time it had actually gone quite well, it was a businessman from the USA, he was gorgeous, loaded, and in fifteen minutes Emma had earned two hundred pounds. He hadn’t really spoken to her, he had just got what he wanted and left. Not the most mind-blowing sex she’d ever had but definitely the quickest money she’d ever made, and with the guy being so good looking it was hardly a chore. Jay had given her a big bag of gear as a thank you and told her there was more where that had come from. It had seemed so easy. Emma thought that she could handle it, and that with Jay by her side she would be okay. That was the plan, anyway; the reality was far from that.
Jay had sent her some real weirdoes lately, lots of them. She had told him that she wasn’t doing it anymore. It had been a novelty at first, but she was beginning to feel used and dirty, but Jay wasn’t having any of it, he stopped giving her the gear knowing that she had become totally addicted to it now.
When she had tried to score coke elsewhere, she had found that it wasn’t the same as Jay’s stuff, it wasn’t as potent; it didn’t give her the hit she craved. So after a bit more persuading from him, she had agreed to see some of his “friends” again, but this time Jay said he would make things easier for her, he’d deal with the money, and arrangements, look out for her, but he would also be taking a cut.
The condition was that she would have an endless supply of gear and still make good money. She didn’t really feel she had much of a choice; she was desperate to get some decent gear off Jay again, and to feel that buzz once more. She knew what she was doing, knew what she had become, but she didn’t care; all she could think about was getting her next hit. She had no idea that the coke she had become hooked on, was actually China White: a form of heroin, she was completely oblivious.
Emma had done a bit of speed and a line or two of coke when she was out with mates in clubs, and she had indulged in the odd joint, all pretty harmless. But this stuff was different, she craved it. She felt that she needed it as much as, if not more than, food and water. It was the first thing she thought of when she woke up, and the last thing she thought about when she went to bed. Jay had convinced her that it was well-cut coke, but she had tried coke from some of her more generous clients and nothing compared to the stuff Jay gave her. Emma had her suspicions that it was cut with something else, but no idea that it was heroin that she was now hooked on: he had her right where he needed her.
Getting up to go to the toilet Emma saw blood trickling down her thigh. Fucking bastard, he really had been rough with her. She had almost passed out from the pain. Feeling totally alone, Emma started to cry. There was nobody who would help her. No point calling the police, how can a prostitute, who’s been paid, have the cheek to cry rape? She knew she needed to go to hospital, God knows what damage this sick bastard had caused.
Picking up the phone, Emma decided to call Jay. He was supposed to be looking out for her; this would be one mess that he could help her out with. He owes me big time for this one, she thought. He could take her to hospital for starters and she was sure that after what she had to suffer because of him and his dodgy fucking “friends“, he owed her a big bag of gear too. She was going to use this to her advantage. As he picked up the phone, Jay could hardly make out what Emma was saying through her sobs, the last thing she had heard him say was that he would be there in five before he hung up on her. Now she just had to wait.
17
Paul Goldie didn’t quite know what to make of his morning, but it had just started to improve, and greatly. For starters, he wasn’t even supposed to be here. Suzy, his promotions manager, was supposed to be here doing all these interviews for him. They had had a good night last night, the place had once again been packed, and Paul knew that his staff had been working extra hard lately, and extra hours, as they were short staffed due to illness.
The place was making a real name for itself, he had lots of new faces using the gentlemen’s lounge upstairs and even a few celebrities treating Goldie’s like their local haunt.
Goldie’s had been mentioned loads on Twitter and had a massive following on Facebook too. As great as it all was, Paul was knackered; he had got home at three thirty this morning, and had only put his head down for a few hours when Suzy had rang him to say she couldn’t come in. Her son was sick, and as Suzy was one of his best workers she would have felt terrible about calling him.
He had needed to sort some paperwork out anyway, so when he got Suzie’s call he thought that instead of doing a ring around and seeing if he could get one of his senior members of staff to do the interviews, he may as well do them himself: keep an eye on who was being employed.
They only needed cleaners for the morning, a couple more dancers/hostesses for the gentlemen’s lounge, and two more bar staff. Paul had done a few interviews already this morning, employed a couple of girls who had just starting out dancing: they were pretty and young, and seemed naive, but then they usually all were to begin with. Then they wised up and got shrewd, earning some decent cash. The gentlemen’s lounge was proving to be a real hit, his regulars loved it. He wanted to keep it fresh; get a few more girls up there. A couple of older girls had come about the cleaner’s position; they seemed to be hard workers who said they wanted regular money. Up until about five minutes ago, the morning had been a bit of a chore. Now that had changed. Sipping his coffee, he looked across the table to where Kate was sitting; yes, now things were looking up. She was gorgeous. He looked her up and down once more, taking in the view; she was very classily dressed, Paul had thought that she was here to apply for a dancer or hostess position at first, she had the looks and figure for it, and Paul could see that she would get a lot of attention from the gentlemen, but once he started talking to her, he realised that he had got it wrong. There was an air of innocence about her, not only that, she seemed smart. Kate had come about the cleaning position, which Paul couldn’t understand. She had been speaking for a couple of minutes now and he could tell that this girl had little idea of just how stunning she was.
“I’m happy to work whatever hours you have going, Mr Goldie, I’m a really reliable worker.” He didn’t doubt that. “You can even put me on a trial or something, see how I get on?”
Paul smiled and wondered why such a beautiful girl would want to spend her time picking up empty bottles and scrubbing toilets, when she could be out there doing anything she put her mind to. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, Kate, but why exactly do you want to work here? Obviously Goldie’s is a great place to work, though.” He laughed. He didn’t want to say that cleaning was beneath her. “You could do pretty much whatever you wanted,” he added.
“I just need the money, Mr Goldie.”
Kate fidgeted in her chair. She had decided against telling him that she was pregnant, she thought that if she could get her foot in the door, she would tell him then, and hopefully by then he would have seen what a great worker she was and would let her keep her job. She really needed a break, and she wasn’t sure how the man sitting opposite her now would respond to her situation; most employers would rather do without the hassle, and then there was health and safety, etc.