Chapter 2

MELISSA

The apartment we live in is not big, but it is cozy. Only two rooms exist. I met Maggie the first day I arrived; I got her contact from a pamphlet that advertised a search for someone to share the rent.

I take a long, hot bath, getting rid of the tension in my body and the dirt caused by the fall. I hear the bell ring, and my friend calls out, warning me that the pizza has just arrived. I put on my pajamas, fasten my curls, and go back to the kitchen.

“The smell is delicious. I’m starving!” I say excitedly, helping Maggie with the dishes and cutlery. We serve ourselves and sit on the couch.

“You’re arriving later and later, friend. I worry about you being alone at this time,” she reveals as I bite into the hot slice of pizza.

“I’m afraid too, but it’s necessary. The work is tiring, but I need it. It’s all I could find. It was either being a waitress or becoming a prostitute—something I would never consider for my life.”

“You’re a beautiful brunette and a good person. I’m sure you’ll get something better in the future.”

“Maybe yes, or maybe not. Sometimes I wish I had another life, just to experience what it’s like to live in luxury for one day—wear expensive clothes and attend high-society parties…”

“You’re describing the profession of a luxury escort, friend.”

“What?” I drop the slice of pizza I was about to shove into my mouth and stare at my friend, who grabs her laptop from the table.

“Luxury escorts do all the things you just mentioned, Mel. They are paid to accompany high-society men to parties or celebrations…” She types something into the computer and turns the screen toward me.

“Why are you showing me this?”

“You said you wanted to live in luxury one day. This could be the solution…” I don’t let her finish because I interrupt her.

“I won’t do something like that! It’s almost the same as prostitution. I won’t sell my body to be a rich old man’s sugar baby!” I groan in astonishment, which pulls a smile from her.

“There’s a difference there, Mel. An escort doesn’t need to relate sexually to their clients. They are paid only to accompany and provide company.”

Not knowing what to say, I just watch Maggie type on her laptop again. I think about the possibility but quickly dismiss it from my mind. I need money, but I could never do something like this. Even if it doesn’t involve sex, it’s not acceptable to me.

“Here, look!” Maggie turns my attention to the computer screen, which shows an escort site. My eyes widen as she begins to fill out some kind of form on the site.

“What are you doing?”

“Showing you how easy it is. Things are hard for me too, Mel. Maybe this will work out for me.”

“Have you gone crazy, Maggie? This could be dangerous. There could be some maniac behind this screen pretending to be a rich man.”

“I promise I’ll be careful, friend. It’s just a test. I won’t actually accept going out with anyone. Relax!”

I shake my head, knowing this could end badly. It’s a profession, I know, but I don’t think it’s for me. Maggie, on the other hand, certainly fits perfectly. She has all the qualities needed—her natural beauty is surreal, with her legitimate red hair, thin figure, and fair skin.

“Okay, I’ve created my profile. Does this photo look good?” I glance at the screen and see a picture of Maggie taken at a party.

“It’s great, but I still think this is a terrible idea.”

“I’ll test it and let you know how it works, okay?”

“Nothing about this is okay! I’m not getting involved in this!”

“Coward. Come on, Mel, bet with me: If I pay the rent alone for a month, you can keep the money.”

Damn, the offer is tempting. I could save a lot of money by not paying rent for a month.

“Enough of this. I’m tired. Good night!” I dodge the subject, kiss her cheek, and head to my room.

Even exhausted and sleepy, I find myself tossing and turning in bed, still thinking about the tempting bet Maggie proposed. It feels like madness—a reckless idea with no way back. But saving that much money would help me a lot.

I sigh doubtfully and pick up my phone from the bedside table, hesitantly typing the name of the site Maggie showed me and reading every detail carefully. Then, I leave the device near my pillow and pick up my budget notebook.

I go over all my monthly bills, realizing I have barely enough left for bus fare to and from work. Maggie was right—walking alone at night in this city is dangerous. I’ve heard countless stories of women being robbed or assaulted near this neighborhood. Every night, I thank God that I haven’t become one of those victims.

Back in Brazil, I made so many plans—like getting a car when I arrived here to get around easily. But nothing went as expected. I have a driver’s license, but no car. I’ve tried saving, but it would take years to afford one.

I close the notebook and look around my small, simple room. My wardrobe is small, and I own a few clothes to fill it. In my spare time before sleep, I browse the profiles of models and influencers living luxurious lives. I follow their daily posts about their lavish lifestyles and sometimes dream about it.

Even my family in Brazil doesn’t know the true condition I’m living in here. I haven’t told them, and I probably never will. They love me, I know, but I hate the idea of disappointing my mother. She felt so proud of me for moving to another country to chase my dreams. Even after six months, the memory is vivid—her eyes gleaming with pride as I said goodbye at the airport. It hurt to leave them behind, but I needed to try.