“She’s my best friend,” I started as he cut a mango. “It’s always been me and her. We had our group of friends and everyone loved Willow, but at the end of the day, it was always us. We were supposed to go to college together. We want to have houses right next to each other. That was always the plan. Get married, have kids…” I trailed off. “I sound so stupid, don’t I?”

Rhodes shrugged. “You’re going to miss her. There’s nothing stupid about that.”

“But I wouldn’t have to miss her if I were going with her.”

“So why don’t you?”

I sighed. “I don’t want to do what everyone else in this town does. Go to Appalachian State, travel for a while, and then end up right back here. It’s like the cycle of life around here.”

“Yeah,” Rhodes said sarcastically, the knife in his hand clacking against the cutting board. “Sounds awful.”

“Oh like you want to be here any more than I do.”

“Some of us don’t have a choice.” He met me with hard eyes. Dumping the mango into a bowl along with diced tomatoes, he continued. “Besides, Appalachian isn’t the only college out there. What’s stopping you from going somewhere else?”

“My family.”

He mixed in a few spices, but didn’t look at me when he responded. “It’s not your family’s life you’re living. It’s yours.”

I chewed on that, falling silent. He had a point. I wasn’t sure exactly what it was that was holding me back from making decisions about my future. Part of me did want to go to Appalachian State University. They had a great photography program and Willow would be there. But then again, so would Mason. I could go somewhere else, like an elite art school where I’d really learn more about photography, but Dale would fight me on it and that wasn’t a battle I wanted to tackle. I was surprised he was even letting me slide with the I’m taking time off excuse for not applying to Appalachian State right after SATs. Maybe it wasn’t even about college. Maybe it was about the way I felt about myself, the feeling I was trying to change by training with Rhodes.

I was lost. I was frustrated. And though I knew in my head that I had the power to change it, I still felt so helpless.

I sighed, sipping on the water Rhodes had poured me. I had no right to be upset about Willow leaving. I could miss her, but I couldn’t feel much else than that. She was following her dreams and I couldn’t fault her for that just because I didn’t have my own.

Watching Rhodes work, I wondered who the woman was earlier and what they had done. It was stupid to wonder, really, because the implication was pretty clear — but I couldn’t figure out why he did what he did. He was young, attractive, smart — he could have any girl he wanted. Why was it the stuck-up house moms who got to live between his sheets? Was it the only way he could keep his job? Why didn’t he just work somewhere else, if that was the case?

I traced the lip of my glass with my fingertip, eyes skating with it. “You know you can file sexual harassment against those club members. They can’t make you do the extra… training.”

Rhodes scoffed. “Don’t be naïve.”

“Do you choose to do it, then?”

“Yes,” he snapped. “I choose to. And stop skirting around the word. I fuck them, Natalie. Hard. Long. And until they scream like they used to when they were in their twenties.”

I tried to swallow, but found no moisture to aid in the process. Rhodes’ scowl was intimidating, but I saw him shaking slightly. And that’s when it hit me.

He was embarrassed.

There was a reason he asked me to show up after that woman was gone. He didn’t like this part of himself, which prompted my next question.

“Why?”

“Because not all of us have a rich daddy.” He slammed the fridge shut with those words, popping the top off a bottle of beer.

“That’s not fair.”

“Don’t talk to me about fair,” he said, bringing the bottle to his lips. After a few chugs, he set it on the counter and splayed his palms out, facing me. “My twin sister disappeared when I was a senior in high school and as soon as I graduated, my foster parents kicked me out. The money stopped, right? So why would they want to keep me?” He shook his head. “I was glad to leave though, Natalie. Because being out on the streets without a clue as to what to do with my life was better than being beaten by my alcoholic foster dad every night.”

My throat was so tight, so dry. I wanted to say something, but I had no idea what.

“But I made it on my own. It wasn’t easy, but I learned real quickly that earning enough to live means not always doing what you want to do. I lived on the streets for months before I figured out the kind of work I could do to make real money. It was drugs at first, and then it evolved into… other things.”

“They pay you?” I asked softly.

“Of course they fucking pay me.” He shoved back from the counter. “And not shit money, either. I make more off one session with them than I do an entire month of working at the club. They toss hundreds around like food scraps.” He took another long pull from his beer, his eyes wild. It’s like he wanted to stop himself from talking, but he was at the point where he couldn’t. “You think I can pay for an apartment on my own with the twenty dollars a training session the clients pays me? You think I’d be able to afford the private investigator I’ve had searching for my sister for the past three years on the paychecks from the fucking country club?” He wasn’t yelling, but I felt anger pouring out of him. “I fuck sad, rich women to pay my bills. I’m a shitty fucking person. Is that what you wanted to hear, Natalie?”

He moved from the kitchen into the living room and plopped down on the couch, draining the rest of his beer before slamming the bottle on the coffee table. I jumped, but he just stared at his clasped hands, his elbows on his knees and his head down.

Cautiously, I moved over to sit next to him. There was something about the torture in his eyes and the tenseness of his jaw that made me want to photograph him. His edges were so hard, but in moments like that I saw his softness. I almost reached for my camera, but thought better of it.

“I’m sorry, Rhodes,” I whispered as I sank down in the couch cushion next to him.