Roxanne, p.3
Roxanne., page 3
I guess that’s a way to say hello.
Mom hates tardiness so it doesn’t surprise me that she doesn’t even glance at me. I close the door behind me, and make my way toward her.
“Um, sorry. I was helping Elise with something.” That’s the only valid excuse I can think of since Elise is always a forgivable reason. “An urgent case?” I ask, aiming to change the subject.
“Mh-mm… I’m just reviewing my conclusions to an appeal,” she replies, her eyes never leaving her stack of papers. “How have you been?”
I pace toward the big window at the end of her office, immediately attracted to the natural light and the view it offers to the gardens. There, I stand still, pondering her question. “Well, I got admitted to business school,” I tell her pensively as I observe the green lawn and the perfect trees stretching all the way to the lake.
“Oh, that’s such a great news,” I hear her saying from behind me. I turn around and find Mom standing up and walking in my direction. “Congratulations,” she says politely, without sharing the same overbearing level of enthusiasm as Dad.
“Thanks, but—”
“It’s not what you wanted, I know,” she interposes before I can even finish. That would explain her lack of enthusiasm. At least, she isn’t faking it.
“I really don’t want to go though,” I tell her, containing the anger I have against my dad for what he did. “I applied for an English degree.”
Mom just exhales loudly in return, her gaze drifting away for a second. “Andries, we already spoke about this.”
“I know but—”
“Look, it’s just for three years,” Mom says, cutting me off again. “Don’t you recall our agreement? You take a year off, travel the world, and then come back and go to college?”
“And I am going to college,” I point out. “But I thought it was gonna be for the degree I wanted.”
“Give business school a try,” she insists, her hands now on my shoulders as she tries to find my gaze. “I’m sure you’ll like it.”
I resist the urge to shake my head. The last thing I want to do is to disappoint her after having spent an entire year away from home, barely speaking to anyone. I had wanted to leave since I was fifteen and needless to say I wasn’t as easy going as Elise was. “Alright,” I reply, knowing it’s pointless trying to dissuade her. I have to speak to Mr. Lewis first anyways. “Is there a way you can ask dad to drop the party though?”
“Oh Andries, your dad is on cloud nine. You aren’t gonna take away his favorite hobby, are you?”
“You mean parading us around as his trophies or whatever?” Yeah, what a bad idea that would be.
“Look,” Mom removes her hands from my shoulders, before her brown eyes drift to the garden for a moment. I do the same, and watch the gardeners passing by as they take care of the lawns. “Very soon, you’ll be on your own in Amsterdam, and you won’t have to deal with your father and his social gatherings anymore.”
A gush of air instantly rolls off my lips, disappointed by the fact Mom isn’t on my side this time. “There’s no way around this, huh?”
“I’m afraid not,” she says, her tone deeper than before. I should’ve known the last thing Mom would do is tell Dad to cancel an event he’s eagerly preparing and looking forward to host. “You know I’m not a big fan of such events either.”
Yeah, right… She says that, yet she never does anything to stop Dad from organizing them. Now that I think about it though… Mom might be a loner, but she knows deep down that those parties make Dad happy so I guess she just accepts it out of love for him.
Oh well, no matter what, in about two weeks time, I’m going to be out of here.
I must say, I love silence, truly. In a house filled with five other children—including a two-year-old—and prompt to constant chaos, having noise cancelling headphones is a must when I’m in my bedroom trying to write or read. One might think the estate is big enough not to hear the screams of a five-year-old, but it feels like Aleida is on a mission to break the Guinness World Record of the loudest screamer. I’m already missing my one year backpacking and spiritual retreat in Columbia and Tibet. When I finished high school, I packed my bags and was ready to bid goodbye to the Van den Bosch estate once and for all.
Or so I thought.
Except my dad, as always, had other plans, which included Business School, followed by an internship at the headquarters of his company. See, the multi-generational firm is involved in agriculture, food processing, international shipping, and finance. Nothing that’s of interest to me. I thought I was clear on that when I left with a one-way flight to Medellín, but alas, Dad made sure to guilt-trip me and persuaded me to believe I was the most ungrateful son a father could have, forcing me to make a pact with him: one year away and then I’d come back to get my business degree.
College.
My goodness… The only enjoyable program I could think of was English. But of course Dad couldn’t let me pick the one I wanted.
A sudden vibration on my pocket pull me out from my thoughts, and as I take my iPhone out, my screen flashes with the name “Do not answer!” on it. This should be self-explanatory, and yet…
“What do you want?” I snap at my sister as I answer the call.
“Uh-oh,” she answers, a trace of sarcasm on her tone. “You spoke to Mommy already?”
I huff instantly at her comment. I knew I shouldn’t have answered, hence the name “Do not answer!” I always regret it. “What do you want, Elise?” I ask again.
“Are you upstairs?”
I ponder for a second whether to tell her yes or to just fuck off. “Yeah, why?”
“Can I come in?” Her tone has become more humble which catches me off guard.
At first, I feel like declining, but since I came back from my trip a month ago, Elise and I had barely spoken. I know she applied to the same school as I, and the fact she hasn’t gotten an answer yet might be a hard truth for her to digest. Despite not having the best relationship with her, I decide to accept and invite her over.
A few seconds later and Elise is already knocking on my door like she’s ready to break it. Was she just standing outside the door waiting, or what?
“Come in,” I shout as I’m just too lazy to stand up and go open her the door. Plus, I’m currently re-reading what I just wrote on my notebook.
“What are you doing on the floor?”
My eyes go up to meet my sister’s inquiring face before they return to my notebook. I didn’t even notice she had already come inside. “I like to sit on the floor when I write,” I tell her simply.
I’m expecting her to snap something stupid, but to my surprise, Elise takes a few steps in my direction and sits right beside me on the marble floor. There, she doesn’t say a word, but we exchange a quick smile before I start making some edits to the text I wrote.
Suddenly though, I feel like she’s peering over my notebook. “What are you writing?”
“Nothing worth reading,” I answer, pulling it closer to me.
“C’mon, let me see,” she insists, peering even more.
“No!” I move a bit away from her but she brings herself closer.
“Don’t be so shy!” Her hand is about to grab my notebook when I manage to slap it away.
“Stop it,” I riposte, before I shut the book close, putting it down beside me on the floor. “Maybe one day.” Noticing her annoyance, I decide to change the subject. “So, what brings you here?”
Upon hearing my question, Elise pinches the bridge of her nose between her fingers for a moment. Whatever she’s thinking, it doesn’t seem very pleasant. “I called the uni to check on my admission and for some strange reason it’s still pending. Something isn’t right.” She heaves a long sigh, letting those words sink into her. “I thought Dad would at least wait for mine to get approved so we could have a celebration for both of us, but nope, he’s already preparing a party for you next Friday.”
What? Next Friday? My jaw drops at her comment, but I make a conscious effort to let her finish. “Why does he care so damn much about you, huh? You left for one freaking year and didn’t even tell him goodbye.”
“I’ve got no idea,” I tell her sincerely. Unlike me, I know Elise is really looking forward to attending business school. Seeing how tormented she is, I put on a more friendly tone and say, “Look, there’s no reason for your admission not to be accepted.” Her lips slowly turn up into a smile and her face starts finally softening. “If I got in, you have to get in too.” I pause for a beat as I think something through. “And since you haven’t gotten accepted yet, maybe you won’t have to be present at that party.”
“Yeah, sure,” she says with sarcasm. “As if Dad would let me skip your lovely celebration.”
“Well, he isn’t gonna let me skip it either.”
She huffs instantly in return. “Kinda makes sense since it’s yours, dumbass,” she spits out, softly pinching my arm. Afterwards, her gaze starts drifting away and for a moment she seems to be lost in her own thoughts. “Sometimes I think I should’ve taken a year off like you did.”
My eyes widen in surprise at her revelation. “C’mon,” I utter, my tone playful. “You were the best of your class. I wasn’t.”
Despite my answer, she seems to have paid no attention to it. “Was it really that life changing?”
“You mean backpacking for a year?” I ask, making sure she’s still talking about my trip.
Elise just nods in return, her big amber eyes fixed on me.
“Of course, it was definitely worth it.”
She gives me a side smile, most likely already thinking about her next question. “Did you, um, did you do any drugs there?”
Oh! My brows rise up, slightly taken aback by her boundless curiosity. Of all the questions she could have asked, that’s definitely the last one I would have expected. “I can’t tell you about it.”
“Why not?” She seems genuinely surprised that I’m unwilling to share such private details about my life. “I promise I won’t say a word to anyone.” Yeah, right… I shake my head dismissively. “Please, trust me on this.”
Jeez, she can be so damn insistent. “Why do you want to know that?”
“Well, you went to Columbia, so…” she lets her words trail off, cocking her head to the side.
As I look intently into her brown eyes, she seems rather genuine about her interest in my trip. “I did some yeah,” I fess out.
“Which ones?” She asks right back.
“Elise…”
“C’mon, tell me,” she presses on.
“Mostly ayahuasca,” I answer, slightly embarrassed to share something so personal with my sister. “It’s a psychedelic plant that makes you see things.”
Her brows rise up in surprise, and she nods pensively for a few moments. “And what did you see?”
“Very strange things…” I pause, measuring my next set of words. “Taking it allows for a deep uncovering within your soul. It’s like some higher spirit is trying to talk to you and show you the way.”
“Wow,” she mumbles. “And what did this higher spirit tell you?”
“It’s private, dammit!”
“I wanna know,” she insists.
“Sorry not today,” I snap, standing up and ready for her to leave.
But of course, Elise just looks up at me from the floor, totally still. “Why not?” Her tone is even nicer and more polite than before. “Did he tell you something bad?”
“Time to go.” I reach out and push her arm, forcing her to stand up.
“Always so damn secretive,” she protests, huffing at me. I don’t answer, I’m too focused on dragging her out of my bedroom. “Okay, okay, I’m leaving!” she groans as she releases herself from my grip. Fortunately, Elise makes her way out and I don’t waste time shutting and locking the door behind her.
Once the door is finally locked, I heave a long sigh in exhaustion, before returning to sit on the floor. The last thing I want is to share with my sister what I saw during those trips. Yes, I did see and hear very strange things, which is why I wrote them down in my notebook. I also wrote the answers to the voice who spoke to me. I know it must sound crazy, but I’m actually trying to reconnect with this spirit via poetry.
But it wasn’t a he as Elise said.
It was a she.
3
Amsterdam, August 23, 2021
Roxanne
For some people Monday can be a dreadful day. But for me, Monday is always glorious; synonymous with new opportunities, new ways to expand my business and to represent new faces. There’s no better country than the Netherlands to do what I do. I can be who I am, make a living without guilt or shame, and my girls are all treated with decency, respect, and protected under the law. It cost me my relationship with Mama, but despite her disowning me and calling me all the labels in the book, I never stopped trying to make our relationship work—I’ve always attended her birthday parties (at the exception of the last one where I ran late), her celebrations of Chinese New Year, and even helped her find a better treatment for her back pain and rising sciatica. Despite all my efforts, I’m still dead to her. I still want to believe that one day or another, Mama will look at me not for the job that I do but as me, a human, a woman, and her daughter. I know that’s a long way to go, but hope never dies.
“Good afternoon, Poppy,” I say as I walk into our office reception, returning from a lunch date I had with one of my clients, Charlie.
Located in a quiet historic building in downtown, the interior has been totally renovated and transformed into a modern and elegant business center. I have rented the whole building for my agency—on the first and second floor we have apartments, big and small, where the girls go and meet their clients; and on the third floor we have the bookers that take phone calls, interview girls who want to get enlisted with us, and work on our website.
“Good afternoon, Roxie,” she answers, already gathering her things and standing up to follow me into my office. Speeding up her heels to reach me, she leans in, and says, “Peter Walzon was on the phone this morning to book Natasha for the trip to Monaco—”
“Great,” I utter, tossing my bag on the couch that lies on the sitting area of my office.
“Um, there’s just one small problem though.” I frown as I take off my jacket, and notice Poppy chewing her bottom lip. She takes a few more steps toward me and once standing close enough she lowers her voice and says, “You know they have been together for like three months now, and he’s totally smitten with her, but…” Poppy lets her words trail off, clearly embarrassed.
“But what?” I ask, pressing her to finish her sentence.
Poppy heaves a sigh, most likely in apprehension. “He asked if he could pay two thousand euros extra for anal, but I know Natasha isn’t into that.” It’s true, I recall perfectly well how she said anal for her was a hard limit. “Should I recommend him someone else, or do I just talk to her?”
“It was on her profile that she wasn’t okay with that, no?” I ask.
“Yeah, but—”
“Tell him her boundaries are not negotiable,” I say, cutting her off. “If Natasha said no, then it’s no.”
While I’m about to go and sit on my chair, Poppy cocks her head to the side, thinking something through. “Okay, um, do you mind talking to him? ‘Cause he’s getting really insistent.”
Before I can tell her that she’s got to learn how to deal with clients, my iPhone starts ringing nonstop. And by the ringtone, I know it’s one of them. I take the phone out of my purse and… “Speaking of the devil,” I comment as I see his name flashing on the screen. “Hi Peter, how are you?”
“Hi Roxie,” Peter greets, his voice always so kind and gentle. “I’m doing well, thank you.”
“What can I do for you?” I ask, despite already knowing the answer.
“Well, um, it’s about Natasha.”
“Oh.” Poppy and I share a smile. “What about her?”
“Well, I really like her, you know, um, we have been together for three months now, and she’s really sweet and classy, and beautiful, and interesting…” I can’t help but roll my eyes as I hear him speak. He’s the retired CEO of a public company and yet if I didn’t know him, I’d think he’s just another teenage boy in love. “Can you advise her to be a bit more, eh, open-minded… sexually speaking? You know, to try new things. I’ll pay whatever it takes.”
Despite his humble and sweet tone, I’m not flexible when it comes to this. We have a zero tolerance policy on pressuring our girls into things they aren’t comfortable with and he knows that. “Peter, I have one of the highest ranked escort agencies in Europe because our women have high standards.” I heave a sigh, pausing for a beat as I gather my thoughts. “If Natasha said no, then I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you on that.”
As I expected, Peter isn’t as understanding. “You do realize that any other hooker would do anal for a thousand bucks, right?”
“I do, yes,” I tell him sincerely, my tone steady but not harsh. “And you’re more than welcome to go and contact them, but Natasha Borzecki won’t do it.” It was always a hard-limit since the day she came in. She is a beautiful, very smart, classy and funny woman and she holds a bachelor degree in law. I’d be the last one to pressure her doing something she isn’t comfortable with. After a minute of silence, I ask, “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
Without much to add, Peter just mutters, “No, that’s it. Thank you.”
After our phone call, Poppy just smiles in return and mentally ticks this off of her list. “For Gustav’s trip to Capri do you want me to send that new girl or not?” Oh, now we are talking about another client. This time I manage to make my way toward my desk and finally sit and recline on my armchair.
“Giselle?” I ask immediately, an ounce of worry in my voice. “She’s still so inexperienced.” I don’t like to send my girls abroad when they are still very new to the industry. Even if I know everything would go fine, the fact she can’t really escape the yacht easily if something goes wrong, doesn’t appease me. “How about Stephanie and Caroline instead.”
