Page 139 of Not Safe For Work

“What else can I do?” I shrugged. “I still need a paycheck.”

“Yeah, but…Jon, they were asking you to be a prostitute for them.”

“Yep.” I brought my glass to my lips. “Guess I should be used to it. Given what the universities are charging, it’s only a matter of time before they start asking for blowjobs.”

She watched me silently, not saying a word as I finished the glass and poured in another splash of booze. “Is that what this is about? The universities?”

I flinched, avoiding her eyes. “I have to pay them somehow.”

“Not like this.”

“Then how?”

“Jon. Listen to me.” She took my hand and gripped it firmly. “We made promises to those kids, but they’re mature and understanding. They know things can change that are beyond our control.”

“Except I brought this on myself.”

“Yeah, maybe. But you didn’t expect—and you don’t deserve—what your bosses are asking you to do. And ten years from now, do you want those kids to remember you killing yourself to pay for their school? Or do you want them to remember their dad putting his money where his mouth is after all those years he told them that doing the right thing is the most important thing?”

I winced.

She went on, “They can get student loans if they need them. You and I can get loans if we need to. Their tuition will get paid if we have to rent a one-bedroom apartment together. But don’t you dare be a coward in the name of money. That’s not you. That’s never been you.”

“No, it hasn’t. But, I mean, it isn’t like the kids will know what happened with me and Rick.” I gestured with my glass, nearly losing my grip as I did. “They don’t even know I’m seeing anyone, so how the hell would they know if I’m working for people who told me I had to keep fucking him?”

Karen scowled. God, that look. I’d seen it a lot during the last year we were married and the first year we were divorced, before we both grew up and got our shit together. Much more calmly than she would’ve thirteen years ago, she said, “They don’t have to know the details to know that you’re unhappy or that you’re working yourself into the ground. And they know the biggest financial strain in your life right now is paying for them to go to school. They’re not stupid.”

I lowered my gaze, absently swirling what was left in my glass.

“We raised three good kids,” she said. “They know there are things in this world that are more important than money. I seem to recall someone telling them repeatedly that even if their job was mundane and miserable, they didn’t have to put up with abuse. That their self-respect and dignity were more important than a paycheck.” She inclined her head. “I seem to recall that same someone paying for his son’s car insurance for three months while the kid found another job. Do you happen to remember why he was out of a job in the first place?”

I stared into my glass. I’d lectured my son for ages over the fact that flipping burgers was not beneath him, and that minimum wage was enough for someone just starting out. A few months into that job, I’d sat him down and explained that while burger-flipping for minimum wage was something you just sucked up and endured, the verbal abuse he took from his supervisors was not.

“There are things we all have to put up with on the job,” I heard myself telling him. “And there are things no one should have to tolerate.”

Closing my eyes, I pressed the glass to my forehead. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I wish I knew what to tell you. But whatever you decide, please do it because it’s the right thing to do, not because you’re worrying about the bottom line on the kids’ tuition. Financially, we’ll find a way.”

“It’d be a lot easier to do the right thing if I could see the way.”

“Isn’t that always the case?”

“Pretty much.”

We sat in silence for a long moment. When I leaned forward to top off my drink, Karen didn’t stop me. I sat back and took a deep swallow. She was watching me, but she didn’t say anything. She’d never gotten on my case about drinking—I didn’t do it often, and very, very rarely to excess—but she never liked it when I did. Anything more than a beer didn’t sit well with her. Drinking myself stupid in the middle of the day after bailing on work? Yeah, I could only imagine what she thought of that.

I rested my elbows on my knees, clasped my drink in both hands and pressed my forehead against my thumbs. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “This is… Fuck, this is such a mess.”

“Don’t apologize to me. I’m just concerned about you taking care of yourself.”

“I’ll get it together.”

“I know you will.”

Eventually. If you know what’s good for you. If you don’t want me to verbally hand you your ass.

I sighed, feeling lower and lower by the second. “On the bright side, this is one of those rare times when I’m really glad the kids are out of the house.” I blew out a breath. “They don’t need to see me like this.”