In Need

The first time you do something against your moral code, it's hard. You feel disappointed in yourself, maybe even disgusted. The next time, though, it's a little easier to blur the line, to bend your rules and it just keeps getting easier.

The first time a client offered to pay me for sex, I refused. I couldn't imagine selling myself that way; I could sell her. It was an easy way to make an extra $800, depending on the service requested. Sometimes, it was just stripping, but that usually led to more.
I studied my face in my bathroom mirror, my lip was sporting a small cut from the groom biting me a bit too hard the night before and I looked drained. I'd had four events - three bachelor parties and a Christmas party - in five days and it was taking its toll. I sighed, not even bothering with any makeup, opting for some oversized sunglasses to cover the dark circles forming under my eyes. I threw my hair up into a bun, slipped on some yoga pants, my coat, and boots before starting my errands.

I dropped off my dress to be dry cleaned and talked to Lee - who seemed to live at the drycleaners - for 20 minutes or so before heading out of the small business for my caffeine fix. I'd been avoiding my usual starbucks, instead I was walking two blocks further to the next one - just in case Norman happened to be there. Today, though, I didn't have the extra energy. I looked through the windows, trying to see if he was in there, but the cafe was nearly empty. I breathed a sigh of relief as I entered; I ordered my usual drink and stepped to the end of the counter to wait. I got my drink, I headed for the door, which was pulled open for me.

"Thanks," I said, coming face to face with Norman. I held back a groan as we stood there, blocking the door.

"You're welcome," He said, simply. No tone, no inflection, just 'you're welcome.'

"I gotta go," I said, trying to step around him.

"You don't have a minute?" He raised his eyebrows, for once he wasn't wearing sunglasses.

My heart was pounding as I thought this over, it had been almost a month since I'd awkwardly left him at his apartment, "I mean, I guess I do..." He stepped aside so I could pass him and he let the door go. The street was beginning to fill with shoppers preparing for the holidays.

"Did you get a chance to pick up the magazine?"

"Yes," I answered, taking a sip of my drink while he lit up.

"Good," He nodded, "I was invited to the Vogue holiday party, are you interested?"

"Why are you inviting me?" I asked, placing an impatient hand on my hip.

"Because you're the reason I was invited," He said, giving me a slight attitude, "I'm just being polite, feel free to say no." I stood there, gracelessly, unsure of what to say. It was obvious he just felt that he had an obligation to invite me. I glanced across the street, weighing my options, "What the hell happened?" Norman was eyeing my lip, I bit where my cut was, trying to hide it.

I was having sex with a client and he got too rough.

"Job hazard," I answered, which was somewhat true, "High heels and slippery floors never work well together."

"Hmm," Was all he said, studying me.

"What time is the party?" I asked, trying to divert his attention.

"8 o'clock, this friday night," Norman replied, tucking his free hand into his coat pocket. A light snow began to fall as the wind picked up around us.

"Do you want me to meet me at your apartment?" I asked, tucking my coat around me tightly.

"I can pick you up," he spoke monotonously, our conversation was boring him and he didn't try to hide it, "Just text me your address."

"Okay," I nodded, thankful for my sunglasses, his eyes were dead set on me, "Well, ah, have a good day."

"You too," He said, stubbing out his smoke and tossing the butt into the ashtray beside the door. He pulled the door to the coffee shop open again and paused to look me over once more, "Be careful, Evie."



I eyed myself in the mirror, observing the way my dress fit, trying to decide if this was the one I wanted to wear. I'd been through my entire closet, trying to find something perfect. I didn't want to look like someone who couldn't dress herself at a party thrown by a top fashion magazine. Norman had text me that he was on his way, I knew I had to get downstairs so I wouldn't keep him waiting. I sighed, accepting my outfit and slipped my pea coat on, followed by my pumps.

Once I reached the street, a limo was already sitting there, waiting. The back door opened and out stepped Norman, dressed in a black suit and he was wearing his ray bans, of course.

"You look nice," I offered with a polite smile.

"Thank you," He responded, gesturing for me to get in and letting me know he wasn't interested. Norman followed behind me and we were on our way. As the minutes ticked by the awkward tension and silence in the limo was making me wish I'd declined his invite.

"So, where are we going?" I asked, finally.

"The Met," he responded, looking out the tinted window at the city, on his wrist was the watch I'd stolen.

"Did you really have to wear that?" I asked, feeling annoyed seeing the timepiece. He looked at his watch and then smirked at me.

"Don't like it?" He asked, brushing his shaggy hair back.

"I feel like you wore it purposely," I said, crossing my arms.

"Well, I didn't just look down and it happened to be there."

"Ooookay," I said, rolling my eyes, "If that's how you're going to be you don't have to talk to me anymore."

"Fine," He said, sounding like a child. I stared out of my window, gritting my teeth behind my red lips while he lit a cigarette and we rolled through the city.



After we dropped our coats off at the check in, Norman lead me to the red carpet. He slipped an arm effortlessly around my waist and guided me down the row of photographers, he wasn't smiling, but I pulled my lips into a content grin.

"You look good," Norman's voice startled me, he was leaning down close enough for his lips to brush my hair so I would hear him, "Very good." I felt myself blush at his compliment.

"Norman!" The photographers called, trying to get him to look their way.

"Who's the lady?"

Norman didn't respond, but he looked down at me with a small knowing smile, like we were sharing a secret, before looking back to the press. This look sent the photags into a frenzy, it seemed like more and more flash bulbs were going off and I understood why he was wearing his sunglasses. Off of the red carpet, I blinked repeatedly, trying to clear the spots from my eyes. Norman steered me into the banquet room, there we found enlargements of photos from the magazine displayed around the grand, open space. After we entered Norman left his arm around my waist, seemingly unaware that he was still holding me. I, on the other hand, was very much aware of this closeness.

"There's your picture!" I said, spotting the picture of myself as we made our way around the room. There was a small group of people gathered in front of it, engaged in a conversation

"That woman right there - Louise," He pointed to a petite, dark haired woman, "Is the director of photography for Vogue," We approached the group of four, getting close enough to hear the conversation going on.

"Sick of these hollywood types," A male voice said.

"He's not even a photographer," a second voice said, my eyes widened and I glanced up at Norman who still had his sunglasses on. The second speaker drew attention to Norman and I standing on the fringe of the crowd.

"Mr.Reedus," Louise said, grinning devilishly, "How are you?"

"I'm alright," Norman responded tightly, "And you?"

"Fabulous," Louise replied, taking another look at the photograph, "My colleagues and I were just," She paused with a grin, "Admiring your photo," She adjusted her oversized glasses, "I honestly don't know how this got past me. This looks like it belongs in anything, but Vogue."

"Er-" Norman began to speak, but I cut him off.

"Wow, you're a cunt," I said, "That was so incredibly rude coming from someone who looks like an owl."

"Excuse me?" She demanded, stepping forward a bit.

"If you have so much against letting guest photographers into your magazine why do you even allow it?" I asked trying to step forward, but Norman held me back, "Like I said, you're a cunt."

"Security!" She trilled, looking around the room franticly, I could see a large man in a black shirt and tie approaching, he wore a secret service style ear piece and was speaking quickly into his mic, "Please escort Mr. Reedus and his, his tasteless date out of here."

"At least I'm not a stuck up bitch," I said as the large man positioned himself between her and I and gestured for Norman and I to turn around so he could see us off of the premises. We'd been there a whole 20 minutes and once we were outside Norman leaned against the limo, his arms crossed over his chest. He pulled his wayfarers off and stared at me.

"You just called the director of photography of vogue a cunt," He said, his face was set in stone as he spoke, looking quite upset with me

"Yeah," I said, a nervous giggle escaped me, "I did." My giggle turned into a laugh as I thought of how shocked Louise the owl had looked.

"I cannot believe you," He said, his serious demeanor was broken with a smile and a laugh rumbling in his chest; relief waved through me as we stood there laughing.

"She was being a bitch!" I exclaimed, "Did you hear what she said? Who does that?"

"I heard her," He said, his laughter stopping, "That caught me off guard, I wasn't expecting her to be an asshole like that."

I shrugged, "Sorry, but I don't think they'll be calling you back."

"Fuck 'em," He said with a shrug, he glanced up towards the sky, his sunglasses now tucked away in his suit jacket, "You want me to take you home?"

"And end our date so soon?" I asked, checking my phone, "It's only 10."

"Well," He started, "Are you hungry?"



The small diner was empty as it neared one a.m. Norman and I occupied a small booth, empty cups of coffee in front of us as we talked about everything from our childhoods to our careers.

"Flanery is one of my best friends," Norman said, I'd asked him if his rise in popularity had been overwhelming, "He's always there to level me out and he is really good at knocking me down a few pegs if I get too big for my britches."

"It's good that you have a friend who knew you when you were younger," I said, "A lot of times you lose those friends because of life changes or whatever, but I think the older you get the more you need people around who knew you when you were younger. They remind you where you came from, i don't know," I thought of what I was trying to get across, "Keep you grounded."

"Very wise words from a very young girl," He smirked, we had a conversation about my age earlier in the night. When I told him I was two weeks shy of 23 he'd almost spit out his coffee, "So," Norman said, switching the topic, "What made you want to be a Marilyn Monroe impersonator?" He asked, leaning a little closer across the table.

"She was my great grand...aunt," I said, thinking about how silly my relation to her sounded, "my grand mother's aunt."

"Oh?" he asked.

"Yeah, my grandmother's mother was her half sister," I said, playing with the straw I held in my hands, "I guess that makes my relation to her more complicated," He smiled sweetly as I went on, "Ever since I was young my grandma always told me how much I looked like her and how I could be successful like she was," I shrugged, "Now I'm successful because people want me to be her."

"Have you thought of giving that up?" He asked as the waitress slipped our bill onto the table, Norman thanked her politely and took the check. I thought over his question.

"Yes," I answered honestly, "But it's what pays the bills."

Norman nodded and checked his watch as our conversation came to a close, "You ready to end our date?" He smiled.

"I think it's about time," I agreed, holding my hand out to him for the check, "It's my turn to pay."



Outside of my apartment Norman stepped out of the limo to say goodnight to me, enclosing me in a hug. When we pulled away, I paused to press my lips gently against his.

"Thanks for a great night, Mr. Reedus," I smiled, addressing him as Louise had earlier. A light blush crept over his cheeks as he laughed lightly.

"Anytime, Evie," He said, brushing a few strands of hair back from my forehead, "We should do this again." I could smell the tobacco on his fingers as they brushed against my jaw, making me shiver.

"Yes," I nodded, composing myself, "Definitely," I looked him over once more in an attempt to soak him in, "Goodnight Norman."

"G'night, sweetheart," He replied. I turned away from him and walked up the steps to my front door, crossing the threshold into my home I wondered if I should invite him in. I controlled myself and instead gave him a polite wave, letting him know I made it in okay.