The Billionaire's Pet

“Oh my gosh. I’m going to collapse!” Vivian gasped just as she crashed against her friend’s front door. She began to pound on it with her fists.

“Vivian! What are you doing here?” Cynthia asked in surprise when she opened her front door and saw her friend looking panicked.

“Are you ok?”

“Please Cynthia, let me in. I’ll explain everything to you, please,” Vivian panted.

Her eyes darted around fearfully as if she was expecting someone to jump out of the walls and grab her.

Cynthia opened the door wider to let her friend in. She couldn’t help but wonder who or what Vivian was running away from at this ungodly hour.

It was a few minutes past 1 a.m. Cynthia had been watching a rom-com movie on TV before she was interrupted by the loud knocks on her door. She noticed Vivian’s rumpled oversized T-shirt, stained denim shorts, and dirty sneakers.

Even her curly wig was messy and nearly falling off her head. The only accessory she had on was her knockoff Chanel fanny pack.

Vivian stumbled over to the couch and sat down heavily on it. She took off her wig to reveal her neatly done cornrows.

“Do you want some water to drink?” Cynthia asked.

“Yes, please,” Vivian replied almost breathlessly.

After she’d taken a generous drink of water from the glass that her friend offered her, Vivian sighed with relief.

“So, you want to tell me what all of this is about?” Cynthia asked.

Vivan's lower lip trembled when she tried to speak. “I had to run away, Cynthia. I had to run away from it all.”

“Run away from what?”

“From the madness that is my life. I can’t do it anymore, Cynthia. The debts keep piling up and I don’t have any means to pay them up. Now I must be on the run every time like a criminal, to avoid getting caught by my creditors. I just want to be a normal girl; go through college, graduate, and move on with my life. Is that too much to ask for?”

“No, it’s not,” Cynthia replied. “Who are you owing?”

“Everyone – a bunch of girls at the hostel that I borrowed money from, my cousin, and even the school. I still haven’t finished paying my tuition and time is running out. You have to help me Cynthia; I don’t know where else to go. I need help!”

“What about your parents?”

“Dad has been out of work for months now. The little money my Mom makes from her small business goes into the upkeep of the home and taking care of my younger ones.”

“Oh…”

“Exactly. I can’t go to them for money right now because they don’t have any to spare. I can’t continue like this.”

“That’s sad,” Cynthia said sympathetically.

“One of my creditors sent some thugs to harass me at the hostel. Luckily for me, they went to the wrong room, but I got to know that they were looking for me. That’s why I came here. I know I can’t hide here for long, so I need you to help me. Please!”

Cynthia sighed. The lack of adequate security at the off-campus hostels was disturbing but the university management didn’t seem to care.

“What do you want me to do then? I don’t have money to lend you because I know there’s no guarantee that I’ll get it back any time soon,” she said bluntly.

“I – I understand,” Vivian said sadly.

“You know I’m the one putting myself through school. So, every single dime in my bank account is very precious to me. Plus, there’s also my family to consider. They depend on me for their upkeep too.”

Cynthia’s mom was a widowed civil servant who could barely take care of her three children on her meager salary. Thankfully, Cynthia had been able to help her family stay afloat with the regular cash she sent to them monthly.

“I know,” Vivian admitted. “And I’m not here to ask you for money either.”

Cynthia was surprised. “You’re not? What do you want me to do for you then?”

Vivian looked her friend dead in the eyes and said, “I want you to show me how you make your money. I want to be financially independent like you. I want to be able to afford a nice apartment like yours. I want to make enough money to take care of myself and help my family. Please, Cynthia. Don’t say no. I desperately need your help.”

“If I remember correctly, you once said that you could never sell your body to make money,” Cynthia said with a smirk.

“Yes, I did. But what has that got to do with this?”

Cynthia smiled. “What do you think I do to make money?”

Vivian was a bit confused. “You said you were into customer service, right?”

“Right, but do you know the kind of customers that I service?”

“I don’t know,” Vivian replied sincerely.

“And did you ever ask me?”

“Stop with the suspense, Cynthia. What are you getting at? Who are your customers?”

“Men. My customers are men,” Cynthia answered matter-of-factly.

“Men? I don’t understand.”

“My dear Vivian, I sleep with men for a living. I am an escort.”

Vivian gasped. “A what?”

“You heard me, Vivian. The customers I service are men who pay me well for what I do.”

Vivian was shocked into silence. She couldn’t believe that her soft-spoken, well-mannered, decent friend was a hooker.

The same Cynthia that couldn’t stand it when people used swear words around her. The same Cynthia went to church regularly and was even an active member of the youth fellowship on campus. This was so unbelievable!

“I can almost see the wheels turning inside your head and I understand your surprise,” said Cynthia calmly.

“But you wanted to know how I make money and I needed to tell you the truth from the get-go. That way, you don’t start having any false hopes,” she added.

“To be honest, I’m shocked,” Vivian admitted. “You don’t look like a prostitute.”

“Escort,” Cynthia corrected her firmly.

“What’s the difference?”

“Prostitutes are those raggedy dressed urchins that stand by the roadside at night, waiting to be picked up by random men. An escort is a lady who has a list of high-profile clients that she meets with on an appointment-only basis.

“An escort can even travel abroad to meet with a client if needed. Does that sound like the same thing those girls on the streets do?”

Vivian shook her head slowly. She was mystified by this straightforward explanation that Cynthia had given her.

When explained like this, the whole escort thing didn’t sound so bad. Besides, if she was honest with herself, she’d admit that she had always admired Cynthia’s composure.

Vivian liked how her friend spoke so eloquently and carried herself with so much dignity. Cynthia’s school fees, house rent, and other bills were always paid on time.

Her house was always loaded with food. She had the choicest pick in clothes, shoes, and handbags – some of which were even original designer pieces.

Vivian had naively assumed that her friend was able to afford all that luxury from her generous salary as a part-time customer service staff in whichever company she worked at.

“So?” Cynthia asked, breaking into Vivian’s thoughts. “Are you interested, or do you still think sleeping with men to make cool cash is disgusting?”