Rented by My Ex's Brother

[A thousand a day. Keep whatever cash the parents hand you. Requirement: sweet.] I took the gig. New Year's Eve. Pink twinset, ponytail, and I knocked on my client's door.

My exboyfriend opened it. He stared at me for two seconds.

Then he smiled. "All dressed up sweet," he said. "You here to beg me back?" Before I could get a word out, my client came scrambling up behind him and shoved him aside. "Move, move, move, move.

My girlfriend's here." He hooked an arm around my shoulders and grinned at his brother. "Well? Your big brother's girlfriend.

Pretty, right?" Chapter 1 Weston pushed the word out through his teeth. "...Pretty." I flinched. Adrian looked down at me right away. "Sweetheart, are you cold?

Come inside." Then, from the angle Weston couldn't see, he winked at me. I pulled a smile onto my face and sweetened my voice. "Thanks, babe." Adrian went red.

He turned a full circle where he stood, hands going nowhere, and headed for the kitchen. "I'll just... sit down, okay?

I'm going to wash some fruit." The second he was gone, Weston backed me into the corner by the coat rack. "Babe? Really?" I studied the floor.

He watched me with a smile that didn't tell me anything. "Sweetheart?

What happened, you don't talk anymore?" "When we broke up you called me a swamp turkey." I looked up and glared at him.

His mouth curved without any of it reaching his eyes. "You started it.

You said the birthmark on my butt looked like a USDA stamp." "It does, though," I muttered. "It does not." "Prove it. Drop 'em." His hand went to his belt.

I slapped both hands over my eyes and bolted for the kitchen. "Help, my brotherinlaw's getting handsy with me." He caught my arm and yanked me back.

A vein stood up at his temple. "Josie. What is wrong with you?" "Whatever's wrong with me, I'm still your sisterinlaw," I shot back. "What are you to my brother?

Exactly." I tipped my chin toward the kitchen. "Isn't it obvious. Meet the parents today, license tomorrow, baby the day after." His face went dark. He folded his arms. "No chance.

My brother wouldn't go for someone like you." "Someone like what?" I took a step into him. "We were together a long time, Weston. Go ahead. Tell me what I am." He stepped back.

His mouth pulled into something that was supposed to be contempt. "A gold digger.

You really think a gold digger belongs in my family's house?" I laughed. "Your brother likes me exactly like this. What are you going to do about it?" He stared at me.

Whatever was going on behind his eyes, it wasn't simple. That look I could read. Dumped him over money, turned around, landed his brother. Gold digger, confirmed.

He opened his mouth to come back at me. The kitchen door swung open.

Adrian came out with a plate of fruit and stopped when he saw the two of us wedged in the entryway. "What are you doing standing over there?" He walked over like it was nothing, took my wrist, and steered me toward the couch. "Come eat." He put a hand on my shoulder and pressed me down into the couch.

Chapter 2 Adrian pushed the plate toward me. Every strawberry had been hulled. "Try one.

They're sweet." He turned to Weston, still parked in the corner. "Go pick Mom and Dad up at Hartsfield." Weston didn't move. "Go," Adrian said. Weston turned and left.

The door shut harder than a door needs to. The living room went quiet. Adrian scooted a little closer and dropped his voice. "I'm sorry." I waved him off. "It's fine.

Physical contact and verbal affection are both okay. It's in the contract. It's a oneday contract." "That's not what I'm apologizing for." He paused. "The place is small.

The walls are nothing. I heard everything you two said." I stopped chewing. He rubbed the back of his neck. "The gold digger thing. I'm sorry.

Some of that was ugly." I didn't answer. The strawberry was sweet.

Going down, it turned bitter somewhere behind my ribs. "It's fine." I got my mouth to move into a smile. "He's not wrong, anyway.

I am a gold digger." Adrian looked at me. "A thousand a day, and I keep the cash." I turned the next strawberry over in my fingers. "What else do you call that?" He let it sit.

A few seconds passed. Then the corner of his mouth went up. "My parents will be here soon. You'd better work hard and dig up a big one. They're loaded." I looked up.

He winked at me. "Also." His voice dropped. "If Weston gives you a hard time again, just yell. I'll come running." "Not necessary.

I can handle him." "I know you can handle him." He said, "But the contract doesn't say you have to take it. Right?" His parents got there fast. He went to open the door.

I wiped my hands, stood up, and put on the standard sweet smile. The couple who came in: the man in a suit, the woman dripping in jewelry.

I'd seen both of them on TV. "Mom, Dad, this is Josie." Adrian stood next to me. His voice pulled tight. I ducked my head a little. "Mr. Ashford, Mrs. Ashford. Happy New Year." Mrs.

Ashford's eyes went over me once, the pink twinset, the ponytail, and landed on my face. "Mm. She's sweet," she said. Mr. Ashford nodded and didn't bother with a second look.

He went straight to Adrian. "Where's your brother?" "At the airport. He didn't get you?" "We changed our flight." Mrs.

Ashford took two cards out of her purse and held them out. "These are for you. Go on." I took them. "Thank you." "Adrian says you're wonderful." She smiled. "And you are.

Just as sweet as he is." It sounded like a compliment. It also sounded like nothing at all. Mr. Ashford checked his watch. "All right. We only came by to see you.

We've got somewhere to be tonight." "Already?" Adrian's face didn't catch up. "The Whitmans' New Year's party. Can't get out of it." Mrs.

Ashford patted his arm. "I'll call you in a few days. Bring your girlfriend up to the house for dinner." Door to door, the whole thing took under five minutes. The lock clicked.

Nobody said anything for a while. Adrian rubbed his neck. "They're busy people." "It's fine." I set the two cards down on the table. "This is better.

Nothing awkward about it." The words were barely out when the door opened again.

Weston came in with his keys in his hand and stopped short at the sight of the two of us standing there. "Where are they?" "You just missed them," Adrian said.

Weston's eyebrows pulled together. His eyes went past his brother and settled on me.

Adrian shifted half a step over and cut the line of sight. "Aren't you going home?" Chapter 3 Weston tossed his keys on the entry table and dropped onto the couch. "Go home for what?

You moved out the day you turned eighteen. We haven't done New Year's together since. I'm staying." An excuse. I edged in behind Adrian. He was here for me and we both knew it.

Adrian started to say something. Weston's eyes came up first. At my mouth, specifically. I pressed my lips together before I could stop myself. "Strawberries any good?" he asked.

I didn't give him anything.

He reached over and took one anyway, bit into it, made a face, and set it back down. "Not sweet," he said. "Hey, wash me something else." Adrian stayed where he was. "You don't have hands?" "It's your kitchen.

I don't know where anything is." Weston put on a face. "What, you get a girlfriend and now your own brother can't have a piece of fruit?" Adrian turned to me. "But..." I knew what he was worried about. "Go on." I tugged his sleeve. "I'll be right here." He held out two more seconds before he went.

Weston stretched back into the cushions and crossed one leg over the other, watching me. "You're really selling it," he said.

I looked at my phone. "How come you were never this sweet with me?" "You didn't earn it." I didn't look up. He scoffed.

His eyes went to the two cards on the table. "My parents handed those over without thinking. What's that, a month of your rent?" "No," I said.

His eyebrows went up. "No?" I looked at him. "I mean those two cards are half a year of my rent." Weston stopped. He stared at me for a few seconds.

I watched the confusion go out of his face and something smug come in. "Oh." He stretched the word. "That explains it." I went back to my phone. "That explains why you latched onto my brother." "Couldn't get anything out of me, so you went next door.

That's impressive, Josie." I didn't look up. "You think he's got more than me?" He snorted. "He makes less in a year than I get in allowance." "So give me some," I said, lifting my eyes.

He choked on it. I put the phone face down. "Weston.

All those years we were together, what exactly did I get out of you?" His mouth twisted. "That's because I kept you at arm's length." I nodded. "You did. Great job.

We split every check. I bought the movie tickets, you bought popcorn. Not one bouquet on Valentine's, because flowers are tacky." Something moved in his face. "But your friends.

You were generous with them." "Five hundred a dinner. Loans that never came back.

Their dog has puppies and you're buying a gift." Nothing from him. "The day we broke up, I came to your place.

I stood outside your door and I heard you." "Your friend said girls like me act like we're above it at first, and then we open our mouths.

And you said, yeah, she hit me up for ten thousand a few days ago, and I didn't give her a dime." I held his eyes. "Then he laughed. He said, see?

What did I tell you." "I didn't go in.

I went home and texted you that we were done, because I couldn't get anything out of you, so I might as well go find someone else." The room held still. "Josie—" he started. "Your friends are good, though." I kept going. "Way better at it than me.

What have they pulled off you by now, six figures?" The color came up in his face. "You know what they call you when you're not there?" He didn't answer. "A walking ATM," I said.

Chapter 4 "More money than sense. Say something nice and you reach for your wallet. They weren't scared of some gold digger getting to you.

They were scared your money would go to a woman instead of them." His jaw set. His hand closed into a fist on his knee. The kitchen door opened.

Adrian came out with the fruit washed and set the plate on the coffee table, then sat down beside me. "You hungry?" I nodded.

He stood right back up and headed for the kitchen. "Food in a minute." I let out a breath and got to my feet. "Josie." Behind me.

I didn't turn around. "What did you need the money for.

Back then." My foot stopped midstep. "Does it matter?" I said. "You didn't give it to me either way." I knew he had money from the beginning.

A Porsche one week, a Range Rover the next. A gated place up on the ridge in Buckhead. I never spent a dollar of it.

His friends said I was acting like I was above it, putting on a show. I heard all of it. But the way I saw it, I was in a relationship, and I was in it clean.

I didn't want Weston's money. I wanted Weston. Enough to look past his friends. Past the things they said. Past the fact that he never once put me on his socials.

I thought that was enough. Then my mother's scans came back stage four.

The oncologist brought me into his office and told me that with the right targeted therapy she might get another year. Maybe two. The right one ran ten thousand dollars a round.

The first few months, I paid out of savings. Three years of work. Money I'd been keeping for a down payment. Transfer went out. Box came home. Again, and again.

My mother asked me about it. "Baby girl, is this stuff expensive?" "No," I said. "Insurance covers most of it." She believed me. Five months in, the account hit bottom.

I sat there looking at the balance for a long time. I maxed out every card and took out a loan and it still wasn't enough. I couldn't buy the next round.

I stayed up the whole night. When it got light out, I picked up my phone and texted Weston. I have too much pride. I didn't want him knowing my mother was sick.

I typed it and deleted it and typed it again, and in the end I sent seven words. Me: [Can I borrow ten thousand dollars?] He answered fast. Him: [Yeah.] One word.

I looked at that word for a long time. Tears came down and my mouth was still curved. I hadn't been wrong about him after all. Then I waited a day. Two days. Three.

He never asked for my account number. Never asked when I needed it. Never asked anything. He's busy, I told myself. He forgot. Give him a little longer.

The fourth night, I went to his place. The door was open a crack. There were voices inside. His friend: "So Josie finally asked, huh? Told you. They all do it.

Nobody holds the act that long." Then Weston: "Yeah. Ten thousand." His friend laughed. "You're actually giving it to her?" He didn't say anything. "Give her what?

Ten now, twenty next time. That hole's got no bottom. Keep it casual. Don't catch feelings." Quiet. A long quiet.

I stood out in the hallway with my fists closed and my nails in my palms. Then I heard him say it. "I know." Know what? That I was a gold digger? That I'd get around to asking?

I stood there and I didn't cry. I turned around, went down the stairs, and walked out of that building. The wind outside had teeth.

I made it a whole block before I understood that I hadn't stopped shaking. Chapter 5 I got home and texted him. Me: [We're done.

There's nothing to get out of you, so I might as well go find someone else.] Him: [So you were after my money the whole time.] We tore into each other.

Everything ugly either of us had, we used. There was no coming back from it. I changed my number, moved, and took myself out of his world. I don't blame him.

Why would anyone hand me ten thousand dollars? What was I to him. I wasn't worth it. It still hurt. If I'd had that ten thousand, would she have gotten a few more months.

At the end she was down to bones. The pain kept her up whole nights and she never once told me it hurt.

All she said was, "Baby girl, I'm nothing but a burden to you." I told her she wasn't. She said, "That drug costs too much. We're not doing it. I'm old.

I've had enough of a life." I said okay. The truth is I couldn't buy it anymore. I didn't have ten thousand dollars.

The night she went, I held her hand while it cooled off, a little at a time. Later I brought her ashes home in a box and put the box up on the closet shelf in my rental.

I couldn't afford a plot. The cheapest one at Cedar Hill runs eight thousand. So now I'm a rentagirlfriend. A thousand a day, and I keep the cash.

Act sweet, smile, call some man babe a few times, and I'm that much closer to eight thousand dollars. My mother watches me from the closet shelf.

I don't think she holds it against me. Adrian