Breaking Into the Business by Hadley Knox

bypass his rules regarding identification. Luckily, my middle name
was on my license and he took my word for it on the last name.
    After
that, I decided that I needed a few new outfits. I couldn’t keep parading
around in jeans that fit like I was a grandmother, and shirts that I had owned
since the children were babies. After three department stores, and more than a
dozen personal fashion shows in front of the changing room mirror, I had
finally chosen six complete new outfits. I considered myself shopping savvy, so
deals and sales abounded on my receipt, but I still hated to spend the money
while I was in crunch time. For every dollar I spent, it put the kids and me
just a little closer to living on the streets.
    However,
I told myself, a new outfit was part of my new business venture. I didn’t have
the foggiest clue what was the practical purpose of me looking good, but
something told me that I couldn’t let Greg have a pimp that looked like
someone’s older aunt who had a lot of cats.
    I
chuckled, but then I stopped, realizing that I hated the word ‘pimp.’ The
visuals that the word brought up didn’t look anything like me, nor did it
reflect anything about why or how I was getting into this business. I just
couldn’t go around calling myself that, even though the word perfectly
described what I was doing.
    A
new name was required. There wasn’t much to work with, and I wasn’t very
familiar with the profession in the first place. The only word I could think of
was madam. I only knew about that term from the movies, but from what I had
gathered, the title was assigned to a woman who operated a brothel. It didn’t
really fit me at the moment, since I didn’t really own and run a brothel, nor
did I have enough people working for me to consider myself anything other than
a lonely, single woman doing whatever she could to make money.
    I
decided right then and there, on the way home from buying some new outfits,
that I would be called a madam. That’s exactly what I would be. At least in my mind,
the term brought some degree of sophistication and professionalism.
    What
I really needed was some more girl time. With everything that had happened, it
was time to tell the girls about my new venture. They would be honest, and at
the very least, I could trust them not to blab their mouths about what I was
planning. I fired off a quick text with the time and location for our proposed
meeting, and quickly got affirmative responses from them that they would be
there.
    I
loved Pearl and Betsy dearly. They could always be counted on to come through, even
if all that was needed was a simple dinner and conversation.
    By
now, the phone had activated, so I called Greg using the new number. He was
happy that I had gotten so far in setting up our new business.
    Before
going home, I stopped at the office supply store and had a thousand business
cards printed up for Greg with the new cell phone number on them. I got a few
scant looks from the frumpy, middle-aged woman who was handling my work order,
but I didn’t really care. I had too much to do to be bothered with her silent
judgment.
    My
new phone rang. My heart started beating fast, wondering if it was already a
client. I wasn’t in front of my schedule, so it would be hard to book Greg at
the moment.
    When
I looked down at the caller id, I saw Greg’s number flashing.
    “Hey,”
I said as I answered the phone.
    “Hey
there,” he said. “I figured I should start using your super-secret line now
that you have it.”
    “You
can call me on either phone,” I said and immediately regretted it. He was
right; it would be best if he just used the new cell number, because even
though she had slept with him and liked him a lot, he was still a part of her
secret life.
    “I
just wanted to let you know that I changed the number on my online ads, so you
may start getting calls,” he said. “I’ve e-mailed you my available times, so
feel free to fill it up.”
    “Got
it,” I