MILLION DOLLAR BABY by clpsuperstar.pdf

MILLION DOLLAR BABY by clpsuperstar

http://clpsuperstar-milliondollarbaby.blogspot.com/?zx=d3fb6ea5c8acbc5

When Renee is diagnosed with a terminal illness, Isabella makes the ultimate sacrifice.

Selling herself to the highest bidder to do with her as they please may just prove to be more

than she bargained for. OOC AH/AU

CHAPTER 1 | THE SACRIFICES WE MAKE

"You're sure you want to do this?" My best friend's overly feminine voice asked me for what

seemed like the millionth time since I walked through the doors of the nightclub where he

worked.

"No, I'm not sure, Gabe, but I have to. So, stop asking me before you make me change my

mind and I go running out of here like the chicken shit we both know I really am," I snapped

at him.

He never took my dramatics too personally because he gave just as good as he got.

"And you're really willing to just give up your V-card to a total stranger?" His incessant

questioning was really beginning to grate on my last nerve. But, I knew it was just because

he loves me and wants to be sure that I've considered everything. We had gone over all the

pros and cons with a fine tooth comb and I really don't think we missed anything, but the

unknown is what worried me the most.

"In exchange for my mother's life? Seems like a small price to pay," I said as I followed him

down the dark corridor that led to the underbelly of the club where he worked. That's where

my life changed. It was the point of no return.

My mother, Renee, was terminally ill. From birth she had always had a weak heart and it had

progressively gotten worse over the years. She nearly died while giving birth to me, still she

bounced back from that and numerous other operations and countless procedures. There

was no bouncing back now. Her light was fading entirely too fast.

She was so weak and frail at this stage in her nearly non-existent life that my father, Charlie,

had to quit his job to stay home and take care of her. I know what you're thinking, and yes,

HospicwouldhvbnprttygoodidButmyfthrcouldntstndththoughtof

stranger taking care of his beloved in his place. There just was no convincing him otherwise.

So, he took the task upon himself. Of course quitting his job meant that he could no longer

carry health insurance. With my mother's illness and my father being out of work, we were

forced to live off the meager savings account he had managed to tuck away. So, purchasing

health insurance was a luxury my parents could not afford.

Renee's illness had progressed to the point that a heart transplant was essential in order for

her to continue living.

I've watched my father day in and day out. Physically, he was losing weight; his primary

concern for his wife overshadowing his own care. And the shadows and bags under his red

eyes made it obvious that he wasn't getting as much sleep as he should either. But, he

always put on a brave face for my mother. She had accepted her imminent demise, but my

fthrhstillhldouthopThproblmwsththishopwsdiminishingbitbybit

every day. It was killing his very soul to watch her die a little more each day. I think a piece of

him went with every little piece of her.

I had walked in on him one night after my mother was fast asleep. He was slumped over in

his recliner, head in hands and shoulders heaving from his disheartened sobs.

No one was meant to see him that way. But I did.

I had never seen him so despondent. There was just this nagging feeling that tugged at my

heart constantly that told me that when my mother dies, my father wouldn't be far behind.

He would literally mourn himself to death. There was no doubt in my mind.

I had to do something. I was desperate to make this better. To make them better.

Gabe was my best friend. My very flamboyantly gay best friend. I had always shared

everything with him, so he was wholly aware of the situation. Desperate times called for

desperate measures, and after seeing just how desperate I had become, he finally told me

about the more scandalous business that was being conducted beneath the nightclub.

James, the owner of said nightclub, was what one might call an aggressive entrepreneur. I

called him a blood sucking douchebag pimp, or Satan for short. Basically, he's running a slave

trade. Now I know what you're thinking, but I'm talking about a different form of slave; a sex

slave. Regardless, one is just as bad as the other in my book.

From what I understand, some of the women, myself included, are doing this voluntarily

while others owe James in some way and selling themselves was their last ditch effort to

repay him.

Like I said, BLOOD SUCKING DOUCHEBAG PIMP.

God, he makes me sick.

Gabe told me that the clients were always men with more money than they knew what to do

with. It was pot luck; I could end up with someone gracious and kind, or a total tyrant who

enjoyed dominating his property. If history was any indication, I'd end up with the latter. I

hadn't exactly had the best of luck in my life, so why should I believe the Powers That Be

would grant me any favors now?

My mother's illness hadn't only required the constant attention of my father, but of me as

well. It's not like I'm resentful of it, but it meant that I got a late start after high school.

Instead of going to college, I stayed home with her so that my father could work. But, things

had gotten so bad that he couldn't stand to be away from her any longer, not to mention

they both really felt like they were holding me back. They weren't. I still hadn't made up my

mind about what I wanted to do with my life anyway. You'd think a twenty-three year old

would have her shit together, but no, not really.

It might have been a pretty shitty move on my part, getting their hopes up and all, but like I

said, hope is something that was lacking in my household and it certainly couldn't hurt to

give them a little. So, I managed to successfully convince my mother and father that I had

scored a super sweet all expense paid scholarship to NYU. Yes, I know that's not something

that's likely to happen so late in my life, but they didn't know, and that made all the

difference in the world. Being so far away from home meant that I wouldn't be able to visit

as often, and as much as it pained me to be away from my dying mother for so long, it was

absolutely necessary for my plan to work. If I was lucky, I'd be able to drag it out a while

longer. But you remember what I said about my luck, right?

Yeah, I wasn't holding my breath.

The deal I made with James, aka blood sucking douchebag pimp, was that I would agree to

live with my "owner" for a period of five years. No more, no less. After that, I would finally

be free to live my own life again. Exactly what sort of life that would be at that point was yet

to be determined, but I had decided to remain positive. Regardless, five years of my life was

a small price to pay to ensure any amount of time for my mother, and ultimately, my father

as well.

"Name?" A dark-skinned gentleman with dreadlocks and a clipboard asked as Gabe and I

reached the end of the dimly lit corridor.

"Swan. Isabella Swan," I choked out nervously even though I had stuck my chin out to create

the illusion that I was anything but.

The bass coming from the club music upstairs was pulsing through the walls and essentially

taking over my heart beat, but I tried desperately not to wish that I was up there partying

instead of standing where I was. All those people were up there drowning themselves in

booze and good times, and they had no clue about the sordid outfit that was going on right

under their feet. The women down here were drowning in something completely different.

Dreadlock dude flipped the top sheet up to look at the one beneath it as if it were some kind

of guest list for an elite club. This place certainly was not for the elite socialites of Seattle. He

grinned when I assumed he found my name and then looked back at me. His eyes roamed

up and down my body before settling on my face again. It was when his lips curled up into a

disgusting leer and he began to lick them, in a way he apparently thought would be

seductive but just wasn't, that I just about lost my nerve.

"Don't you look good enough eat?" he asked with a thick Caribbean accent as he ran his

calloused fingers up and down my arm. "I might just have to throw in a couple of bids on

youructionmyslfndvirgintoo?Mymymy

"Hands off the merchandise, Laurent, before I have to pull every single stitch of nasty ass

pubic hair out your head," Gabe said, coming to my rescue and smacking the pervert's hand

away. "You couldn't afford her on your pay, and you know it. Now, where's Jamie?"

"He's busy and he doesn't want to be disturbed," he answered and then looked back at me.

"But, he'll make an exception for you. You're going to make him a very wealthy man this

evening."

"Oh, I'm sure she will, and I hope he chokes on every last red cent of it too," Gabe said,

rolling his eyes. "Now, save the damn dramatics and just tell us where he's currently

molesting innocent gilrs."

"Last door on the right," he said, pointing his clipboard in the same direction. "And Gabriel,

you might want to get that mouth of yours under control before you find yourself jobless

and out on the street."

"Whatev," Gabe scoffed and waved him off with a flick of his wrist.

We stepped around dreadlock dude and made our way past the crowd of women that lined

the hallway. They were an assorted bunch, but mostly they looked sick and disease ridden.

There were a couple of exceptions. Some of them didn't look any older than eighteen;

innocntysunmrrdskinrflctionofmtthtgHllprobblystillvntothis

day. It was sad and I wanted to grab them all and make a beeline for the exit. I can't even

imagine what might have happened in their lives to lead them to this place, to do what they

were about to do. But, I'm sure each one had her own story, just like I had mine.

Each one had a number taped to their stomachs and they were standing in front of a mirror

that lined the wall on the opposite side.

"Two-way mirror," Gabe explained. "Each client who comes in has a write-up on every girl up

for sale tonight. They're herded in here like cattle and put on display for the freak-a-zoids

that, for whatever reason, can't seem to get laid on their own and have to stoop to this

level."

"Gee, thanks, Gabe. That doesn't make me feel like shit at all."

"Oh, sweetie. You know I don't mean it like that," he said, trying to make me feel better.

"You're way too good for this sort of thing, and you know it. You're not them ," he said,

motioning toward the other women in the hall. "But I get it. You're doing it for Renee and

that has to be the most selfless thing I've ever heard of."

And those other women could very well have their own Renee at home .

We reached the end of the hall and Gabe knocked on the door. A voice yelled for us to come

in, but when Gabe backed out of the way and motioned toward the entrance, I panicked.

Full on hyperventilation was only moments away, I swear.

"Sweetie, look at me," Gabe said, forcing me to face him. "You don't have to go in there. We

can turn around right now and walk out of this hell hole."

"No, we can't," I said, tremors racking my body no matter how hard I tried to steady my

nerves.

"I can't go in there with you. You're on your own from here on out," he said with a hint of

regret and worry.

I nodded my understanding and ducked my head so that he wouldn't see the tears beginning

to well up in my eyes.

Gabe abruptly hugged me to his chest and practically squeezed the air from my lungs. "You

can do this. Hell, maybe you'll actually get some good sex out of this. You just never know.

Don Juan might be on the other side of that mirror just waiting to sweep you off your feet."

"Ha! Not likely," I scoffed and managed to smile a little before backing out of his safe

embrace. "I'll be okay. You just make sure that the jerk that ends up with me follows through

on our deal, or I expect you to send the FBI in here with guns ablazin'."

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