Faking It

Exhausted, Lydia trudged up the creaky stairs to her dingy studio apartment. Her entire body ached in protest as she unlocked the door with her rusty key, the musty scent of her apartment greeting her as she opened the door. She slammed the door shut and swiftly turned the deadbolt before sinking down against the doorframe.

"Come on Liddy, be a big girl. Wipe those tears away, pull up your panties, and continue on with life." She grumbled to herself as she wiped away the tears that were streaking down her cheeks, flinching as her hand brushed over a bruise on her cheek bone.

"That prick better not have messed up the merchandise." She let out a low, guttural sound of frustration before hauling herself up from the ground and heading towards the tiny kitchen. As she walked, she kicked off her high heels and tossed her bag onto the couch.

As she rummaged through her cupboards looking for something to eat, Lydia realized she'd need to go grocery shopping soon. Both her pantry and fridge were nearly empty. Spotting a lone pack of ramen near the back of the cupboard, Lydia snagged it and set it down on the counter, along with a chipped white bowl, and a fork that had seen better days. She walked over to the stove and switched on the kettle to boil some water before exiting the kitchen and making her way back to the living room of her apartment.

Grabbing her bag off the couch, Lydia emptied its contents out onto her small table. Karl, the man who'd roughed her up, had left a small wad of cash on the nightstand, before quickly making his escape. The cash was hush money. He didn't want Lydia calling Mia, her madame, and informing her of his treatment. If Lydia snitched, Karl- who was currently on his third strike- would be permanently removed from Mia's master list. Finding what she was searching for, Lydia picked up the cash wad and unraveled it, quickly counting the bills. Karl had left her $400. Lydia let out a sigh and decided not to rat Karl out this time. He was a regular and she needed all the extra cash she could get.

From her kitchen, the shrill whistle of her kettle pierced the air, indicating that the water had finally reached a boiling point.

Lydia walked over to her television and moved the rug beside it over, uncovering a loose floorboard. Without much prying, the floorboard came up and Lydia grabbed the shoebox from within. She quickly opened the box and began to sift through the money inside, $2,600. With the additional $400 from Karl, Lydia would have just have enough to cover her mom's medical expenses for the month. Her eyes started to water once more. While she was relieved that her mother's hospital costs would be covered for the month, she knew she'd have to scavenge around for food, and her gas would likely get cut due to nonpayment. Despite working long hours and taking on more clients, Lydia couldn't seem to make enough money to support both her ailing mother and herself. The weight of this responsibility weighed heavily on her shoulders, leaving her torn between caring for her family and making ends meet. She felt trapped in an endless cycle of financial strain and guilt.

Before her mother's car accident, Lydia had worked at a quaint little restaurant downtown during the mid-morning, early afternoon shift. When her shift ended she'd head off to school at the community college where she was taking classes to obtain her business degree. But when her mother was hit by a run-away driver and placed in a medically induced coma, all of Lydia's plans of finishing school had gone out the window. Her mother didn't have medical insurance and since the driver hadn't stopped there was no way to charge them with the medical expenses. Lydia dropped her classes and picked up more shifts at the restaurant, but before she knew it she was up to her eyeballs in medical debt and behind on the mortgage payment. Knowing that there was no way she'd be able to keep up on the mortgage for her childhood home, Lydia ended up selling it to the highest bidder. Luckily her mother hadn't been upside on her home loan, so there had been some extra funds from the sale of the house, but those funds didn't last long and waitressing just wasn't bringing in enough income to provide for both a studio apartment and paying for medical debt at a long term care facility. Unable to handle all the stress that had been thrown at her, Lydia ended up having a breakdown at the diner during one of her shifts, and eventually confided with one of her coworkers about her financial struggles. The coworker ended up telling her about a side gig she'd picked up to help pay her way through classes. She was an escort at Mia Novella's Escort Services. She told Lydia that her cousin had gotten her a gig and that her cousin also worked there, but full-time, and brought home an average of $5000 a week.