Over the past year, I'd managed to earn quite a bit--tens of thousands--but I hadn't realized it still wasn't enough.
"Are there still women who want to spend time with me?" I asked, playfully ruffling Angela's hair. "I can always earn more."
She looked away, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. "Yeah, but... she wants you to..."
It took her a moment to continue. "She wants you to sleep with her."
"Did you agree to this?" I asked, taken aback.
Angela clutched my shirt, biting her lip as she nodded.
A whirlwind of emotions crashed over me. I understood it was all for her mother's sake, but I never expected Angela to actually want me to sleep with other women.
"Samuel, are you upset?" Angela asked cautiously, her gaze searching mine as if she could read my thoughts. "I don't want this either, but my mom's treatment costs a fortune every day. The doctor said this last round will help her get better. Please, for my sake, can you just hang in there a little longer?"
I exhaled slowly, forcing a smile. "It's okay, Angela. I'll do it. Just don't worry."
Her eyes brightened as she pulled something from her bag and placed it in my hand. "This is the hotel room key. She wants to meet at nine tonight. Just remember to be on time."
For some reason, her overly eager tone sent a chill down my spine. Holding the room key, I felt a heavy knot in my stomach.
"Okay."
A dark smudge marred Angela's flawless face, and I leaned down, ready to wipe it away. But she turned her head, looking uncomfortable. "Let's just head back to school now."
I was caught off guard, my hand lingering in the air as I managed a resigned smile.
Angela seemed to think I wanted to kiss her.
At nine o'clock, I arrived at the hotel room as promised.
[Ms. Johnson, I'm here.] I sent a message in the new chat.
With fifteen minutes to go until nine, I noticed she hadn't replied. Maybe she hadn't seen my message.
The dim lighting set a sultry tone in the room as I sat on the large bed, feeling the vibrations beneath me, an unsettling sensation settling in my stomach.
Finally, I sighed and stood up.
I had sent Angela several messages, but she had only replied at seven with, [I'm heading to the library], and then nothing more.
Bored out of my mind, I stumbled across Ms. Johnson's Instagram. She didn't post much, and her captions were straightforward--just simple, cheerful messages about being happy.