Page 3 of His Weekend Girl
This, is what Trixie wanted to answer. Paying bills and ensuring she had enough money to eat for at least one night determined many things. When she came home, working on a web page was the very least of her concerns. Sleep was the top priority. Maybe a shower if she felt like it.
“Driving around,” Trixie decided to truthfully answer. No girl grows up and wants to be a rideshare driver for X amount of years. What started as just a side gig for extra money turned into I-need-to-do-this-or-I-won’t-eat survival.
Bills mounted, debt loomed, and other than showing her birth canal to the highest bidder on OnlyFans, Trixie had no other options. Tupac was right – it was hard to be legit and still be able to pay rent.
She did wonder how much she would get being on the pole. She still had a nice, shapely figure with natural tits, and an ass women would go to Miami or overseas to get done. God blessed her full lips. She had a porn star body with a sex drive to match.
The only problem –the biggest problem– was Trixie was a stone-cold prude. She had a natural sway in her hips that she made sure didn’t come out as she purposely walked bowlegged. She fell asleep listening to true crime podcasts. (Keith Morrison was currently her bae and she was rather embarrassed to think how many times she thought about him when she did masturbate to sleep.)
Her wig color was a blended mixture of red, purple, and pink; depending on the lighting, one would see all three colors. The mainstream word for her was quirky or even kitschy, but Trixie knew better – she was just plainweird.
“Do you want to do this for the rest of your life?” Grant asked and the question jolted Trixie back into the present. “You want more, don’t you?”
“I do.” Trixie bit her tongue as she didn’t appreciate Grant intruding into her chosen profession. “But if you have bills and debt and there’s a way you can get guaranteed money right now instead of waiting, you would do what you have to do short of doing something illegal or immoral.”
Grant caught the ice in Trixie’s tone and knew he’d crossed a line. He backed off and pivoted to another direction. “There’s always something better out there if you want it.” He added. “It’s easy to get caught up in the now that sometimes people don’t see the future. Even if you work on something five minutes every day, that’s still five minutes more than someone who keeps talking about it and never does it.”
Trixie nodded. “True, you got a point.”
“I see potential in you, Trixie,” Grant admitted, “I didn’t mean to offend and I apologize if I came across like that.”
“None taken,” Trixie lied. She still needed to complete her ride and the last thing she needed was Grant to be salty and give her a one-star because he didn’t like her attitude. “I wish I could be like your clients. Worry about cocaine binges and overpriced foreign cars. Well, maybe not the cocaine binges part.”
“No, you don’t,” Grant chuckled and Trixie smiled. “No, you do not. They’re not happy, no matter what they say. No happy person does drugs or overindulges in alcohol. No happy person blows every single cent without realizing if they can afford to do so. A lot of my clients – some of the well-known A-listers everyone knows – are very unhappy. The old money ones are too busy counting every cent and making sure no one else gets a share.”
“Yikes,” Trixie muttered, “maybe my life isn’t so bad, after all.”
There was a brief pause before Grant continued. “What’s your favorite Mac Ayres song?”
The change in subject felt like screeching brakes. “I’m sorry?”
“I heard you were playing “Easy” so I figured you might be a fan?” Grant met Trixie’s eyes. “No?”
Trixie blushed. “I was just introduced to him maybe a few hours ago. I don’t have a favorite yet, but I love his style. He’s very smooth.”
“He’s underground, but he has great music.” He agreed. “I know of him because of the interns at my office. They’re always keeping me up to date with all that Gen Z shit they think they invented so…”
Trixie smiled. Grant wasn’t so bad after all. “You don’t have therizz?”
“Please God, no.” Grant chuckled and Trixie followed. “Let’s…no.” He paused for a beat. “Your life may not be perfect right now, Trixie, but trust me, there are some who wish the only thing they had to worry about is whether they’ll have a busy day getting a ride and not if someone is going to take them for one.” Grant lightly sighed. “Trust me, I know.”
Trixie glanced up at the rearview mirror and caught Grant’s stare. She swore she caught a glimmer ofsomething.It then occurred to her it was the shine of his expensive watch.
~~~~~
“Here you are,” Trixie pulled up to the valet of the super expensive Ritz-Carlton. She immediately knew her modest Camry was not a good fit for the super expensive cars that were already in the parking lot. “You were a great customer, Grant. I hope you have a great night.”
“Thank you, Trixie,” Grant unbuckled and leaned forward, “can you pick me up later tonight? Would you be available to do so?”
Trixie would be dead asleep after she watched some true crime documentaries. She wasn’t sure if accepting a cheap ride from a rich Grant was high on the priority list. “That’s not how rideshares work. I don’t know if I’ll be available and someone else might get your ride instead.”
“That’s not what I’m asking,” Grant clarified, “I wantyouto pick me up later. Would you be available to do so?”
Oh. Now that was a different request. “Um, I guess. But it’ll be off the clock, so it won’t be a free ride.”
“How much would it be?” Grant asked. He scooted up closer to behind Trixie’s seat.
Trixie had to think quickly. If she said an amount too low, she would regret it later. If she said something too high, Grant would dismiss her and grab another rideshare instead. She chose a safe middle. Anything to distract her from his intoxicating cologne. “Fifty.”
