Blue Moon

Part I

I had so many questions even before she got in the car. She answered one of them as soon as she closed the door, before I could speak: “I hate this job so much,” she said as she dialed my phone to see where her (our?) first job was. She dropped her near-empty plastic bottle of Diet Sprite on the floor at her feet. She did not look like the type of person I expected to be picking up. She looked...well...normal. If I had passed her on the sidewalk, I would've thought she was just another college kid.
Do I know where the Westin Copley Hotel is? Sure. Seeing as this was my first night ever doing this, I wasn't clear on where we'd be going during the night, and, truth be told, I was a bit worried. But this is great because I know I’ll be able to keep myself occupied in downtown Boston for that hour. But we’re 10 minutes away in Charlestown, so we get to talk a bit. "Why do you do it, then?" To pay for school. Her parents aren’t helping at all. "Can’t you do something else if you hate this so much?" No answer. I am not judging her. How can I? I don’t believe she’s doing anything wrong, and I tell her so. I wouldn’t be driving her around if I thought it was wrong. “As long as you don’t think you’re hurting yourself, then don’t feel bad. You’re taking advantage of stupid guys. If you can live with it, then all the power to you,” I say. She chuckles in appreciation. I notice she's got a demure smile, as if she's slightly embarrassed. The look she gave me hinted that she needed me to understand; that she owed me an explanation even though we met, literally, five minutes ago. I do understand, even though she’s only nineteen (and looks it). I realize at that moment that I want nothing from her except my money at the end of the night. I’m absolutely not interested in any “freebies" that may or may not be offered later on (they weren’t), and I’m very relieved to feel this way. This will be strictly a working relationship, and I feel that she must be able to trust me. She doesn’t need me to be just another customer.

Bob B.is in room 3228 with $225. $50 of that will be mine. Am I supposed to disappear for an hour? She prefers that I stay close so she can get right out when the hour’s up. I can’t hang out outside the Westin. No parking, a lot of cab stands, so I drop her off and go to a record store. I read some magazines, then walk to Starbuck’s for coffee and a big cookie. As I’m paying, I think to myself that while I’m relaxing and putzing around, there are at least two people in Boston who are getting laid.
I find a parking spot next to the Hancock Tower. I drink coffee and read a newspaper for a little while, and then the phone rings. “I’m done.” I’m a half-block away so I’m at the Westin in less than a minute. I had bought her a Diet Sprite while I was out and I handed it to her when she got back in the car. She seemed surprised that I had done this for her, but she was appreciative. I figure it's the least I can do because of how she feels about all this. I don't say that to her, of course, and I don’t dare ask her how it went up there in room 3228. She uses my phone to call the agency. They need to know when she enters and leaves a call. They tell her to hang tight and they'll call back with another job.

Do I know where the SwissHotel is? Sure. [Hey, this job's gonna be great for me if all I have to do is run from hotel to hotel!] A guy with a name neither of us can pronounce is waiting in room 817 with a credit card. Casey has no credit card forms. We’ll have to wait for someone to bring her some. We wait on Newbury Street. The Explorer pulls up next to us after roughly 15 minutes. The forms are handed through the window. A simple “thank you” by Casey, and the Explorer leaves. She’d never met anyone she works for at the agency, so there was no small talk necessary.
I find a spot across the street from the front door of the hotel. Not bad considering it’s ten o’clock on a Friday night. I decide I’ll just hang out in the lounge while she’s upstairs. She hates hotels because she feels like everyone is looking at her as she heads through the lobby to the elevator. I guess I could understand that if she was "dressed for the role," but like I said, she looks like just another girl. We don’t walk in together, just the same. She goes upstairs, I watch football and have a Guinness at the bar. The other bar patrons and the friendly female bartender haven’t got the slightest clue why I’m there. I’m just another hotel guest as far as they know.
Mister whatever-his-name-is didn’t need the full hour. 45 minutes into it Casey’s ready to go. She’ll meet me at the car. It’s almost 11:00 and starting to snow. She calls in for the next job. Chris B.in Roslindale. Roslindale? What the hell am I gonna do for an hour in Roslindale? We’re 20 minutes away and Casey calls Chris B. to tell him we’re on the way over. She tells me she's relieved to be leaving the city proper. She prefers private homes because she doesn't feel as exposed publically. It's because of the private homes that she always uses a driver. When she gets to the destination, the hiring party knows she's not really alone. I drop her off after getting a bit lost. I badly need a mens’ room so I hit the Dunkin’ Donuts in Rozzy Square. Nice bunch of people in this section of the city at midnight.
I go back to the street and park at the corner. I’m glad it’s snowing because the windows will soon be covered and offer me a hiding place. I don’t imagine that the neighbors would take kindly to someone camped out by their homes at this time of night. I'm more at ease, but I’m bored. I don’t want to put on the light in order to read, as this would call attention to the car. And I don’t want to take a nap (this will change as I get used to the job), so I just sit.
My phone rings at 12:40. I pick her up. It’s snowing at a good clip by now. The agency wants us to go to Danvers next! Casey doesn’t know where that is, but gathers from my reaction that it ain’t just up the street. I tell her it’s almost an hour away without snow. Neither of us wants to go that distance in this storm. She calls Dana at the agency and relates this to her. Dana won't hear of it. "Don't you want to make money tonight," she asks Casey, as if she, Dana, were doing us a favor by sending us all the way out there. After a few minutes of what was obviously an uphill battle, Casey relents and hangs up, then calls the guy who wants to hire her. She tells him we're far away and we'll be there as soon as we can, but it'll take a while. He tells her not to worry about it because the weather is so bad. I guess he figured he could find another escort service closer to his hotel than where we were. We're both glad he's letting us off the hook. Casey calls the agency to relay that message. Dana begrudgingly accepts what has happened, but she had already talked to the customer to confirm that we were not trying to duck out of a job. She asks us to hang out for a bit to see if any other calls come in. A different woman,Tess, called us back after only ten minutes to say the weather is too bad for us to stay out. Tess is a lot easier to deal with than Dana, and a lot more reasonable. To Casey's surprise, Tess tells her that she won't have to cash out tonight, but that they'll take care of it tomorrow night instead. This is a big deal because Casey is holding more than $400 in cash. Tess is putting a lot of faith in Casey, it is clear.

So that means we’re done for the night, even though it’s only a little earlier than 1 am. Casey tells me that she's usually working until 3 or 4 on weekends. Not tonight, thankfully. It’ll take us at least a half-hour to get back to Charlestown, so I decide to start asking questions. Casey seems to be very comfortable with me now. It is during the ride home that she will admit to me that her real name is Julie. I felt comfortable enough to ask her, “Is it always sex? Is it ever just a lonely guy looking for a friend for an hour?” No, it’s usually sex or a massage. She tells me some war stories about when she and one or two of her friends all did this at the same time. She giggles when she tells these stories, which I find cute but odd. “Does it ever get scary?” Not really. One time she forgot to block her phone number when she called a guy to confirm the date. The guy kept calling her afterward. That’s about as scary as it got for her.
She’s got a boyfriend back at school, two hours away, who doesn’t know she’s doing this. I start to wonder in the midst of this storm: What if I have an accident and she gets hurt? How would she explain to him what she was doing in my car at this time of night? I don’t ask. I don’t want to give her anymore shit to think about. I’m enjoying my time with her.

Casey wants me to drop her off at her front door, which surprises me. When I picked her up, she'd insisted that I meet her at the corner so I wouldn't see where she lives. I’m pleased that I have gained her trust. She hands me $125 for the three jobs. I get $50 for each of the first two, then $25 for each one after that. I thank her and she says “you’re welcome” with that nice smile. The next time I drive for her, she will give me a hug at the end of the night. She really is a sweet kid.

I didn’t think about that night on the way home. It was just a job that I’ll do again next weekend. A few days later, though, I started to think about what my female friends would say if they found out about this. There are a couple who would take a swing at me, I'm sure. However, I'd felt that I’d done nothing wrong or "dirty" that night, and , although she doesn't adore this job, neither did Casey. I hoped that I would work with her again. I looked forward to getting to know some of the other girls as well, especially if they were as cool as Casey. That’s really why I’m doing this. To see the “human side” of their jobs...