Honesty is Always the Best Policy

            I decided not to be ridiculous and I gave the lawyer my phone number. There was serious apprehension about this. It took a week for him to get back to me.

            “You know what your problem is, don’t you?” He asks.

            “Yeah. I buried myself.”

            “I’ve been reading these documents and you are just way to honest.”

            It was that moment when Joseph walked into my apartment and dropped the set of keys into the dish by the door. I didn’t want it to happen this way. I felt like I’d been waiting all day for him to walk into my apartment with his keys. I didn’t want to be on the phone with a client. I wanted to be available to him. He came to me anyway. He walked up behind me, wrapped his arms around me, cupping my breast in his strong hand, and placed his face in the crook of my neck. I grinned at him, tickled by his new whiskers.

            “Listen,” the lawyer said, “This isn’t really my area of expertise. I’ll give you the number of my friend, he’s an immigration lawyer. Tell him I referred you.”

            I jotted the information down. I knew this would happen. I knew he wouldn’t be able to help me. Clients talk a big talk. They like to be able to prove themselves useful, to save me. It’s always bullshit. I can’t afford a lawyer, and I told him that from the beginning.

            I hung up the phone and turned my attention back to Joseph. Taking him by the hand I lead him into the kitchen, showing him, with the excitement of a six year old, the dinner I had planned to cook him. Then my phone rang again.

            “Hi Alison, it’s John again. I just spoke to you about your legal issues.”

            Seriously? He needed to re-introduce himself like that? It had been 92 seconds.

            “Yes?” I ask.

            “Well, I just spoke to you as a lawyer, but then I hung up. Now I’m calling you as… well not a lawyer.”

            I knew this would happen. This is why I never give out my phone number. I make calls like these all the time, but to receive them. I felt like Pretty Woman when George Costanza puts his creepy lecherous hands on her. I just didn’t feel prepared. And with Joseph right there! He knows about my job and turns a blind eye. A very blind eye. He doesn’t want me to talk about work at all, he just wants to do his best to not think about it. See, this is a temporary arrangement we have. We’ve been dating since early December, and February 11^th he flies back to his side of the country. He’s just here for the winter, then that’s it with us. Hence being able to over look this little detail.

            “I’m just calling you back to talk about arranging ‘payment’ for my services.”

            “Listen John. Now’s not a good time to talk about that.”

            I just couldn’t find the words to tell him to fuck off without letting Joseph know what I was talking about. I don’t think I’ll ever 'pay' him. He's not any more or less attractive than any of my other clients, but the idea of fucking him with out cash changing hands makes my skin crawl. I know it's barter, but it's just not the same.  Fuck him. I extended trust last week to a client for the first time since I was a newb, and sure enough he conned me. One Hundred. Percent. Of. The. Time. It makes me feel a lot less guilty about screwing this guy over. I just feel the dread of an impending second phone call.