A Caged Bird Set Free

Chapter 1 I was bound to Evan Zimmerman for a year and a half. I cared for him during his drunken episodes and became his pretty plus-one whenever he attended business meetings. I did everything for him and waited on him hand and foot. I was at his beck and call.

And yet, he grew tired of me anyway.

I pulled myself together after that and prepared for a strong comeback, only for Evan to ask me if I would date him again—not as a sugar baby, but as his girlfriend.

…

I was a model—not the proper sort, of course. The details of my real job were far from savory. Everyone in the industry had a sponsor and moved on from one to the next throughout our careers. I was no exception, and my current sponsor was Evan Zimmerman.

It had been about a year since I first met Evan, which meant our contract was ending in less than half a month.

It was an unspoken rule in the industry to talk to our sponsors about whether we would renew the contract or go our separate ways. Our jobs were heavily reliant on youth and beauty, both of which were so fickle that it was hard to find new sponsors.

Should my sponsor decide not to renew his contract with me, I had to look for a new one before the contract ended.

If I had to be honest, I actually quite liked having Evan as a sponsor. I’d kick my feet up in the air if he told me he wanted to renew our contract.

Unfortunately, I understood Evan well enough to know better than to be optimistic. He was far too attractive. There would always be a roster of shiny, new toys to fawn over men who had attained a certain level of wealth and status.

Even if I were to pull out all the tricks I knew, there were only so many movements the human anatomy could allow. Besides, Evan and I had tried everything in bed. I doubted I could surprise or impress him at this point.

I stayed in a hillside villa that was built on a five-thousand-square-foot land. Evan had put me up in this luxurious abode, as he did with his former sugar babies. I had no idea how many of them had preceded me.

The thought that I’d be moving out of this spacious villa in half a month distressed me.

It was almost midnight when the housekeeper woke me up. She told me Evan had returned, which was my cue to get up and tend to his needs.

Our jobs weren’t as easy as they seemed. We didn’t get paid just for lying on our backs and spreading our legs. We had to be quick-witted, not to mention lucky.

A bad sponsor could ruin your life and career. In the three years since I joined the industry, I’d seen a few of my so-called “co-workers” saddled with sponsors who went through sugar babies faster than they changed clothes.

I was lucky enough to have a generous sponsor like Evan. He was perfect save for his wild tendencies in bed.

After throwing on my dressing gown, I hurried downstairs to find Evan sprawled atop the couch. His eyes were heavy-lidded, and he reeked of alcohol.

The housekeeper handed me a cup of honey ginger tea. I took it and pressed the edge of the cup to Evan’s lips, softly prompting, “Take a sip, Mr. Zimmer.”

Evan’s last name was Zimmerman, but he hated being addressed as “Mr. Zimmerman”. It was a strange pet peeve. I was grateful to have misheard his name when we first met and believed his last name was “Zimmer” instead. My blunder got his attention and worked out in my favor.

According to Evan, he’d had to resist punching those who unwittingly addressed him as “Mr. Zimmerman” during their first meetings.

He took two sips of the honey ginger tea and frowned. I quickly put the cup down.

Ignoring the overpowering fumes of alcohol mixed with his cologne, I kept my face straight as I took off his clothes and socks. I fetched a basin of hot water and slowly wiped him down. He was conscious enough to lift his head and limbs when I went over them with the damp cloth.

“How long have you been with me, Lena?” Evan asked.

“Almost a year, Mr. Zimmer,” I replied.

He nodded. “The contract’s ending soon, then.”

My heart sank. Were we discussing the contract renewal now? If he chose to terminate the contract for good, I wondered how much severance fee I could get in turn.

Knowing Evan’s generosity, I wouldn’t have to work as a sugar baby anymore if he gave me a handsome amount.

Unfortunately, he fell silent after he remarked on the contract. I waited patiently beside him, only to hear his soft, steady breathing that indicated he’d fallen asleep.

The next day, my friend told me to tag along to the beauty parlor.

Before I turned 18, I’d never dreamt of making such frequent trips to the beauty parlor. Alas, being an escort was costly. We were paid generously for our work, but we were high-maintenance too.

With the slew of pretty young things joining the industry, a successful career as an escort boiled down to two things: technique and beauty.

I had to look polished from head to toe. My visits to the parlor could cost me anything between four figures to six, depending on the beauty treatment of the day.

My last treatment package had cost me 200 thousand dollars. I could scarcely breathe as I swiped my card. But in all fairness, it was money well spent.

I remembered how quickly Evan had lost control that night, which was rare. The man had stunning endurance, after all. I could pull out every trick I knew and he’d still find a way to hold himself back.

At the beauty parlor, my friend asked me what my plans were after Evan. He told me he was recently acquainted with a sponsor from Sidaria. The sponsor was a decent person, and my friend asked if I was interested in joining him for their next meeting.

I quickly turned him down.

Although the chances of Evan renewing our contract were slim, the contract was still ongoing. He’d kill me if he knew I was hunting for a new sponsor behind his back.

“I wonder which lucky little slice will become Evan’s next sponsor,” my friend mused enviously.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” I said casually.

Evan hated it when others speculated on his intentions, but it was in our nature as escorts to pry into others’ preferences. I’d been with Evan for nearly a year, and I had seen plenty of his affiliates send him pretty men and women as favors.

People like Evan couldn’t care less about the escort’s gender. He’d compensate them handsomely as long as they could please him in bed.

Evan had been passionate with me at first, but his interest waned over time. Perhaps he had grown used to me, and the novelty of my bedroom services wore off.

He might very well have someone new to warm his bed next year.

I was halfway through my beauty treatment when Evan called me. He sent me an address and told me to head over immediately.

The address was a private clubhouse, and entry was members-only. I had a vague feeling of what might happen. Sure enough, Evan was entertaining his clients from Fernvale when I arrived.

I was here to please these clients, albeit in a different way. Like a party favor.

At this point, I was a bona fide expert in that department. I downed my drinks with gusto and talked up Evan’s clients, livening up the atmosphere in the lounge. Some of the clients handed me their cards right under Evan’s nose and expressed their interest in me.

I furtively cast Evan a glance to gauge what he made of this, but sadly, I had never been able to see through him.

Chapter 2 I couldn’t read Evan’s emotions. I wasn’t particularly smart, but I tread carefully enough to avoid trouble. I wouldn’t do anything to piss Evan off while I was around him.

As such, I turned down the client’s name card and professed my undying loyalty toward Evan. Everyone who heard this burst out laughing, but not Evan.

He sat as still as a statue and leveled an unreadable look at me. I flashed him a dazzling smile in return. When it came to elaborate affairs among bigwigs such as this one, the real fun only started after dinner.

The battlefield shifted as we adjourned to the spacious drinking lounge where bottles of expensive alcohol bedecked the coffee table. The madam led a small group of men and women into the lounge as if they were delicately wrapped presents waiting to be picked off the shelf.

Some in the group I realized had only just passed the legal age. We had to be shrewd to survive in this line of work, and I could tell at one glance if another escort was young or only pretending to be young.

Evan had the young lady, who looked barely 18, stay.

I immediately grew wary. I didn’t mind playing dirty, but I could not wage a fight against the young lady. I could pretend to have the kind of wide-eyed naivety these young ones so effortlessly touted, but she was the real thing.

“First time dealing with punters, huh?” Evan asked.

The young lady nodded shyly. Her nerves got the better of her as she poured him a drink. Her hands trembled, and some of the liquor spilled.

Evan did not get angry and instead shot me a look. I understood the silent command in his eyes. It was my job to pour the drinks and leave the entertainment to the young lady.

I kept my eyes and ears open even as I worked the crowd. I poured the drinks, sang karaoke, and even danced suggestively when I felt like it. I vaguely overheard Evan chatting up the young lady and asking for her name and age.

The young lady was 18 and hailed from a remote coastal town. Someone in her family was sick, and she needed money. It was such a typical and overused sob story that it bordered on cheesy. I couldn’t bring myself to use it.

When Evan asked me why I became an escort, I told him I was too lazy to make an honest living. I wanted to make easy money. I believed he was drawn to me because I was forthcoming and unpretentious.

Alas, I watched as Evan bought the young lady’s sob story. He even reached for his checkbook and wrote her a check!

I was shocked. Had I known a sob story like that could butter him up, the young lady wouldn’t stand a chance!

He could have told me he was into tragic backstories! I was known for my moving essays back in school, and I could have come up with a devastating backstory for myself if that was what Evan liked!

It was three in the morning by the time the drinking crowd dispersed. Evan left with the young lady but wasn’t so heartless as to forget about me. He had his driver give me a lift home as a reward for my stunning services tonight.

The driver had turned on the air conditioning to just the right temperature, but I was flushed from the drinks. I sat in the backseat and willed my stomach to stop churning, but in the end, I had the driver pull over.

The car had barely rolled to a stop before I hurtled out and braced myself against the dirty roadside trash bins. I threw up violently.

A year with Evan had taken a serious toll on my ability to hold my drinks. I’d had all kinds of wine and liquor tonight, though not more than seven or eight bottles. And yet, here I was, throwing up like a pathetic drunkard.

The driver probably took pity on me as he got out of the car to hand me a tissue.

At some point, I was coughing up bile, and the bitter taste in my mouth made me grimace as I thanked the driver for checking on me.

“Are you all right? Shall I take you to the hospital?” he offered.

“I’m fine.” I waved my hand dismissively. “It’s no big deal. I can handle this.”

This wasn’t the first time I’d hurled after drinking. I wasn’t that delicate.

I held on to whatever was left of my lucidity until I got home. My brain felt like it had turned to mush, and if I closed my eyes now, I was certain I would pass out like a log.

However, I lost all sense of sleep as soon as I lay on the bed.

I had a strong feeling that I was about to be replaced by the pretty young thing Evan had spoken to tonight.

Damn it. How could she be so lucky as to land a sponsor like Evan on her debut? I couldn’t even begin to describe how jealous I was of her.

My gut feeling proved right. I did not see Evan again for the rest of the week, but I heard from various sources that the young lady from the other night had unsurprisingly become his new favorite. She was famous now.

I cursed myself for adopting a compassionate and understanding persona instead of a demanding one. If I were the latter, I could have marched right up to Evan and forbidden him from sidelining me after hooking up with someone new.

The days passed, and my contract with Evan ended. Astute as I was, I packed my things and left before Evan could throw me out of the villa.

In truth, I knew he hadn’t brought up the contract renewal because he didn’t intend to keep me around. Still, that didn’t make leaving behind the material comforts of living in a villa and having a housekeeper any easier.

Evan had his secretary discuss the details of our severance with me including my new abode. As it turned out, he had arranged for me to move into an apartment near the city center. It was valued at around six million dollars.

I immediately considered putting the property on the market and cashing in on it. After all, I did not have much savings and had loose spending habits. After a few months of staying in a fancy apartment like that, I’d stop being able to afford the management fees.

The day after I moved out of the villa, I was handed a name card—the same one I had turned down during Evan’s business gathering at the clubhouse the other night.

My friend remarked, “He’s not a bad sponsor. Besides, you and Evan are no longer a going concern. You’ve got to act fast!”

I hesitated. “But the guy’s from Fernvale, and I don’t want to move to a new place.”

My friend sighed. “I wouldn’t even be worried about that if I were you. With the kind of money and status he has, you won’t be his only sugar baby. I’m sure he has lovers in many places; he probably has countless of them abroad.

“Get him to rent a place for you here so you can tend to him while he’s here on business. You know we can’t go without a sponsor for too long. Even a short break could cost us our careers.

“Why would anyone bother to bankroll your lifestyle and keep you as their sugar baby if you don’t go to parties and keep up a friendly relationship with your sponsors?”

When I did not respond, my friend narrowed his eyes at me. “Please don’t tell me you’ve had a change of heart.”

“You’re right,” I finally said, pulling myself together. “I can’t stop. I’ve got money to make.”

“There’s a golf thing this weekend. I could bring you,” my friend offered, satisfied with my reply. “Make it count.”

I looked into the Fernvale businessman’s preferences and put on a pair of gold-framed glasses on the day I was slated to golf with him. I even wore a blouse and a fitted pencil skirt to look like a polished office lady with a cushy, white-collar job.

I felt the Fernvale sponsor’s gaze linger on me when he saw me, and I knew the cat was in the bag.

He chuckled and grinned at my witty commentary. I told him I didn’t know how to golf and leaned close to him. I toyed with my golf club while he toyed with me, both of us seeking what we wanted and needed.

In the distance, a golf cart was approaching us. I looked up and inadvertently saw Evan with his arm around the young lady.

He eyed me indifferently as I leaned into my new sponsor’s arms. Like a pair of conjoined twins, we swung our arms back and brought the golf club down in a sweeping arc.

With a firm thwack, we sent the golf ball flying. I watched as it took on a strange trajectory and hit Evan squarely on the head.