Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

One thing that Deborah always liked about Vegas was the drive-thrus. DJ got married in one, for crying out loud.

Another thing was anonymity. Nothing was like Sin City to cover her comings and goings, which would often be concealed by the veil of night.

After particularly difficult shows, she liked to drive through the busy streets, mixed with the sea of cars and buses, hidden in plain sight as tourists care about nothing other than the bright lights of The Strip.

It took a few minutes for her to reach her favorite parlor. The place was far enough from the main streets to call little to no attention, but not too deep into the city that she reached the neighborhoods.

Nobody needed to know what she did. Bringing people to her house was a little too dangerous. She was fully aware that it was her house, and she could do whatever the hell she pleased. However, she owed as much respect to her live-in staff as to keep her indiscretions away from them.

She was not proud of what she did. She went to that so-called massage place to release some tension in more ways than one. She would love to think she could get any man she wanted. Random guys were always drunk and available around the city, fans never missed the chance to be with a celebrity, even Marti was a phone call away. There was no reason for her to have to pay for it.

Yet, she liked it this way. She liked the blurry line she had established with Evan. They knew each other, but not really. He knew what she liked and how she liked it. He was foreign enough that he had no idea of who she was when they first met, which gave her the freedom to be whoever she wanted. She needed that, she needed that role-play that allowed her to lose herself, if just for the paid hour, and forget about her real problems and concerns.

The tunnel at the entrance greeted her with comforting darkness, the curve offering enough coverage from the outside world. The screen flashed next to her window, blinding red letters that she quickly tapped away. She didn’t have to think about it. She knew the position of the buttons and options by heart and pressed them as quickly as possible. The less time she spent by the entrance, the better.

Her car practically entered the designated spot by itself. The garage door of the drive in closed behind her, and she walked inside the poorly lit room. She didn’t mind the darkness as she had learned the layout of the room after so many late-night visits. Therefore, it came as a surprise when she threw her purse onto a couch that was suddenly not there. She looked at the expensive handbag on the floor, wondering what had happened to the decor.

The entire place was different. The deep red and black curtains were now green and white. The spacious heart-shaped bed had been replaced by an actual massage table. Even the sensual music she had grown used to was gone. Now, calming bird sounds flowed from the speakers.

Something was incredibly wrong.

“Please strip behind the partition,” an exaggerated breathy voice instructed her. “There’s a robe waiting for you.” The person was clearly faking their intonation, trying to make it a lot sultrier than it actually was.

Deborah looked around and found the folding screen in the corner, providing privacy as she removed her clothes. That was also new. She had never had to hide when getting naked. She was usually not the one doing it to herself. Things used to be so much freer. Maybe the establishment was looking for deeper covers, to look like an actual massage place. The happy endings did not have to be listed on the accounting books.

Following the instructions provided, she stripped and put the robe on. Pointless tasks, since she simply removed it a few seconds later as she reached the bed and lay down on her stomach. The thin sheet covered her lower half and her face landed inside the cushioned headrest.

She might as well play along and get an actual massage in the process.

A door opened behind her, and the breathy voice greeted her. “Hello,” the woman said in an accent so fake, it was impossible to place. “I will be your masseuse tonight. Any discomfort or any—”

“There’s been—” Deborah tried to interrupt the person, to let her know this whole thing was a mistake.

But a hand forcefully pushed her head down. “Face in the hole,” the masseuse said, walking around Deborah to the bowl of baby oil.

What was wrong with this woman?

Deborah tried to lift her head again. “Listen, I don’t know—”

“Face in hole,” the fake accent instructed as she was pushed down again.

That was it. She would not be treated like this. She took a better hold of the sheet to cover herself and fully sat up before the person had a chance to react. “I don’t know who the fuck you are!”

The rest of the insult died on her lips because she did know who the masseuse was.

“Ava!?”

The girl jumped back as her cover was blown. Her whole body sagged as she waved shyly. “Hi, Deb.”

“What in the world are you doing here?”

“I work here.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Uh. Yes. I do.”

“No, you don’t. Plus, isn’t this the third room?” Deborah pressed the sheet closer to her chest, suddenly feeling overly exposed.

“Yeah.”

“So where’s Evan?”

Ava sighed. “The rooms have changed. They are remodeling part of the building. Something about the new bill against illegal, umm, arrangements. There’s a sign on the prompter by the entrance.”

Deborah then remembered the bright screen she hadn’t cared to read. She had brought this on herself!

“That still doesn’t explain what you are doing here. Are you a…”

That was the part that she had begun to hate. She knew she could not say the word that jumped to the front of her mind. Deborah had never stopped to think if her words would land on sore ears. Ava had engrained so many new labels and socially acceptable concepts, that now she was taking a moment to make sure her phrasing was the least problematic possible.

Ultimately, she settled on a term. “Now you are a sex worker?”

“Hey!” Ava immediately turned defensive. “Sex work is honest work.”

Deborah raised a hand in mocked surrender. The other one still clutched the sheet for dear life.

The girl laughed, directing her eyes to the ceiling, as if she wanted to look anywhere but in her direction. “This is now a massage-only room,” Ava continued, providing an explanation. “Like regular, good ol’ soft tissue manipulation.”

“That’s insane!” Deborah declared as she got up, she needed to be out of there as soon as possible. “You will probably break some bones with those gigantic hands of yours!”

Ava quickly jumped to stand in front of her, blocking her way to the partition. “No, no, wait. I took a course. I got my certificate and everything. The trainer said I’m actually good at this. Let me show you.”

That was completely out of the question. This was her private place, her secret time. Deborah did not need Ava to be part of it. She had already invaded every other aspect of her life, but this was hers alone.

“You would actually be my first customer,” Ava confessed barely above a whisper. “I could use an honest opinion.”

No! The answer was no. Deborah knew it. It was right there at the tip of her tongue. But looking at those pleading eyes, listening to that broken voice. They did something to her. She ran her eyes up and down Ava, almost like making sure it was really her, that it was really them in that room and not her imagination running wild. That was when she noticed the name tag.

Grabbing Ava by the collar, Deborah forcefully pulled her closer to get a better look. She didn’t have her glasses on, but there was no mistaking what she was seeing.

“Perla?! You are going by fucking Perla?!”

The laughter that filled the room came from somewhere deep within her — a place so hidden, even to herself, that she had not realized it held so much joy. Deborah laughed and laughed until her chest hurt and tears escaped the corner of her eyes.

Ava’s nervous chuckles accompanied her outburst; not fully comprehending the reason behind such a strong reaction.

“I panicked, okay?” Ava confessed between bits of giggles. “They needed a name that wasn’t my own and this was the only one I could think of.”

“It’s so fucking stupid!” Deborah was breathless. “Perla!”

This was not what she had planned, but she could already feel the tension leaving her body. “Oh, alright!” She finally agreed. “But only because I already paid for my massage, and I don’t want to give you money for nothing.” She rearranged her sheet as she lay back down on the table. “God knows I already did that with your writing.”

Ava’s protest was half-hearted, probably not wanting to lose her first customer.

There were some beats of silence as Ava got everything set up. Then, Deborah felt warm fingers pressing down her shoulders. The music made sense now, the tranquility it evoked matched the relieving touch; which then moved down to her shoulder blades. Slight pain was followed by the magnificent release of her knotted muscles.

“Ava?” Deborah’s voice was muffled by the headrest. “Why are you working here?”

There was a grunt of acknowledgement. “Well, Kiki had this friend who went on maternity leave and—”

Deborah did not need to hear the rest of the explanation. Of course, Kiki was involved. She was the one that pointed her towards that pleasure house in the first place. That had been many moons ago, maybe Kiki had forgotten about it and had no idea she was sending them both in the same direction. Knowing her, this was probably her plan all along. Deborah wouldn’t be surprised if Kiki was the one doing the remodeling herself to make this happen.

“Why?” Deborah asked again. “Why are you working here?” Even though the question was the same, she knew the actual meaning had gotten across.

Ava stopped her work for a moment, only a fraction of a second, nearly imperceptible. She was surely trying to find the right words to answer the actual question. “Because you fired me.” The reason came out more like a question.

“I did not fire you,” Deborah reminded her. “I let you go.”

A scoff answered her comment before there was an actual reply. “Like there’s a difference.”

“Of course there is!” Deborah insisted.

She was ready to speak her mind. Maybe it was how relaxed she felt, maybe it was the shock of being in such a place together, or maybe it was because they were not face to face. Speaking to a carpet made it a lot easier to open up.

“I let you go so you could do bigger things. You were meant to connect with all those producers and writers you met at the release party. They were practically begging you to work with them. Your contract ended so you could get better deals, fulfilling your actual purpose.”

The kneading of her flesh fully stopped. Deborah sat up and found Ava’s glassy eyes.

“I let you go so you could do better than me.”

They stared at each other. The endless battle of wills was fully in motion. There was nothing really left to say that they had not fought about already. There had been tears, anger, and shouting; but Deborah had come from a place of love, of admiration. Everything she did, she did it with Ava’s happiness in mind. How had she thrown it all to waste?

Ava was the first to break eye contact. She looked down at her feet and then around the room, her lips a thin line as she tried not to cry.

“Your hour is up,” she said to the air between them before turning around.

Deborah saw Ava cleaning her hands on a towel and walking towards the door. She needed to do something, things could not be left like this.

“Hey, Perla!” She yelled just as a ray of light made it through the slightly opened door. “Do you do house calls?”