Chapter 88 Pleasing Men Is Your Habit, Isn't It?
Margaret's eyelid wouldn't stop twitching. She knew she had to snag the cash first to avoid any regrets later.
Donna chuckled. "That's not how it works, hon."
Margaret got up from the couch, ready to bounce. "Then find someone else. I don't see your sincerity."
Something felt off, but she couldn't put her finger on it.
Donna grabbed her wrist, flashing a friendly smile. "Still don't trust me? Fine, give me your account number, and I'll have the finance team wire the money right now."
Margaret handed over her bank details. Donna made a quick call, and two minutes later, her phone buzzed—$200,000 had landed in her account.
Donna smirked. "See? We mean business. Now, can you come with us to get your makeup done?"
Margaret nodded. "Alright."
Donna led her upstairs, where everything was bathed in a golden glow, both dazzling and mysterious.
Donna opened a private room where a line of girls was getting their makeup done.
She told Margaret to wait and asked the makeup artist to speed it up, then left.
Margaret was worried something might go wrong and the money wouldn't reach Marlon. So she quickly transferred all the money from her account to Nancy's and sent a message: [Mom, here's $300,000. I'll give you the other $200,000 by tomorrow.]
Nancy replied: [Margaret, where did you get this money? Did Raymond give it to you?]
Margaret scoffed. If Raymond had given her money, she wouldn't be here hustling drinks.
Not wanting Nancy to stress, she replied, [Yeah, he gave it to me. Get some rest.]
Nancy: [Margaret, thanks.]
Margaret: [It's what I should do.]
After replying, Margaret felt a wave of bitterness and turned off her phone.
The makeup artist called her over to the makeup mirror.
She sat down.
The makeup brushes looked grimy.
Margaret was a bit of a germaphobe, but she sucked it up.
She needed the money.
Half an hour later, she was dolled up with heavy eyeshadow, red lips, and her hair in wavy curls.
She looked ten years older instantly.
But Margaret had great skin, and even with all that makeup, she still looked stunning.
As the makeup artist finished up, she asked curiously, "You look so good, why are you doing this job?"
Margaret was about to answer.
The makeup artist gave her a knowing look. "I get it. We're all just trying to survive. We need money, so we hustle."
"Don't blame me for the heavy makeup. It's nothing personal. Tonight's client, though rich, has terrible taste.
"But you're really beautiful. Even with this makeup, you look amazing.
"Mr. Ingram must be nuts. He thinks his clients like this look. Nowadays, any man with a bit of class prefers a lighter touch."
Margaret wasn't really listening. She had too much on her mind.
She wondered how Daniel was doing.
She was also more worried about getting the final payment tonight, not knowing that Rex had already decided to send her to Raymond's bed.
After the makeup was done, the makeup artist brought her an outfit to change into.
It was a sequined, shiny burgundy bodycon dress.
In her hand, it was just a tiny piece of fabric.
There was also a lace-trimmed bustier.
Margaret felt something was off and looked at the makeup artist, puzzled. "Do I really have to wear this?"
The makeup artist shrugged. "Didn't the person who brought you here tell you? It's the rule."
Margaret's eyelid twitched, and her unease grew. "Is it really just to deliver a bottle of wine?"
The makeup artist covered her mouth, her eyes twinkling with a smile. "Is that what she told you?"
Margaret nodded. "Yeah."
"If she said so, then it must be. Hurry up and change. Once you're done, my job's finished." The makeup artist yawned. "I need to catch up on sleep. I'm beat."
Margaret didn't want to bother her, so she took the clothes and went behind the curtain to change.
Margaret kept reassuring herself. She must be overthinking. They had already transferred $200,000 as a deposit, showing their sincerity. How could there be a problem?
The Velvet Lounge was the biggest bar in Silverbrook, not some shady dive.
She changed into the clothes and stepped out from behind the curtain.
Margaret was then asked to slip into a pair of high heels.
But she preferred wearing sneakers.
Raymond had also said he didn't like her in high heels and preferred her clean look.
Margaret tried hard to push Raymond out of her mind. He had hurt her so much; she couldn't think about him anymore.
The makeup room door swung open.
Donna, still with a cigarette dangling from her lips, glanced at Margaret standing nearby.
A look of surprise and delight flashed in her eyes. "You're so pretty even in this."
"Has Mr. Ingram arrived?" Margaret forced a smile. She didn't care about being pretty; she only cared about finishing the job and getting the final payment.
Donna glanced at the makeup artist and joked, "She's more eager than us. Truly dedicated, huh?"
"He's here. I was just coming to get you. Follow me." Donna looked Margaret up and down, then turned and walked to the makeup room door, opened it, and walked out.
Margaret followed closely behind.
The hallway lights flickered, creating an atmosphere that was both ambiguous and oppressive, making Margaret feel despair.
She used to look down on this kind of work, but now she was doing what she once despised.
This must be what growing up was.
An assistant in a suit vest, white shirt, and black trousers held a tray.
On the tray was a bottle of red wine.
The assistant walked up to Donna, who gave him a look.
The assistant then handed the tray to Margaret.
Margaret took the tray.
Donna led her to a private room, stopped at the door, and looked at Margaret. "We're here. Be good and don't make Mr. Ingram angry. Do whatever he asks. You'll get a good tip if things go well."
Margaret nodded.
Donna's gaze fell on Margaret's legs. She bent down slightly and pulled up Margaret's bodycon dress. "Your legs are so beautiful. You have to show them off so they won't give you a hard time, understand?"
Before Margaret could respond, Donna turned and abruptly pushed open the private room door.
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