Go Flex - Post Malone

11

She is packing to visit Austin for the weekend as per his detached request. She has not seen much of him as he spends most of his time in Utah, in the studio, or on the road and he does not phone to check up on her like he used to. He still comes down once a month, spends the week parting, the weekend with her then disappears into his life again. She jumps when she hears her phone ring and her body shakes when she sees who is phoning her. "Brandy. I need a visit," she hears the cold frantic voice come through the line. She had forgotten to block his number. Stupid mistake. She had just been so rattled at the time. "Your contract has been revoked. Do not call me again," she says calmly although she is shaking inside. "No! You can't fucking do that!" her ex-client screams. She cuts the call and blocks his number and throws the burner phone she has for him away. She needs to be more careful.

He had been too rough and cracked her rib. She can't go to anyone about it, it would put her business in jeopardy. Besides, she's a prostitute - she has no rights so she just lay low for a few weeks till it healed. If her other clients had found out they would have been furious and insisted she takes her ex-client to the cleaners - she can't really. The contracts she has are actually just bullshit. Marshal would probably hunt him down and kill him, Austin would lose his fucking mind. She lifts her shirt and checks her ribs. There is only a very light shadow of a bruise that is only noticeable because she knows it's there. She puts makeup on it and needs to make sure she keeps it hidden. Austin is forever checking over her body carefully, afraid he has hurt her when he gets a little too rough - he never does though, he's very careful with her.

When she arrives at Austin's house he is waiting at the front door, his once-always smiling face now always slightly perplexed. She gets out of her car and walks slowly up the stairs. He knows to stay sober for her visits and she can see his hands shaking as his body demands some form of intoxication. "Hey, baby," he whispers, pulling her into his arms and kissing her. She ignores the swoop her stomach makes - this is her job and she needs to keep her emotions in check, but she will admit she has missed him. "Go inside, there are gifts on the bed and your payment. I ordered us food, it's almost here. I will be in soon," he says kissing her again and then pushing her inside gently.

Drugs, sex, reckless behavior, and killer tracks - that's Austin's sales pitch now and his team pushes it hard, so does he. Alcohol bottles and remnants of drug paraphernalia now sit in his kitchen as she walks through. There is not much personal about his house and she can see he uses it as a dumping ground for his promo stuff, parties, and fucking her. He drops big money on clothing and cars and looks more like a prototype of a superstar than a human. While in LA he is Post Malone - Austin, is reserved for Utah and he never asks her up there. Trixie knows she is not his only whore now although she remains his most expensive and most used. He prefers his others to mill around the extravagant parties he throws and fucks them in pairs after. Trixie, he likes on her own and she remains an unknown presence in his life - his private fantasy. He has not crossed any boundaries and their relationship is strictly client and his prostitute. His once-salvaged relationship with his girlfriend has broken down and he leaves it discarded. Trixie only knows because the softly-spoken girlfriend gave an interview and although she remained tight-lipped about their relationship and the breakdown of it she did say that Austin is no longer someone she recognizes and is heading down a slippery slope. Trixie agrees although she can still see that playful man peeping out through his soft blue eyes.