man on the phone who’d never been a normal sixteen-year-old. Who called me back because he was worried that I was scared. Who texted me pictures of himself in a tux, like he knew he looked good.
“No,” I said. “I’m not bisexual or gay or stalking you. I’ve got this thing with a guy…”
“Same guy who gave you the bruises?”
“No.” Oh, God no. “Different guy. We do this thing on the phone—”
“Say no more,” Joan said, lifting up her hand, her face changing from confused and angry to begrudgingly respectful. “I don’t need details. And I have to say, I wouldn’t have pegged you for the type.”
“Here you are!” The waitress who took my order came up the small steps with a big, fancy glass with fruit sticking out of it on her tray. “I couldn’t find you.”
“Thank you,” I said, digging into my pocket for one of the twenties Dylan gave me.
“I got it,” Joan said. “Thanks, Denise.”
“No problem,” Denise said and she walked away.
“So?” Joan asked. “What are you going to do here?”
“Watch women dance, I guess.”
She gave me a long look. “How daring do you want to be?”
“It was pretty damn daring just walking in the door, trust me.”
“Yeah, but you’re here now. What are you going to do?”
“I’m supposed to call him…” I trailed off and glanced over her shoulder, back at that dark corner. The girl was now facing me, still on the guy’s lap, plastered really all along his chest and legs, like she’d been poured on him. Her eyes were closed and her face…well, if she was acting, if she was pretending to be turned on—she was totally convincing.
As I watched, the man’s hand slipped down across her tummy to cover her entire pussy, which was bare except for a small heart-shaped patch of hair. She twitched against him, her hand covering his, and as I watched, I wondered if she was going to lift that hand away. If that was against the rules or something.
But instead she held it there, grinding it against her, while she was grinding against him.
This. This moment. This was the hottest thing I’d ever seen.
“That’s Destiny,” Joan said. “Her real name is Renee, and when the song switches over she’s going to stand up, take that guy by the hand, and lead him over there.” She pointed to a dark alcove covered in one of those cheesy beaded curtains. “There’s a door there that leads back to the VIP room.”
“What’s she going to do there?” I whispered.
“Fuck him, maybe. Blow him for sure.”
Blow him. My entire body clenched tight.
“You want to call your guy and share something with him tonight, go in there now. Sit way back in the corner and watch them.”
“What?”
“Happens all the time. Husbands sit back there and watch their wives fuck another woman.”
“But…won’t they care?”
I was considering it. I was. Even before I consciously realized it I was halfway in that room.
“No. I’ll let her know you’re there. I’ll tell her about the phone. As long as you don’t take pictures it’s cool. She digs that shit. Probably put on a really good show for you.”
I was breathing hard. And my hand around the drink was numb from the cold.
“Music’s gonna change. Yes or no.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“What is it with you and the whys?” Joan asked, rolling her eyes.
I didn’t know. I really didn’t.
“Your guy is going to dig it,” she said, prodding me on.
Yes. He was.
“Okay,” I said. “But, Renee, is she…?” God, I didn’t know how to say it. “Does she have kids? Or like some kind of terrible drug habit? Or a dad who used to sneak into her room at night—”
“Is she a victim?”
“Yeah.”
“Does it matter?”
I gave Joan a long look. “Yeah.”
“Oh good God, Annie. I don’t ask her about her life. She’s tough. She’s smart and she doesn’t take shit from anyone.”
“Really?”
“Really. And she’s freaky as shit.”
I took one giant long draw of my drink and then set it down on the table, nearly running toward the curtained doorway. I slipped between the beads and there was a small hallway with two doorways, and at the end, a red illuminated exit sign.
Shit. Which door?
I opened the first. Inside it was thick with cigarette smoke, and there was a table with five men sitting around it. All of them turned to stare at me when I walked in.
“Wrong door, sister,” one of them said. A thin man with the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. Kind eyes. I