Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“Dissociate?”
“That’s the one. I go into auto-pilot, letting out a moan every now and then to make the client feel like he’s doing a good job. But every so often a patron I’m attracted to purchases me. That’s always nice.”
“But nine times out of ten it’s going to be someone you’d rather not sleep with.”
“Of course.”
“Then how do you dissociate?”
He sighs. “I think about lying on a warm, sunny beach. Letting the waves tickle my toes. I listen for the sounds of seagulls and the distant blowing of ship horns. And here’s a little industry secret.” He lowers his voice, even though it’s just the two of us in the room. “They pay for an hour, but most of the sessions are done within fifteen minutes or so.”
I widen my eyes. “You’re joking.”
“Of course not. Most of these men are on the older side, and they’ve only got one shoot in them. Once they get there, they’re usually done. The clarity kicks in and they realize what they’ve done. They silently gather their things and head out, leaving the cash on the nightstand. And then I have the rest of the hour to myself before Rouge expects me back on the floor.”
“They don’t ever want to…cuddle or anything?”
“Every now and then. But it’s pretty uncommon. Most men want to get their rocks off and then get back to their drinks.”
I take a deep breath in. It doesn’t sound all that bad.
Like Jack said, not pleasant. But manageable.
If I got through that unending tryst with Mr. Shippe at my Reflections callback, I can get through anything. And the reward for these sessions will be guaranteed. Shippe put me through the wringer and then proceeded to not even cast me in his show.
In a way, I’ve already sold my body. I just got screwed over in the process.
The toothpaste is already out of the tube.
What’s a few more times? Just enough to cover rent for a nice apartment in the good part of town?
It’s just sex, right?
People enjoy sex.
Can it really be all that bad?
I’m not looking forward to this.
It’s been a little over four years since I’ve spoken with Jack.
He works in my section, so seeing him is unavoidable.
Speaking with him, however, is entirely optional.
He’s not allowed to speak while he’s on Aces grounds anyway. When I do bump into him, I just course correct like a Roomba in a cluttered room, turn the other way and find something else to do.
The last time we spoke, he was screaming in my face before slamming my own door on me.
I moved out of that apartment the next day. I’d finally saved up enough money from sucking and fucking the Aces patrons to size up. I wasn’t going to make the official move until a few days later, but after that last night with Jack, I couldn’t bear living in a space I associated so much with him.
I never played Settlers of Catan or any of our other favorite games again, either. I donated my entire collection to Goodwill and threw myself into furnishing my new apartment.
Of course, knowing now what I know… Jack was right all along.
I don’t look forward to that part of the conversation either.
I get into my car and make the drive out west to Forest Park and the Caterpillar Hotel.
Harrison wanted to come with me, but he’s working today. He’s been playing hooky enough as it is. But while he’s at the hospital, he can also look into the St. Charles patients’ organ donations, see if any evidence points to a connection to Rouge.
If he can find that connection, we can avoid tracking Jack to see if anyone is going to try to kill him at the end of his contract. But I know my sister. She’ll have buried her involvement in this beneath several layers of scapegoats and red herrings. I doubt Harrison will uncover anything damning, but we have to attack this from all angles.
I told Harrison that, while Jack and I have some bad blood between us, he would never lay a finger on me. Harrison wasn’t wholly convinced, but I promised him I’d be safe doing this on my own. Even so, he insisted I text him at every juncture on my outing today.
I pull out my phone. Just parked, I text him.
Good. Let me know when you’re safely back at the car.
Will do. Thanks for looking out for me.
Of course, babe.
The Caterpillar Hotel parking lot is empty, so I parked a few blocks away to remain inconspicuous. Rouge isn’t supposed to do her weekly check-in at the hotel for a few more days, but just in case she makes an unplanned visit, I don’t want her to see my car in the lot. We did the same thing the night we rescued Maddox and Alissa, and we got away with it then.