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“I was getting by because he paid me by the month. He paid me the same thing every month so I would have stability. And he paid for my room at the brothel.” I sigh at the memories, which are so sad now. “It was kind of like living in a hotel...or a dorm. Lots of other women. It was fun I guess. The sorority I never had.” I snicker humorlessly. “And just like sorority bitches, there were lots of jealous women. People who wanted this man.” I pause, linking my fingers together, as I try to remember the way Drake Carlson looked. The way he smelled. The way he held me. “He was a nice enough man. He looked nice. But there was never any chemistry, at least on my end. Maybe it's because he paid me. That has a way of taking chemistry away. But I think it was because of his age.”

“He was older?” Evan rasps.

I turn my eyes to him and find him clenching his right fist atop his knee.

“Yes, he was an older man. Old enough to be my dad, I guess.” That thought is creepy. “Women of different ages wanted him. He was kind of...well-known, I guess you would say. One of the women who wanted him was a porn star.”

I get a funny feeling in my stomach so I look over at Evan. Suddenly I wish that he would take my hand. I've never told this story to anyone before, and now that I'm upon it, I feel...damaged. Like something inside of me is bleeding.

I link my hands together tightly and look out at a vase beside the massive, mahogany entertainment center, but I can't find the words I need. I look back at Evan. He's got his elbows on his knees, but he’s shifted back a little, so his back is against the couch and I can see his face; I can see he looks like he's awaiting his own death sentence.

“Evan...are you sure you want to hear this? I don't have to share it.”

He nods once. “Yes, I'm sure. Go on.” His body looks stiff enough that I could break him with a tap.

I swallow hard, wishing I'd never started down this path.

“There was a porn star who I had heard had a big thing for my client. She didn't understand why he was paying me to be his escort and his mistress when he could have her. She was older.” I exhale, seeing Priscilla's made-up face inside my mind. She had veneers and they always kind of scared me. They were too white. Almost like a vampire's teeth. I rub my eyes, feeling a lot older than my years. “She was pretty in that porn-star way and lots of men in Vegas wanted her. I guess lots of men everywhere wanted her.” I shrug. “My client had met her once before, but he didn't hit it off with her. He thought she came on too strong, and she made a derogatory comment about his wife. That had made him mad.”

I hear Evan swallow and I look over to find him looking slightly gray. “Are you okay?” I ask. “Should I stop?”

I don't really understand why he’s acting this way, and maybe it's not my business anyway. Then suddenly I think get it: It’s the wife thing. He’s probably appalled to hear the details of my ‘affair’. I bite my lip. I can’t really blame him.

I take a deep breath and I can feel his eyes on me.

“Go on.”

I need a minute to collect myself, so I ask him, “Do you know of Jim Gunn? He’s done this more than once. Sold women, I mean.” There was another one: Ginny something, I think. She was a little while before me, and one time Guapo told me she was sold in France. I’m sure there might have been more before her, and some after me as well.

I glance at Evan, and he looks distracted—or maybe upset. I just want to bring things back to Earth a little before I drop anymore sordid details on him, so I ask, “What about Priscilla Heat? Have you ever seen her movies?”

Evan’s brows knit together and his mouth twists, like he's confused. “Do I know of her?” He shakes his head almost violently, like he's trying to get a bee out of his hair. Without really looking at me, he rubs a hand over his face. “No, I haven’t seen her movies.”

“Oh. I guess I thought...” I shake my head. “She’s kind of big time.”

He clenches his jaw and moves his head just a little, like he wants to shake it but his neck hurts.

When he says nothing more, I continue hesitantly. “My client didn't like her, and she didn't like me. She knew I wasn't really...in the industry. I think that made her mad. Some women reacted that way when they heard about me. I was a kept girl at a brothel, but I'd never prostituted myself. People used to joke about how I couldn't satisfy my client. How could I when I didn't have any experience?”