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Which means that if someone hurts Lu, I can’t count on Gwen to look out for her.
And that doesn’t work for me.
I look at my watch. “Boys, it’s time to get back to the office. But Lu, thank you for having a drink with us. It’s a pleasure to get to know you better.”
I’ll find out more about what the hell happened between ‘John Doe’ and her later. I’ll be letting him know, in no uncertain terms, that he needs to clean his act up. I know his type. He’ll probably piss his pants when he realizes who he’s up against. And after we let him know, he’ll never harass a woman again.
Unless he’s a complete idiot.
As she gets to her feet, I take her hand and gently kiss the back of it. I want to kiss so much more, but that time will come.
Fuck, what if she really had been a virgin? And that asshole Rowan was the one to pop her cherry?
Goddammit.
“Th… thank you. The champagne was very… nice. It’s a good thing I live nearby and don’t have to drive far, although I don’t think I’ll be doing much studying today,” she says with a laugh that’s about a hundred percent more confident than when our little meeting began.
Fuck if I don’t want to take her with us. Protect her from the bastard John Does out there and the greedy Gwens. Show her there are people who will look after her.
And feed her as much champagne as she would like.
* * *
CHAPTERELEVEN
LUCI
I re-tiethe sash on my new knock-off Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress, something I found on sale at Macy’s, a store I’ve only ever been to one other time, when I first arrived in Chicago. It’s so famous, and I’d heard so much about it, that it was one of the first things I wanted to see. I’d sneaked a peek at the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade a few times over the years, although my parents didn’t approve, even if it was just a holiday parade. In fact, to this day I harbor a secret desire to visit New York. But I keep that to myself. It’s bad enough I’m willing to give Chicago a try.
Today’s job in Room 21 is acting out a bank robbery. I’m kind of excited. No, scratch that. I’m really excited. I know I shouldn’t be, and that my mother would say the stuff I’ve been doing at the club is condemning me to a life of fire and brimstone. But first, she’ll never know, and second, I was well on my way toward believing all that talk about sinning and hell was questionable before I arrived in Chicago, anyway.
I mean, I’ve long wondered if some of my parents’ Bible talk was over the top. Some of it just never made sense to me. I tried to understand it. I really did. I looked for all the signs that solidified the faith of everyone I knew. According to our church, these signs are all around us. Everywhere. But if that’s the case, how come I never saw any of them? Was I not looking hard enough? Did God not want me to see them?
I’m just different. That’s all I can chalk it up to, and now that I’m out of the small town I came from, I can see there are lots of people like me—people who want more of what the world has to offer.
To God’s believers, those who are confident in their faith, more power to them. I’m honestly happy for them. But I just don’t belong. I’ve suspected that for a long time, and now that I’m on a new path, I finally feel like I’m becoming whole.
That doesn’t mean it’s easy, though. Oh no.
Like what I do for the club. Some people might feel badly for me, submitting to men who want to use my body in ways only wicked, immoral women allow. They can feel that way all they want. But I know the money I make will help me stay on track with my life plans. And it goes without saying, I like the work. A lot.
It scares me to no end that I enjoy what I’m doing. It’s exhilarating. I never know what to expect.
How my life has changed. And continues to.
Until recently, there was just one minimum-wage paycheck standing between my crappy little apartment and homelessness. Mine was a tenuous existence at best. In fact, it still is on some levels—it’s just me and the dreams of a silly fool that keep me getting out of bed every day.
But I’ll take tenuous any day, after what I came from.
After fixing my new dress, I give my thigh-high stockings—something else Gwen suggested I invest in—one more tug after I make sure no one’s in the hall to see me adjusting myself, and round the corner to Room 21. Today’s roleplay will be a fun one.
And as soon as I do, everything goes black.
I freeze in place, unsure what to do. Then, I try to scream, praying it’s not the creep John Doe. But a hand clamps tightly over my mouth, preventing me from making a sound and even making it a little hard to breathe.
Oh god. Is this the end? Is this the punishment for my sinful ways?
It’s funny, the minute things start going south, how we run back to God.
