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I shake my head.
“All of them, Dad. He owns all the Shake Places in the world, from the original one here in New York to most recent one that opened in Tokyo.”
My parents are still utterly puzzled.
“But why would he give you money, sweetheart?” my dad inquires again.
“Because he likes me, and he believes in me. I like him, too. We’re both entrepreneurs, and we have a lot in common.”
My mom shakes her head.
“I don’t understand. You’ve never told us about him before. When did you meet him? This just doesn’t make sense, Whitney. If you had a new man in your life, there would be no reason to make up lies. There’s something you aren’t telling us about him. Where did you meet him? When? And why is he giving you such a huge amount?”
The rapid fire inquisition breaks me. Hot tears spill from my eyes. I have to tell them everything, and I just hope they love me enough to understand. I take a deep, shuddering breath.
“When the state shut us down, I was worried about how I would keep my business open and pay my bills. I was worried about my employees and about you guys too! I tried to get all sorts of online jobs to earn money, but it turns out there isn’t much of a need for pastry chefs in this new economy.”
My parents are staring at me, listening intently. I continue.
“I came across what I thought was a job site and clicked on one of the links. It was a girl on a live feed talking to guys. They were giving her money for being sexy,” I take a deep breath to steady myself, “and then she took her top off and they gave her a lot more money. I briefly considered it and then put it out of my mind.”
My parents exhale loudly.
“Thank goodness, but what does this have to do with anything?” my dad presses. I look down at my hands.
“I put it out of my mind until Mom told me you guys had to go to the food bank.”
My parents immediately look horrified.
“Whitney, tell us you did not take off your top for a bunch of perverts,” my mother says, covering her mouth with her hand as her face goes ghost white.
“No, I don’t do it for perverts, just Peter. He was my only customer.”
My dad’s face goes tomato red.
“Well, he is clearly a pervert if he was on that site.”
I shake my head.
“He’s really not. He just stumbled upon my web cam site, and upon me. He’s actually very sweet and kind and generous.”
My mom looks like she’s about to cry. Her face is crumpled and her lower lip trembles.
“Men can be very deceptive online, Whitney. You’re a smart girl, and you should know this,” she wails. “I thought we taught you better! But are you still doing these shows for him? Really? Taking off your top? Oh my god, my baby girl!”
I grit my teeth. I have to continue confessing the truth.
“I haven’t just been talking to him online, Mom. He asked me to meet him in person after about a week of video dates. We had a great time together and he has this amazing penthouse in TriBeCa with a library, a state of the art kitchen, and a movie theater. We like the same books and movies and we talked about how we both got started in the food and beverage industry.”
My dad’s practically shaking with rage now. His rotund body trembles, and all the blood has drained from his face.
“That was incredibly careless of you to go see him in his home, alone. We raised you to be smarter than that. Maybe you should close up the bakery and come back to New Jersey. You just weren’t raised to have the kind of street smarts you need in a city like New York. You’re lucky he didn’t hurt you that one time you went there.”
I shake my head.
“No, Dad. Peter would never hurt me and I didn’t just go over there one time. I’ve been staying with him for weeks. The camera on my phone works fine; I just didn’t want you to see that I wasn’t here at the apartment and start asking questions.”
My parents are almost hyperventilating now.
“You’ve been living with him? Have you been having sexual relations with this man?” my mom wails. Now, tears are coming full force down her cheeks. I’m not comfortable talking about sex with my parents but I have to be honest.
“Yes, Peter and I have been having sex, but I think I’m in love with him, so it’s okay.”
My dad’s face turns stony and his voice drops.
“Let me make sure I understand. You’ve been performing sexual acts with this man and he has been giving you money in return. That’s not love. You know what people call that? Prostitution, Whitney,” he says in a disgusted voice. “Do you understand?”
