Page 5 of Drowning Her

But I couldn’t leave Bambi.

“Two of us,” I said. “My friend. Bambi. We can both?—”

“My son can’t marrytwowomen.”

“Do you have another son?” I seemed to remember him talking about two different kids when I stripped for him a while back.

He smiled. “My youngest is still broken up over his last,” he paused, “fling. The offer is for you, and you alone.” He pulled twenty-five hundred-dollar bills out of his pocket, then handed them to me in a firm handshake. “Take this as a show of good faith. A marriage. Sex. A million dollars. And you’d be free of this.”

Sex work was my life for the last few years. Bambi left with Green, and I followed her, afraid she would get hurt. Marrying Gray-Haired Man’s son? It didn’t seemthathard. And it wasn’t much different from my life already.

But it still wasn’t right to leave Bambi with Green. I’d find a way to make it work, to save her too.

I shook the man’s hand, taking the money. “Is your lucky son here?” I asked.

He pointed to a tall, barrel-chested man with black hair and the same pale blue eyes as him. The son glanced at me, then headed out through the exit to the side of the stage.

“What do I do now?” I asked.

“Let me take care of it,” Gray-Haired Man said. “Carry on as usual. We’ll come to retrieve you.”

I crossed my arms. Why hadn’t his son talked to me himself?

“He knows, right?” I asked. “That you’re asking—” I paused. That wasn’t the right word. ‘Forcing’ was more accurate, but less delicate. “That you’re arranging for me to marry him?”

“I didn’t tell him about my specific request. The money, he can know about. But not the sex.”

The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Why was that a secret? I clasped my hands together, running my thumb over the stretched pink scar. As long as I got my money, I suppose it didn’t matter why he was keeping the sex part a secret.

“Can I talk to him?” I asked.

“Be my guest.”

I headed straight down the stairs to the stage, reaching for that same door as his son. A white button-up shirt and a lime tie crowded in front of me. He ran a hand over his head, then stroked his blond beard.

“Where are you going, babe?” Green asked.

I grabbed his arms, squeezing him. “Just a date.”

“That old man promised me a lot of money,” he said. “You’re my best girl. Don’t mess this up.”

My best girlused to mean something to me. But now, they were a curse. I slipped the wad of cash into his pocket.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m working hard.”

With that, Green stepped out of the way, letting me exit. Twenty-five hundred was no small amount of money, but if Gray-Haired Man had been telling the truth, I could lose a few bills to get Green off of my case.

Outside, spotlights hung off of the back of the building, lighting the wet asphalt. The smoking area was empty, gated around us. The man leaned against the wall, glaring out of the barred gate. Black hair. Groomed facial hair. Dull blue eyes. Dirt under his fingernails. His broad shoulders flexed, his burly muscles tensing under his shirt. Completely stiff. He glared at me. Apparently, I had interrupted his peace.

I sighed deeply, resting on the wall next to him. I always tried to find something in common with the men I entertained. Making fun of the music was an easy go-to.

“If I have to listen to another crappy top forty song, my eardrums might explode,” I said. The man ignored me. He didn’t even grunt. “Where are you from?” I tried.

He was silent.

He knew about the arranged marriage. He had to know who I was. We were about to spend a lifetime together.

“Don’t you want to get to know each other before we do this?” I asked.

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