Page 136 of Masks and Mishaps

Jeremy’s eyebrows rise. “That’s a big family.”

“You’d understand if you could trick someone into procreating with you, Jeremy,” Claudia snaps, stepping forward in her usual flurry of designer clothes and the most gorgeous glare the world has ever seen. “Let my girl celebrate with whoever she wants.”

“I’m just saying, it’s nice you have a family,” he replies, visibly withering under Claudia’s glare.

“They’re everything to me,” I assure him. “And this is a family company.”

Is owning a family-run adult company normal? Not at all. It’s chaotic and weird at times, but it works for us. Included in Halcyon’s two thousand employees are the twins—both software engineers; Alyssa, who (for the first time in her life) has a full-time job in our philanthropy arm; and Christian (who did finally accept he wasn’t cut out for the FBI, but is a phenomenal Chief of Staff). My father never took a job at Halcyon, but he’s Lissie’s full-time caregiver, and his eagerness to watch her during work hours is one of the main reasons why I haven’t missed a step after having a baby.

Cora appears in our periphery, pulling Everett along behind her. She’s wearing pink lipstick—literally the only pink I could convince her to wear—and her smile is unmatched. “Ess, this is so incredible.”

“Seriously,” Everett chimes in. “And they told me the confetti is recycled. Isn’t that great?”

Before I can answer, Valeria swoops in with her middle child, Gabriela, on her hip. They’re both in Halcyon pink and they both pull me into a hug. Lander isn’t far behind with their youngest—a boy named Leo, who was born six months before Lissie—strapped to his chest. Marta, their eldest, is clutching his hand as usual.

“Ev, can you take one?” Lander asks.

Without hesitation, Everett scoops up Marta.

“Are you nervous? Excited?” Valeria asks as she looks between Dalton and me, bouncing Gabriela as she speaks.

“Honestly, I’m kind of hungry,” Dalton admits.

Laughing, I swat his arm before I rest my head against his shoulder, and he kisses the top of my head.

“We’re almost ready,” Jeremy says, motioning for us to move to the front. “Essie, you’re on in three.”

Once everyone is in place, I start with a speech.

Over the years, I’ve had to talk about sex work a lot. For the first three years of my camming career, I wore a mask to hide my identity, believing that any version of success I could achieve would be hindered by a scarlet letter if anyone found out I was a camgirl. To stand in front of countless people and explain the importance of sex work was jarring at first. Now, it’s the most natural thing.

I finish the same way I’ve ended every keynote speech, every interview, and every university lecture I’ve given over the last six years: by saying an industry built on the backs of women (literally on their backs) should not make men richer.

Applause rings through the room as I take my space in the center where our bright pink company logo decorates the bell desk. Camera flashes start up, and Dalton hands Lissie to me.

The button is small and innocuous, but every day, it’s the catalyst that kicks off a rapid sprint of money changing hands and careers being made or broken. Every day, that little button launches more than most people do in a lifetime.

With cheers behind me, I stand there with my parents and brothers, my best friends, and my husband at my side, holding my daughter in my arms. I place my hand on the button, and when I get the signal, I press it.

Pink confetti rains from the ceiling, more cameras flash, and Dalton weaves his arm around me. Stock tickers begin moving, and just like that, Halcyon is a publicly traded company.

My husband and I built this business from the ground up against every misconception and obstacle that told us we would never succeed.

We did.

And with a single press of a button, I became a billionaire.

***

An hour later, I’m no longer a billionaire.

Because fuck billionaires, honestly.

Paying off the student loans for every performer who had an account on Halcyon when it launched six years ago took a solid chunk of our liquid assets, but I won’t miss the money. Making it is the fun part.

After the ceremony, we drive back to the District with our friends, where our side-by-side row homes in Georgetown are waiting. It’s a normal Monday, maybe not what anyone would expect on such a monumental day, but we have work to do—as usual. After a few hours of calls while my dad babysits Lissie, our normal Monday turns into a normal Monday night. Our friends come over like they do most nights once the babies are all asleep.

“Do you think our dads ever imagined this?” Lander mentions absently while he checks his three baby monitors lined up on our coffee table. He’s sitting on the floor, hemming a pair of pants for Marta, and he looks exhausted but determined to finish before the wine runs out.

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