Page 312 of The Sinner: James

“Seriously?”

“Yes,” she says.

“How does that work? And why not real boyfriends?”

“As it turns out, many women are too busy for or don’t need the real stuff. They’re no longer in the dating pool, or their options are subpar, and they’d rather have someone they can communicate with and connect with daily. Someone who sends them texts, pictures, and even love messages. Someone who makes them feel special without the nasty stuff that comes with a real-life boyfriend. This way, they don’t have their stomach tied in knots while waiting for a call or a message or fighting for a sliver of attention. The men providing the service can work on multiple accounts simultaneously if they do it safely and privately and satisfy their minimum quota with each woman. The women pay a monthly membership and can tip the men. There are no awkward dates or lousy sex.”

“Does this shit really work?”

“Yes, it does. The men make a good wage. It’s perfect for those men who are between jobs or college students. They get to hone their communication skills and learn about women and what they want. The women, on the other hand, get some attention without starving themselves to death or competing with a bunch of other women for sexual favors that perhaps they didn’t even want in the first place. Many women crave the attention more than the actual sex.”

“Uh-huh… Okay. Sounds interesting. And, um, it’s kind of new to me,” I say, amused. “Have you tried it?”

“What?”

“Your company’s service?”

“No.”

“How do you know it’s good?”

“We run customer surveys periodically. We also hear back from our clients. They always praise us.”

“Us? Who’s us?”

Her smile falters for a moment.

“I have a business partner.”

“You do?” I say, feigning surprise.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Someone I know?”

She hesitates, his name clinging to her lips.

“It’s David Moore.”

11

RAIN

His eyes narrow,a frown creasing his brow.

“How is David Moore?” he asks flatly.

“Good,” I say in a clipped voice.

“Still married?” he inquires, merely looking for a confirmation.

We lock eyes.

“No,” I say.

A knowing smile arches his lips.

“Hmm. Interesting.”

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