Page 2 of Stay Baby Stay

“She gave me a huge tip. Like fifty bucks, even though she only ordered a glass of wine. She asked if I might be interested in coming to work for her. Freelance. No tax man involved.”

That caught my attention. “Doing what, exactly?”

“Being my charming self.”

Kenzie chewed her thumbnail. By then, my hackles were fully raised. I pulled my remaining earbud out.

“She wants to pay you to go to a party?” I asked.

“Sounds awesome, right?”

“If by awesome, you mean too good to be true, then sure,” I said. “Where’s it happening?”

“Some guy’s mansion up north. Apparently, he has an infinity pool.”

“Good for him.” I could tell Kenzie was holding back when she wouldn’t meet my gaze. “Will there be other girls getting paid to attend?”

“A bunch of us, yeah.”

A vivid and disturbing picture was beginning to take shape in my mind. “Who else is going to be at this party?”

“I don’t know.” When I didn’t respond, she added, “Steph says it’s an exclusive club. You have to be invited.”

“So, let me get this straight. You and a bunch of other hot girls are getting paid to party at some undisclosed rando’s mansion on a Saturday night.”

“Well, when you put it like that...”

“You do realize this is a sex thing, and she’s clearly a pimp.”

“What? No!” Kenzie said, balking. “Okay, maybe, but why is that a bad thing?”

“Kenzie, she wants to pimp you out to a bunch of old men!”

“No, she doesn’t.” She shifted onto her knees. “Steph says all I have to do is flirt and look sexy.”

“And suck some wrinkly old dick.”

“Sex is totally optional. It’s basically the job I already have, only I’m not the one serving the drinks.”

“How much is she paying you?”

“Two hundred,” she said.

“Oh my God, Kenzie.” I balked. “No one is going to pay you two hundred dollars just to drink and flirt.”

“I know that,” she said, and I could tell she really did. She knew exactly what this was, and she still wanted to do it. “But I’m tired of getting paid peanuts to literally serve peanuts and wag my ass around. And I’m sick of living in a shitty motel room with spotty wifi.”

“I thought we were doing okay.” I glanced around at the peeling wallpaper, the carpet from the sixties, the television that only gets four clear channels when it rains. We’ve been working our asses off these past few years, and this was all we had to show for it. Without driver’s licenses or high school diplomas, our options are painfully limited.

“We are okay.” She squeezed my hand. “Considering where we started, we’re amazing. But I want more for us. Don’t you?”

“You know I do. You and I just disagree on how we get there.”

She smoothed her lips together, her thumb stroking the inside of my palm. “Steph said I could bring a friend.”

“Not happening,” I said sternly.

“No, of course not. I would never presume—”

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