When Zadie and Gilda walked back into the Polo Lounge, the other women were paying the tab. It was well past last call and they were the only people left in the room, aside from the bartender.
“Is she asleep?” Betsy asked.
“She was out cold and snoring when we left,” Zadie answered.
“I still can’t believe the way you pulled her off that stage,” Eloise said. “She could sue you for physical battery.”
“I did it for Grey, so I’m pretty sure he’ll drop any charges.”
Zadie looked around, noticing that their numbers had grown smaller. Skinny was missing. “Where’s Cassandra?”
“Finding her new calling,” Jane said.
“What does
that
mean?” Snotty said, wrinkling her little face up into a pug. “God, she’s just talking to some guy. I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal about it. You’ve been giggling ever since she went out there.”
Jane smiled. Mysterious as ever.
Betsy filled in Zadie and Gilda. “She’s out in Paolo’s limo—‘getting to know him,’ which I’m pretty sure will involve an orifice of some type.”
“I’m taking twenty percent for setting it up,” Jane said, winking at Zadie. “He’s one of my regulars, so I thought I’d throw him a bone.”
“I knew it!” Zadie said.
“Twenty percent of what?” Kim asked.
“Yeah, I’m confused. Regular what?” Marci agreed.
Zadie felt triumphant. She watched in pure glee as Jane broke the news to the others.
“Ladies, I’m a call girl.”
They all stared at her. Not comprehending in the least.
“No you’re not. You’re a flight attendant,” Betsy said.
“I used to be. Until I discovered the world’s easiest way to make money. C’mon—how do you think I dress like this?” She gestured at her apparently expensive outfit and her reportedly expensive purse.
“Wait a minute,” Snotty said. “You set Cassandra up to screw that guy?”
“Hello, he’s loaded. She would’ve screwed him either way. I did her a favor.”
Snotty snorted as if this weren’t true, even though she knew it was.
This was beautiful. Skinny was in a limo with an old man who was going to hand her cash. Zadie wished she could’ve been there to see her face.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa—back up,” Eloise said. “How did you get into this?”
Leave it to Eloise to want the logistics of the situation in case she, too, decided this was a viable career option. Although Zadie couldn’t imagine what kind of degenerates would actually fork over cash to pork Eloise. Maybe one of those people who only screw stuffed animals on an off night.
Gilda looked at Zadie. “I can’t believe you were right.”
Betsy couldn’t stand that someone knew before her. “You
knew
?”
“I suspected,” Zadie said.
Jane shrugged. “I’m not ashamed of it. I just wasn’t sure you all were ready to hear it.” She looked at Zadie. “What gave me away?”
“Paolo, Cyndi, and your purse.”
Jane raised her glass to Zadie in a salute.
Marci and Kim were just staring at Jane, still completely baffled. “So, wait, you’re a prostitute?” Kim asked, alarmed.
“I don’t walk the streets. I have a small list of clientele that I rotate.”
“How much do you get?” Marci asked.
“Five hundred an hour.”
The other women all whistled or gasped or made some exclamation of shock. Impressed shock.
“That’s more than I make and I have a CPA with a law degree,” Eloise said.
Jane shrugged. “Supply and demand. It’s three thousand if they want me to spend the night.”
More oohs and ahhs.
Now Snotty was all ears. “Wait a minute. Cassandra’s getting five hundred dollars to have sex with that guy?”
“Cassandra’s getting three hundred. I gave him a discount because she’s new.”
“So, you’re a madam, too?” Betsy asked.
“As of tonight. I never thought about it before, but that girl’s a natural.”
Snotty gave an indignant snort.
Eloise looked like she’d never been so envious of anyone in her life. “You still haven’t told us how you got into this.”
“Same way Cassandra did. I was out with some friends one night, some friends who had way more money than they should have had for being secretaries, and next thing I knew, I had ten regulars.”
“What do you have to
do
?” Kim asked, still completely distressed.
“Same thing you do. Except I get paid.”
“You have to listen to them take a crap with the door open afterward?” Marci asked.
Jane frowned. “I’d charge double for that.”
“Does Helen know?” Betsy asked.
Jane shook her head. Zadie thanked God for small favors. If Helen had found out tonight, she’d have been pulling Skinny out of the limo and taking on Paolo herself. And she would’ve found the perfect way to justify it. After all, three hundred dollars was one more plate at the reception.
Gilda clinked glasses with Jane. “To my first call girl friend.”
“Well, I think it’s gross,” Snotty said.
Betsy gave her a look. “You’re just pissed because she didn’t send you out to Paolo’s limo.”
“Just because I’m pretty, does
not
mean I’m slutty,” Snotty asserted.
Eloise mumbled into her drink. “You’re not that pretty.”
Just then, Skinny breezed back in. Calm as can be. No sign of a recent moral struggle of any kind. She sat down in the booth with them.
“Did I miss last call?”
They all stared at her.
“What?”
Jane spoke up first. “Did you like Paolo?”
“Yeah, he was nice.”
The other women waited for her to elaborate. She started to look nervous.
“We just drove around in his limo for a while. He’s way too old to be my boyfriend, but I told him I’d go out with him again sometime.”
“I’m sure you did,” Jane said.
“Let’s see the cash,” Betsy said.
Skinny deepened in color by two shades. “What?”
“We all know he paid you three hundred dollars to have sex with him,” Gilda said, “so you don’t have to fake it.”
Skinny’s hand shook as she drained Snotty’s martini. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Jane’s pager vibrated. She looked down at it and smiled, reading the text message. “Paolo said you were fantastic and he looks forward to seeing you next week.”
Skinny almost smiled with pride, before she realized she was now officially busted. She grabbed Snotty’s hand and yanked her up. “We’re going home.” She turned to the others. “If you bitches aren’t in the limo in five minutes, we’re leaving without you.” They stomped off in what they surely thought was an impressive display of huffiness.
“I’ll be in touch,” Jane called after her. “I’ve got a guy on house arrest in Encino who would love you.”
Gilda looked at the others. “Aren’t we all staying here? For the rehearsal dinner tomorrow?”
Marci and Kim reluctantly stood. “Not us,” Kim said. “We’ve got babies and husbands to nurse. We’ll see you all tomorrow night.”
Kim looked at Marci. “I can’t believe we have to spend an hour in the car with those two. I’d get kicked out of Mommy and Me if they knew I was consorting with hookers.” She looked at Jane. “No offense.”
“None taken,” Jane said. Ever the diplomat.
As they all rose to leave, Denise walked out of the ladies’ room. “What’d I miss?”
Zadie felt a palpable sense of relief as she walked through the lobby. The night was over. Her taxi was waiting. She’d survived. On top of that, she’d actually made some new friends, found out the truth about her Marcia Brady of a cousin, and managed to prevent said cousin from ripping Grey’s heart out, which surely would have been the case had Helen strayed into the arms of a redneck vinyl flooring salesman or a gay stripper. All in all, the night was a success.
Right as she got to the door, she heard a familiar voice behind her.
“Hey.”
She turned around slowly, fully aware of who the voice belonged to. He stood there grinning at her, in all his Gap ad glory.
“I remembered your friend saying you all were staying here, so I thought I’d take a shot.”
“Trevor.”
That was all Zadie could manage to say at this point. Her buzz was slightly worn off, but not enough so that she still didn’t find him unbearably desirable.
He walked closer. “You going home?”
Yes. Yes, she was. She couldn’t possibly bring Trevor with her.
Was this not against every semblance of propriety she still half possessed?
Fortunately, Jane and Gilda walked out of the ladies’ room and through the lobby right at that moment. Greeting Trevor as if he were a long-lost best friend.
“Trevor! We were hoping you’d come back.” Jane winked at Zadie as she said it.
Gilda gave him a hug, then looked at Zadie. “Are you guys going back to your place?”
Zadie felt her tongue grow thick with an explanation she didn’t quite have. “I don’t—”
Jane held out her room key. “Because I’m going to hang out with Gilda in her room for a while, so I really don’t need mine for a couple hours. Why don’t you guys take it?”
And there she was. Faced with Trevor, a hotel room, and a call girl encouraging her to make use of both these things. What was a girl to do?
The elevator ride up to the fifth floor was excruciating. She leaned against one wall and he leaned against the other. Smiling at her.
“Are you pissed I showed up here?”
“Why would I be pissed?”
“Because you ditched me before, which is usually a sign that a girl doesn’t wanna hook up.”
The only word Zadie heard in that sentence was “girl” and it made her happy.
“Believe me, you wouldn’t have wanted to be at the place we went next.”
“What was it—some male strip club?”
“How’d you know?”
“Bachelorette party? C’mon. You’re
supposed
to go to a strip club. I just hope you’re not sick of naked men.”
The realization that she was about to see Trevor naked washed over her. She had no pithy retort. She just looked at him and
grinned. Anticipating all the joy that was about to be thrust upon her.
“Can I kiss you now?” he asked.
Zadie nodded. Why the hell not? Jane fucked guys for money. Eloise let clients videotape her in bed. Marci had to listen to her husband shit. She was clearly no kinkier than the rest of them.
He took a step toward her and put one hand on the back of her head, gathering up her hair as he kissed her. It was unbelievable. She was kissing Trevor. In an elevator. On the way to a hotel room. He tasted like beer. His tongue was warm. She felt his dick get hard against her. For the first time in seven months, she felt human again.
The elevator dinged and they got out. Zadie looked at the number on the sleeve on the room key and found Jane’s room. Three down from Helen’s. She shoved the key in the door and waited for the green light. It happened on the first try. An excellent sign. Trevor had his hands on her ass at this point. Then he moved them up to circle her waist.
“I can’t believe I’m with you,” he said. “I’ve been fantasizing about this for so long.”
Zadie took a moment to savor the sweet irony before she pushed the door open. She was Trevor’s fantasy. If only she could taperecord this to play back later.
The room was a suite, done in tasteful earth tones with maroon velvet drapes. Jane had obviously had a few overnighters lately to afford it. Either that or she got the call girl discount. Zadie kicked off her sandals and sat down on the cream-colored silk couch, nervous now that they were in the room. Trevor took the cue and went over to the minibar.
“Sweet. They have Corona.” He popped one open and looked at her. “You want something?”
Zadie spied a small bottle of Jose Cuervo and figured she’d best indulge the señor in order to perform what her libido required of her but her brain still half-forbade. “I’ll take the tequila.”
“You want it over ice?” he asked.
“Just give me the bottle.” She took a swig and set it down. Realizing she had neither lemon nor salt. He sat down next to her on the couch. “You realize you can
never
, never tell anyone about this,” she said.
He pulled his T-shirt over his head. “I swear.” He leaned over to kiss her again. Both hands in her hair this time. Why was that so damn sexy? Zadie didn’t know, but she wasn’t going to stop and analyze it now.
He unbuttoned her shirt and put his hands on her tits. First just touching them, then cupping them. As if he couldn’t believe how big they were. Thankfully, she’d worn a good bra. It certainly wouldn’t do for Trevor to see her ratty, discolored Target bras. She was wearing her one Victoria’s Secret satin demicup, which pushed her bigger breast up a good half inch higher than her smaller one. The way Trevor was squeezing them as if they were made of Play-Doh ensured that he would never notice. When he buried his face in her cleavage, Zadie leaned her head back on the arm of the couch and sighed. Hell, fucking, yeah.
“What’s this?” He pulled a piece of purple penis confetti out of her cleavage.
“Oh, God,” Zadie said, silently cursing Denise. “Don’t ask.”
Trevor looked at it and laughed, flicking it aside as he resumed his worship of her boobs. He looked up at her. “These are awesome.”
She couldn’t bring herself to unzip his pants. It felt too molesty. She waited until he took her hand and put it on his crotch, as nineteen-year-olds are wont to do—that much she remembered from her youth—before she let herself feel the goods that everyone on Sunset Boulevard had been ogling. Oh. Dear. God.
She drew her hand back, startled.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. In between kissing her tits. Her bra now off.
“Nothing.” She tried to play it cool. It certainly wouldn’t do for her to let him know he had the biggest dick she’d ever held in her hand. Jack had been ample, but Trevor was just obscenely large.
No wonder he liked older women. A sixteen-year-old girl would look at this thing and run. Zadie had always assumed that male models stuffed in those billboards. Not so.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I’m—fine. I’m good.”
He kicked his cargo pants off and she resumed her fondling as he unzipped her jeans and pulled them off. She had a moment of panic, trying to remember which pair of underwear she had on, then relaxed when she looked down and saw that it was a pair of silky bikinis from Frederick’s, left over from her “trousseau.” It was as if everything pointed to the fact that the universe wanted her to have sex with Trevor. Her guilt was gone. Clearly, this was ordained by a higher power. She was meant to do this. Why else would she have worn good underwear?