“I would like that. I have something I have to take care of here first, though, and I’m going to bring Janka with me. I’ll meet you over there in an hour or so?”
“I’ll make sure to add your name to the list. You better give me your number just in case.”
I pull out my cellphone and get his phone number, calling him so he has mine. I swallow down the lump in my throat, knowing there’s no turning back now.
“Happy birthday,” I say, giving him a hug. My phone starts to ring, Janka’s number scrolling across the screen. “I gotta go.”
“I better see you soon,” he says, squeezing me tight to his rock hard chest. God, he smells good. I wish I wasn’t such a nice friend and I could just blow Janka off. I know she’d probably do it to me if she was in the same situation.
“Of course,” I say.
I wait for him to walk away and answer my phone. “You ready for me?” I ask. “Let’s make it a quick one.”
5
Mia:
The rules of the game are simple. Janka finds our clients on a dating website and I vet their credentials online. We only go for men who have big money and a lot to lose. Married men, men with families, men with ties to the church or the government, men who shouldn’t be caught with prostitutes under any circumstances.
She spends the next few weeks chatting them up, making them comfortable, getting them to agree to pay for sex. They meet up, she gets them all warm and happy and thinking they’re gonna get laid, but then suggests she invites her friend over to get in on the action. Most of these guys are scumbags who are more than happy to oblige.
I show up, hang out for a little bit, pretend like I’m really into it, like we’re all going to fuck each other stupid, then I go to the bathroom to “freshen up.” While I’m in there, I make a diversion. Sometimes I “overdose” on drugs. Sometimes I slip and fall down and bump my head on the sink, knocking myself “unconscious.” Sometimes I just start crying and freaking out for no reason at all, which comes pretty naturally for me. It really just depends on the mood. Janka sends the man in to “save” me, while she’s outside shoving anything she can get her hands on in her purse.
Do I feel good about it?
Not exactly. But I’m not fucking for money, and I like having a roof over my head. Besides, these guys are generally assholes who can just buy another Rolex. By the time they realize what happened, Janka and I are long gone. If they ever come at us for retaliation, I just send them the pictures I keep on my phone of them in incriminating positions with my best friend. It’s not an honest living, but it’s a living.
As I take the elevator up to the twelfth floor of the casino, I can’t help but wonder what Serafin would think if he knew what I was up to. I feel a little dirtier than usual when I step out of the elevator and walk down the hallway with the tacky checkered carpet. I stand outside room 719 and pull out my compact, checking my make up and tucking a few stray hairs back where they belong. I only have to look good for about fifteen minutes, then the fun starts.
I knock our secret knock on the door, and start to unbutton my coat. Janka’s high heels echo off the tile inside and she opens the door just a crack. “What took you so long?” she asks. Her make up is smeared all over her face and her hands are shaking. I can tell something’s very wrong the instant I step inside.
“We have a problem,” she mutters. “Change of plans. Let’s grab the shit and get out of here.”
“Janka, what?” I ask. “Where is he?”
She hangs her head and we walk through the giant suite into the bedroom. Sprawled out on top of the stark white comforter is an old man in nothing but a pair of gray boxers. His skin is all splotchy and wrinkled, but his erection stands straight up in the air like a flag pole.
He’s making gurgling and choking sounds, and I notice his face is turning a shade of purple. Immediately, I throw off my coat and rush to his side.
“Janka what did you give him? Did you drug him?” I ask. His eyes are bulging out of his head, and I go into panic mode. I haven’t taken CPR since the one summer I lifeguarded when I was in high school, but I know this guy needs medical help right now. He reaches for his throat and tries to talk, but all that comes out of his blue lips are some wheezing sounds.
“I think he took a boner pill,” she says. “I swear that’s it. Come on, let’s hurry up and get the shit and get out of here.”
“Janka, what the fuck is wrong with you? Call for an ambulance right this second,” I shout. I slide my finger in between the old man’s lips, feeling around for anything obstructing his throat. I feel for the pulse in his neck, and it’s very weak.
“Hurry the hell up!” I shout. “At least call the front desk.”
She looks at me like a deer in headlights. “You know how fucked we’ll be if the police show up? They’ll put us in jail, Mia. You know what’ll happen to you in jail?”
I know that if I get sent to jail, I probably won’t live very long at all. Inside prison, I would be at my ex husband’s mercy. He would have complete control over every aspect of my life, and probably my death.
“I don’t care, Janka!” I cry. I don’t know
