Arianna’s beauty could not be denied. Amazingly, five years in the business had done no visible damage to her looks. The corrosion and deterioration, Victoria imagined, was occurring on the inside and expressed itself as contempt for the customers and loathing for her co-workers, and more than likely—for herself.
With determination in her stride, Victoria entered the lobby, the hall, and then the lounge, encouraging herself to remain undistracted by Arianna’s presence. However, as she watched Arianna prancing back and forth, wearing a straight black wig that accentuated her exotic look, and a sheer slinky gown, Victoria started counting her losses: the money she’d spent on parking and the babysitter, all for naught. Her night was ruined; she wouldn’t make a dime. Not with Arianna competing with her.
“S’matter, Pleasure?” Sydney asked sheepishly.
“Nothing’s the matter,” Victoria snapped.
“Don’t get upset with me. I didn’t put her on the schedule.” With a lift of her chin Sydney indicated the doorway that Arianna had just swished through.
Embarrassed, Victoria felt hot all over. It was preposterous to her that a silly twit such as Sydney could read her so well. She’d entertained a few wicked thoughts about Arianna, but had regarded her with indifference, never speaking an unkind word about her.
Arianna returned to the lounge; the doorbell rang before she’d even taken a seat. The caller, a newcomer who said his name was Rex, selected Arianna without hesitation. To keep her bottom lip from protruding childishly the way it did whenever she was disappointed, Victoria pressed her lips together firmly.
The next customer didn’t arrive until nine o’clock. He chose Sydney. A few minutes later the bell sounded, and again, Arianna was chosen. Victoria and the others sat in stony silence while Sydney and Arianna conducted business. After their sessions, the two women returned to the lounge, talking animatedly about the huge tips they’d received.
In an effort to drown out their cheerful chatter, Victoria pulled the CD player from her bag and clicked on Jill Scott. Admittedly Scott was a superior talent, but Victoria was far too agitated, too envious of the singer’s success to relax and enjoy the music. She popped the CD out and scrounged around in her bag, searching for music that fit her mood. She pulled out a Billie Holiday CD. Perfect!
“Pleasure.” Lauren nudged Victoria.
Victoria reluctantly removed the headphones. “What?”
Lauren leaned in and spoke in a whisper. “I want to tell you about Gabrielle’s party.”
“Who?”
“Our boss, Gabrielle! You’ve never met her?”
“No. She communicates with me through Rover. I thought that was how she communicated with all the girls.”
“Oh no. Me and Gabrielle have been friends for a long time,” Lauren boasted.
“Friends?”
“Yeah, we’re good friends. Last week she called here just before I got off and invited me to her party—said she would send a limo for me.”
“Oh really? So you weren’t invited, you were summoned!” Victoria felt bitchy. She was having a bad night and Lauren was bugging her, so she felt entitled.
Lauren’s face turned a shade paler. “No. She sent an invitation weeks in advance, but Rover lost it and forgot to tell me.”
“So, what happened at the party?”
“I jumped at the chance to go to her party because I was really mad at Raj… Uh, I’ll give you an update on Raj a little later.” Victoria groaned at the thought of another drawn out tale about Lauren’s elusive Indian lover.
“Gab sent a stretch limo to pick me up.”
“Oh, she’s Gab now,” Victoria teased.
“It was fabulous,” Lauren continued, beaming. “Stocked with champagne. I started feeling a nice buzz before we even got to the bridge.”
“Where does Gabrielle live?”
“Somewhere in Jersey.”
“I’ve heard. Where in Jersey?”
Lauren shrugged. “I wasn’t paying attention. Somewhere near Cherry Hill. You should see her home. It’s unbelievable. A mansion! I’ve never seen anything so beautiful—not in real life. Gab’s house looks like something you’d see on Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous!”
Lauren’s wide-eyed naiveté embarrassed Victoria. She wondered why Lauren didn’t realize that she and the rest of the stable at Pandora’s had helped put Gabrielle in her mansion.
“I didn’t even see most of the house because the party took place in the pool area.”
Victoria shook her head and crinkled her brow. “You got in the pool? I’m shivering just thinking about going swimming this time of the year.” White folks were truly a mystery.
Lauren let out a long, exasperated sigh. “What are you, a moron? We weren’t outside. Gab has an indoor pool, a sauna, and a Jacuzzi!”
Victoria didn’t take too kindly to being called a moron, but she restrained herself from retaliating with a verbal jab of her own.
“When I got there, Gabrielle gave me a quick tour. Her bedroom is beyond belief. Her bed is huge and round. Mirrors on the ceiling like they have at Inn of the Dove, and…”
“Who else was there?” Victoria interrupted, still peeved by the moron comment.
“Nobody. Just Gabrielle and her maid.”
“Her maid?” Victoria smirked.
“Yeah, but she’s not your run-of-the-mill type maid. She acts more like Gab’s assistant. She’s young. Looks Hispanic…a really pretty girl.”
“And when did the guests arrive?”
“Shortly after I did. Rich Italian guys,” Lauren said, emphasizing the word rich. “They reeked of money. You could smell it. It was in their skin, their hair, and their clothes. Being around all that money and power made me realize how powerless Raj is. I had to face the fact that Raj’s family controls him. I need someone who can help me get out of this rotten business.” Lauren looked away, deep in thought. “You know, Gabrielle always says a man puts a girl in the business and a man will take her out.”
“What’s she mean by that? Is she talking about a pimp?”
“No. Gabrielle is saying that a girl ends up in the business when the man she depends on lets her down. For instance, my dad remarried when I was twelve. His wife hated me. She was so jealous of my dad and me. She put him in a position where he had to choose and he chose her. I got rebellious at around fourteen, kept running away. Don’t ask me how I got started or who turned me out, it just happened. But think about it, Pleasure…if my dad had been there for me, I would have stayed home where I was safe. It would have never occurred to me to try to survive out on the streets.”
“Lauren, you made a conscious choice to leave home. Your father didn’t force you to—uh—do what you’re doing. Subconsciously, you wanted to hurt him for what you perceived as his betrayal, but you really can’t blame him for your decision.” Victoria spoke softly, patiently, reasonably, and, as far as Lauren was concerned, patronizingly.
Ignoring the lecture, Lauren continued. “Gab said that while she was six months’ pregnant, her son’s father married a girl who lived right across the street from her. The pain and humiliation almost drove her crazy. He didn’t have anything to do with Gab or their son after he was born. Gab said there were plenty of times when she’d be out with the baby, pushing him down the street in his stroller and her kid’s father and new bride would drive right past them without so much as even blowing the horn. After that, Gab started hanging out with the wrong crowd and ended up turning tricks. But that all ended when Joey Rocco set her up with her own business.”
Both women were silent for a moment. Victoria broke the ice. “But in a sense, Gabrielle is still in the business. Isn’t she really just a front for that Rocco guy? I’ve heard that this place is owned by the mob.”
Lauren looked around nervously; her eyes swept the room.
“What’s the matter? Is the room bugged or something?”
“One never knows,” Lauren responded in a whisper, eyes still bouncing around th
e room. “Gabrielle is way too smart and too business-minded to front for anyone. She already owns Pandora’s, and now she’s gonna open another place on Locust Street. A real classy place. Only the best girls will be allowed to work there. No druggies, none of the older girls, and only a very few black girls.”
Victoria felt stung by Lauren’s last remark. Still, it was useless to engage in a discussion of discrimination and racism in a place where nothing made sense anyway. Changing the subject, Victoria asked: “How old are you, Lauren?”
“Twenty-two.”
Victoria sadly shook her head. “How long have you been…you know—doing this?” She couldn’t bear to use the distasteful terms the other girls used so freely: turning tricks, hookin’, or being a hoe.
“Since I was sixteen. I started out trickin’ on the streets. Jumping in and out of cars down on Kensington Avenue. Gabrielle got me off the streets.”
“Really!”
“Yup. I’ll never forget it. Gab picked me out of a crowd of about six or seven girls. Most of them were druggies. She drove up in a Benz and handed me her card—told me I was too pretty to get myself all messed up out there. She said I could make a lot more money in a safe environment if I called the number on the card. I did and the rest is history,” Lauren concluded with a shrug.
“You’re grateful to Gabrielle for exposing you to this?” Victoria waved her hand, indicating their dismal surroundings.
“Yes. Believe me this is better than trying to make it out on the streets. And if this place is so bad, then why are you here? And while it’s on my mind, how old are you and how long have you been getting paid for services rendered?”
Victoria was unprepared for the sudden interrogation.
“I’m…uh…twenty-five and my uh, reasons for working here are personal. This is a temporary situation. I certainly don’t plan on making a career out of it. I can’t tell you how shocked and disgusted I am every time I hear one of the girls expound on the principles of what a good hoe should or shouldn’t do. That is not how I define myself.”
“A hoe is a hoe! And as long as you’re here fucking and sucking like everybody else, it really doesn’t matter how you define yourself…does it?”
Insulted, Victoria slapped the headphones back on, turned up the volume and closed her eyes. The music, however, did not block her jumbled thoughts. How did she define herself? She simply didn’t know. She had to admit she was getting much too comfortable at Pandora’s. Selling her body was becoming far less difficult than it had been in the beginning. She was caught up in the money and the things it could buy. Money was freedom; money was the medication that dulled her pain. And Victoria wasn’t quite ready to let it go. But that didn’t mean she was like the others who aspired only to being good hoes. She was embarrassed to admit, even to herself, that she still had hopes and dreams of music, her unrequited love.
CHAPTER 20
Rover reluctantly shifted his gaze from the color TV screen to the black and white monitor that revealed the activity in the lobby. He watched with little interest at the girls’ futile attempt to tantalize an Asian customer. Rover recognized the customer and figured the guy would probably walk. He was one of Bethany’s regulars and had been looking for her for weeks.
His eyes shot away from the monitor and returned to the more interesting happenings on the TV screen. Despite the poor quality, he loved homemade porno. No federal guidelines, no enforced wearing of condoms to ruin the mood. The camera panned in for a close-up; Rover was on the edge of his seat. The blonde was about to take it in the rear, but to his surprise and complete disappointment, the guy mounting her, with his needle dick, wasn’t equipped to do any kind of real damage.
“Hey, watch it!” the man on the tape cautioned, covering his face. “Keep that fuckin’ camera away from my face.” Rover frowned at the man’s fleeting image. He was one of Gabrielle’s big-shot associates—a grease ball from New York.
Gabrielle’s laughter and a chorus of rough male voices could be heard in the background cheering for the man they called Danny.
The screen darkened briefly, and then Gabrielle appeared. The shock of her sudden appearance caused Rover to gasp. She was dancing provocatively, then stopped, laughed, and beckoned someone. Now her back was to the camera as she swayed and undulated to a silent rhythm. A beautiful woman with dark, wavy hair entered the scene, approaching Gabrielle from behind. She was much taller than Gabrielle and had to bend to embrace her. As the woman kissed the back of Gabrielle’s neck, her long, dark curls fell and covered her own and Gabrielle’s face.
Rover watched mesmerized as the two women moved together seductively. His body ached with urging. Fingers that stroked the rough stubble on his chin involuntarily traveled down to his crotch.
The camera shifted back to the blonde and the big shot. Rover was about to rewind to Gabrielle and the dark-haired woman when he heard footsteps hurrying toward the office. Arianna burst into the room, impatiently waving the Asian’s money. Rover froze, wearing an alarmed deer-in-the-headlights expression. He recovered and tried to stop the tape, but clumsily pushed all the wrong buttons.
Arianna’s eyes gleamed with excitement. Lauren was on the screen with two men. A man without a face was mounting her doggy-style, while she gave head to another hairy, faceless torso.
“The camera’s kind to Lauren; she looks great! Who’re her co-stars? I assume those studs don’t want their faces associated with their miniature dicks.” Arianna chortled.
Rover laughed nervously. “I was thinking the same thing. That girl looks just like Lauren.”
Arianna flashed a cold smile. “Nice try, Rover. I’m not retarded and I have perfect vision. I wonder what Lauren would think of her look-alike?” She met his eyes challengingly, and without hesitating she stepped out into hall. “Hey, Lauren,” she called. “Come here, I want to ask you something.”
“Does your customer want a double?” Lauren called out happily, half-trotting down the hall.
“She’s just kidding, Lauren,” Rover said. He tried to spread his lips into a smile, but it came off looking more like a grimace. “Just kidding, go on back to the lounge.”
Cranky from sitting idle for too long, Lauren stopped in her tracks. “You fucking assholes. I’m not in the mood for this shit.” Clutching her robe, Lauren swished furiously back to the lounge.
Rover cursed himself for his carelessness. He shouldn’t have played the video until his shift was over. Gabrielle would have his head for this. With a thumping heart, he logged in Arianna’s session.
Arianna smugly held out her hand for the fifty dollars she was entitled to.
Hoping to buy her silence, Rover laid four fifty-dollar bills in her open palm and looked upon her with pleading eyes. Without acknowledging the bribe, Arianna tucked away the money, collected her customer, and as always, was in and out of the session room and back in the lounge in record time.
In an effort to gauge Arianna’s mood, Rover paid close attention to the silent monitor. The next customer—a sallow-faced, skinny white kid—looked startled by the flock of women who surrounded him. Momentarily forgetting his own troubles, Rover observed the lobby and chuckled. The women were circling the poor kid hungrily, licking their lips like he was prey.
As Sydney mouthed the sales pitch, Rover kept his eyes fixed on Arianna. He was distracted when the kid pointed a bashful finger, indicating Sydney as his choice. Rover observed as looks of indignation and narrow-eyed suspicion formed in the faces of the women. He braced himself for the string of hissing accusations that the angry women would surely bring to his office. Sydney would be accused of dirty dealings of some type. It never ceased to amaze him how such coarse and hardened women so often behaved like little snot-nosed kids.
Fully aware that she was being watched, Arianna turned her face to the ever-watchful eye of the camera. Rover squinted at the tiny screen, hoping to find a hint of a truce in her gaze, but her eyes were filled with contempt. Though somewhat shaken, Rover was
not at all surprised.
Back in the lounge, Arianna snatched off her wig and flung it in her workbag and vigorously brushed her own thick, curly hair. She stopped brushing suddenly and scowled at a Pepsi can on the plastic end table next to her chair that someone had been using as an ashtray. Angrily, Arianna sent the can clattering to the floor.
After securing her catch in the middle session room, Sydney returned to the lounge to get some essentials from her bag. Oblivious to Arianna’s glare, she hummed a merry tune while rifling through the bag. When Sydney left the room, Arianna shifted her gaze to the remaining girls. She looked at each girl slowly, individually, with poisonous eyes, then snatched up her leather satchel and abruptly left the lounge. Curious glances and shoulder shrugs followed her departure.
To Rover’s relief, her long furious strides moved Arianna quickly past his office and into the restroom at the end of the hall. But his relief was short-lived. He nearly dropped the stack of bills he was counting when she reappeared, seemingly from nowhere, swathed in black designer wool.
“It’s too slow in here tonight; I’m leaving. I have better things to do with my time than just sit around with a pack of losers.” She flung a handful of business cards across Rover’s desk. Rover looked with great suspicion at the cards that were embossed with fancy hot pink script: TATIANNA’S BOUDOIR.
“You know you can’t leave until the shift’s over,” Rover said in a placating tone.
“Oh really? Watch me! Not only am I leaving—I’ll be back tomorrow on any shift I choose.”
At a loss for words, Rover nervously scanned the schedule that was taped to the wall near the desk. “You’re not on the schedule tomorrow. You know I can’t let you work unless I clear it with Gabrielle.”
“I’m not interested in the details of how you arrange it—that’s your business,” Arianna said, pointing a lacquered pearl-colored fingernail. “I want you to distribute these cards for me. Give one to every customer that walks through the door…but no young drug-dealer types. I don’t want any riff-raff in my place.” With narrowed eyes, she added, “Don’t fuck this up, Rover.”
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