“I did everything,” she says in a proud voice. “I did what I had to do to survive, and I’m not ashamed of it.”
Those words hang in the silence of the bathroom. Holy shit, our girlfriend was an escort! She did take money for sex, and hooked up with random men for cash!
“Holy fuck,” I mutter. “Are you frickin’ kidding me?”
“It’s what you think it is,” Bess says in a clear tone. “No, City Girls doesn’t force you to have sex with the men you meet. Instead, you’re set up on dates, and the clients pay you for companionship. But if the girl is willing, things can progress to a more intimate connection, as it’s called.”
A frog lodges itself in my throat, and my eyes bulge from their sockets. Holy fuck! I don’t even know what to make of this new information.
Meanwhile, Bess yanks the towel a bit tighter about her breasts, her chin still held high. “So that’s the story. That’s why my picture and that stupid little biography are on that site. Because I used to work for them, although I have no idea why my stuff is still up. I haven’t lived in New York City for years now. All of that happened the summer I was nineteen, which was a long time ago.”
I stare at her.
“So you never had any auditions? You never got any parts in any kind of musical production?”
She glares at me.
“That’s right,” Bess snaps. “I’m sorry I’m not the pristine, lily-white angel you seem to think I am. I wanted to audition, but after staying up all night seeing clients, I was too tired. My summer in New York was one of survival, okay? I did what I had to do so that I didn’t have to return to Lake Puckett, ashamed and broke.”
I take a deep breath, trying to process everything Bess just told us.
“So that’s all?” I say. “That’s the entire story? Are there any more skeletons in the closet we should know about?”
She stares at me with venomous rage.
“You know what? Fuck you!” she hisses. “I just told you about the worst period of my life. Where I had no choices. No money. No help. And I made it out alive! I made it out with my pride intact, and with a better understanding of myself. And instead, this is what I get! A load of horse crap and bullshit. No thanks!”
With that, Bess stares daggers at us, her eyes red and angry, her mouth in a straight line. I’m horrified and I know Brandon feels the same because if Bess’s story is true, then my heart goes out to her. She was a nineteen-year-old innocent, her dreams completely trashed before they even got off the ground. But she didn’t break. She fought through that difficult time, and came out the feisty, sassy woman that we love.
The problem is: what do we do now? After all, it’s clear Bess lied to us about her past. But does that matter, now that we know the truth?
11
Bess
I’ve finally told Ben and Brandon everything about my summer in New York, and the words are like acid on my tongue. Yet it feels cathartic to let go, like I’ve finally thrown off the heavy shackles that were weighing me down.
After all, it’s a secret I’ve been holding onto for over a year now, and part of me is relieved that I’ve been able to confide in someone. I was ashamed, yes. I was humiliated when it happened, yes. But I also came out stronger and more resilient than I could have believed. I’m a woman in full now, filled with grit, determination, and possibilities. They tried to take me down, but failed.
After several moments of intense silence, I lift my eyes once more to look at the brothers, daring them to shun me. Let them see how tough I am. Let them see that I’m not afraid, and that I’ll walk out of their house with nothing but this towel if it comes down to that.
But the twins merely look back at me, their expressions giving nothing away. Their eyes are twin discs of arctic blue: cold, distant and endless.
I clear my throat and speak again. “I want you to know that I didn’t lie. You asked me if I was a whore when I met you, and my answer still stands. I wasn’t. After that summer, I went back to Lake Puckett and resumed my previous life, although I was a changed woman.”
“If that’s true, then why didn’t City Girls take your profile down?” Brandon asks.
I stare at him angrily.
“I honestly don’t know!” is my retort. “Maybe it’s a glitch! Maybe they want to lure men in by having a bigger selection! I don’t know! When I left the agency, they said they were going to take my profile down, and I thought they had.”