I remember meeting Tyler once. He seemed nice. And he was good-looking. If I had to lose my virginity, I suppose he would be a good one. Although I’m not terribly romantic, I would like my first time to be memorable, in a positive way. But maybe Talia’s right. Maybe you just have to get it out of the way, like a vaccination, so you can get on with the better parts of your life. I heard the first time is not that enjoyable for most women anyway.
After leaving the house and catching the BART train to Berkeley, I make it to the financial aid office fifteen minutes after they open.
“I’m going to be honest with you, the chances of receiving grants or scholarships are low,” the financial aid officer tells me, “but you can definitely qualify for some student loans. The federal loans will have the best rates, and maybe you can supplement that with some work-study. The pay is usually fairly competitive.”
I stifle my sigh of disappointment and ask him, “How many hours of that can I get?”
“It varies but most students I know work four to eight hours a week.”
“That’s it?” There’s no way I can cover rent and send money back to Lila working just eight hours a week. “Can I get two work-study jobs?”
“You don’t want to overdo it, or you won’t have enough time to study. The academics here at Berkeley are quite rigorous. Plus, college is about having some fun, too, young lady. You have to have balance.”
I return his encouraging smile, but in truth, what he calls balance seems like a luxury to me. Even though Lila insists I shouldn’t worry about her and that I have to go live my life, I can’t help but feel guilty that I’m not back in Durham with her and my adoptive younger brother, Andre, a sophomore in high school. The best way to assuage my guilt is to send them money so that Andre can play AAU basketball. His coach wants him to attend this special basketball camp attended by a lot of college recruits. Apparently, unless you’re the next LeBron James or Kobe Bryant, it’s not enough to just play ball for one’s high school; one has to play in the special tournaments off season to get noticed. The camp costs several thousand dollars, and there’s no way I can help out enough if I attend UC Berkeley.
I make it to my morning class later than planned because I couldn’t resist hanging out on campus for a bit. I love the Berkeley campus and the college town that surrounds it. It reminds of Chapel Hill, where Lila went to college. While I love the hustle and bustle of students going to and from class and all the different eateries and hangouts that surround the school, my favorite part of the Berkeley campus is the creek that runs through it, shaded on both sides by tall trees and greenery. It’s like someone plopped a small piece of the forest right in the middle of all the large buildings of concrete and glass.
After sitting through the last hour of my morning classes, in which I’m distracted, thinking that maybe I should look into enrolling in a California State University school instead of Berkeley, I rush over to The Montclair. The umbrella Mr. Lee gave me yesterday came in handy as it started to rain on my walk over, but I plan to return the umbrella with a note of thanks.
I work the tenth and eleventh floors before taking a break and sit down to eat a turkey sandwich I bought from a Starbucks I passed on the way in. Making my own sandwiches would be a lot more cost effective, but when I come home from a long day of work and classes, I don’t feel up to going to the grocery store. Plus, since I don’t have a car, I’d have to get a ride from one of my roommates. Or I can Uber it, but that probably makes it a wash compared to buying a sandwich on the go.
“And my agent says this guy is willing to pay twenty thousand if you’re a virgin,” Sierra is telling Tracy, a receptionist who works in the front lobby. She also attends City College.
I sit at the other end of the table in the staff room from them and open my economics textbook to read while I eat my sandwich.
“Holy shit!” Tracy replies. “I wish I had my virginity still. I mean, for twenty thousand dollars, I’ll pretend to be a virgin.”
“You can’t pretend that shit. They’ll do an inspection.”
“They can tell by looking?”
“You’ve never looked at yourself in the mirror?”
“Not down there.”
“The hymen’s pretty easy to see. At least mine was. After I lost my virginity, it wasn’t there anymore.”
“I was told you can break your hymen riding a bike.”
“Well, even if you’re not a virgin, you can still make like a thousand dollars per night.”
“No way! Why would a guy pay that much? I mean, it’s got to be pretty easy to find a hooker for a lot less than that.”
“Because these men are rich. And maybe they don’t want some trashy disease-infested streetwalker.” Sierra slides a business card over to Tracy. “That’s my agent’s number. Call him if you’re interested.”
I try to understand the supply and demand curves in front of me, but my mind can’t get over the number Sierra had thrown out. Twenty thousand dollars. To have sex with a virgin? That’s crazy. Like medieval crazy. What’s so special about having sex with a virgin? The guy would have to be some pervert or pedophile to get a high from deflowering a woman.
Twenty thousand dollars. That’s eight months of pay if I worked full time. That would cover a full year of tuition and fees at Berkeley and some room and board.
My mind starts reeling. All for just one night of sex? What is my virginity worth to me?
Sierra and Tracy leave the staff break room to go outside to smoke. I finish my sandwich, and as I leave the table, I notice that the business card Sierra had slid over to Tracy is on the floor. Tracy must have dropped it. I pick it up and note the name of Dan Pullman, Pullman Model & Talent Agency. I pocket the card to give to Tracy.
The thought of having sex with a stranger in exchange for money makes me queasy. Though Lila only made it to church with me and Andre sporadically, it’s not how I was raised. Plus, it’s illegal. Even in California.
But damn. Twenty thousand dollars is a lot of money. I might never have a chance to make that much in one go. Not unless I win the lotto, and that’s not likely to happen. With twenty thousand dollars, I could definitely afford to buy a quality umbrella.
CHAPTER THREE