“Let what go?” I ask, my throat still burning from the liquor.

  “Your damn V-card.”

  I shiver at her statement. “You mean my virginity?”

  She nods. “Seriously, though, you were born into the wrong life.”

  Anger boils deep in my stomach and I glare at her. We’ve covered this a million times growing up, and revisiting it just pisses me off. “No shit, Chrissy.”

  Knowing she’s hit a sore spot, she throws her hands up in surrender. “Relax. No need to bite my head off. I was just stating the obvious. It’s fine. I mean, you’re just different than the rest of us.” She pauses, gets up from her chair and sits on my lap. Wrapping her arms tightly around my neck she presses her forehead to mine, her eyes boring deep into my soul. “And that is why I love you.”

  I want to be pissed at her, to hold a grudge because she knows better, but I can’t. Chrissy is the only friend I’ve ever known. Both of us were born into this life—playing the hand we were dealt, so to speak. She’s my Aunt Mimi’s daughter. Although, she wasn’t really my aunt; more like just another one of Big Earl’s sad girls. I’m sure you can connect the dots. Anyways, we were the only kids who grew up in “Menses Mansion.” We were born and raised in the brothel life. We took care of each other. Made sure we both made it to the bus stop every morning. We held hands on our first day of school. We protected each other as we walked the scary halls of high school. I have just chosen a different course than Chrissy. It all boils down to the age-old argument: nature or nurture?

  I guess it doesn’t really matter. Because here we are. Both of us stuck in this shitty life.

  Wrapping my arms around her waist, she leans back and smiles. “Ya know, Presley. I think even if we’d been born into another life that you and I would be the same as we are now.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I’m the loose cannon. The girl who can’t be held down. But you . . . you’re my anchor. You’re the one who keeps us both from drifting away.”

  Squeezing her, I let out a sigh. “Love you too, Chrissy.”

  Her lips press gently against my temple before she jumps out of my lap to take the seat next to me. “Now, let’s be serious for a minute.” I look pointedly at her, waiting to see what comes out of her mouth next. “What has got you all in a tiff?”

  “Nothing.”

  Shaking my head, I direct my attention back toward the books that so desperately need my attention. My eyes focus on the words, hoping for them to transport me someplace else. Fast.

  “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, Presley. Something’s up.” I attempt to ignore her, but she closes my book, forcing all my attention on her.

  “Spill.”

  “Fine, but not here. Can we chat on the way home instead?” I ask, hoping that will placate her for now. I’m also banking on her getting trashed off nips in my drawer so that she’ll forget about my bad mood, but she doesn’t need to know that.

  “Well, it better be good,” she lectures, crossing her arms tightly across her chest.

  It’s at that very moment that Momma pops up to the window. My stomach drops, and I can tell that I’m moments away from losing my dinner all over Big Earl’s new carpet. Biting back the bile, I force a smile and stand up, walking toward her. “Hey, beautiful,” she says, as though her presence and this situation is nothing at all. “Joe in Room #2 is all set. He wants the works.” Briefly my eyes meet hers and I silently plead with her. ‘The works’ is the worst thing a Joe could want to do with my momma. Lots of bodily fluid will be shared. With those two little words I know that she’s putting it all out there. Joe in Room #2 is about to risk his whole life, just so Momma can make a dollar. Just so I can continue to go to college.

  And for what?

  I’m not sure. I thought I knew. College was supposed to be my ticket out of this place, but now, with lives at risk, it doesn’t seem so important.

  Momma breaks eye contact with me because she knows that I’m trying to silently plead with her. She knows I want her to stop, that she needs to stop, and deep down she knows I’m right. Joe in #2 probably has a family, and he is about to chance it all for one night with her. She plays with her fingernails and I sigh as I get the paperwork together and run the transaction.

  I pass it all over to her, and she grabs it without looking at me. “Thanks, baby,” she mutters before turning on her heels and heading off to work it. My shoulders slump in defeat and tears sting my eyes. Swallowing my pride, I turn to Chrissy, my lips quivering with the effort to hold back all the conflicting emotions I’m feeling.

  “Oh, sweetie,” she says before standing and putting her arms around me, letting me bury my nose in her neck, and although I can smell her last Joe’s cologne on her skin, her touch is soothing. Tears spill from my eyes while Chrissy rubs small circles onto my back. “What’s going on?” she whispers.

  Sniffling, I lift my head and lean closer to her ear to ensure that no one hears me. “It’s Momma,” I whisper. “Her screen came back positive. It’s HIV, Chrissy.”

  Chrissy gasps, her hand covering her mouth as the shock takes a grip of her. Watching her, I can see the wheels start to turn in her head and I know what she’s thinking. She’s wondering what I’m going to do, just like I am. “We’ll figure it out, Presley. Somehow, we’ll make this work.”

  IT’S THE FIRST DAY I’M able to sleep in. Fridays equal no class for me, and once I realize that I have all the time in the world, I start to settle back down in my comfy bed. But my bliss is short lived when my door flies open with such force that it bounces off the wall.

  “Get up.” Chrissy’s voice bellows from the hallway and I open my eyes. She’s standing there, looking at me expectantly. “We’re going shopping.”

  “Shopping?” I ask groggily, turning over and pulling the covers tightly around me.

  “Yes, shopping. We’re going to act like normal twenty-one year olds for the day.”

  “So where are we going?”

  “Where do all twenty-one year olds go to waste an entire day?”

  Not feeling up for her games and proverbial pretend, I glare at her, totally unimpressed.

  “Get the fuck up,” she commands. “We’re going to the mall.”

  It takes me little time to get myself ready, mainly because I just don’t give a shit. I’m not in the mood to be social, and to be honest I was just really looking forward to spending the day sleeping in my bed. But I have to hand it to Chrissy, she’s a good friend—looking out for me when I’m unable to do it myself.

  She’s ripping on a cigarette as we wait for the bus stop before she finally speaks again. “Presley, it sucks, but it could be worse.”

  “Really?”

  She shrugs.

  “I don’t think it gets much worse than knowing your mother is dying, infecting more people every day, on the verge of losing her job, all the while wondering what will become of your own future.”

  “Okay, so it’s pretty shitty.”

  The bus pulls to a halt in front of the stop, and Chrissy throws her cigarette to the ground, using the bottom of her flip flop to snuff it out. Luckily we’ve missed the morning rush and the bus is fairly empty when we make our way on to find an empty seat, piling in next to each other.

  “So what are you going to do?”

  The million-dollar question. I wish I knew. Having a smidgen of an idea would really set my mind at ease, but I don’t have a fuckin’ clue. I shake my head and look up at her helplessly. “I dunno, but Big Earl is gonna have a field day with this.”

  Her lips press together in a hard line because she knows just as well as I do that this is the perfect ammunition for him to finally get what he’s been wanting for years. “Fuck him,” she scoffs.

  “He’d like that too much,” I joke, but the mere thought of him, his greasy hands touching me, sends chills down my spine. We sit in silence for the remainder of the drive, both of us lost in thought. It’s not even her problem, but I still know Chrissy is trying her hardest to figure out something for me.

  In reality, we both know it’s hopeless. It’s only a matter of time before Earl finds out, and then Momma will lose her job. Without her working for him, I don’t know where we’ll stand. Obviously I’ll keep doing the books for him, but in order to make enough money I’ll probably have to start pulling doubles, which would make keeping up with school work damn near impossible. The next thing you know, I’ll be dropping out and flushing my hopes and dreams down the toilet.

  Now isn’t that a thought to warm your heart.

  The bus pulls to a stop in front of the mall and we hurry to get off, Chrissy lighting up another smoke as soon as our feet hit the pavement. I glare at her. She smirks between drags and holds the pack out for me. “Want one?”

  “No thanks, I’m all set with the cancer sticks.”

  With a deep chuckle—no doubt brought on by her incessant need to smoke those things—Chrissy changes the subject, asking me about classes and homework. It’s a welcome break to think about something other than Momma, and we manage to casually chat as we make our way into the mall. The shops are bustling with activity and I immediately lose myself in people watching, while Chrissy fawns over outfits. I’ve never been much for clothes. I liked to keep it simple. Jeans, T-shirts, sneakers. The only times I actually dress up is when I have to work the window, and even then I keep it to a minimum. Dress slacks, sweaters, and loose fitting clothing. I never want to be mistaken for a girly girl—or to give Big Earl any more ideas. Lord knows he already has enough of them in his mind as it is.

  Chrissy is blathering on like a fool about some skank-a-tron dress as I turn around and roll my eyes. She’s such a girl. The fact that she hasn’t even noticed I’m not paying attention says that she didn’t actually need me to come with her; which makes her gesture all the more sweet.

  Instead of shopping, I direct my gaze out the window front of the store and my eyes immediately find him. My mouth drops open as I catch his smile. That perfect little smile, adorned with those damn dimples that I can’t stop thinking about.

  Effin’ Emerson.

  He puts his hand up to wave and I manage to close my mouth again.

  My mind starts reeling as I look at him. He’s dressed to the nines: nice jeans, a dress shirt, the look completed by shiny patent leather shoes.

  So far out of my league.

  What do I do? Do I go talk to him? Should I just direct my attention back to Chrissy and hope he leaves? Chrissy.

  Shit. Chrissy, my best friend, who just so happens to be a loud-mouthed hooker. I should run.

  Definitely run.

  Before I have a chance to act, Chrissy breathes down my neck. “Who’s that?” she asks, causing me to jump from being caught red-handed.

  “Just a guy in one of my classes,” I retort quickly.

  “Not just a guy, Presley. A cute guy.”

  I click my tongue and turn away from his unrelenting gaze. “Whatever, can we just keep shopping?”

  “Yeah, sure, but it looks like cute class guy is coming your way.”

  My fickle heart flutters in my chest, and I curse under my breath. I don’t need Emerson muddying up my life right now. Not that I think he is . . . well, maybe I do. Running my fingers through my hair, I attempt to straighten myself up a bit. My efforts are in vain, because deep down I know it’s too late. I look frumpy, and I hate myself for not taking the time to primp. Shrugging off my moment of weakness, I attempt to fake nonchalance.

  I don’t care.

  “Hey, Presley,” he calls to me; walking through the door looking like he stepped straight out of GQ.

  Okay, so I might care just a little. Pissed at myself, I take a deep breath before directing my attention in his direction. “Oh, hey, Emerson.” I don’t know why I feign surprise, because I know he knows I’ve already seen him.

  In just a few steps he’s next to me, and I can smell his cologne. As if his pull wasn’t already magnetic enough, I find myself fighting the urge to move even closer to him.

  Unfamiliar with this kind of situation, I briefly wonder if it would be inappropriate of me to sniff him deeply in the middle of the store?

  Shut up, Presley!

  “Doing a little bit of shopping?” he asks.

  I know he’s making small talk, and it makes me uncomfortable knowing that Chrissy is right next to me. Unpredictable at the best of times, I never know what is going to come spilling out of her mouth and I don’t really feel like explaining myself. “I don’t shop, I’m just keeping my friend company.”

  “Yeah?” He looks in Chrissy’s direction. I suppose I should introduce them.

  “Emerson, this is my best friend, Chrissy. Chrissy, this is Emerson, from Bookkeeping 101.”

  Chrissy sashays in front of me and slides her hand into his. “Well hello, Emerson from Bookkeeping 101.”

  She can never turn it off. Always looking to turn her next trick, I swear. The discomfort I feel knowing this brings out a physical reaction and I slap her on the shoulder, bringing her back to reality. Emerson is not some Joe. He’s a guy. A guy who I have to go to school with. A guy who I’d really like to keep in the dark. She looks at me, slightly confused, before I shoot her a death glare and she immediately gets the hint, chancing a quick glance back at Emerson. He clears his throat before answering, “Nice to meet you.”

  And then his attention is back on me and he smiles. “So do you have anything important planned for today?”

  “Just mall trolling.”

  “Well, that’s boring,” he quips back.

  I glare at Chrissy. “Tell me about it.”

  “Well, I was just about to head to the movies with some friends. You guys should join us.”

  Movies. I haven’t seen a movie in ages, and I could use a little entertainment right now. Even though I’m not much of a moviegoer, the distraction would be welcome.

  But do I want to travel into this grey area with him?

  Before I can think about how to respond, Chrissy answers for me. “That sounds great!” she says, and the answer is obviously acceptable to Emerson because, with a nod of his head, he gestures for us to follow him, and Chrissy goes . . . without hesitation. I, on the other hand, am frozen in place. This can’t possibly be a good idea. Chrissy notices I’m stuck in place and looks over her shoulder at me. Rolling her eyes, she takes a few steps back to me and sighs. “It’s just a movie. It won’t kill you.”

  She’s right. A movie never did anyone any harm. Like I thought earlier, it could probably do me a little good right about now. “Fine,” I snap. “But if this gets weird, I’m out.”

  She nods before linking arms with me, dragging me at pace in order to catch up to Emerson, and as we walk I realize I’ve just made a big mistake. My heart races, which causes my head to swim. This isn’t part of my life plan. I don’t have time for this sort of thing. Pretending to be a normal twenty-one year old isn’t for me. It’s stupid. I’m acting like a silly teenager and I can’t believe that I’m going to allow it. My inner voices argue with each other. I deserve the chance to be carefree—even if I’m only pretending.

  Chrissy and I link arms as we follow Emerson, and I begin to relax when he laughs and chats casually as we navigate our way past store after store.

  “He looks familiar,” Chrissy whispers into my ear.

  I shrug. He does have that All-American boy next door look. Surely he just looks like someone we know? I don’t think about it for long because my thoughts immediately shift when I see a crowd of people up ahead. One of the girls looks and waves to Emerson, and he waves back just before she starts whispering to the girl standing next to her. Both of them are gorgeous, and dressed in their Sunday best. Chrissy and I can’t be bothered to dress up on our days off. It’s high-waisted shorts and grungy tees for us.

  But those girls. Those girls give a shit. They’re out to impress, and they’re doing a fine job of it.

  I swallow, intimidated just by their presence because I know all about girls like them. Catty girls. My very own proverbial hell.

  High school girls can be downright evil, as Chrissy and I found out. It started when we were young. Once it was discovered that I lived near the brothel, it didn’t take long for the news to spread amongst the parents, who then urged their kids to keep their distance. Once we got into high school people made the connection between our address and our parents’ ‘careers’ and Chrissy and I were labeled whores, simply because of where we lived. It made us targets for pretty much everyone at school, thus meaning our time in high school was ever more hellacious than it is for most.

  Chrissy and I weren’t in the “in-crowd” and we were tormented. The reason was simple: we were seen as a threat. We were pretty and mysterious, guys talked about us, and it didn’t help our case that Chrissy kept sleeping with them. It wasn’t the way I chose to handle things, but it made Chrissy feel better—like she was sticking it to the bitches that made us miserable by fucking their boyfriends. Needless to say our high school experience was anything but typical. I didn’t go to prom. Boys didn’t ask me out on dates; they asked me for blowjobs. Except for Simon. Simon had been different.

  Or at least so I thought.

  Simon and I met during our senior year. He was a foreign exchange student from Australia and his accent alone was enough to make me fall head over heels in love. With him being in almost all of my classes, we talked every day and, eventually, we both started to feel things. I trusted him, he made me feel human and I told him my deepest and darkest thoughts. But I never went there. He didn’t need to know about my home life. As our feelings developed, our talks shifted from being casual to him asking me out on a date.

  Preparing for that date was the most blissful night of my life. I had hope. Thoughts of finally knowing what a real relationship might be like intoxicated me. Chrissy and I trawled through my wardrobe, looking for something for me to wear. None of the clothes I owned could match what the popular girls wore, but that’s what I liked about Simon; he liked me for me.

  But as always my excitement was short-lived.