CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Kristen
“So … how did you become an escort?” I asked shyly. It was ironic that I was the shy one, when Rachel was the one with the seedy past. But she owned it, unashamed of her history, and smiled at me kindly.
“Krissy, your brothers were good to me, and I’ll never forget it,” she said. “I was a broken woman, living with an abusive boyfriend with a burgeoning drug habit,” she said. “Your brothers worked with me, paying for rehab, paying for a place for me to stay so that I could get away from my ex and kick my addiction,” she said.
“But … how did you meet Troy and Tyler?” I asked.
She shrugged, sighing heavily at the memories. “I was a ‘street girl,’ for better or worse,” she began. Seeing my confused expression, she clarified. “I was a hooker who stood on the sidewalk, picking up random johns,” she said. “The lowest level hooker there is, the one who makes the least for the most amount of danger.”
Looking at her, I could hardly believe it. She couldn’t be a day over twenty-five, and even in the bright light of day, looked fresh-faced and friendly.
Seeing my disbelieving expression, she nodded. “I think that’s why your brothers hired me. When I met them, I was a mess. My boyfriend was my pimp,” she continued. “I thought he loved me because he let me live with him when I wasn’t working, and treated me nice after I got beat-up by clients.”
“I know it sound pathetic, like I’m a victim straight out of Law and Order. But it really did happen,” she confided.
“Anyways,” she continued, “a client is the one who tipped me off to Club Luxe. He took pity on me, the scabs on my arms, the cigarette burns on my skin, and said he’d set up an audition with your brothers.”
“They took me in, Krissy. I was in no state to dance, malnourished and bony, sweaty from withdrawal. But they put a bet on me … that they could help me turn my life around, and worked with me until I was ready to join their service.”
“Did you feel like you had to escort? Did my brothers make you do it?” I asked. This was a crucial question. If Troy and Tyler had forced a woman against her will … I didn’t know what I was going to do.
Rachel’s smile was so wide that it was like the sun had broken from the clouds.
“Oh god no, Troy and Tyler never forced me into either stripping or escorting. It was I who begged them to let me do it,” she said. “Remember, at this point in my life, I had no skills. What else was I going to do? I probably couldn’t even get a job at McDonald’s because of my drug history. So I wanted to strip, I wanted to see men … to build myself up, to start making money so that I could move onto the next phase of my life,” she said confidently.
I was silent for a while. This was a side of escorting that I’d never dreamed of. I’d always thought that the women were pressured into service, that they had no other options. And it was true, in a way. Rachel had had no assets except a delectable body and pretty face. But it sounded like she’d done it mostly for herself, to build up a financial cushion, and even improve her self-esteem in some sense.
“Did you like it?” I asked. And then the million dollar question. “Do you still escort?”
Rachel laughed at this one.
“Baby, I loved it. I loved taking my clothes off for money, letting men touch my tits and cunny. There’s nothing quite like a guy stroking himself, all the while unable to tear his eyes off you,” she confided.
“And the money … honey, I’ll never see money like that again. I made between two and ten thousand per night,” she said. “Bartenders are paid well, but not that well. And no, I don’t escort anymore. I have a boyfriend, a real boyfriend now, and while he knows about my past, I’d never think about stepping out on him.”
And I smiled. Although I’d been stunned by this turn of events, I was happy for Rachel. I was happy that she’d found her own contentment, a stable job and relationship with someone she loved. Would I ever escort? No way. But I couldn’t judge her for taking this path, and with my brothers’ guidance and support, it looked like she’d come out okay.
Relieved, I smiled at her and said thank you.
“I really appreciate your time,” I said. “I know it can’t be easy reliving your past, sharing your history with a stranger.”
“No worries, Krissy, I’d do anything for your brothers,” she said. And then more seriously, “and I really mean anything, after they took me in during that dark period of my life. But honey … when are you going to announce the pregnancy?” she asked.
And I gasped, coloring. How had she known? I was barely showing.
“Other women always know,” she laughed at my baffled expression. “Take care of that baby will you? It’s a Lyon baby,” she said with a wink.
How had she known that it was my brothers’ child? But she’d slid off the bar stool and disappeared before I could ask.