Chapter 2

2

H adley | Sacramento, California | Early 2000s

I am officially a whore , Hadley wrote on the corner of the piece of scrap paper in dark red satin ink. Her eyes lingered on the words that framed her limited options before slamming her hands down on the desk in frustration.

It's just sex , she tried to convince herself. It could be over quickly if she closed her eyes and played a song or wrote a story in her head. There would be no visible evidence for the world to see her shame. That was something she could take on alone.

Dancing at Little Darlings in the questionable part of downtown was another option to make quick cash. It was something she could do, perform, and become someone else for a few hours a night. The shoes that the women wore were a different type of horrifying, but maybe they'd allow her to be barefoot.

Hadley rolled her hips back and forth, seeing herself on that stage with a silver pole behind her. Half of the boys in her graduating high school class would be in the audience, smug intensity on their focused faces. They would come to support her, the strong feminist who didn't care what people thought of her. They would tug on her stockings, stuffing dollar bills down them as she'd let their hands graze her skin with intent.

She was voted most likely to be an author in her senior class yearbook. Once they left the club, those boys would laugh about how far she had fallen.

No, stripping was not an option. It would have to be something behind a closed door.

Hadley blew her chance earlier, promising to meet a manager for high-end escorts and not following through. Just hours earlier, she had walked toward a coffee shop to meet this man. She wore her long, blonde hair down her back and a white fit-and-flare mini-dress that emphasized her cleavage. Casual flip-flops and chipped-toe nail polish completed her outfit as if she would ever wear anything else. Hadley was just another typical Californian who didn't own close-toed shoes. She didn't understand the point of them.

Hadley stopped across the street from Java Java, her meeting point with the manager. She saw him sitting at one of the metal outdoor tables with two iced coffees sitting atop. His eyes darted to every single woman who walked past him, expectantly.

Her phone vibrated in her skinny-strapped faux leather purse. She pulled it out, reading the text message.

Are we still meeting?

He put his phone down, and she watched him sigh, rolling his eyes to the sky before looking around. His square jaw and plain white t-shirt would have ensured that on any normal day, she would walk straight past him with no suspicions, but now, she knew he was a conduit to a world filled with lust. His wandering eyes eventually landed on her, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

Slut. Whore .

At that moment, Hadley felt nothing but shame and embarrassment. Her face was wet and pale. This wasn't who she was.

With eyes locked on his, she scowled at him and walked off in the opposite direction, towards her apartment.

The newly eighteen-year-old girl felt that she had no other options and only a few dollars left to her name. She had just applied for a job at that same coffee shop the day before. The skinny, freckled supervisor told her that he would keep her application on file, but like everywhere else, they had no open positions.

At least she could write. She could take this day and add it to the play she was working on, or bring her frustration to the slam poetry open mic night. There was a place where she did feel like she belonged.

Hadley walked through the streets of midtown, passing old, poorly cared for tenements and outdated small businesses. It was the prior gold rush town in all its glory.

She walked past politicians on their way to the capital, suits, and ties projecting power despite the unbearable heat. She also passed homeless people, eyes fixed on the ground, their cardboard signs pleading for food or money. She wasn't too far off from needing a sign of her own, and the idea of living on the streets made her speed up her pace as she strolled past them.

Hadley reached her apartment building. She loved it there, with its baby blue exterior and small square windows. There was nothing extravagant about it, but it was the first real sense of independence she had found since her mom had died. Before she signed the lease, it had been two years of couch surfing with various high school friends, and now one of them was on her couch.

Once inside the building and up the stairs to the second level, Hadley turned left and walked to her door, only to be met with horror. Four angry eviction notices on bright red paper were taped on the front of her dark blue door.

"Shit, shit, shit," she said under her breath as she tore the notices down, creating large red paper balls in her tight fists. She pulled her keys out of her purse and let herself in before closing and locking the door behind her. She took a few deep breaths, the dread radiating off of her.

What am I going to do?

She sat at her desk, throwing the crumpled-up papers in the wastebasket.

I am a whore , she continued to write on the scrap paper, normalizing it. She read the words over and over again until numbness replaced the panic.

The natural light from the window faded as the day turned into night. She sat up straight in her desk chair and angled her body towards the computer. She wiggled the mouse on the black trackpad, waking the screen.

Hadley tapped her mouse to click on a hidden tab she had been scrolling through earlier in the morning. She continued to explore the ads for "girls who need money fast." It was time to try again.

Without letting herself think too much about it, she clicked on an ad that promised "safety" and "respect" and texted the phone number provided outright.

She got a reply in less than a minute.

Meet tomorrow at 1207 Yesler Way, Citrus Heights. We will take pictures and get you started. Go around the side to the garage entrance. - Grant

Hadley put her phone on the desk, screen down, and took a breath. She could do this. She had to do this. Her stomach turned from the anxiety. The meeting that she had just stood up had been in a public place. This was not.

It's just sex . She tried to convince herself again. Sex is a craft. This is okay.

The handle on the front door turned, and Hector walked in with a huge smile on his face.

"You would not believe the day I had," Hector announced his arrival and threw his gym bag on the couch. "I hit up the gym before dance class, and I spotted a very attractive person. I had to get his attention, so I began stretching, showing off a little of what I can do. He then totally starts smiling at me. We instantly have a real vibe going on."

Hadley sighed and leaned back, taking in Hector's thick Portuguese accent, which got heavier whenever he was excited.

"Then, bam, I pulled a muscle in my calf. It hurt. Holy fuckin' shit, it hurt. I bit down on my lip so hard so I didn't show it and he thought I was flirting, as it goes. Next thing you know, he gave me his number. He wants to meet at Club Spire tonight. Will you please come and be my wingman? My wingwoman? You have to say yes!" He flung his hands in the air.

Hadley scrunched her lips and started to shake her head.

"I think I might love him. If you don't come, you'll be interfering with destiny." He pulled his arms into his chest before diving onto the couch, kicking his shoes off in the process.

"Hadley," Hector said after a few moments of silence, "do you think my parents will ever come around? I miss them."

As excited and joyful as Hector could be, Hadley's best friend and couch squatter's mood fell just as fast.

She got up from her desk and closed the four steps in between their two chosen pieces of furniture. She collapsed onto him, cuddling into his chest. They were all each other had at the moment and sometimes it was enough.

"You're an amazing performer, Hector," Hadley responded. "Once you audition and get cast in a professional company or production, I'm sure that they will come and be in the front row." She popped her head up and kissed his chest, squeezing him extra tight. Hector came from a strict, religious family and they kicked him out once they became suspicious about his taste in partners.

"I'll come to the club tonight," she added, caving into his bout of sadness, intentional or not. He was training hard at his unconventional dream of being a professional stage actor. He took acting, dance, and singing classes like an addict.

Hector popped up, very excited.

"Thank you, thank you! I have got just the thing for us," he said as he jumped off the couch with a new spring in his step, leaving Hadley to fend for her life in a less-than-graceful aerial roll.

Hector ran over to his gym bag, unzipping it, and rummaged around for a few seconds before pulling out a plastic sandwich bag. He held it up in the air triumphantly.

"I picked up these 'shrooms from that dancer, Greg. You know, the one we always suspected dealt drugs. Guess what? He does! We were right! We are going to dance away all our feelings tonight. I might be married in the morning, who knows?"

"Whatever you need, Hector, I won't ruin the night."

"Didn't you have a job interview today?" Hector asked, bringing the bag into the kitchen that sat opposite her desk.

"Yes, I did," Hadley lied. "It looks like I will start tomorrow."

Hadley did her best to force some enthusiasm on her face as Hector pulled a banana out of a cabinet and began peeling it, then cut it up into slices with a butter knife.

"Dude, I'm so proud of you. So apparently, Greg said that if you eat these with potassium, you'll have a better high." He pulled out two servings of dry, scentless mushrooms from the sandwich bag and placed them on top of two banana slices as if they were crackers.

"Down the hatch," he said with a huge grin.

Hadley grabbed the drugged banana sliced and placed it in her mouth. She chewed the bite, not realizing that it was a mistake, as her mouth filled with a bitter, horrible taste with the tones of the fruit. She gagged it down, giving Hector a watery-eyed thumbs up.

The eighteen-and-up dance club was a short ten-minute walk from their apartment. She loved how central the location was. Hadley looked over at Hector, rolling her eyes and holding back a laugh as she watched him check his hands to see if the mushrooms had already kicked in. He was dressed to impress, with glitter sprayed all over his face, chest, and arms. He was going all in tonight, and she loved him for it.

They stood in a short line once they arrived. Hadley shivered a bit as the sun started to go down .

"Who is this boy you are meeting?" she asked when they were near the front, "What is his name?"

"I put him in my phone as ‘ Gym Hottie' . That's all I've got." He shrugged.

So much for true love.

Once inside the building, the music hit them hard, pulsing through their bodies. The smell of sweat and perfume clung inside her nose, and the lasers—gold, purple, and white—danced around the ceiling in the dark.

Hector disappeared from Hadley's side immediately, and at first, she didn't notice. There was a wave in the air as if the music were coming out from the speakers like an ocean tide. She put her hands up, trying to touch it. She could feel it. She could see it. Her hips swayed as she worshiped the beat, feet digging into the solid ground just in case she could float away.

The mushrooms had kicked in, and suddenly, she felt as if she were in the perfect place. The weight of the world melted off of her.

Stranger's hands caressed her through the night, joining her worship of music. She was a part of it, riding that wave through its dips and valleys. Her thrill left her smiling, with her head falling back. Hadley looked up at the ceiling as she let herself go.