The Dean’s List(3)

“You screw men for money? How many men? Does the school support this?” I leaned forward and mouthed the words. “Do you fuck them on the regular?” How did I miss her pimpin’ her pussy for cash? We hadn’t hung out as much over the last few months. I’d missed her, but we were both busy with studies and our part-time jobs. Or so I’d thought. This is not what I’d expected.

She slapped the table and glared at me. I hadn’t seen that look since the day we graduated from high school, when she told me we were moving to New York. “River. Listen.” Her voice demanded compliance and I’d listen, because whenever Jade had a plan, my life inevitably got better. “I know this is sounding weird to you, but it’s important this doesn’t go anywhere. Got it?”

“It’s a little late to get my sworn affidavit, don’t you think? I never told your mom that you spent Fourth of July being a groupie for that grunge band. I never told Mr. Esly that your grandma didn’t really die when you skipped finals week. You know me.”

She reached over and held my hand just a little too firmly. Handholding could only mean some serious shit was going down.

“Okay, well...The Dean’s List only takes graduate students. Educated men and women. No giddy juveniles. Like you, I was broke. An opportunity came along and I took it.”

“You. This. How long?” I would consider myself the worst of friends if she told me years.

Jade made no excuses. It wasn’t her way. “Several months.” She released my hand and leaned back in the booth. With her fingers laced, she turned them inside out and pressed them forward.

Pop.

Pop.

Pop.

The disgusting sound of knuckles cracking made me cringe. My discomfort gave her the edge and she knew it. She had my full attention.

“Get on with it.” She was going to try to sell me on the possibility of selling myself. Had my life come to this?

“Three positions are open and interviews are happening now, but there are only two positions you qualify for since you don’t have a penis.” Her tone was matter of fact.

“I have to interview to be a fucking prostitute?” My heart pounded so loudly I was certain Jade could hear it across the booth. A prostitute? Really?

She gave me a slow disbelieving headshake. “How many times have you had a one-night stand and received nothing but a hangover and a dirty snatch?” She lifted her perfectly plucked brows in question.

“You make it sound like I’m already a whore.” I swear she flinched at my reply. “I’m not loose. I’m experimental.” I tried to lessen the tension I was feeling with witty commentary. “Hell, the average woman has had six sexual partners by the time she’s thirty. At twenty-five, I’ve had eight. So… I’m an overachiever.”

“I never said you were a whore. I’m only telling you that you can earn a lot of money being an overachiever.” A sly smile lit up her features. “Your number, when divided, doesn’t add up to one a year. That’s so far below ho—we can’t count it. You’re treading on virgin territory and we can change that.” Her eyes danced with delight.

“I don’t get it, Jade. How did I not know?” I let my head fall forward in shame. I had no idea what my best friend had been up to.

“I had to keep the secret in order to participate. I had to participate in order to survive.” Her strong voice had lost its power. “Right now, you’re where I was several months ago.”

“And you want me where you are now.” Could I consider it? Could I afford not to? Elbows on the table, I laced my hands and rested my chin on the flat of my knuckles. The busy sounds of New York dimmed as my mind raced and raged and rallied. Could I? “I’m listening, tell me the rest.”

“My boss asked me yesterday if I had any pretty friends who could fill the empty positions. I thought of you, but I wasn’t sure. With your dad being a man of God, I didn’t know if you’d risk his wrath. I know your relationship with them isn’t perfect or pretty but…”

“‘Isn’t pretty’ is like saying herpes is a form of chapped lips. Seeing them twice a year doesn’t keep me connected or establish a relationship. Go on.”

Jade was the star debater in high school. She could sell a purple cape to Superman. I was curious to see how she’d sell this.

“You’d be set up with people who have influence in your field. Being an MBA you have a broad reach, and with your looks you’ll have a big audience. We’re talking about lots of men with boatloads of money.”

“Lots of men? Okay. Great. But are you forgetting this whole thing is illegal?” I looked at her with wild-eyed shock.