I should be happier about the endorsement than I am. I mean, this is all I wanted, right? But the truth is that what I want even more is to be able to call Will right now and share the good news. Without that, it feels a little hollow.
71
Will
All the details of Olivia's story checked out.
There were animal bones in her brother's grave, which rested just beneath a large oak tree. The police went to bring in Olivia's father for questioning and found that he'd skipped town. From all appearances, he was in a hurry.
"We think someone tipped him off that she's talking," the cop says. "Maybe he just ran. But it's also possible he's going after the only eyewitness we have."
Olivia.
I've got to find her before he does.
It's only in absolute desperation that I ask Erin again. I insist on meeting her in person this time, because Erin has one of those faces you can read before she's ever said a word. If she's lying, I'll be able to tell.
She denies all knowledge again, but there's something fearful in her eyes.
"Look, Erin, if you know anything, you've got to tell me."
"I think you need to just let her go."
My head lifts. "What did you say?"
"It's best for everyone if you just let her leave. Don't look for her."
"How can you say that? She's got no family, no money, nothing. She's going to lose her scholarship if we don't get her back here."
"Look, she's safe, and she's doing this for you. That's all I can say."
"For me?" I demand. "How the hell could this be for me? I'm going crazy, Erin. Her father may be after her. I have no idea if she's checking her email or voicemail, so I don't know if she realizes she's in danger. If you know something, you've got to tell me."
Ten minutes later I'm in my car, making the hour-long drive to Denver. There's a direct flight to LA that leaves in two hours. No, I can't afford this plane ticket, but I'll worry about that later. There's not a chance I'm wasting a day or more driving to LA when I have no idea if she's safe.
Erin told me everything, and I still can't get my head around it. I'd begun to suspect that Jessica was a little crazy, but for her to blackmail Olivia? It's a level of insanity I'd never even guessed at. I feel sick imagining Olivia leaving, and immeasurably grateful at the same time: she thought I'd used her and rejected her, but she was still willing to give up everything for me.
I messed up. And once I find her, I'm going to spend the rest of my life making it up to her.
72
Olivia
The good news is that Sean lives in a nice section of town. I guess his parents didn't want him to suffer while exploring his "craft". The bad news? Sean is high as a kite, and I can see cocaine residue laying right there on the coffee table.
"Olivia!" he says. "Hey, hey, this is so awesome, so fucking awesome. You can totally crash here."
He tells me he's having a party. He asks if I like to party. I assume he doesn't mean with cake and gifts. "I have a lot of parties," he tells me.
I'll just bet he does.
Things Sean is not good for: providing a place I can sleep without finding a roaming hand sliding up my shirt, or providing a place where any reasonable human being could hope to sleep or stay sober before around 6 am.
Things Sean is good for: finding me work.
By Wednesday, I'm already working at some strip club where he knows the owner. I'm not old enough to tend bar for another week, and I'm technically not supposed to serve drinks either, but his creepy friend says he can overlook it. Of course, he seems to be overlooking it by instead focusing on me in a skirt that doesn't entirely cover my ass and a shirt that covers little more than a bra, but so be it.
Obviously, I can't keep living with Chris Cocaine for long, so I need to make some damn money. And fast. Nothing came today from the Fumito guy, which is troubling. He said he was overnighting it. An endorsement, even a small one, would be enough to get me out of here, but now the whole thing seems a little weird.
///
By 9 p.m., it feels like it's already been a very, very long day. I've been here since three, and there's nothing sketchier than guys who hang out at a strip club in the middle of the day. It's finally starting to pick up, and with guys who don't look like Jack the Ripper, but my feet are killing me in these heels they make me wear and I've got a whopping total of $35 dollars to show for the six hours I've put in so far.
"You can make a lot more money up there," one of my customers tells me. "Or in back."
Is that where this is headed? Am I eventually going to be desperate enough that I wind up on stage?
No. No fucking way.
I'm going to do this for a few weeks until I get enough money to head to Seattle, and then I'll start training. This is not how I'm going to end up.
I refuse to think about Will. Okay, yes, I thought about him the entire bus ride and during Sean's parties. And every two minutes I think of something I want to tell him, think of a joke he'd find funny or remember him above me. And every time I realize these things won't happen, I grit my teeth. I've been stabbed before, I've been assaulted. I was hit by a car and broke 4 bones. I came home one day and discovered that my grandmother had no idea who I was. I survived all of that. I'll survive this too.
"Come here, honey," calls a businessman with three other guys, all in suits. "We want a lap dance."
I shake my head. "Sorry, I just serve drinks."
"Even better. A lap dance virgin. I'll give you $500 to come dance for my friend."
I shake my head again. "Sorry."
$500. $500 for three measly minutes of dancing? I must be insane to turn it down. I just worked 360 minutes for $35 freaking dollars. They wouldn't even be allowed to touch me, although this club seems to have a very flexible approach to the rules.
I can't.
I take $500 for a lap dance tonight, and next time I might be rationalizing making a few grand to do something far worse.
The next guy swats my ass, and the guy after him asks if I'd consider going to the back room. And I have to stand here being cheerful and cute about it so I get my tips at the end of the night. Sean assured me this place was "cool" but I'm thinking he was talking about the customer experience, not the employee one.
As time goes by, The Suits are drunker, rowdier. Their leader flags me down again. Asks me again about the lap dance. "Come on," he wheedles. "My buddy here's getting married."
I smile and put my hand on my hip, imitating the kind of girl I've always hated. "Now you know I can't do that," I say with an accent I don't actually have. "How ‘bout I get y'all another round instead?"
I go back to the bar and wait for their drinks. All of them drinking whiskey on the rocks and chomping on cigars they aren't allowed to smoke, the biggest caricature of all time.
"I'll give you two grand," he says when I return. "Two grand to give my friend here the best lap dance of his life."
And I hesitate. Because I need to get out of here. Because I need to be in Seattle so I can maybe find a way to keep running and stop wishing I'd died when my brother did.
"$2500!" he shouts. "That's my last offer."
I set the tray down. Hello, slippery slope.
73
Will
Erin gave me her brother's address and promised she'd try to get a warning through to Olivia without tipping her off that I was on my way.
I arrive in LA around 6:30 and go straight to the apartment. No one's there, so I wait. And wait. When Sean does finally arrive, it's almost comical how panicked he looks to find me on his steps.
"Hey man," he says warily. "I'm empty-handed if that's what you're here for. I'm gonna party at Avalon tonight."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," I tell him. "I'm here looking for Olivia."
"Whoa, whoa," he says, backing away as if he thinks I'm going to throw a punch. I guess I probably do look slightly unhinged right now. "My sister told me about you. I don't need any trouble. She's not even staying here."
"I'm not her father, moron," I seethe. "I'm her track coach. Do I actually look old enough to be her dad?"
He laughs nervously. "Ha, that's funny. No, sorry, you're right. Erin did say it was her father after her."
"Look, I appreciate you helping her out, but I really need to find her. And I've got to see her in person. Otherwise, she'll run before I get a chance to talk to her."
///
"How do I know you're not some dude she's got a restraining order against?"