The john slowed down his car to look at the girl. Blonde, pale, skinny as hell, with rings of dark makeup under her eyes and tracks on her forearms. Christ, she couldn´t be more than 16, 17 max, he´d guess. He wasn´t so sure it was a good idea to have this piece of jailbait on his hands. Nonetheless, she was pretty, in a bruised sort of way. He slowed the car and she stepped in.
"What´s your name, sweetheart?"
"My friends call me Stacey. For customers, whatever you want."
"How old are you, anyhow?"
" 19."
"How much?"
"Depends. How much of my time are you going to take?"
Two hours and $150 later, Stacey McGill stepped out of the car, back into her squat in Dumbo. She had enough for the next day or so. Maybe three if she really stretched it out. Sitting on the mattress in her dark room, she wondered, where it had all gone wrong.