Thompson is leading our girls through the abandoned neighborhood into our remodeled house, for our first night of business. It's still ugly on the outside, but very nice on the inside. It's nice enough to live in, if I wasn't scared of being murdered in my sleep.

I'm waiting inside, pen and ledger in hand, ready for anything. We're to scheduled to have three visitors today, all of them reeled in by Thompson himself. He says he's not going to risk approaching any more clients himself, no matter how strong the rumor about some guy's depravity. Thompson says, after tonight, the word will spread from these three, out to the perverted masses of Bahia Bay. Maybe even surrounding areas.

The crowd walks in and the girls take a seat on our fabulous velvet couch. Except for Frances, who is being led upstairs by Thompson. I agreed to trust him on the Frances situation, so I'm going to. Besides, I really don't even want to talk to her. It's just creepy.

Marie, Dot, Nona, and Bree. They're sitting and waiting, none of them looking very nervous. Their expressions are more like quiet anger, anxiousness, depression, boredom. It's hard to tell. It might be easier if I was screwed up enough to do what they're doing. I'm just a little less screwed up than they are; I'm only in charge of this thing.

Bree walks over to me and puts on her sunglasses. She can't see me again.

"I'm quitting. This is boring." Bree says.

"What?" I say. "But you haven't even done anything! This is the first day and we've only been in business for five minutes!"

"It's a waste of time. I'd rather just bite the bullet and ask my parents for my hundred a week."

She doesn't wait for my response, she just walks out.

So I'm just sitting, thinking about how I'll never understand cool people, when our first visitor walks in. It's Mr. Higgenbotham.

And then I can't move. My mind moves too fast to catch any of the thoughts that are rushing by. He's going to tell. He's going to see me and run out and tell everybody what's going on here. My family and friends will know everything and they'll hate me forever. I won't be able to finish school or geta job. I'm finished. Why did I ever agree to this?

"Lor, you look rather pale." Higgenbotham said. "Don't worry, Thompson explained the situation to me quite clearly. And there's no chance I would do anything to keep this place from blossoming into prosperity. This is going to be like my second home. So don't worry, I won't tell anybody about you."

Just too creepy. But I can feel the blood rushing back, coloring my face again. I smile and nod, but I couldn't make eye contact with him. I take note of the time, date, payment, and name of our visitor, then direct him to our nice couch. Our ledger says Angels Cry, the name of our little brothel. I was supposed to say, "Welcome to Angels Cry!" But I was nervous and it's pointlessanyway. It's just a name, what we're doing is what's important.

"Go ahead and choose whoever you want." I say.

He stays where he is and faces them. Then he makes a beeline straight to Dot. No surprise there. She is cute, blonde, and perky. She probably reminds him of the girl he was in love with in high school, but never gave him a second look. I figured this place would end up being a place for men to live out their fantasies.

I'm guessing Nona is going to draw in those guys with "jungle fever" or guys with a thing for tall girls. Word is gonna spread about Dot's experience, so I guess who want that quiet, youthful innocence are going to like Marie. As for Frances, I can't imagine what kind of guy would be into that. Maybe some guy that's as disturbed as she is.

Mr. Higgenbotham takes Dot's hand and they head upstairs, where Thompson is waiting to lead them into their room. Thompson has to be careful where he puts them, since he's keeping everyone's safety in mind.

Our first sale wasn't so bad. My nervousness is gone.

Then it comes back.

I hear the front door's knob turn and I look towards it. It's fully twisted, but the door isn't opening. Whoever's on the other side of the door is thinking about it. Then the door opens and it's Coach Coulson. Dumbass is actually wearing a trenchcoat and hat.

"Don't say anything Lor." he says. "I almost didn't even come because it's you running this place. If word got out about this–I mean, the school's star athlete and head coach should not be doing this kind of thing." he says.

"But here we are." I say.

"Yeah, we are." he says, as he lays the money on my guestbook.

I write down the details and he's already on his way. He takes Marie's hand.

"Thompson told me about you." he says. "I've been looking forward to this."

Marie looks a little worried, being touched this giant. But I really can't feel sorry for her, I just can't.

And he says, "don't worry, I'll be gentle with you."

He takes Marie and they head toward the stairs, but Thompson stops them. He tells them they can use the master bedroom downstairs. He shows them the way and then comes towards me.

"Why did you insist on this room?" I say.

Before he can answer, Dot comes running down the stairs and takes her seat.

"That guy is such a loser." Dot says. "He didn't even last ten minutes. I'll bet he hasn't been laid in twenty years."

"How was it?"

"Easiest money I've ever made in my life. I'm still not satisfied, of course. Actually...if you need me I'll be in the ladies' room."

She skipped away to bathroom. That old guy came down the stairs, with his head hanging. He didn't say anything as he left. Just walked out the door.

"So...Thompson, why did you put them in the master bedroom?"

"I just got a feeling. I don't want to see any of the girls harmed, so I put him there to keep an eye on him."

"How are you gonna keep an eye on him?"

"The master bedroom has a two-way mirror."

"Good thinking, Thompson. Ha, I'll bet you've been planning every detail for years."

"You wanna check it out instead? I'll take your place here for now."

"Okay. Where to?"

"In there. The closet next to the bedroom. Call me quickly if anything happens."

I go inside and close the door. There's a crack of light in a lump of curtains. I pull them back and I can see and hear everything. I doubt he even told the girls about this. No sense in making them more nervous than they must already be.

Coach had taken off his coat in there, and he was wearing his PE clothes underneath. Marie walks in from the bathroom and she's wearing her PE uniform too. She sits down on the bed and he stands over her. I have a feeling this is going to be disturbing.

"What's wrong Marie?" He says, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm failing three of my classes. I don't want to get held back. Can you help me?"

"I don't know. That depends."

He starts rubbing her shoulders.

"I don't want to do this coach."

He sits down and puts his hand down her shorts.

"Just relax, Marie."

"Okay."

"No, keep resisting all the way through."

I don't want to see this anymore. It's sick, but it's not dangerous. I'll leave up to Thompson.

I walk back out to the front, and the door comes flying open and I hear, "Hey, yowza!"

I can't believe it's him. There's gotta be less annoying perverts in this town.

But it is. I don't even want to talk to him, and I don't have to. Thompson rushes right up to him and takes him upstairs, telling me to fill out the info on his way up.

He must be here for Frances. I thought whoever that person was, it would be a freak like Jan the "Man." I'm thinking he's seem many prostitutes since he's a loser, but he has plenty of money. He must have done every possible thing with them, now he's bored with them. And now he needs a freak like Frances to satisfy his freakish taste. Sicko.

The night's coming to a close, I guess. The coach is still doing his schoolgirl routine with Marie, and our final guest is here now.

I lock the door and sit next to Nona. Thompson comes back down and smokes at the counter.

"Hey Nona." I say. "Sorry you didn't get to do anything today. I'll give you a little something for your time anyway."

"That's ok, Lor." she says. "I'm glad to just get out of the house. But I guess business is going to get better right?"

"Yeah, I think so too."

Not even a minute since I'd locked it, someone is banging on the door. I look at Thompson and I know this is bad news. The guy behind the door is screaming.

Jaaaaaaaaaaaannnnn! I know you're in there! I heard your phone call!

The idiot was followed here.

Open up! You animal! Jussahoin there fusisisnmam! I'll kill you!

The door is kicked open and Thompson grabs a baseball bat. This guy at the door doesn't even look at Thompson, he rushes to the stairs. He looks like Frances's dad.

Oh shit.

This guy runs up the stairs, towards the room, and we're right behind him–even though we should be running for our lives. But I'm following Thompson, like we agreed. If he's not scared, it makes me feel a little braver.

And then this man right here knocks down the door and I realize what he was saying.

Just a hole in the air for servicing men.

This is the role Thompson had in mind for her. And I'm hating him, and myself, right now.

Frances is wearing some black bondage crap. She's suspended from the ceiling with padded rope, with her legs and torso supporting her weight. She's bent over backward and she's holding scissors in her hands, looking at them intently, chanting "pointy, pointy" in between groans of pain.

Jan is shouting "hey, yowza!" every time she makes her disgusting grunting sound.

There's some music playing. Beethoven or Mozart or something, and it's pretty loud. He still doesn't realize we're in here.

This is really sick right here. I can't imagine how Frances's dad must feel. His eyes are glassy and he doesn't make a move.

Suddenly, he grabs Thompson.

Whatever I felt I had to do here, it's over. I wish I had never met Thompson.

I'm walking down the hall and I hear Thompson's grunt.

I'm running down the stairs and I hear a loud thump.

I'm out the door and I hear Jan's womanly scream as clear as day.

I'm running across the old field with Marie, Dot, and Nona not far behind me.

All I feel is hate.

I hate what Thompson did to me. I hate trying to do something else, and ending up being hated for it. I hate being known only for my sports.

Nobody wants me to grow. That's it. Everybody stays the same and everybody's happy.

Lor, I don't like where you're going with this. Make it like it used to be. When everybody was happy.

I hate you all.

-

I make it to my house somehow. Nobody followed me, but my legs and chest are on fire.

I crawl into bed, but there's no way I'm sleeping. All I can do is think.

Is Thompson going to tell on me? Is he even going to live through the night? I'm mad at him, but I don't want him to die. I hope he's alright. Marie, Dot, Nona. They might tell on me.

I'm going to be lying here all night, waiting for the police to knock on my door. My life's over.

I just think and think and think.