expensive than most of them.”
“You aren’t serious.” “Of course I am. I’ve got a good personality, a
damned nice face, long legs, a cute little butt, almost no waist at
all, and these.” She thrust her chest out, and her large, uptilted
breasts strained against the thin T-shirt. “If I can learn not to
spend every dime I make, and if I can find a few good investments, I’ll
be worth at least a million by the time I’m twenty-five.”
“You won’t do it.”
“Yep.” “You’re putting me on.”
: “Nope. Listen, I’m a regular nympho. I know that. You know that.
Practically everyone knows that. I can’t keep my hands off the guys,
and I like variety.
So if I’m going to be screwing around every day of the week, I might as
well get paid for it.” Amy stared at her searchingly, and Liz met her
eyes, and at last Amy said, “My God, you really mean it.”
“Why not?” aLiz, a prostitute’s life isn’t pleasant. It isn’t fun and
games.
It’s lonely and grim.” “Who says?” “Well . . . everyone says.”
“Everyone is full of shit.” “If you go away and do something like this
. . .
Liz, it’ll be such a . . . such a tragedy. That’s what it’ll be.
You’ll be throwing your whole life away, ruining everything.” “You
sound like your mother,” Liz said scornfully.
“I don’t, either.” “Oh, yes you do,” Liz said. “You sound exactly like
her.”
Amy frowned. “I do?” “Smug, moralistic, self-righteous.” “I’m just
worried about you.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Liz said. “Listen, when you’re a high-priced
call girl, you party all the time. What’s so lonely and grim about
that? It is fun and games. Especially in Vegas, where there’s never a
dull minute.”
Amy was stunned. She had never imagined that she would one day have a
friend who was a prostitute. For a while they sat in silence, sipping
their Cokes and listening to a Bob Seger number that was blasting out
of the jukebox with the force of a jackhammer.
When the music stopped, Liz said, “You know what would be great?”
“What?”
“If you came along with me to Vegas.” “Me ?” “Sure. Why not?” aMy
God,” Amy said, shocked by the idea.
“Listen, I know I’m a damned desirable little package,” Liz said.
“But I’m not one bit sexier than you are. You’ve got just what it
takes to be a huge success in Vegas.”
Amy laughed with embarrassment.
“You really do,” Liz insisted.
“Not me.”
“They’d be standing in line for a chance to get in your pants.
Listen, kid, in that town you’d outdraw Liberace and Frank Sinatra
combined.” “Oh, Liz, I couldn’t do that sort of thing. Not in a
million years.” “You did it with Jerry.”
“Not for money.”
Which is foolish.” “Anyway, that was different. Jerry was my steady
boyfriend.”
“What’s so great about steady?” Liz demanded. “Did going steady mean
anything to Jerry? He dumped you the second he heard you were knocked
up.
He wasn’t considerate or sympathetic or loyal or anything else a steady
is supposed to be. I guarantee you, none of the men you’d be escorting
in Vegas would treat you that shabbily.” “With my luck,” Amy said, “my
first client would turn out to be a homicidal maniac with a butcher
knife.” “No, no, no,” Liz said. “Your clients would all come with
seals of approval from hotel pit bosses and other casino executives.
They’d send you only the high rollers–doctors, lawyers, famous
entertainers, millionaire businessmen .
. .You’d only take on the best people.” “This may come as a surprise
to you,” Amy said, abut even a millionaire businessman can turn out to
be a homicidal maniac with a butcher knife. It’s rare. I’ll grant you
that. But it’s not impossible.” “sO you carry your own knife in your
purse,” Liz said. “If he starts acting creepy, you make the first
cut.” “You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”
“I’m just a girl from little old Royal City, Ohio,” Liz said, abut I’m
not a hick.” “Well, I don’t think I’ll be going to Vegas with you at