"Pretty much."
"How--I mean, well, I'm not sure what I mean." I try again. "How did you meet him?"
"My cousin. I told you."
"Did she know when she introduced you that--"
She lays her hand over mine. "You, my friend, are way too innocent. Marjorie arranged it, just like I said." She leans in closer, then whispers. "She runs an escort service."
I gape at her. "Seriously?"
Joy nods. "But keep it to yourself, okay. It's high end, and very discrete."
"Yeah. Sure. But what's this got to do with me?"
And that's when it hits me. Honestly, I can't believe it took me so long. I blame the wine. And the fact that never in a million years would I think that my best friend is trying to whore me out through an escort service.
"Are you crazy?" I blurt.
"Oh, come on. It's just sex."
Just sex.
Is there such a thing?
That, of course, is a rhetorical question.
Because no, there isn't any such beast. There are always strings. Always consequences.
My first time, sex was like a weapon, and even though I'd been the one wielding it, I was also the one who got hurt. And the scars ran deep enough that I've avoided a repeat performance for almost five years now.
Not that I've been a pure little flower during that time. I've dated. I've fooled around. There've been fingers and tongues and a couple of really nice orgasms. But I drew a line after that first, horrible night, and I haven't let anybody cross it since.
And maybe that's silly, but it's important to me.
So, no.
Sex isn't just sex. It's big and it's confusing and it's messy and it's complicated.
And I can't.
"Yes, you can," Joy says firmly when I tell her as much. "It's not like you're dating anyone."
"That's your main consideration?"
She rolls her eyes. "Actually, my main consideration is the ten grand you're about to give up."
I freeze. "What did you say?"
"You heard me." She puts a five on the table as a tip for Nessie before getting out of her chair on the sidewalk side. That's when I notice the double-parked Fiat with a ride share placard in the side window.
"Is that for us?"
"I called Marjorie while you were talking to David," Joy admits.
"What?"
"I figured she'd be able get you a gig or two, but it's even better than I expected. She's scrambling to find someone last minute for tonight--and this guy pays a premium even without the rush job."