My mind is reeling, wondering what could have happened to make her run away; wondering why the police wanted to question her. I remember something I read online back in Napa, at the library: about how the police in Atlanta wanted to question her in relation to some guy; I think his name was Sean something. I must be making some kind of pissed off face, because Meredith shrinks away a little, pulling the pillow closer to her chest. She traces the rim of the Coke can with her fingertip, and I want to tell her not to. She might cut her finger.
“When I got there, out to Vegas, I ended up getting to know the manager and owner of this brothel on the Strip. I was working on my story, but I ran out of money, so I ended up crashing there. I wasn't sure what I'd do...” She bites her lip, glancing at me and then down at the floor. “Because of the...circumstances, I couldn't go back home. I was going to get a job waitressing or something. I'd even put in some applications. And then one day, I was on my way to the gym when a client saw me, I think, and it wasn't long after that the owner told me that this guy felt I fit the bill for what he wanted.” Her eyes, on her Coke can, flick to mine. She watches me carefully, waiting for my judgment.
I'm gritting my teeth, so I try to relax my jaw and calm my mind. Do I hope this client was my father, or someone else? The possibilities seem equally awful.
“In what way?” I choke out. I swallow so what I say next doesn't sound so f**king ragged. “How'd you fit the bill?”
She shrugs, like we're talking about the rain. “The client wanted someone young who wasn't seeing many or any other clients. And he wanted a Vegas girl, so I became his Vegas girl.”
And there it is. It's all out on the table. Meredith was my father's Vegas girl.
I nod, keeping a lid on my feelings, and then without meaning to, I'm up, striding into the kitchen. My heart is pounding and my mouth feels dry. I turn a quick circle, careful not to look at Merri. But from where she’s sitting, she might be able to see my face. And if she sees my face, she'll know. I wheel around again and jerk open the refrigerator. I grab the first thing I see—a bottle of beer—and curse as I realize I can't twist the damn top off. Not with one hand.
I stand there, breathing hard and staring at it, and Merri's soft footsteps whisper across the stone floor. I don't want to see her but she stands in front of me. She has her arms folded over her stomach and her pretty little bow of a mouth is pinched into a sour face.
“You know, you asked.”
“I nod.” I do know that. I just didn't plan to feel so fracking jealous. I pop my jaw, and Meredith's eyes widen. She takes the beer from me and twists the top off. She takes a long swig and hands it back to me.
Her eyes, when she looks at me, are hard. She bites her lip, and her face softens. Her words are soft, too. “I didn't think that you would act this way.”
What? Jealous? I frown. “What way?”
“So...disgusted.”
My eyes widen. “Is that what you think I am?”
“Isn't it?”
I tighten my grip on the beer bottle, tilting my head back to get a swallow—and break eye contact. The liquid burns my throat and pretty soon I have no choice but to look at her again. This time, her eyes and face are sad. Because I made her feel judged. Which is really unforgivable.
“Hey...I'd never judge you. And I'm not disgusted.” I bump her shoulder awkwardly with mine, and she steps quickly away. She leans against the counter, putting some space between us, then turns sideways so she's facing me.
“It's not something that I'm proud of. The man was married, and what I did was wrong. I could tell you that I did it for money, because I did, but that wouldn't make it right. The affair didn't last long, and the two of us were never emotionally involved. He didn't want to get to know me on more than just a superficial level.
“If I could go back, I would find another way to make money. Even prostitution would have been morally better than that. At least I think so.”
I nod, trying my damndest to act casual, but my throat is so tight I can't speak.
“I'm sorry.” Her lips twist into a frown as she notices my clam up. “Does this make you uncomfortable?”
I take another swig of the beer and lie my ass off. “Hell no. Sex?”
“Well, it wasn't actually sex.”
“Even if it was. I'm fine with it.” I shrug, and she gives me a doubting look.
“You don’t have to worry about my feelings.”
“My feelings are that you were young and desperate. Isn't that what you said?”
“I had no money, and the job is what got me through, but it's also what got me here.”
“How?”
She shakes her head and walks back to the couch. I follow, moving the popcorn onto a table so there's nothing in between us. Merri's got her arms around herself. I put my hand on her forearm, and her eyebrows scrunch low in confusion. It looks like she thinks I've lost my mind, except I can see her cheeks getting pinker. I can see the way her eyes fill up with tears. So I take her hand.
“Look, Merri...I swear I wasn't judging you. You want the truth? It makes me fu— it pisses me off.”
She shakes her head. “But...I don't get it. Are your reasons like, religious? Or moral? It just pisses you off that people do what I did at all?”
I squeeze her hand and look down at it, so I don't have to look into her eyes.
“That's not it.” Against my will, my gaze finds hers. The words get hung up in my throat. I swallow. “I just don't think he was worthy of you.”
I'm not sure I heard him right. “Worthy of me?”
“Yeah.” His voice sounds low. “When married men take advantage of young girls in compromised circumstances, that makes them sick f**ks.”
I flinch a little at the term, and he frowns. “Sorry. Fracks.” He lets go of my hand and stands up, wiping his right palm on his ridiculous cut-off shorts. “Sex or not,” he says, “it’s wrong. Wrong of him. And then what happened next. How the fu— How did that happen, Merri? I want to know.”
I stand up, too. If I'm going to tell him—and I'm not sure that I am—I'll need to put some distance between us. With a sideways glance at him, I walk to the refrigerator and grab another beer, downing half of it before I turn back toward Evan. He's still standing in front of the couch. He looks intense. Upset.
Why does he care so much? “How do you know he wasn’t worthy of me?” The words are soft, pulled from my throat. His blue eyes are on me and I want to run and hide. Instead I step a little closer to the living area. “It's true that I was innocent, but what if at some point I wasn't anymore? You don't know I wasn't.”