Page 5 of Judge Me Not

She clutches my chin and turns me toward her. "My name is Star Vintage. No, it's not my real name. That name is long gone, as well as the girl it belonged to. But I no longer fight to feed my children. I don't work all the time, never to see them. I choose the men I'm with and don't rely on them for anything." She leans close to my ear. "No one pays to eat my pussy, darling, so stop thinking I'm a hooker."

I gape at her. My words finally come out in a stutter. "I-I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult you."

She shrugs. "You didn't. I don't judge anyone for how they feed their families. But I don't need to do that. I use my assets to my advantage and don't do anything I don't choose."

My heart races. "So, what do you do?"

She twirls a lock of my hair around her finger. "Is this your natural hair?"

"Yes."

"And you're..." She peers closer at me. "Black and white?"

I nod. "My mother was black. My father..." I shrug.

"If you were taller, you could model. You would be plus-size, of course."

"Sorry? I'm not—"

"You have curves and aren't a twig. And men will pay big money to see those curves."

"How?"

Why am I asking her this? I shouldn't encourage her.

Abby's face pops up again.Yes, I should.

She smiles. "Come with me."

"Where?"

"To the dressing room."

"I'm on the clock. I can get in trouble."

She tilts her head. "What do you make for the weekend? Two hundred dollars? Three tops, and that's only during the holiday rush? Come January, this place will be dead. They will lay you off. You and I both know this."

"I still need my job."

Her face becomes more solemn. "Yes, you do. You're a mother?"

"Yes. How do you know?"

"I saw it in your eyes when I mentioned my children."

I twist my fingers. "You understand I can't lose my job, then?"

"You can if you make more in an hour than you do working here in two weeks."

My pulse quickens. I'm not sure why I tell her. I usually hide it to avoid pity stares or comments. My tears well, and I blurt out, "My child is sick. I don't mean a cough. Legitimately going to die if I don't pay for her treatment. So I can't afford to take any risks."

Her eyes widen.

I look away, willing myself not to break down but unable to stop the tears that fall. I put my fingers to my eyes, trying to stop the flow.

She hands me a tissue, and I take it, still not facing her.

"I'm sorry to hear about your daughter. I don't know how much you need, but this is the address where I'll be tonight. Tell Donovan you're my guest when you arrive. He's the bouncer. You can't miss him. Come watch. We'll talk."

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