Maisie sat up. “What’s that?” She watched him watching her, liking his intensity.
“Let’s rock and roll,” Star interrupted, then snorted a line. She passed the mirror to Maisie. Aaron was looking at Star, who wore only a black bra and panties. The star tattooed on her inner thigh was dark blue.
Aaron turned. “C’mon, Maise, you don’t need that,” he said.
“Aar, you don’t have to whine.” She took a line, like she knew what she was doing. She handed him the mirror, watching him.
He fingered the silver stud in his lower lip. “Unh-unh,” he said.
Jimmy pointed a forefinger at Maisie, cocked his thumb, found her eyes. “Jimmy’s going to blow your mind.”
Maisie smiled, sure he could do that. She hoped he’d at least get her off.
Star ran her hand along Aaron’s thigh. She kissed his ear, then his mouth as she touched him. She lay beside him on the mattress. Maisie watched as Star took off her bra.
Maisie turned to Jimmy, who was still watching her.
“How old are you?” he asked when she leaned back.
“Seventeen,” she lied.
“I think you’re sixteen,” Jimmy said, then he gave her a slow drawn-out smile.
Maisie turned back toward Aaron and Star. Star was straddling him now, rocking back and forth and making little noises. Aaron held her large breasts. Star’s blond shoulder-length hair swirled around her head in slow rhythmic circles. Her face was angular, flat and smooth, like a model’s, only now she looked older.
Maisie watched Aaron approach orgasm. She loved the way his face got so serious just before he came. This time, though, it pissed her off, even though she knew it shouldn’t.
Maisie turned back to Jimmy, whose eyes were still on her. “Jimmy’s going to tell you something. Jimmy’s going to rock your world.”
Maisie took another snort of coke, then she took off her sweater, exposing her small, firm breasts.
Jimmy ran his slender forefinger along her cheek. “Listen up, little one. Jimmy knows your daddy.”
Maisie pulled away. “Verlaine?”
Jimmy moved behind her, soft and smooth as a jaguar, putting his arms around her bare chest. “Shh, honey, shh. Your real daddy.”
Maisie couldn’t speak.
“Jimmy knows your natural daddy, little one.”
“How do you know about me?” she asked, leaning back against him.
“Your daddy knows you. He talked to Jimmy about you. He loves you. You’re his sweet baby girl.”
“I don’t understand,” she whispered, letting this wash over her.
“He said to tell you that he saved your three-legged brown bear, and the little red and blue blanket with the white stars and the chewed-up corners.”
“Oh God.”
“When I get to know you better, I’ll take you to him. He’s afraid of stepdaddy Verlaine, so you can’t say a word. That’s all Jimmy’s going to say about it now.”
“Take me to him, please.” Maisie lay her cheek against his chest. Her real dad. Just the two of them. She remembered how he used to sing her to sleep. Thinking about that was like being in a lovely, soothing dream.
“Soon, little one, soon.”
Corey and Abe were thinking their own thoughts, off in their own worlds.
Corey was back on Annie, wondering why she’d ever listened to the CCO. She was, she knew, too trusting of the people in charge, too easily influenced by their authority. And that got her thinking about Olympic, where the people in charge were confusing her. At Olympic, the kids learned that they were privileged, and—here’s where it got confusing—that because of their privilege, their experience was not quite as hard, not quite as “real,” so they were subtly encouraged to seek out more “authentic” experiences. What, she wondered, was that?
She came over and sat beside Abe on the couch, wanting to be close. The day had caught up with her. He wrapped his arm around her, folding her in.
It was quiet then, for a long time, until he kissed her, tenderly. Their kiss progressed to something eager, even urgent, when he carried her up the stairs. Usually clumsy, Abe was now as sure footed as a mountain goat. Soon, Corey and Abe were intertwined on their king-sized bed. They were improvising, and it was a slow, sweet business.
When they were finished, they lay back, her head on his shoulder.
Some time later, she wasn’t sure how long, Corey softly said, “I feel better.” And taking a slow breath, “Yeah.” She paused, musing. Another breath. Then, out loud, “It’s maybe eighteen months now, we’ve been doing this. And you keep pleasing me.” She raised up on an elbow. “You know, no one ever did this for me. Ever. With Al—” she looked at Abe. Al was Billy’s dad, her former lover. Stuff like that didn’t get to Abe. “It was good for me, max, one out of three times. And I thought that was, you know, as good as it gets.”
Abe was quiet, lightly running his fingers along her back.
“Say something,” she said.
“And what if I couldn’t please you?”
Corey thought this over. “Well, I guess that would make you, sexually, what’s that Olympic word? You know, that PC word for fucked up…”
“Challenged?” Abe offered.
“That’s it. So that would make you sexually challenged…” She kissed his ear, then whispered, “That is to say—useless.”
“That’s what I was thinking.” The lines in Abe’s face softened.
She sat up, turned to look at him.
He raised up on an elbow, finding her eyes. “How could I ever be the man I’d like to be if I couldn’t please you?”
She drew her hand across his chest. “That’s nice.”
He sat, kissed her slowly, then lay back on the bed, kind of dreamy.
For a long time, Corey sat there, watching him think. She loved how nothing about Abe was quite what it seemed. Corey made a funny face, to see if he’d notice. He didn’t. She did feel better. She should have stayed in bed this morning, unplugged the phone.
“There’s something we need to discuss,” he finally said, interrupting her thoughts. He glanced out the window. His bushy eyebrows were almost touching. “It’s complicated, though, because it concerns a patient.”
She leaned toward him. “Confidentiality?”
“Right.”
“Shit.”
Abe looked up at her. “I’m seeing someone who knows Billy.”
“Who?”
“You’re