”“You do?” asked the grand inquisitor, “It was also my last.”“Well,” he said, “I want to make that my last, too.” This girl ought to...at least tell them that you could recover from that sort of lapse.The honcho took charge again. “Well, you want better grades. Are you on a scholarship?”“Hah! Not unless you count my dad, like most of us.”“And is he raising a ruckus? My dad would be thrilled with three B s and an A, but I’ve known parents to go off every deep end there is.”She didn’t understand. They didnt work well, they looked terrible, and clients didnt care for them. They had no motivation other than to get high, and they had to be high to function at all. It was also expensive to keep up with their drug habits. That was money out of Richs pocket just to keep the girls functioning. The same would go for alcohol. To Rich, alcohol was just another drug and would be treated as such. Rich had watched Frank break numerous girls. He would beat them senseless, humiliate them, terrorize. ‘I love you Daddy!’ She was 16 years old. She danced! Her gorgeous evening gown flowing about her like water, her hair done up perfectly, even hints of the perfect perfume swirled out from her as she moved. And, she danced! There was laughter and flirting and admiring young men trying to get just one dance. There was punch and cookies, there was music and light, and she danced, all through the night. She was 22 years old. She walked down the isle. Everyone was there. Butterflies danced madly in. Her skirt falls to the floor, her long sleeves fitted to wrist. She looks amazing. She takes in the look of the two boys. One teased, predatory, the other with wide eyes, astonished, even though it was he who asked them to be here. She glances between the two, and knows that while the tall Lakotain might be in charge as it were, the slightly smaller boy is the one who holds the ace. The former will do anything, absolutely anything, to ensure the others happiness. And with that in mind, she lets.