Citizen Girl (38 page)

I don’t move.

‘Well, I’m sitting.’ She lowers herself into a gray chair and rests a swollen hand on her abdomen. ‘Girl, I’m greatly impressed by the organizational skills you brought to the re-org. I think you have tremendous potential and I’d like to offer you my right-hand position, effective Tuesday. That’s a one hundred per cent increase in salary and an annual bonus based on gross profits, which are looking good.’ She beams expectantly. I shut my eyes,
willing anything else to be waiting for me – Jeffrey, Kat – even Doris.

‘Girl.’

I open them. ‘You … want me to run a porn site.’

‘Oh, not run. Not yet. Don’t worry, I fully expect a learning curve, but I’ll be here to manage your transition until I go on maternity leave and even then I’ll be available by ph—’

‘
A porn site?
’

She wiggles a plump finger. ‘Adult entertainment, Girl – we don’t use the P-word – generates more revenue than all professional football, baseball and basketball franchises combined. It’s a
twelve-billion
-dollar-industry, which, to my eye, could greatly benefit from stronger female managerial involvement.’

‘There’s a woman outside that door getting her skull knocked—’

‘Girl, seventy per cent of porn traffic occurs from nine to five – make the leap – we’re servicing an untapped corner of the marketplace—’

‘And that makes it
okay
?’

She sighs, rubbing her belly. ‘The Greeks put it on urns; we put it on the net.’

‘But I’m … a feminist,’ is maddeningly all I come up with.

‘So am I,’ she says, her palms opened to me. ‘We’re women employing women. What isn’t feminist about that? And employing them well, I might add. Everyone on the floor is getting full benefits and an unparalleled
pay scale for barely passing their GEDs. Girl, I’m giving you the chance to be the boss—’

‘Pimp.’

‘
Not pimp
.’ Her eyes well. ‘Ugh, the hormones.’ She runs a quick finger under her lower lashes. ‘I’m launching a national corporation with a targeted eight-figure revenue. These women,’ she gesticulates to the outer room, ‘
deserve
good management.’ She pulls her purse from her desktop, truffling around in it until she withdraws gloss, which she applies with a detectable tremor. ‘This is a huge opportunity,’ she seemingly reminds herself as she traces her stretched lips.

‘This is huge
bullshit
,’ I explode. ‘This is the lazy choice, Manley. With your skills you could be making money
and
adifference at any number of places.’ I shrug. ‘Sure they deserve good management, so did the slaves.’

‘
Come on now
.’ She throws her hands up, intolerant of my sophistry. ‘These women are working for me of their own free will.’

‘Oh yeah. Following safe childhoods and top-notch educations, it was this or med school.’

She slaps her hand down on the desk, the gloss tin making a hollow pang. ‘What do you think, Girl? That if I shut our doors, they’ll apply for that Rhodes they’ve been putting off, they’ll have the childhood someone neglected to give them? No. They’ll end up flashing their twats at the strip club down the block. At best.’ She points the gloss tin at me accusatorily. ‘Meanwhile you’re standing there arrogantly throwing away the opportunity
to become successful, independent, and unequivocally rich before the age of twenty-five.’

‘Off
this
?’ I shake my head. ‘Off
them
?’ I struggle for civility. ‘Manley, you could have a daughter inside you right now.’

‘I do.’

‘Would you wish
that
,’ I point at the door, ‘on her?’

She crosses her arms over her stomach. ‘Fine. Waste the next fifteen years coffee-fetching and ethical waffling—’

‘I’m not waffling!
This is my line
.’

‘
Oh, this
is your line?’ she hoots sarcastically. ‘But pimping yourself to Bovary, writing a how-to manual on do-me feminism, all for one fat paycheck,
that
was just peachy-keen.’ She stands, narrowing her eyes to deliver a final summation. ‘You’re going to look back on this and kick yourself.’

‘For turning down being President of The Bank’s Porn Site Where We Beat And Rape Women? I doubt it.’

‘
Not
The Bank. Fun Company,’ she corrects me sternly, inadvertently conveying the stakes. ‘The Bank has nothing to do with this.’

‘Why, Manley? If it’s such a “cash cow”, what’s to be ashamed of?’ I ask, savoring that she’s backed herself into her own corner.

‘The Bank can’t be associated with it because it’s immoral,’ she smiles, matching my smug tone. ‘Viewing it, using it, running it. Thank God. Take away the taboo and you take away the profit. So long as the Catholic Church and Right Wing keep condemning us, and the
American Civil Liberties Union keep defending us, adult entertainment thrives. To be against porn is to be anti-American, puritanical, repressed and just plain hung-up. So, go ahead, judge it – judge me, it’s money in my pocket.’

Chilled air starts to move through the ducts above, filling the room with a low mechanical hum. Dumbfounded by her comfort, I stare at her, plumbing our hours together to find the kernel of what is true between us. ‘Manley, it must have been an unimaginably rough ride to get here. I can only guess how many Guys and Rexes you’ve had to stomach.’ She nods in spite of herself. ‘And I have to tell you, I’ve only worked with you for a few weeks, but you’re the best manager I’ve ever had.’ Her face softens slightly, the color returning as I take in her crisp linen shift, framed by her crisp surroundings. ‘You’re clear, organized, efficient,’ I continue honestly. ‘And you’ve obviously accomplished an enormous amount in your career. I was really looking forward to learning from you. And
that’s
what’s hard to walk away from. But I quit. I have to. And I have to believe you’ll respect me for it.’

‘Sign your non-disclosure,’ her voice catches me before I reach the door.

‘No.’

‘Then
you
can tell Julia Gilman you cost her the nine hundred thousand.’

I turn back.

She shrugs, pushing the paper towards me. ‘Real world.’

‘I need time—’

‘No. I have to get back to the party. Make a decision.’

I stare at the form. And the cashier’s check for nine hundred thousand she lays beside it.

‘Don’t be an asshole, Girl. However you feel about me or this business, don’t take this funding away from them. It’s selfish, and you know it.’

I do.

I sign it.

Take the cashier’s check.

And leave.

‘Wait,’ Julia cuts me off. ‘Let’s discuss this in private. There’s a lot going on here and the walls aren’t soundproof.’ I become aware of women chatting, phones ringing and the distinct staple pound of carpet being installed. ‘Sorry, yes.’ My mind still sprinting, I follow her down the thin aisle between Cellophane-wrapped desks to a more secluded corner of Magdalene.

Pulling up the knees of her suit, she sits on bag of cement, a small puff of powdery dust rising.

My forehead prickling with anxious sweat, I continue, ‘So now it’s a porn site and Moldova …’ Julia goes pale. ‘And they threatened me with a non-disclosure or they wouldn’t give you the rest of the money—’

‘Which you signed.’

‘What? Yes. Which I signed. So, should we consult a lawyer? Or do you have a contact who could call the press?’

‘Do you have it now, the rest of the money?’

‘Yes. Here.’ I’ve barely pulled the check from my
pocket before she swiftly takes it. She opens the green paper across her knee, a flush spreading over her hollow cheeks.

‘Julia, Moldova is getting fucked senseless to earn you that money.’

She stands, wiping off the back of her trousers. ‘Don’t oversimplify. It isn’t for me, but for fifty women upstairs who need it. Desperately.’

‘Doesn’t it just cancel itself out?’

‘We’re not going to turn this into a moral exercise, Girl. This money is from The Bank.’

‘That’s not what the check says.’

She glances at the Fun Company imprint, her expression stolid. ‘My not taking this money won’t shut down their site. Which you understand, or you wouldn’t have signed the non-disclosure.’ The crease between her brow deepens. ‘So why are you now trying to make it seem like this is mine to resolve?’

‘I’m not trying to make it
seem
like anything.’ I steady my voice. ‘I feel disgusting about this, Julia. I hoped, at minimum, you’d legitimize that. At least
acknowledge
that this,’ I point at the check, ‘is shitty. That how that money is being made is shitty. That the fact that you have to take it, is shitty. That I had to compromise pretty much everything I believe in to stand here, is shitty. I hoped that you’d, I don’t know, be a mentor or a—’

‘I’m not your mother, Girl.’

‘I know that,’ I say quietly, taken aback.

‘Do you? Because you seem to be looking for some kind of absolution here that I can’t give.’

‘What I was looking for is honesty. And support. And …’ I gaze down at the raw flooring, briskly wiping away tears. ‘A job.’ I exhale. ‘I don’t know what to do with this.’

‘I’m sorry it’s been so hard on you.’ She slips the check in her pocket. ‘Don’t beat yourself up about the non-disclosure. There isn’t an audience for what you have to share.’ She bends to retrieve an abandoned paper cup, recalling Moldova sweeping to retrieve Julia’s coat from the park pavement, her childlike hands gripping the wool with all her thwarted tenacity.

‘That’s heartening.’

‘No, that’s
honesty
. I’m soliciting for funding every day – no one wants to hear anything about the sex industry that isn’t sexy.’ She pulls back her blazer to check her watch. ‘Which reminds me, I’m sorry, but I really must—’

‘Right.’ I nod.

She takes my elbow to lead me back through the hum and bustle of her fledgling community. ‘So, keep in touch, okay?’ she says, unlocking the front door.

‘Of course,’ I answer automatically. ‘I’ll try.’

Holding the heavy glass open for me, she squints in the sunshine, deepening the creases around her eyes, scars from decades of smiling her way through. ‘I’m proud of you, if that’s worth anything.’

‘No, it is.’ Something, but not everything, and the fact that I can even make the distinction propels me forward.

Home, I’m greeted by the sound of a running shower and Buster’s overnight bag nestled in the front hall. Kick
ing off my shoes, I flip through my mail, ripping open a Chatsworth envelope and pulling out a folded piece of newsprint. Jack stands grinning in his soccer uniform with one cleat perched on a ball, Grace’s red pen circling the caption, ‘Local High School Student Agitates to Start Student-Run League’. I smile deeply, tugging off my blouse and sliding on a clean tank.

I open the door to the bathroom, steam billowing out into the hallway. ‘Honey, I’m home,’ I announce to the curtain as I slide my back along the damp tiles to the floor.

‘Hey,’ Buster calls from under the showerhead. ‘Before I forget again Kira called this morning. Said she’s getting into JFK at eight.’

‘Really? She’s not supposed to be home for another month.’

‘Yeah, she sounded pretty bummed. Something about engineers and bureaucrats and not being able to dig the well.’

‘Ugh, that sucks. Did she say anything else?’

‘Nah. That’s it.’

‘Cool.’ I look at my watch, unable to believe she’s really getting closer to me by the minute. ‘Very cool. So … have any projects you might need help with? You know, like, photos put into albums, or CDs to alphabetize?’ I tie my hair up into a ponytail. ‘If you need anyone fired, I’ll have some free time.’

‘What are you talking about?’ The faucet squeaks as he turns off the water.

‘I quit.’ I breathe in the soap-scented steam.

‘You quit,’ Buster echoes, yanking back the curtain.

‘Yup.’ I stretch my legs along the floor, pushing the bathmat towards him with my toe as he steps out. ‘I did.’

He reaches for a towel, rubbing it briskly over his hair before looking at me. ‘I thought we agreed you were gonna stick with this.’

I push myself up, wrapping my arms around his terry-clothed waist. ‘Well, the situation changed. Big time.’ I put my lips close to his ear. ‘I signed a non-disclosure, though, so you can’t tell anyone.’ He nods as he walks out to the bedroom. ‘Anyone,’ I call.

‘Okay, yes, I get it,’ he says, pulling on shorts.

I pause in the doorway, my arms in a V against the frame. ‘They wanted me to run – wait for it … a porn site.’

‘Run?’ he swipes on deodorant. ‘That’s a huge promotion.’

‘That’s what Mengele said,’ I mug.

‘This is hardly the Third Reich.’

‘It’s hardly Disney.’

He sits on the bed, his back straight against the wall. ‘I think you’re being kind of hasty.’

I stand over him, staring in confusion. ‘Hasty?’

‘You should at least try it out for a few months. You could be the next Christy Hefner.’ He takes my hand and tugs me towards his wet torso, leaning up for a kiss.

I look in his green eyes, our lips close. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Sure.’ He slides his free hand up my thigh.

I tug my fingertips from his and step back, his hand thudding against the frame. ‘Why?’

‘Because there are no jobs, remember?’ He rubs his red knuckles. ‘Luke had to move home and you’re just arbitrarily declining an amazing opportunity.’

‘Have I not made clear what I’ve just come from?’ I pick up the towel dampening the comforter.

‘How about what
I
just came from?’ he scowls. ‘A bunch of Atari corporate fucks talking to me about getting on the ball with my “market-share generation” and “dividend creation” and, oh, next time, could I wear a suit?’

‘Oh, Buster.’ I reach down to squeeze his ankle. ‘You must be so pissed.’

‘It’s all turning into that – into suits, and it fucking sucks.’

‘There must still be smaller game companies. I’m sure we can find one you’d like better. You have some money saved; if you really hate it then you should leave—’