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A young French-Canadian girl spirals into a life of prostitution and deception. |
1. Dawnâs heart pumped faster than usual. Maybe it was from the luxe surroundings of the Hyatt Downtown MontrĂ©al, the exotic sequined jacket she had just purchased that afternoon on the Rue Saint Laurent, or just plain adrenaline. She wasnât sure, but it didnât matter. Stepping into the elevator, Dawn pressed the button for the main lobby, which, unlike most MontrĂ©al hotels, was on the fifth floor. She walked across the huge salon glittering with Swarovski crystal chandeliers, taking care not to bring attention to herself. Dawn knew upscale hotel staffs can recognize a hooker from a mile away, even one whose days were spent instructing the cityâs youth in reading, writing and mathematics. Not that Dawn disliked being a schoolteacher. She just needed some extra excitement to liven up her nights. Turning tricks accomplished that. And she loved the money. She could almost feel the crisp bills crunching against her palm. Money helped feed her appetite for luxurious accoutrements. Tom, her boss, made sure she had plenty of those. He had also forked over the exorbitant fee to Dawnâs favorite plastic surgeon, a self-centered MD who declared his most fervent desire was to make the world a more âbeautifulâ place, for her breast implants. Tomâs brainchild, Passion Escorts, provided the cream of the MontrĂ©al crop of gorgeous young women to the elite sector of the cityâs male population. It was a service, he always emphasized to Dawn, and he was proud of it. He treated her well, perhaps better than the other girls, for she was his favorite. She brought a lot of business to the agency, more than any of the others did, which made her feel a swell of pride in her work. Happy clients always called back to see her again and again. She didnât even have to split her tips with him. Clients who requested sessions of one hour always ended up keeping her for two or three. She could afford to be blasĂ© and wasnât impressed by his deep, masculine voice when he called earlier that evening. âI have a nice client for you.â âYeah? Nice enough to interrupt âFriendsâ? Rachel and Ross just got it on in the Natural History Museum.â Tom ignored her casual attitude. âHeâs at the Hyatt Downtown. Anglophone.â âHe damn well better be.â She didnât serve Francophones. âA doctor, Indian accent. Very nervous on the phone, so put on the kid gloves, okay?â âYeah, whatever.â She yawned. âWhen can you be ready?â âTake it royally easy. Iâll be downstairs when you get here.â Dawn switched off the TV and shuffled to the bedroom. She was not going to rush through her make-up routine just because Tom was pressuring her. She had more dignity than that. If he has to light more than one cigarette waiting for me in the car⊠Well, tant pis. She was just putting the finishing touches on her blonde mane when the downstairs buzzer jolted her. She grimaced with aggravation but put on her most cheerful voice to respond. âIâll be right down.â It was going to be a long night. * When Dawn emerged from the front entrance of her brand-new condo building on Avenue Victoria, Tom was puffing away as she had expected. She peered into the back seat, where Jeanne-Marie and Claudette were taking the last drags on their cigarettes, and slid into the front seat next to Tom. She liked the feel of the soft leather seats in his Ford LTD. Dawn suppressed a smirk and tossed a glance at the two women. âTough night, girls?â She turned to Tom. âSometimes I wonder why youâre in this freaking line of work, driving around all night.â Tom flashed a disapproving look at Dawn and murmured under his breath. âWhat else would I do? Iâm an entrepreneur. Besides, itâs fun.â âYeah, right.â Dawn cranked open her window to defend herself from the cigarette smoke, which always made her choke. Tom shivered from the icy air coming into the car. âAnd by the way, how come you were late?â âSince when are you worried? Theyâre always willing to wait. As long as they get what they want, right?â He sighed. Dawn knew how to butter her bread and burn the clientsâ toast. She was proud of that, too. Despite the usual Friday night downtown traffic congestion, they managed to reach the Hyatt in record time. Tom pulled up in front and dialed his cell. âSheâs at the front door.â He clicked off and gave Dawn a determined look. âRemember my instructions, okay?â âYouâre the boss.â Yeah, right. |