“Sweet. Maybe we can do some more posts. Really make it look like the ultimate party life. I’ll wear a bikini and splash in the water. Men love that sort of thing.” With a laugh she says, “I have to make up for the posts from last night. I wore a shirt with pit stains, and I didn’t have any makeup on. I don’t know why he wanted to go out with me or why anyone is liking these photos.”
“It is subversive in an exciting way. I bet women liked it because you made it look like you were good enough as is.”
“I am good enough, bitch.” She flashes a you wanna start something? look and I choke on a laugh.
“Whatever. You know what I mean. We say we’re good enough, but not really.” We’re totally not good enough. Let’s get real. Actually…maybe that’s our only option.
Crystal arrives at that conclusion at the same time I do. “Maybe we should just be more honest,” she says. “Like instead of saying that Tatiana is a Russian ballerina, you could just describe her as a rich girl with daddy issues who only strips to pay for her Amazon addiction.”
I laugh at the idea. For the first time, Tatiana sounds like someone I can relate to. That ice queen look might be sexy, but the sexy ice queen schtick is not the stuff BFFs are made of.
Crystal gets a spark of mischief in her eye. “And for Gigi—she’ll spend all your money on a weave, but don’t worry, it’ll be worth it.” Then, looking slightly more introspective, she says, “And I will be a single mother with two crappy jobs who recently moved back in with her own mom and doesn’t believe in love.”
“You’re going to change your mind about the love thing, I think.” I have a feeling about her and Jules.
“Maybe,” she says, a sparkle in her eye.
“And to think, all you needed was a rich underwear model.” I shake my head. “Talk about a tall order.”
We might be in a dingy club eating bar food but it’s a beautiful moment. Most of the time, the beginnings and ends of things blend into the rest and you never notice them. But this time, maybe because the world is so new for me, I can feel it. I know this is the moment we’re creating something. This is the beginning of something better than what we had. GoldRush was good in some ways, but it’s going to be better now. And I’m 75 percent sure I have a business partner in Crystal.
I sigh happily. Who would have ever thought of an honest dating site? It’s the most counterintuitive yet most obvious thing I’ve thought of. “I really like the idea of making everyone’s bio honest. No more fantasy fulfillment. We’re real people. No more hiding it.”
Come to think of it, that was what made me feel like a pimp before—not the matchmaking, but the false advertising. I’m only here to facilitate a match, not sell anyone a fantasy. I’m so excited about my new idea for GoldRush. Not lying probably isn’t revolutionary, but it’s the first time I’ve thought of it. I can’t wait to get online and change it all around.
I head back to my office in the back of the club and go to work on the site. It’s going to be brand-new by tomorrow. It’s not like I have a life to distract me.
I put up a sign on my door like I’m running conferences. I’m going to meet with every girl at the club and call everyone else. I’ll update all the bios and retake all the profile shots—no filters, preferably with no makeup. “Wear some sweatpants,” I advise the girls. “Whatever you look like on Sunday morning, that’s what I want on the site.”
“So, hungover?” one of the girls says.
“That’s fine. I want honesty.”
She laughs. “Okay, hungover with false eyelashes glued to my cheek. You’ve got it.”
Hers is going to be my favorite profile pic.
While I’m digging through the drawers for a pen that works, I find a lockbox.
I pull out my sparkly clutch. I have two keys—one to JP’s house and another that I’ve never found a home for. I fish it out of the bottom and insert it into the lockbox. It fits perfectly. When I open the box I find a Crown Royal bag and I know what’s in it. It’s the thirty-five grand Kobra paid for his match with Crystal.
I scream.
* * *
When I’m cross-eyed from working all day as a business genius who just discovered a life-saving windfall, I come out of my office and sit on the stripper walkway, kicking my legs off the side and eating a fresh basket of fried mozzarella sticks. Life isn’t so bad.
I check my Instagram and see a lot of love for my Mia 2.0 posts—and a lot of DMs from girls who are excited for me.
That French guy wasn’t cute enough for you, girl! Love the new nerd!
Has he called yet? Stay strong!!
My phone rings. It’s a number not stored in my contacts, but I pick up anyway. “Hello?”
“Mia?” It’s a feminine voice. Tentative.
“Yes, who is this?”
There’s a long pause before the woman says, “It’s your mother.”
I almost choke on a mozzarella stick. “What?”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you that night,” she says.
“Wait. You know what happened to me?”
“I saw your picture on the MySelfie wall at the museum. I’m so sorry, sweetie. I wish I’d seen it sooner or been there for you.” I was doing great this afternoon, rethinking the business and finding money. But a mom? That’s next-level support. Yesterday I would have been full-out crying if she called. Not today, though. Just a few tears prick at the back of my eyes.
Someone keeps buzzing in with texts, but I don’t answer. I’m not going to interrupt a reunion with my mom.
“I lost my memory that night. I don’t know anything. I don’t remember you.”
I can hear her gasp a little. She’s trying to hide it, but she’s crying. “Where are you, sweetie? I’m coming to you now.”
“I’m at GoldRush, that strip club down on the PCH.”
There’s silence on the other end of the line for a while. When she’s processed my location, she sighs. “Okay, honey. I’m coming now. Give me twenty minutes.”
I hang up and run screaming toward Crystal.
“CRYSTAL! My mom is coming! I know it might be a little weird, but…I think we’ve been estranged and now we’re going to reconcile? I can’t tell, but I didn’t have her number in my phone and I get the feeling that something happened between us.”
“Well, things might get a little interesting.”