Chapter 7

Pam’s slight frame slid across the back seat of the limousine and practically landed in Sylvia’s lap as the driver recklessly took a corner at a speed worthy of the Palisades Parkway and not the streets of the upper eastside of Manhattan. Sylvia scowled threateningly at the driver, who snarled defiantly back through his rear view mirror. She assumed that since they’d made such a scene at Marty’s party, a thrill ride in the back of his limousine was probably part of Marty’s payback. It was either that, or the driver went insane. Either way, Sylvia had borne it long enough and if he didn’t stop this recklessness she was going to do something drastic, like beat him over the head with the heel of her four-inch Jimmy Choo’s.

Pam was hesitant about accepting the thin lace trimmed handkerchief Sylvia produced from her Chanel evening bag. It seemed too fine to be used to blot at the blood oozing from her lip, but, at Sylvia’s insistence, she took it from her friend’s well-manicured hand.

“What the hell happened back there, anyway?” Sylvia asked with concern.

She had entered the small anteroom that was adjacent to Marty’s office by accident. Marty’s mansion was purposely built with confusing hallways and rooms in order to maintain the mystique at the grand parties he threw nightly. She was actually looking for the room where one of her favorite patrons, Fahti, was waiting to enjoy one of their “quiet times”. A native of Palestine, Fahti traveled the world extensively; making at least eight trips a year to New York. When he did, he requested exclusive time with Sylvia; something which she looked forward to and practically counted the days for. She considered it pure misfortune to have stumbled into the wrong anti-chamber just in time to see a drunken oaf tossing Pam around the room as if she was nothing more than a rag doll.

The sight filled Sylvia’s veins with fury and she attacked the man with almost superhuman strength. Her actions startled him enough to allow Sylvia to pull Pam out of the room and to safety.

Marty was furious. He had his bouncers escort the guest out of the mansion; instructing them to be as discrete as possible before he chastised Pam for allowing the situation to go that far. After which, he briskly commanded Sylvia take Pam home in his car and then return as quickly as possible. He would do his best to entertain Fahti in the interim.

Although resentful at the prospect of having her precious time with her latest prospect cut short, Sylvia couldn’t help worry about Pam’s well-being. She turned on the back light to inspect the bruise on Pam’s cheek. It was turning an angry reddish-purple. She looked for the source of the crust of blood in Pam’s light brown hair. There was a small welt that was oozing just enough blood to show through her tussled strands, but it would heal. The bruise on her cheek looked to be the injury that needed immediate attention.

Sylvia opened the mini bar and pulled out a small tray of ice. She grabbed a cocktail napkin and wrapped a few cubes in it before handing it to Pam.

“Here, put this on your cheek before that bruise gets any angrier,” she said sympathetically.

Pam cupped the napkin in her hand and gently raised it to her cheek. The ice was already melting through the paper layers. Its cold moistness felt soothing against her burning skin.

“Who was that idiot, anyway?” Sylvia asked. She wasn’t going to give up until she had some answers. If she had to forfeit time with Fahti, then she was at least entitled to know the reason why.

“He wanted to sleep with me,” Pam mumbled through swollen lips.

“Well, he wasn’t bad looking,” Sylvia mused. “All of this because he wanted to sleep with you? You’re kidding, right?”

“That’s not part of the job description,” Pam said flatly. “I’m not a hooker.”

“Oh, get real,” Sylvia said as she sat back in disgust. “I can’t believe you.”

“What do you mean you can’t believe me?” Pam asked defensively. “Do you mean that I’m supposed to sleep with them?”

“Where’s the harm?” Sylvia asked with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Now, I can’t believe you,” Pam spat as she positioned her body in preparation for another rapid turn as they made their way through the side streets that were far too narrow and crowded for a limousine to be barreling down.

“What? Are you a virgin or something?” Sylvia asked.

Indignant tears swelled in Pan at Sylvia’s sudden change in the expectations of the job.

“I asked you when you first told me about the job,” Pam huffed. “I asked you if I would have to sleep with them and you said “no”. Now, you are acting like I’m in the wrong. I don’t get it.” She winced. “My ribs feel like they’re broken.”

Sylvia took a deep breath. Pam was right. The job description was for hostess only and just because she enjoyed the men she entertained enough to have sex with them -most of them anyway- it didn’t mean that was the case with all of the girls; Pam included. She felt a sudden flood of guilt for her impatience with Pam.

“You’re right,” she said apologetically. “I’m sorry.” She took the handkerchief from Pam’s shaking fingers and gently dabbed at the blood in the corner of Pam’s mouth. “You were fighting like a wild cat. It was lucky I got there when I did. That man was a maniac. He probably crushed your ribs with his weight, the bastard! What’s wrong with Marty, anyway? Where did he find that animal? I can’t imagine what type of business deals they could be having.”

Pam shifted in noticeable pain. Sylvia gently lifted Pam’s blouse and lightly touched her bony rib cage. This resulted in dramatic wincing and gasping on Pam’s part.

“Maybe you should see a doctor, honey,” Sylvia said. “You might be hurt worse than you think.”

“I will, but, not tonight,” Pam replied. “I just want to go home tonight.”

“Forget the bus, we’ll take you home ourselves,” Sylvia said as she motioned for the driver’s attention. “Marty’s orders, remember? Give me your address.”

Sylvia did her best to convey as much compassion as she could while she mentally calculated the minutes and even hours of time she was losing work.

“Thank you,” Pam said before mustering enough energy to give Sylvia her address. Both emotionally and physically exhausted, she uttered another word of gratitude and sank back into the seat.

Sylvia knocked on the window between them and the driver and he lowered it just enough for her to communicate.

“We’re taking her all the way home tonight, Carl,” she said before relaying the address Pam provided.

“You got it,” Carl replied smugly.

“And take it easy on the turns or I’ll bash your head in... You got that?” She spat.

Sylvia didn’t wait for a reply before pressing the button to raise the privacy shade between driver and passengers.