Chapter 6: Pain and Privilege

I replied casually and went out for some air.

Someone was squatting outside, yawning. I tossed him a five-dollar bill, and he looked up—it was the club manager.

He nodded smartly. "Thank you for your tip."

I asked, offhand, why there were no older singers.

The manager laughed. "In this line of work, how many make it to old age? The lucky ones save up to get out, or get taken away by a patron. Otherwise—"

He didn’t finish, but I understood.

"Then why do they still smile so happily?" I asked.

The manager was stunned. "Crying is for sale too."

"But it’s better to sell with a smile. If the customer’s happy, you can earn a few more bucks."

I asked, "What about you?"

He lowered his head. "I don’t have the luck to leave. My life and future are here."

When my mom heard I’d gone to a club, she was furious.

But my dad laughed. "Jamie’s growing up. Time to find you a nice girl."

Mom and Mrs. Quinn exchanged pale glances.

I pretended not to notice. "Thanks, Dad, but I’m still young and not interested in girls."

But later, he still sent over two young women to be my assistants.

Mom smiled and accepted them, then firmly kept them in her wing to learn the rules.

I didn’t care; lately, my biggest trouble was the pain in my chest.

Nanny Ruth made me bind it with cloth every day. I felt suffocated, but she was firm. "This is the First Lady’s order."

I had to comply. "Does everyone have to do this?"

I picked up the white cloth. "Does Dad, too?"

Nanny Ruth turned away, suddenly fascinated by the flowers outside the window. "Yes—everyone, everyone is like you. Sam and Lucas, too."

I reluctantly wrapped it up. The bandages felt like a vice, squeezing every breath until my ribs ached. Sweat pooled at my collar, but I didn’t dare loosen them.

The next time I saw Sam, I asked sincerely, "Sam, do you ever feel like there’s a heavy weight on your chest? So stuffy."

Sam stared at me, a look of sudden, deep emotion on his face. "Because the world rests on your shoulders. You’re truly kind."

I felt Sam really couldn’t understand plain speech.

His voice had grown rougher, no longer as clear as a boy’s.

Lucas’s trip to the club had been discovered by his older brother, who forced him to train twice as hard at the gym and made him carry thorny branches to my house to apologize.

Big Brother Sterling bowed deeply. "Jamie, my younger brother was reckless and crude. I have come to apologize."

I said it was fine, but my eyes never left Lucas.

He was shirtless, his skin tanned from years of sports, his abs sharply defined.

And—

He wasn’t wearing a chest wrap.

Just like that, exposing himself in front of everyone, carrying thorny branches, grimacing in pain.

So crude, and far too improper.

How could a proper young man from a good family expose his chest like this?

No sense of decency!

But somehow, I couldn’t look away.

A strange flutter twisted in my stomach. My face burned hotter than July pavement, and I found myself fidgeting with the edge of my shirt, suddenly aware of the bandages tightening around my chest.