"Aren't you just like him though? Didn't he learn about all of this from you?"
"If you're still hung up on him, maybe you should be yelling at him instead of me, Bee."
"I'm over him."
"Clearly you aren't. You didn't want to come here for me. You came here for him."
"Mason, that's not..."
"I don't want to talk about your ex. If you want to see it, then see it." He pointed to the curtain.
"I'm sorry."
He stood up. "You came here to see. I'm not sure what you're waiting for." He walked over to the curtain and pulled it back.
There was a stage in the middle of the circular room. Women in much less than silver dresses were on the stage. Half of them were topless and there were some on stripper poles. And they all had necklaces which held medallions with numbers on them. Two girls were doing a little more than making out at the endof the stage. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Some curtains were open and others closed around the room.
I was pretty sure there weren't couples talking behind the closed curtains like Mason and I were. A girl wearing a silver dress like the one that had greeted Mason walked passed us with a tray in her hand. Maybe you just needed to give blowjobs to get a waitress gig here.
A different woman in a silver dress went up to the two girls making out. She said something to them and they stood up, holding hands and followed the silver dressed woman to one of the rooms with an open curtain. One of the girls straddled the man sitting on the couch before the curtain was closed.
I turned around and looked at Mason. I was surprised to see that he was staring at me instead of the naked woman that were only a few feet away from us.
"They're numbered?" I asked.
"So you can get the one you want."
"That's disgusting."
"They're all clean."
"That's not what I meant." I turned back to look at the stage, but before I did I noticed a box on the wall by the curtain. It looked like a call box outside of an apartment. I lifted my finger. "Is this how you..."
"You really don't want to touch that," Mason said, grabbing my hand before I could push one of the buttons.
I gulped. He immediately dropped my hand and folded his arms across his chest. He was right. Seeing this was enough. I knew what would happen if I selected one of those buttons. Dirty whore sex.
I looked back at the stage. "Which number would you choose?"
Mason sighed. He came over to the curtain and leaned against the wall, but he continued to stare at me. "I'm sick of standing still. I don't want this life anymore. I want you."
"I want you too."
Mason laughed. "No, you don't."
"If we really have a shot at whatever this is, I needed to see this."
"So that you'll resent me? Give me a break." Mason turned his head to the women on the stage. "We both know what you really want to ask me. So just ask it."
He was right. I had to know. "Who would Patrick choose?"
"Number twelve. That's his type."
I looked back at the stage. She had long dark hair. Her skin was perfectly tanned. I wanted her tits to be saggy and for her ass to have stretch marks, but that wasn't the case. She was perfect. And she didn't look anything like me. I ran my thumb along the spot where my engagement ring once was. I wasn't Patrick'stype. He liked women like number twelve. Why was he ever even with me? That's why he never looked at me the way Mason did. He wasn't even attracted to me.
"Mason, I'm sorry."
He didn't respond.
