Nerve by Jeanne Ryan Page B

to talk man to man or some such BS. I stroll near the curb, facing traffic, one hand on my hip, the other dangling at my side. As each car passes, its lights temporarily blinding me, I give a pressed-lip smile as if I’m about to say “prune” and stick out my chest. I’m wearing twice the amount of clothing as Tiffany and Amber combined, but I’ve never felt more naked. From across the street, hints of laughter travel through the night air. The Watchers had better behave or I’ll never complete this dare.
    When I’ve covered a block, I turn around to walk slowly back toward Ian. He’s chatting up the guys in line, pointing my way. My very own pimp. The potential customers, or so they think, stare at me, smacking their lips, but shaking their heads. What’s their problem? Maybe from a distance they think I’m a skinny tweaker who’s wearing long sleeves to hide her needle marks. Or maybe the clothes and shoes tell them I’m not really in business. Guess I’ll have to convince them. Ugh. Even though my stomach feels like it’s tightening into a knot that’ll never be untied, I head toward theguys. Thankfully, the Watchers have the good sense to quiet down.
    The closer I get to the peep show parlor, the more I detect a sour odor, like cabbage soup. With an inward groan, I realize it’s coming from the men. Did Ian have to pick the stinkiest pervs on the street?
    Ian motions to me. “Come here, Roxie.”
    Roxie? Is that even a name? “Uh, sure, Stone.”
    He grabs me by the wrist like he owns me. “These fellows don’t believe you’ll be worth the money.”
    I chew on my lip. “They might be right. This is my first night out, and I’m pretty nervous.”
    A flabby-faced guy leers at me. “You never done this before? Well, that explains the strange clothes.”
    Strange? I’m insulted, and then flattered. Who’d want to fit in here?
    “It’s all I could afford,” I say, sniffing. “Party clothes are awful expensive.” I stare down at my poor non-hookery flats. In the distance, a siren wails.
    The guy scratches his armpit. “I’ll give you fifty, but that’s all I got, and it’s more than what the girls around here normally ask for.”
    I raise my head and make doe eyes at Ian. “I’m not sure I can do this, even though Mama needs that operation really bad. Let me get some air, okay?” This last bit is actually true. If I don’t get away from this smell, I’ll faint.
    “Sure, sis.” Ian pats the top of my head and goes back to negotiating with the guys, like a good brother should. I make another trek along the curb.
    A few couples pass me by, all with the same expressions, a half smile and quickly averted eyes from the guys, a huff of contempt and a longer stare from the girls. Don’t they realize that I’m one of them? Shoot, the last girl who frowned my way was wearing the same T-shirt as me.
    I can’t take this personally. It’s role playing that has nothing, nothing to do with real life. I force a smile at the next couple to walk by and am shocked when they return it. Then the guy runs to my side and puts his arm around me.
    “Hey,” I say, trying to squirm away from him.
    The girl takes our picture while the guy tugs at one of my pigtails and whispers, “You’re doing great, Vee.”
    I slap him away. “Hands off, you creep.”
    Ian races to us and threatens to beat the crap out of the guy, but he and his girlfriend just laugh and hurry off the way they came. When Ian starts to run after them, I pull him back.
    I take a deep breath. “Forget about them. We need to focus on the dare.”
    He seems torn, but, after a few seconds of considering it, listens to me. “If you see any more stalkery Watchers, holler, okay?”
    I agree and get back to work. Within minutes, a car slowsdown and pulls to the side of the street, right next to me. Inside is a middle-aged guy with thick eyebrows.
    He grins. “You seem kind of young to be out here by yourself. Look at you