Show Me by Carole Hart Page A

really freaky-looking.”
    “Jea-lous,” Janice sang.
    Thomas and Zaza laughed. Justin looked around at the three of them angrily. “No shit,” he said. “They got their eyes too close together.”
    “I didn’t notice that,” Zaza said diplomatically. “I mean, I thought everyone was so good-looking, I was really scared. I thought I was the freak the whole time.”
    “Oh, that’s nuts,” Thomas said. “You’re gorgeous.”
    “You’re way better-looking than that Javier guy,” Justin said, and snorted. “He looks like a weird snake.”
    “Snakes have their eyes on either side of their heads,” Janice pointed out.
    “According to you, ” Justin said dismissively. “All I know is, he looks like a snake.”
    Thomas, smiling, caught Zaza’s eye. She almost laughed, but swallowed and made herself say, “It was scary, anyway. Everyone was so professional. I had no idea what I was doing.”
    Thomas nodded. “But what I meant was, how did you end up . . . you know, here at all? Doing this kind of thing.”
    “Is this the ‘Where do you come from’ part?” said Janice, looking up sardonically through her too-long blond bangs. “I hate that part.”
    “Well, it’s lucky no one asked you, then, isn’t it?” Justin said. “I want to hear where Zaza comes from.”
    “Oh,” said Zaza. “I feel like I don’t come from anywhere. I mean, I don’t have parents.”
    “You were hatched from an egg.” Justin sniggered.
    “I was raised by my aunt Lucy,” Zaza said, trying not to be annoyed. If she started getting annoyed with Justin, the weeks to come would be a nightmare—unless, of course, he was voted off first, which seemed likely. “My mother left me there when I was a baby, and we just never heard from her again. And my aunt didn’t know who my father was.”
    “Really?” Janice put down her contact sheet. “You don’t know who he was? You don’t know where your mom is? That’s awful.”
    “Oh, it’s not so awful,” said Zaza, trying to be cool. “My aunt is kind of awful, though. She calls me up and tells me I’m going to end up like my mother.”
    “Well, she doesn’t know how your mother ended up, does she?” Janice said. “She could have married a prince, for all she knows. Poor you.”
    “Yeah, poor you,” said Thomas.
    Zaza was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. She wished desperately that there was more booze left. “She means well. She’s just conservative. I grew up in Oklahoma, and I was always kind of wild.”
    “Chip off the old block,” said Justin. “So you ended up in sex work because of your genetics.”
    Thomas scowled at him, but Janice laughed and said, “That’s me. Third generation of sex workers in my family. I grew up at prostitutes’ union meetings. But I’m telling you, my mother wouldn’t even let me date until I was seventeen. She used to tell me, ‘Men only want one thing.’ ”
    “Oh, exactly!” Zaza said. “That’s word for word what Aunt Lucy said! It made me think about that one thing like it was the Holy Grail!”
    “Yeah,” said Janice. “ ’Cause you knew that one thing must be pretty special, if it was all dudes wanted. Wow, give me that thing!”
    Running his hand over his shaved head a little nervously, Justin said, “I hate that. Like men are responsible for all the sorrows of the world. I think girls are just as likely to be using guys for sex. I hate that thing where men are assumed to be predators.”
    “Then why do you try to look like a predator?” Janice said skeptically.
    Justin had arrived at the house in a black leather biker jacket that, he proudly informed them, had weathered two crashes that put him in the hospital with broken bones. It was accordingly scuffed and torn, and seemed of a piece with his scarred and angry face. When he took it off, he was wearing a wife-beater that showed off a wealth of tattoos, mainly variations on the themes of skulls and knives. With his shaved head and massive size, he