“Hear that?” Romeo said. “They’ll flash their tits on film for nothing but the honor of being ogled by men they’d cross the road to avoid. Teasing little bitches. Like all you girls. Can’t resist flaunting it at some guy who doesn’t have a hope of touching.”

Knowing I had to play nice, I settled for a noncommittal shrug.

“You disagree?” he said.

“I’m sure that applies to some women.”

“But not all?”

“I can’t speak for ‘all.’ Now, Baker tells me I need to pass some kind of test—”

“I suppose you think you’re better than those girls, don’t you? Smarter. More dignified.” His lips curled in what I presumed was a smile. “Or maybe just more expensive.”

“Maybe. Now, this test—”

“I have a better idea. There’s another line of tapes I’m working on, high-end videos for more discriminating customers who want something more…exotic. The kind of girl they won’t find humping poles. That sound more your style, princess?”

“I’m…flattered.” I struggled to get the word out. I failed on the accompanying smile, though. “I’d rather just take the test.”

He leaned back in his chair. “What if we skip the video? You undress right here, stretch out on the pillows…amuse yourself for a few minutes. No camera. No audience except me.”

There was no lust in his eyes. No interest even. He didn’t want to see me naked. Probably wouldn’t even get a rise out of watching me masturbate. He just wanted to make me do it.

I smiled as sweetly as I could. “I’m afraid I’m pretty shy. My upbringing, the culture, you know…”

I tried to read him for chaos thoughts, but detected only a swirl of low-level negativity.

“What if I said there wasn’t a choice? Do this or I tell Baker you failed the test?”

The chaos level rose. I shivered, but found little pleasure in it. My survival instinct ensures I don’t enjoy chaotic impulses directed at me, thankfully.

I met his gaze. “Then I guess that’s what you’ll have to do.”

I started to leave. Benicio had hired a spy, not a whore. He’d have to find another way to get me into the gang.

Romeo waited until I was almost out of earshot, then called me back.

“Take the fucking test. I was only trying to give you an easy way out. Just remember, when you change your mind, it’ll take more than twiddling your knob to get a pass-card from me.” He threw a scrap of paper on the floor. “An address. You’re looking for a conch shell there. A tourist knickknack with Welcome to Miami and a girl in a bikini painted on it. Get it, bring it back, you get your pass.”

I looked at the address. “Is this a house or a—”