“I’m not leaving you alone.”

“It’s fine, Lily. I’ll be okay.”

I nodded at her fingers. “Let’s both leave.”

“I need the money, remember? If I’m going to stop doing this one day, I have to get out of here. It’s a means to an end.”

“Funny, I feel the same way.”

“Stop trying to prove a point you don’t need to prove!” Her voice was loud. The men heard and turned around.

“Everything okay, girls?” Luke asked. He was swaying.

“Yeah, or do you need to kiss and make up?” Rob stepped closer to me. “Bad girls get spanked, you know. Have you been a bad girl?” I tried to imagine what it would be like, a man I hated putting his hands on me. How much different would it feel from being touched by someone I cared about?

“We’re fine, aren’t we, Clara?”

“I thought you said your name was Amanda …” Rob slurred.

“You know what? We have to go. You two have a good time,” Clara said.

“But I thought we were all having fun?” Luke put his hand on my arm. “Come on. It will be even more fun upstairs. We can keep the party going.”

“Come on, Amanda,” I said, imitating Clara when she flirted. “You’re hurting my feelings.” She bit the inside of her cheek, shook her head. I wished I could say I felt dread as we approached the bank of elevators, the gold doors throwing back our reflections, but I was empty, cold. I could watch as Luke extended a hand toward me, grabbed my ass, as though it were happening to another person. I tried to think of the title Matthew would give this version of me. Lily Groped. Then I thought of my painter—how the artist would have captured the queasy turn to my mouth, the pallor of my face—but I pushed the image away.

We got into the elevator and Luke pressed the button for the twelfth floor. We were quiet as it rose. The cables squeaked. The car groaned.

Inside the room, two duffel bags were open on the floor, and I saw the sleeve of a Hawaiian shirt peeking out of one of them: attire for tomorrow’s trip to the Swim Club—these guys were walking clichés. I tried to get Clara to meet my eyes, but she wouldn’t look at me anymore. Rob made his way to the bathroom. I hadn’t really believed him about the coke until I heard him cutting it, the scrape of a credit card on the marble vanity and the wet sound of his greedy snorting.

Luke came toward me, stroked my back. Clara was standing with her arms crossed, out of his reach.

“Come on, sweetheart. Show your girlfriend here that you’re friends again after your little fight. Kiss and make up.”