That was a record scratch. She hated the words that only men used to describe women. A mosquito landed on her forearm. Slapping it felt like it would be against the rules, rules that weren’t made by her. “Arch more,” Mr. Saito said. “Come on, smile, arch, really arch, more. More arch.” Sherri didn’t want to, but she did. She tried her best to smile and she arched until she thought her back would crack in half. It was as if she were under some kind of spell. She wasn’t in her body. She was hovering somewhere in the distance, watching.

“These shots are good. So good I know what’ll come next: the folks at the magazine will want me to come back out and take a full body. Why don’t you save me that trip. Just for spec—they won’t get published or anything. What do you think, Ron?”

Why was he asking Ronnie what he thought instead of her? Ronnie’s grin was that of a hungry dog just before sinking its muzzle into a steak. “Yeah, yeah. More would be good.”

Sherri shook her head. She tried to say no but her lips felt numb, her tongue fat. That wasn’t just alcohol in that shot. Her eyes were starting to feel heavy. She worried she might fall down, and then who knew what would happen?

“Ron, help her with her shorts.”

He walked to where she stood. The acne pits in his face seemed deeper and darker than they had at first, a face like tree bark. He began to work the snap. Sherri tried to push him away, but her arms were like rubber. She felt like she was locked in one of those dreams she would have first thing in the morning, where she was awake enough to know she was dreaming, but unable to wake fully. Ron pushed her down onto the grass and began to yank her shorts down to her knees, along with her underwear. She looked up and saw the branches of the oak trees scratching the sky. She was so tired, but no, no, she couldn’t sleep. She mustered up some energy and rolled away and began to run, stumbling and shirtless, toward the golf course. Danny! She saw him in the distance, caddying for James, the golf pro. She gathered all the strength she could muster and screamed at the top of her lungs. “Danny! Help!”

Everything that happened next was a blur. She heard Danny on his walkie-talkie calling security, she saw a golf club fly through the air. Johnnie and Ron gathered their things and began to make a run for it up the hill, toward the parking lot. They were met midway down by Paul, the security guard. Small Paul, everyone called him, even though he was a former linebacker for the Bears and was built like a dumpster.