“I don’t know what to tell you,” the man said, clearly annoyed. “We can’t rent a car for every girl. That would be too much. So we get a bus, it’s nice. It will be fine.”
“How many other girls are there?” Dee asked.
“About twenty or so,” he replied.
Holy hell. Dee hadn’t expected that. She didn’t know what to expect honestly, but twenty girls seemed like a lot.
As far as she knew it was just one guy and his yacht. Dee had assumed there would be like five women, max. How many women did one man need?
She was too exhausted to press him further on the subject so she rolled her luggage outside to see if she could find this bus and at least get a decent seat on it.
Sure enough, parked at the curb was what looked like a tour bus, the kind sightseers rode when they were exploring a new city. When she climbed on she noticed there were at least a dozen other girls already on it. Some of them were asleep.
A couple of them looked up at her and immediately went back to doing what they were doing, unimpressed.
But one girl recognized Dee.
“Delilah Beckett?” a bleach blonde with a southern accent said to her. She sat closer to the front, alone. Most of the other girls were paired off.
Dee nodded. “Yeah. Unfortunately.”
The girl squealed and clapper her hands. “Oh! I love you! I watched The Good Cop religiously! You can sit with me if you want!”
Dee looked around. She had planned on sitting alone if she could. But the girl was so genuinely excited in such a child-like way. It would be so rude not to join her. And she might need a friend to get through this.
“Of course. Thank you,” Dee said as she put her large purse in the overhead compartment above them. “And you can call me Dee.”
“I’m Shayla,” the blonde said.
Dee got a good look at her. She was a beautiful girl who looked like she was probably from a small town. Her hair and make-up were about three years behind the current trends.
“Is that a Georgia accent I detect?” Dee said as she sat down next to her. Shayla gasped.
“How did you know?” Shayla’s eyes were wide and set apart. They were absolutely gorgeous. Dee had seen her fair share of stunning women in LA, but Shayla even wowed her veteran eyes.
“I used to work in a motel in Panama City Beach,” Dee explained. “I know a southern Georgia accent when I hear one.”
“We used to go there on summer vacation when I was a kid,” Shayla said. “I’m from outside of Tifton.”
Dee laughed. “Damn. I’m good.”
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Shayla said. “They used your photo on the ad, but I didn’t think I’d actually get to meet you!”
“The ad?” Dee asked. She watched as three more girls got on the bus. They looked like they’d just left the club. They had on skin tight dresses that left little to the imagination. Dee thought she could see a tampon string hanging out of one of them.
“On my agency’s bulletin board,” Shayla explained. “They had an ad for models who want to travel the world. And they used your photo to get us interested. I thought it was just a marketing gimmick, but here you are!”
Jesus. Dee wanted to die. She imagined her face on a Xeroxed flier on a bulletin board in some shady agency in Tifton and instantly became depressed.
“So you’re a model?” Dee asked.
“Aspirational,” Shayla said it slowly, like she’d been practicing saying it. “I grew up doing pageants and stuff, but I’m only 5’5 so I don’t get a lot of work other than catalog stuff. My dream is to be an actress though. Like you!”
“Well, you’re definitely beautiful enough,” Dee said and Shayla’s eyes teared up.
“You’re so sweet to say that,” she replied, squeezing Dee’s arm. “I mean, I got on this bus and saw all these girls and just immediately felt like I didn’t belong here.”
“You belong more than anyone,” Dee said as two more girls got on the bus who looked like they’d just finished a shift working the corner at Hollywood and Vine. “Actually, maybe you don’t belong. But I mean it as the highest compliment.”
“Have you done this before?” Shayla asked. “This is my first time… I’m a little nervous.”
“I have not,” Dee assured her. “So we can be first-timers together.”
Shayla squealed again. Bless her.
“I can’t believe I get to work with Delilah Goodacre,” Shayla said. “Momma will die. You know, we watch your show together. She’s the reason I’m doing this. I want to send money back to her so she can move.”
“Out of Tifton?” Dee assumed.
“I wish,” Shayla responded. “No, out of our trailer park. She’s on disability for an accident that happened at her work, so it’s all she’s been able to afford. But she deserves the world. Not a house with mileage on it.”
Dee really adored this Shayla girl.
“You’re a good daughter,” Dee said. “You know, I grew up in a trailer park.”
Shayla stared at her in disbelief.
“But I thought you grew up in a house in a small beach town. I remember reading your Vanity Fair article and was so envious. Your life has been so charmed!”
Dee laughed, loud enough that Shayla suddenly looked uncomfortable.
“Sorry,” Dee said. “I’d forgotten that Josh made me say that. That asshole.”
“Oh,” Shayla said, sitting back in her seat. “Who is Josh?”
“My agent,” Dee said. “Former agent. No, I didn’t grow up in some perfect little seaside town. I grew up in Carrabelle, which is actually a cute town, on the panhandle. And it’s near the ocean. But I lived in a trailer park. With my sister and my parents. Until my mother left us for some rich married man who ended up ruining her life. But that’s a whole other story.”
Shayla gently put her hand on Dee’s arm.
“Wow, that’s not so different from my story. Except it was my daddy who left,” she said. “And not for a rich lady. Just for no reason at all. I can’t decide if that’s better or not.”
Dee nodded. She understood. “I think when anyone leaves their kids, it doesn’t matter why. It just matters that they’re gone.”
They waited on the bus for over an hour before it finally left for St Tropez.
And it hadn’t been twenty girls they were waiting for. There were a good thirty-five women on the bus, a variety of nationalities. About half of them were American from what Dee could tell.
She was grateful for Shayla. Maybe this wouldn’t be so terrible if she had a friend.
Shayla had never been outside of the South, much less the country. She stared out the window in awe at the coastal scenery, bouncing in her seat like a little kid on her way to Disney World.
“How old are you, Shayla?” Dee asked her.
“I just turned twenty.”
Holy hell, twenty-years-old. She was practically a child. Dee remembered being that age not so long ago.
She hadn’t known a damn thing about how the world worked.
“God, you’ve got so much ahead of you,” Dee said, more to herself than anyone.
“I hope so,” Shayla turned back to her now, a sad expression on her face. “I have a twin brother.”
“Oh?” Dee asked. “That’s great. Are you close?”
Shayla’s eyes filled with tears and Dee wrapped an arm around her. “I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?”
“No, it’s not that,” Shayla said. “He isn’t… with us. He died over six months ago. In Afghanistan.”
Dee’s heart fell. She’d never heard of anything more sad.
“I am so sorry, Shayla,” Dee said. “I can’t imagine.”
Dee thought of Meg. What would she do if she didn’t have her sister?
She couldn’t even bear to think about it.
“He was wonderful,” Shayla said, wiping the tears that had slid down her cheeks. “His name was Shawn. He enlisted when we graduated high school so
he could help with Momma. And pay for school, he was going to do his four years and then become a teacher. It was his first deployment and he was going to be home in a month.”
Dee wanted to cry thinking about the cruelty of such a thing. She didn’t know how she would handle it.
“Anyway, sorry,” Shayla blew her nose, laughing now. “I must look so crazy crying on a bus to someone I just met. He’s why I’m here. I was supposed to go to college up in Statesboro, but now that he’s gone, I need to make money. When I heard about this, I knew it’s what I had to do.”
Dee sat back, amazed at this girl who had been through so much now doing what it took to take care of the person she loved.
What had Dee ever done for anyone other than cause them pain?
At the same time, Dee worried for Shayla. She was clearly young and vulnerable. She kept using the word modeling to describe what they were about to do.
Dee wondered if Shayla knew what she had signed up for.
Or if any of them did.
It was a mega-yacht. More like a cruise ship than anything. Dee had never seen such a thing.
It was owned by some Italian count— or rented by him, more than likely, Dee would later learn. He was throwing a two-day party and he wanted to fill his boat with beautiful women.
This is what an ogre of a man told them as they disembarked from the bus. He spoke with a Russian accent and kept reminding the women to look their best and to be “playful” at all times.
It creeped her out the way he looked at each of them as they walked off the bus.
The girls were herded into a three-star hotel across from the harbor, their windows giving them a view of the boat. The new girls, including Shayla, tittered with excitement around her.
The veteran girls barely glanced out the window. They looked like robots to Dee, just women going through the motions. She recognized that type of look from her time on sets. They knew what was in store for them.
It made Dee very anxious.
They were stuffed six to a room, except for Dee. April had negotiated a single room for Dee so she wouldn’t have to share it.
But she didn’t like the feeling of being totally alone, so she invited Shayla to room with her.
“Really?” Shayla squealed again. “That’s so sweet!”
Dee felt oddly protective of the girl from Tifton. Besides, no woman should be alone in a place like this.
She didn’t trust any of the people running this shit show.
It wasn’t the worst two days of her life, but it was up there in the bottom ten.
On the yacht there had been three women to every man. There were about a dozen of them and they were all terrible— hairy, fat, and old. They stuffed themselves into Speedos and smoked large, putrid cigars. Their phlegmy laughter would plague Dee’s nightmares for quite a while.
The women were told to wear their “best” bikinis, which translated to “skimpiest.” They were told to be “playful” which translated to “let the men do what they want with you.”
Some women took their instructions very seriously. At least a quarter of them walked around topless and weren’t afraid to be “playful” at all— in the hopes of getting bigger tips, Dee wasn’t sure. She had been paid a flat rate for this job and it was already sitting safely in her bank account, wired over that morning.
But the other girls had a different arrangement, as Dee found out from Shayla. The rest of the girls were given $2500 up front, but were expected to “earn” more on the job by pleasing the hosts and his friends.
It was clear Shayla hadn’t realized this. She’d been told she’d be getting $6000 at the end, no matter what. It was a typical type of scam, the kind that only seemed to ever be done to women. Dee wasn’t surprised. Just disappointed for her new friend.
“So what do I do?” Shayla asked as they walked around the promenade deck, trying to avoid the host and his sleazy buddies for the time being.
There were baskets of condoms scattered everywhere, something that made Dee ill. Fake Chanel bags abounded as well, scattered around various parts of the ship, like promises to the women, as if phony luxury handbags were worth this nightmare scenario.
It was just another way to treat them like dogs. As if “treats” were all they needed to comply.
Although clearly to some of the women, it was worth it. Dee had seen two Eastern European women in the outdoor shower with one of the men, having a splendid time.
“Just be yourself, be friendly,” Dee said. “But do not do anything you aren’t comfortable with. When we get off this job, I will get you in contact with my manager. She’ll set you up with a better deal.”
“God, thank you,” Shayla replied. “You’re like an angel sent to me from heaven.”
As soon as she said that, one of the men jumped out from one of the sliding glass doors to one of the off-deck rooms. Both women jumped, startled.
“Ah-ha!” he said, grinning. “I’ve been looking for you, blondie!”
Shayla looked at Dee, terrified.
“Yeah?” she asked, her voice shaking. “What for?”
“My friend, he wants to take you to his yacht,” the man said. “He saw a picture of you. He’s sending his dinghy for you and the actress.”
Dee and Shayla looked at each other, confused.
“He’s a rich Russian guy,” the man said, ogling both of them. “I send him the best two and he picks one of you to stay with him for a week.”
“What?” Dee asked. “I’ve never heard of that.”
“You turning it down?” the man guffawed. “Any of these bitches would slit your throats for this chance. He pays big.”
As Dee looked around them at the chaos, she decided this really might be a better deal.
Anything to get off this yacht.
Dee didn’t learn it until later, but this was common in yachting. Very often the women on the harbor boat would get pulled away from it to entertain the actual powerful men of the Med— the ones April had been talking about. The oligarchs, the billionaires, and the A-list actors and musicians that demanded discretion.
That day Dee and Shayla had gone to a yacht in the middle of the Mediterranean on a mini-boat that was parked within the larger yacht. It was owned by a very famous billionaire that everyone recognized.
Before they even were allowed off the mini-boat they were required to sign a non-disclosure agreement.
The man chose Shayla for himself, an act that felt degrading. They had stood before him as he eyed them up and down. Dee had literally been waved away and Shayla had looked back at her new friend, fear in her eyes.
Dee hadn’t had to leave though. There were a couple of other men on the yacht, equally powerful people, and she’d ended up having a fine time, never even going back to the hotel or the party yacht in St Tropez. They’d even sent someone to get their things.
She hadn’t done anything she didn’t want to do.
It’s what she told herself every time, anyway. It made her feel like she was in control— empowered.
This was what it meant to survive now. Whether she was ashamed of it or not, it didn’t make a difference.
If it helped her forget the past, that was all that mattered.
Fifty-One
Dee had been able to avoid going home for three years, a fact that broke her father’s heart.
It broke hers too, because she couldn’t tell him why. So as far he knew, it was because of him or lingering resentments that he imagined in his head. Her father had always been hard on himself when it came to his parenting, even though he had no reason to be.
He’d been a wonderful father to Dee and Meg. Which is why she could never tell him the truth about anything. Meg agreed with this, of course. To tell him what had happened would lead to nothing good.
Sometimes loving someone meant protecting them from the truth.
Not that she hadn’t seen her family. She’d gone on vacations with them to Disney World, flown them out to LA a few times, and
after a particularly successful yachting trip, had paid for all of them to spend a vacation in the Bahamas for a week to celebrate Meg’s birthday.
But eventually, Dee couldn’t avoid it anymore. Her father was insisting she come home for Jessa’s third birthday.
And this time he wasn’t asking. It was understood that she would be there.
“It’s important for you to know, no matter how you feel about home or why you feel the way you do, it’s still here,” he said over the phone one week in early May.
Dee hadn’t worked since February and the new season would start in June. She needed to be ready. The last thing she wanted to do was go to Panama City and have to possibly be reminded of so much she was desperate to avoid.
It’s why the yachting worked well for her. That’s what she told herself, anyway. It was a way for her to completely forget the trauma of the past and the secret that still remained buried in the bottom of a sinkhole in Aucilla.
She’d long given up on it being a window for her to climb through in order to get back into Hollywood’s good graces. She’d really known all along it wasn’t possible.
The McCoys never forget.
“We’re still here and we always will be,” Dad continued. “We love you. We need to see you. Jessa is growing up so fast and you’re missing it.”
Tears slid down Dee’s gaunt cheeks. She didn’t deserve him. “Fine. Of course. I’ll be there, but just for a couple of days. I need to be in Capri the first week of June.”
“I understand. That would be wonderful. I’ll let Meg know.”
Neither Meg or their dad knew what Dee did for a living.
They thought she was a model and commercial actress, despite never having seen a single commercial with her featured in it. Dee explained they were mostly the overseas kind, which was why she had to travel so much.
After that first day on the billionaire’s yacht, Dee had never seen Shayla again. Sometimes that happened. She knew she was fine, she’d heard through the grapevine that the billionaire had taken such a liking to her after that week together that he’d made her a permanent woman in his life.
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