Page 130 of Morally Corrupt

"I don't know what you're talking about," I add, a little bit baffled that she'd think I'd do anything to jeopardize this when I'd been looking for a chance to come face to face with Jimenez for twenty years.

She turns towards me and narrows her eyes. "Sure. Whatever you say. It's not as if you haven't been helping strays ever since I've known you."

"That's not exactly true."

"You had six cats when I met you.Six. All of them from rescues."

"Those are animals…" I mumble. "And I had to give them up because of your allergy."

"Yeah, if it wasn't for my allergy, we would probably have more than a dozen cats by now. Who knows how many dogs too."

"Do you like dogs?" I suddenly ask, realizing I don't actually know the answer to that.

"I don't know…" she says. "Maybe… Some are cute… I don't know." She's fidgeting, and her answer is all over the place.

I just asked her if she liked dogs. I shake my head. Sometimes I don't understand her.

"Anyway, it's not just cats. Let's not forget that homeless man you set up with a job and an apartment. Or the lost child that time during our date. You spent four hours looking for his mother. Four hours ofour date."One look at her, and it's clear she's still holding a grudge.

"What was I supposed to do? I work in law enforcement. I couldn't have left him alone."

"You could have handed him to someone else."

"I didn't trust anyone else."

"See? That's what you always do. You see someone in need, and you have to go be the hero. It's not as if you didn't do this with me too. Remember that first dinner? When I was being picked on? It's a pattern." She's relentless. I didn't realize she'd been keeping track of this.

Truth is, most of the time, it's not even a conscious effort. I know what it's like to be picked on, to be the underdog, so when I see someone in a similar position, I feel like I have to act. This is also why my career is so rewarding to me. I've managed to help people so they wouldn't have to make tough decisions like I had to.

I know what it's like to sell your soul for survival, and it's something I'll have to always live with. If I can help one person avoid that type of fate, then it hasn't all been for nothing.

"Okay, okay. Maybe I do… tend to help others. But this is far too important. I can't risk anything going wrong," I say eventually.

"Good. Then we are in agreement." She gives a brisk nod, and we continue in silence.

We soon reach Atlantic City, and we head directly to our motel to check in. There's one word that can describe the atmosphere here—gray. Everything is so commonplace, as if the presence of sin has erased all types of color from this place. There are more dilapidated buildings than not, including the hotel we're staying at, and I can't help but wonder why Jimenez would have chosen this place.

The room we manage to get is a double with two twin-sized beds. For all its bareness, this place is packed.

Bianca drags her huge luggage and dumps it on the bed. She opens it and shows me what she's brought.

"You're going as Pink?" I ask when I see her pink wig and the outfit she used to wear at the Palace.

"I felt it would be fitting." She grins, and I purse my lips in response.

Of course, it would be fitting.

"Just for the record." She puts a finger up to get my attention. "I never worked as a prostitute there. I was just waitressing."

"Really?" I ask ironically.

"Yeah, I only served drinks. Ididdoyou on the side, but it wasn't in my job description." She seems so proud of herself that I just shake my head.

"Why did you do it, though?" I never got a straight answer from her. Why go to such lengths?

"I wanted you. But you would have never fucked me as Martin's daughter. I had to improvise."She shrugs.

"Was it worth it? Living a double life?"