Love's Sacrifice (The Billionaire Banker 5)

‘Anyway, we ordered our drinks. Apparently, what was unfolding on the stage was the last segment of another show. This girl was filling her vagina with ping-pong balls. She then shot them out with mind-zapping force at the audience. The funny thing was the elderly couple took a few in the chest and head and did not even flinch or duck as the balls hit them. No one clapped when it was over. It was all very odd.’

Billie scrapes her spoon on the bowl, licks the spoon and waves it around.

‘She had straight, long hair, a cute little arse and a tattoo around her belly button which I really liked, but believe me, the only thing she communicated was boredom. I actually can’t remember when I have seen someone look more bored. At this point a group of noisy Aussie surfer boy types walked in. As they took their places a man brought a birthday cake and deposited it on the stage. The girl sat behind it, inserted a straw into her fanny, and blew out the six candles on it while the Aussie boys cheered her on with wolf whistles.’

Billie pulls a cigarette out of a box, lights it, and takes a full drag.

‘Then she walked off and another girl walked on. This one, who looked pretty similar to the last one, danced and gyrated a few seconds around a metal pole and then came to the front of the stage, suddenly opened her legs, and f**k me, out plopped a live gerbil. The Aussies were loving it—they screamed and howled—but I was totally horrified.’

She shudders with the memory. ‘You know how much I love gerbils. That’s mental cruelty right there. The poor thing looked drenched and confused. It tried to run off, but the man who had brought the birthday cake came out from behind the curtains, picked it off by its tail, and walked off with it. That put me right off.’

From the time she told me about the gerbil my hand had flown to my mouth in shock. An uncomfortable giggle escapes me. ‘What happened then?’

‘Then she played a recorder with her pu**y, which I have to admit was pretty damn impressive. And after that the way she then opened the beer bottle was f**king freaky. She simply squatted down over it, and popped its top off in seconds. By the time she turned water into soda water, the Aussies were starting to get downright rowdy, the single man was leaning forward eagerly, and I had started to feel icky about my moronic decision to go there. I felt really sorry for those women.’

She taps the ash off the end of her cigarette and scratches her leg where a mosquito had bitten her the night before.

‘It’s worse than being a prostitute. At least prostitutes suffer their degradations in private. But these poor women… All of them had the same blank expression. I guess mentally each one had switched off, and taken her mind to a different place.

‘At that point I shot a look at Brian and he had an expression of pity on his face. So we left. But not before we had a massive row about the bill with a big woman on ugly pills and her walrus-faced helper. They had added all these extras on and inflated the bill by about ten times. Brian refused to pay and told them to call the police. That stopped them cold.’

I stare at Billie, not knowing what to say.

‘I thought it was going to be fun and cool, but no one I saw was doing it for fun. Now I’m just sorry I ever went. I can’t un-see it, and I feel like I’ve stolen a part of their pitiful souls. In the taxi later, Brian told me most of them are trafficked women who don’t get paid hardly anything, and some have been seriously hurt while performing.’

‘I guess we never realize how privileged and lucky we are until we see what some people’s lives are like.’

‘I just imagined it to be like some sort of circus, but it wasn’t.’

I go up to her and take her hand. ‘I’m sorry you feel bad, Billie, but I’m glad you didn’t enjoy it. Every day we learn something about the world and about ourselves.’

‘Oh, now might be the perfect time to tell you that I’m giving up the baby clothes business,’ she announces.

‘Why?’ I ask, surprised.

She lifts one shoulder in a shrug.

‘I thought you loved designing. And you are so awesome at it.’

She sighs. ‘Well, I spoke to that accountant Blake sent me to, and it all boils down to two strategies. A: I make the clothes in England and sell them as exclusive designer gear in rich people’s shops, or B: I reduce the quality so they can be mass produced by slaves in some third world country and flog them to ordinary people. Both options are almost equally repulsive to me.’

‘So what do you want to do, then?’

‘I want to work with your charity. Does it pay?’

‘Yes, it pays,’ I shriek happily. ‘And I’d love to have you working with me.’

‘Great. When do I start?’

I can’t stop grinning. ‘As soon as we get back. I’m still waiting for all the legal leg work and jargon to be over and done with, but the first thing we are doing is supplying clean, free water in poor countries.’

‘Clean, free water. Do we get that?’

I hesitate. ‘Well, no.’

‘So…’

‘Billie, are you going to start? Or are we going to help these kids who have to walk for hours to fetch a pail of diseased water from the river?’

‘Now that you put it like that.’

I shake my head at her. ‘Sometimes…’

‘Now might also be a good time to tell you that I’m having my boobs done.’

‘What?’ I exclaim, surprised by the sudden change in topic, and the topic itself. ‘The shocks are coming in thick and fast today.’

She smiles wickedly. ‘I’ve always wanted big, beautiful br**sts. And yesterday I realized that if I can’t be small and delicate like these Thai girls, then I want horribly perfect, overtly sexual melons on my chest. I think I’d like the idea of socking a man for looking at my cle**age, and not my eyes, while he is talking to me.’

‘You’re one strange girl, Billie.’

She puts the empty bowl and spoon on the tray, lights another cigarette, and inhales languidly. ‘I know,’ she sighs dreamily.

We spend what’s left of the morning shopping at Siam Paragon. I manage to find a short white Lycra dress as per Blake’s instructions.

‘Very racy,’ is Billie’s comment.

Billie buys herself a pair of gold hotpants she saw one of the hookers wearing the night before and a sequined Sandringham blue tank top.

‘Don’t worry. They’re not to be worn together,’ she assures me.