Excerpt
As she walked by the long narrow table that ran the length of the back of her family room sofa, she nonchalantly pressed the play button on her answering machine. The second message stopped Shelley in her tracks.

Shelley, Jennifers voice from the box said, two guys were here today looking for you. They had that picture of you; the one everybody always wanted a copy of. Be careful Shell, be careful. And Jennifers message ended. Shelley ran over to the answering machine and punched the rewind button. She played the message again and again, each time hoping for more information but none came. Each time hoping that somehow she had heard wrong, but at last she was forced to face the fact that she had heard correctly. They had found her!

Oh God, theyve found me, Shelley whimpered out loud and sank to the floor as a cold chill swept over her.



Oh, by the way, the bearded one carrying the leather satchel asked while handing Burt a picture, Do you know this woman?

Burt took the eight-and-a-half-by-eleven glossy picture and looked at it intently. It was Shelley. Ten or twelve years ago, maybe fifteen, but it was Shelley. He had eaten at her restaurant too many times, had too many conversations with her not to know it was Shelley. In the picture, she was beautiful. Her long blond hair fell in waves around her gorgeous face and rested on her bare shoulders. In fact, Shelley was bare all over. Not a stitch of clothing on, a sight to behold. Burt first thought to himself, Shelley what a knockout, then he remembered the two men standing in front of him. As he looked up, both were staring at him. They were looking right through him--or at least trying to. Burt maintained his composure and his silence for a few seconds and then said, If you have two of them, pointing to the picture, Ill take them both.

One guy he showed the pictures to owned what he called a high class escort service. That guy was after me day and night to go to work for him. He waved big dollar figures in front of me, so I thought, why not? So I went to work for him and made some big bucks. I spent about two years of being with some of the most affluent men in the South, not to mention the North - businessmen and politicians mostly. One night I had dinner with a very important men an. I mean really important. We had dinner and a nice evening, up until he started hitting on me and couldnt--or wouldnt--stop. He beat me and beat me, and I think he thought I was dead, so he left. The hotel staff found me the next morning, snuck me out of the hotel, and carried me to Crawford Long Hospital.