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Just then the loud ring of my cell phone startled us both. It was my ex-wife—and she sounded anxious. “How’s our little one?”
“Great! We’re here at the mall.”
“John…” Something was troubling her. She was speaking in that apprehensive, low-pitched voice of hers that meant she had heard bad news. “Your concerns were valid. That sex scandal with the governor of New York has fallen on your doorstep. The Plain Dealer published the article. They mentioned your name.”
I stopped dead in my tracks, right in the middle of the busy mall. A couple behind me nearly bumped into me and looked back with annoyed glances. But I just stood there speechless, as other shoppers swerved to avoid me.
I could not have pulled this off without help from supportive fathers and mothers.
Support from all the fathers who abandoned my escorts—who provided no family unit and left them longing for a man’s validation. Support from all the mothers who favored their boyfriends and girlfriends over their own daughters—who, by example, taught my escorts from childhood the power of sex rather than the power of love. These fathers and mothers were my silent partners, without whom I would have had no escorts.
Even today, my flesh crawls when I think about how deep down in the gutter I dwelled. Soon you will learn just how deep my self-indulgence and destructive behavior would sink me.
Sasha had an incoming call. “It’s Kelly. Can I put you on hold?”
Only seconds later, Sasha was back on the line with me. She was frantic. “Something’s going on at the condo! I will call you back.”
Moments later, she was back on the line. I heard her breathing heavily. I strained to hear what sounded like static interference and a loud commotion in the background.
“The police are in the condo!” Her voice was trembling.