Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
“Yes, it is. Do you need the address?”
“No, I have it. Thank you again for your help.”
Lennon hung up, springing up from the chair and grabbing her jacket and purse before heading out the door.
She pulled into the medical school parking lot exactly thirty minutes later, hurried into the building, and then stopped a woman in the hallway. “Hi. I’m supposed to attend a talk by Dr. Sweeton. Do you know where that’s being given?”
“I’m not sure. If it’s for all the students, it’s probably in the auditorium right around the corner.”
“Great, thanks,” she called over her shoulder as she sped off in the direction the woman had pointed. There were a couple of men just entering through a double door, and Lennon saw a crowded lecture room filled with people just beyond them and followed close on their heels.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“Trinity”
Episode from podcast The Fringe
Host of podcast, Jamal Whitaker
“Hello, welcome to The Fringe. Trinity. Beautiful name.”
“Thanks. Named for the Holy Trinity. The Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. And yet here I am, nothing but a shadow.”
Jamal smiles. “How are you?”
The woman with the long dark-blonde curls crosses her legs. She appears to be in her mid- to late twenties, attractive, wearing jeans and a brightly colored peasant top. “Mostly fine,” she says. “Thanks for having me.”
“Thanks for being here. So, Trinity, you’re in the porn industry. You do films?”
“Yeah, I’ve been doing them since I was seventeen.”
“Underage.”
“Did I say seventeen? I meant eighteen.”
Jamal smiles again. “How’d you get into the business?”
“I met a guy.” She adjusts the hoop earring that’s caught in her hair. “Every girl’s story of woe starts out that way, right?” She laughs. “I met a guy.” She raises her hands and wiggles her fingers in a mock-spooky movement. “Dun, dun, dun.”
“A boyfriend got you into it?”
She drops her hands and shrugs. “I wouldn’t necessarily call him a boyfriend. This guy I used to mess around with. He was a friend of my dealer. Anyway, he introduced me to someone, and I started doing films. Easy as that.”
“What was it like growing up?”
“Well. I’m the daughter of a preacher, if you can believe it.”
“A preacher’s kid. So home was good?”
“No, home was not good. My father preached in the pulpit on Sunday morning and then crawled into bed with me on Sunday night. And Monday, too, if he felt like it. Thursday, as well, if he could get me alone. You can probably understand why I hid a lot. In some way, my father taught me how to be a superhero—because of him, I became invisible.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I believe you, Jamal, and I appreciate that. What you do, listening to stories, it’s a decent thing to do.”
“How do you feel about making films?”
“I like it.”
“That’s not always the case.”
Trinity brings her foot up on the edge of the couch and hugs her leg. “I had hands on me growing up, hands I didn’t want and didn’t give permission to. When I do a film, I’m the one in control. I’m there because I decided to be there. I say yes or no, and then I get paid for it. I’m taking back my own power, you know?”
Jamal nods.
“Plus, it’s safe. A lot safer than the girls I see walking the streets.”
“That’s true. Are you ever asked to do things you don’t like to do?”
Trinity hesitates. “Yeah, sure. That’s part of the business too. There’s always another girl who will do that forbidden something, and they’re the ones who get the jobs, so sometimes . . . a lot of times, you end up bending the rules you started out with. But again, Jamal, I know how to become invisible.”
“What’s your drug, Trinity?”
“Heroin, mostly. Stops the pain, you know? Makes everything quiet. At least for a little while.”
“So I hear. Do you see yourself doing anything else besides the pornography?”
Trinity shrugs. “I did pretty well in school. I liked to read.” She tugs at her earring again. “And I was always good with clothing. I made this.” She points down to the peasant top she’s wearing. “When I was a kid, I used to dream about being a fashion designer, going to Paris, seeing my designs on runways.” Her lips tilt, even if her expression is slightly sad. “Maybe in another life, you know? Maybe this is just a practice round, and I’ll do better next time. Trip the light fantastic, as my granny used to say.”
“Trip the light fantastic. What a great saying.”
“Isn’t it? Brings to mind this beautiful euphoria. But not the kind you achieve from getting high. The joy you get off life, you know? The kind kids experience before someone fucks them up.”
Jamal nods. “You said you had dreams when you were a kid, but what about now? What are your dreams now?”
Trinity looks off to the side, silent for several long moments. The studio is quiet, only the gentle whir of the camera equipment. “I had a friend in the business. She used to say, ‘Trin, dreams are how people get by in a place like this.’” She lets out a small, sad chuff. “Anyway, that friend, she took her life a year ago. Beautiful girl. Legs like a colt. Milk-and-honey skin.” She lapses into silence again before her gaze meets the camera. “I regret not telling her that she was wrong about dreams. Dreams are dangerous. Dreams will break the last shards of your heart when you think there’s nothing left to shatter.”