Politics. Escorts. Blackmail. (17 page)

Friday—February 10, 2012

T
hree days after everything blew up, it was obvious that business at Lip Service was on hold. Plans to hire the new male IC, Bronx, for Kalin Graves were also canceled. There were no bookings, no calls, no nothing. It was as if Lip Service was holding its breath to see if it would ever live again.

The fallout from the accusations made by Beryl Thomas were all over the media, headlines reading, “Republican Candidate Senator Darrell Ellington’s Wife Allegedly Paid a Male Escort for Sex.” Darrell and his wife had given a press conference and denied the claims.

Virgil was at Midori’s place. He’d spent a sexless night with her and was now dressed for work. Midori was still in bed, and Virgil lay next to her as they talked.

Midori asked him, “I know your mom denied it, but do you think it’s true?”

“I have to believe her. I was thinking you’d know more. Thought you’d be able to find out if there was an appointment between her and this Kemba guy.”

“No. I don’t have access to that.”

“Haven’t you talked to him?”

“No. Not lately. I haven’t talked to Money or anyone else. Haven’t heard from the booker. Nothing. It’s best to just lay low. No appointments. No phone calls. No e-mail, texts, nothing. There are still a few jobs I haven’t even gotten paid for and I might not. It’s just a mess, Virgil.”

“Here I was worried about the mayor and about my stepfather, and what gets out is all about my mother, told by my aunt.”

Midori asked, “Did you even know about her? Your aunt.”

“I did. She was around when I was young. But they fell out when I was graduating from high school. The next year my dad died from a heart attack. That was about ten years ago. I never brought her up and neither did my mother.”

“What happens now? I mean your stepfather’s involvement could come up in all of this. The fact that your mother could be charged with patronizing a prostitute, if they really did have sex, is bad enough. And honestly, your association to me is just…I mean, what if we all get called to testify? Let’s say there are charges filed against Lip Service. Your parents know you’re dating me. I never did get close to them. I don’t think they liked me the moment they met me. They’ll know what I do. It’ll all unravel.”

He looked frustrated. “I don’t care. I haven’t done anything wrong. And I believe my mother. She said she didn’t have sex with him, let alone pay for sex. The one who’s got the most to lose is my stepfather. And he has the nerve to act like he’s squeaky-clean. It burns me up inside to see him acting so righteous.”

Midori rubbed the blonde hairs on the back of her head. “Are you gonna tell her? About what he’s really done?”

“I can’t do anything that would bring about more suspicions regarding what you do, what Lip Service does.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“How can I not? I just can’t believe how this has blown up.” Virgil reached into his pocket and took out his cell. He scrolled through his e-mails.

She asked, “You’re done recording stuff, right?”

“Of course.”

Midori leaned her head back against the headboard. “I wonder where my sister is. I called but she hasn’t called me back. Damn.” Then suddenly, her cell phone rang. She said to Virgil while grabbing it from the spot next to her on the mattress, “It’s Money.” She answered it fast. “Hi.”

Money sounded serious. She spoke fast. “Midori, sorry I haven’t returned your calls. Jamie’s taking me to the police station. My attorney said I have to turn myself in before three o’clock. You need to stay in touch with Jamie because in a couple of days, I’ll have an arraignment and bail will be set. He needs to post it. If he doesn’t end up posting it, I’ll need you to. My attorney will call you later today.”

“Okay. Whatever you need. But what are the charges?”

“Pandering and prostitution for now. Looks like the FBI has been watching my bank accounts. And Senator Ellington’s as well. He’s been charged with money laundering. Just stay by your phone.”

Midori looked at Virgil, who still scrolled through his phone. “I will. I love you. Sorry.”

“Love you, too. Bye.”

Midori hung up, giving an exhale.

“What?” Virgil asked, looking at her.

“Your stepfather’s been charged with money laundering.”

Virgil jumped up and put on his shoes. “I’ve gotta go.” He darted toward the door and dialed his cell.

Midori heard his voice as he walked out of her front door. “Mom. Are you okay?”

And then he was gone.

Midori’s first thought was to turn on the television. The local news station had breaking news:

Wednesday—February 22, 2012

L
ike Midori, Leilani had not heard from anyone at Lip Service. Her income had come to a screeching halt. The last time she had a hobbyist appointment was the day the story broke about Kemba and the senator’s wife. That appointment had been with a popular, married rapper, Mr. 41, who wanted a massage in his hotel room, but with a happy oral ending. She was willing to bet that was one call he wished he’d never made.

Leilani hadn’t heard from Shawn since that day he knocked on her hotel room door while she was with Senator Ellington. She called him a few times, actually surprised he wasn’t begging her to come back as usual, but he never returned her calls.

Though one call was returned. Clean and easy Leilani, as Money called her, had received a return call from one of many entertainment and national news services, including
Good Morning America
. She spoke to the producer at
GMA
, and the date was set. An interview for her to talk. She was about to add fuel to the fire, all in the name of setting things straight. So while Kemba and Midori weren’t saying a word, Leilani was in it to win it, and her popularity was about to hit the roof. Her attorney was there standing in the wings, having already scripted her on what to say.

She had arrived at the studio in Times Square with her attorney at seven thirty in the morning. She’d worn a hot pink dress and pink ankle boots, sporting oversized white, glam sunglasses, looking Hollywood. She’d had her nails painted in a soft periwinkle color, her makeup was done with pink hues, and with less than one minute before showtime she was all wired up and ready.

Jasmine Hunter, the classy-looking, attractive host, sat facing Leilani under the bright lights as the crew around them did their jobs. After reading the segment’s introduction from the teleprompter, the energetic host began asking her questions.

“Ms. Sutton, thanks for being here. You agreed to come on the show and talk about this company, Lip Service. Why?”

Leilani smiled brightly. Her heart fluttered though her voice was steady. “Thank you. I agreed to come on because, though I can’t talk about the case itself, I can tell you about the world of being an escort.”

Jasmine asked, “So, you’re saying you are an escort.”

“I have been, yes.”

“Have you been escorting for Lip Service?”

“Yes.”

“And have you had sex with clients in exchange for money?”

Leilani replied, her hands cupped along her lap, legs crossed, “I have gone out with clients and socialized and spent time with them. No money was exchanged.”

“But do they pay someone for your time?”

She nodded. “Clients might pay for time, but the escorts don’t handle the money.”

Jasmine looked down at her index cards and asked, “I suppose the question is, is any of that money in consideration for having sex?”

“What two adults do is their business.”

“Would you call that prostitution?”

“No more than I would if a woman was at a bar and a man bought her a drink, maybe even dinner, and they decided to like, go home together. It’s silly to make it a crime. These people are consenting adults.”

“Are you saying prostitution should be legalized?”

Leilani sighed and paused, then said, “I’m saying there will always be men, and women, who will seek the services of a prostitute. There will always be prostitutes. No one is getting hurt. I once heard that if a man talks dirty to a woman, it’s sexual harassment. But if a woman talks dirty to a man it’s like, $2.95 per minute. I’m just saying.”

The host nodded. “I like that. Okay. So, what about the wives of the men, and the husbands of the women, who are getting hurt by them spending time with escorts?”

“That’s between the husband and the wife. If the husband has a mistress who sees him on the side, does she feel guilty? Maybe so, maybe not. It depends on the individual.” Leilani sounded certain.

“Do you think most men go to escort companies because there’s trouble at home?”

“No. Sometimes they just want someone on their arm who’s different. Sometimes they just want to talk. A lot of men really do have some things they want to get off their chest, you know, like share private things. It’s well-dressed, educated men who don’t want to get caught with the secretary. It’s about companionship and just listening. Not all are married. When I escort, I make them feel important. Listen, smile, laugh.”

Jasmine held her pen in hand, and followed up, asking, “Did Senator Darrell Ellington come to you for that type of companionship?”

“I cannot comment on the senator or details of his case or the charges against Lip Service. I’m here to reply to some of the speculation about the world of escorting itself. I’ve received phone call after phone call. I was photographed when I left my apartment this morning. It’s been crazy.”

“How did the authorities get your name?”

“I don’t know.”

“Will you testify in the pending cases?”

Leilani nodded. “I’m sure I will.”

Jasmine straight-out asked, “Are you guilty of prostitution?”

“No,” Leilani straight-out replied.

“Okay.” The host looked at Leilani and gave a wide smile. “You know. Obviously, you’re a very beautiful woman. You told our producer you’re from Las Vegas, and you were a showgirl at the Flamingo. Is that true?”

“It is. I did that for a while, along with some burlesque. Then when I moved to Los Angeles I did some stripping and looked to get an agent to do some acting. Wasn’t making much money. I moved to New York a few years ago.”

“Did you move to New York to become an escort?”

“Yes.”

Jasmine again glanced at her notes. “Was it Lip Service who hired you then?”

“Yes.”

“Has it been lucrative for you? I mean, are you looking to stay in it or do something else? Acting again, maybe?” She put her hand to her chin, awaiting the reply.

“Well, I’m not sure how much acting I’d be offered after this, but I can’t really say what the future will hold. There are obviously some things we need to get past first. So, I don’t know. But yes, it has been lucrative.”

She turned her head and looked playful. “Are you dating anyone?”

“I was, but no. Not at the moment.”

A man near the main camera signaled Jasmine with a wrap-up sign. She said to Leilani, “Well, I wish you all the best, and thank you for coming on the show. I know this topic will be discussed quite a bit since it involves such a high-profile political figure and his wife. That’s never happened before. But I thank you and wish you the best.”

“Thank you, Jasmine.”

Within ten minutes Leilani and her attorney left the studio. A crowd of photographers snapped pictures of her as she got in his black Audi, and then her phone rang. One call came in after another, and they were numbers she’d never seen before.

Her older, Italian lawyer said to her while driving, “You did good. But, you might need to get your number changed. Honestly, it’s your looks. The Flamingo hotel wants you to appear in their nightclub. Just show up for money. People are fascinated with you. Curious about why you’d even be in the business in the first place. They even want to know the name of the nail polish and lip gloss you’re wearing.”

“Oh my gosh.” She glanced at her bluish nails and giggled. Then her phone rang. It was one particular caller she did recognize. She answered, “Hi, Shawn.” Sounding unfazed.

He said, talking fast and loud, “Babycakes. I just saw you.”

She smirked at his nerve to call her by a pet name. “Yep.”

“I’m shocked.”

She looked out of the passenger window. “I knew you would be. Things were about to be revealed so eventually you’d need to know. I’m sorry. But I hadn’t heard from you anyway, so I figured the door was shut tight. We’ve been done for a while.”

“And that’s what you’ve been doing in New York this whole time?”

“Yes.”

“Not catering?”

Feeling irritated, she said, “No, Shawn.”

“Okay. Is that what was going on at the hotel?”

She changed his direction. “Where are you?”

“I’m still here.”

“Uh-huh. I called you since that day, but you’ve ignored my calls.”

“I know. Sorry about that. I’ve been busy. But I do have something to tell you.”

Her attorney asked while they were stopped at a red light, “Leilani. You want to come by my office for a while?”

She looked at him. “Ah, yes. Sure.” She then said to Shawn, “Okay. What?”

“I was about to work for Lip Service.”

She darted her head back. “Stop lying.”

He continued. “I’m not. I met Money and another woman at a restaurant and they asked me to work. I talked to the booker one time, and then all of this shit hit the fan.”

She rested her elbow along the door. “Is that why you came here?”

“No. I came here to model. A friend of mine hooked me up with an agent, but nothing panned out. I had just thought about trying to see if any other options might work, and bam, there was Money. See, I got fired from the casino. I just didn’t get a chance to tell you.”

She gave a look of disbelief. “And here I was worried about you knowing my business.”

“Leilani. It’s okay.”

She gave a long sigh. “I’m going to talk to you later. I’ve got to go. I wish you luck.”

“Babycakes, wait.”

“Bye, Shawn. Don’t call me again.” She disconnected the call. Her attorney continued on, headed to Park Avenue.

Another call came in. It was from
The View
.

The secret was out and the whole world knew, just as she now knew what Shawn was up to.

But what Leilani was now up to was about to make her very rich and very famous.