Free Game Girls by Judy Waite

edges close to Courtney, murmuring,
'Don't go home when Fern does, will you? I
need to ask you something.'
    'Ask me now,' Courtney murmurs back as
she sets out the salads. 'Otherwise I'll spend all
evening trying to guess.'
    Fern appears behind them. 'Just need the
bread. Everything's ready.' Her voice is earnest
and bright.
    'Fantastic, Fern. Thanks. We'll bring the rest
through.' Maybe she and Courtney can have a
bit of fun – she can try and run the conversation
over Fern's head. 'Come on, everyone.
Let's go eat, drink, and be merry.'
    As Alix slides into her seat, she thinks Mum
would be impressed – her and her mates all
sitting down to eat at a table.
    Although she wouldn't be so impressed if
she knew what turn the conversation was
about to take. Well tough shit, Mum. I don't
care what you think. She rang twice earlier –
left messages – but Alix isn't going to call her
back.
    'That card.' She doles chilli onto Fern's and
Courtney's plates. 'The one you saw in the
phone box . . . '
    Fern reaches for the bread. 'You mean like a
birthday card?'
    'No, not a birthday card.' Alix takes some
bread too, breaking it into pieces and chewing
it slowly. 'It was a sort of business card – left by
a lady of dubious repute.'
    Fern stares at her blankly. 'Oh. Right.'
    'A prostitute.' Courtney begins on her salad.
'A woman who has sex for money.'
    Fern looks down at her food, studying it as
if it might be an exam she is going to get tested
on.
    Alix struggles not to laugh. 'The thing is . . . '
She forks up her first mouthful for the day. It is
tangy hot. Rich spicy meat and beans and
mushrooms and peppers. It feels like the first
meal she's ever really tasted. Wonderful.
Exquisite. She eats hungrily, talking between
mouthfuls. '. . . the thing is – I mean, do you
think it's that bad?'
    Fern stays staring at her food.
    Alix keeps pushing. 'Sex. For money. I don't
see anything terrible about it. It's no worse than
just going with someone – some stranger – for
one night. In fact, it's better. At least you'd be in
control.'
    Courtney cuts a slice of cucumber into four
tidy quarters, and then presses her fork down
on one of them. 'It's exploitation.' She spits the
words, as if they've been boiling up in her.
'Guys using girls just to get what they want.'
    Alix pounces on this. She has expected it,
and she is more than prepared. 'Surely it's the
other way round. Girls using the guys. And
you're just as exploited in Easi Shop, if you ask
me. Having to jump when that creepy manager
clicks his fingers. And I bet the pay is rubbish.
Prostitutes earn good money – I mean REALLY
good money.' Alix reaches for her wine glass,
raises it. 'By the way – cheers, everybody.'
    'Cheers.'
    'Cheers.'
    Courtney squashes down another quarter of
cucumber. 'You have to have a pimp. And
they'd use and abuse you. That's what they do.'
    'I don't see why you'd have to have a pimp.
You could just do it yourself. Work from home.'
    'You wouldn't be safe.' Fern glances at Alix
as if she's worried she might be saying the
wrong thing.
    Alix notes that Fern has a red stain of sauce
at each corner of her mouth. She scrapes up the
last of her own chilli and then doles herself
some more. 'Why not?'
    Fern starts eating again, very slowly. 'If you
left a card with all your details on it in a phone
box, a mad lunatic might turn up. He could
really hurt you. Even kill you. No one would
even know.'
    'You'd be safe if there was more than one of
you around.' Alix starts running her fingers up
and down the stem of her glass. She is
answering Fern, but her words are for
Courtney. 'Suppose there were always at least
two of you in the house together? That would
be the deal – always.'
    'It's still abuse against women,' says
Courtney. 'And apart from that, someone
would be bound to find out. What about the
law? Tax people? Neighbours?'
    'How could anyone prove anything? We'd
just be entertaining "friends" at home. No one
could have a problem with that. As long as