Free Turning It on (Red Hot Russians) by Elizabeth Harmon Page B

how much any extra money would mean. “Look, even if you don’t get that far, the one hundred thousand dollars would pay off the loan on this place...and allow you to keep providing a livelihood to those who are down on their luck.”
    “I used every cent I earned to keep this place running. We were making ends meet, until the roof and the economy caved at the same time.” She drummed her unpolished nails on the wooden tabletop, gazing across the room at the teenage busboy.
    Here was where Eric’s research was about to pay off. He gentled his voice. “When
Somerset High
ended, you were a star. You could have had your pick of offers. Instead, you left Hollywood, went to college, then came here and started this place. And I know why.”
    She glanced back sharply, crossing her arms over her chest, challenging him. “Okay, why?”
    “Because being famous created a rift with your parents that never healed.”
    Her expression hardened. “You read that in
People
magazine.”
    He gave a nervous laugh. “Guilty.”
    “What else do you think you know?”
    “I know that your parents ran a soup kitchen and opposed your career from the beginning. When you became famous, they never forgave you. They died in a car accident when you were twenty and you hadn’t spoken to them in years.”
    “Well, you’ve done your homework. Unfortunately, most of it’s wrong. My parents were actually quite open-minded. That’s not to say they were proud of everything I did, but they encouraged me to follow my dreams. What disappointed them was that instead of using my fame in a positive way, I became known for clubbing, doing drugs and sleeping with married men. Can you understand why I don’t want to revisit that part of my life?”
    “You won’t have to. You come on the show, and live in character for ten weeks. Think of it as an acting job.” Eric’s gaze followed hers, to the boy. “It’s a way to save this place, and continue doing work your parents would have been proud of.”
    * * *
    Now, he watched Alison on camera, talk of befriending a homeless mother and little boy, and feeling called by God to open the Homestretch. When the mother, who was now the manager and her dreadlocked son joined her, tears welled in Eric’s eyes. Quickly he blinked them away.
    Cody snorted. “She’s going to tramp it up on
Last Fling
as a way to serve God? Well spank my ass and call me Charlie, I’ve officially heard everything.”
    Eric looked over, stunned. “Aren’t you the least bit moved by that?”
    “Moved, smoved. This is the Xposé Network, not the goddamn Hallmark Channel. Who’s next?”
    “Him.” The swarthy image of Vladimir Shustov filled the screen.
    The first thing Eric noticed was the terrible lighting, which cast deep, harsh shadows on the stripper’s face. He wasn’t smiling, as the other interviewees had been, though in fairness, the questions weren’t particularly lighthearted. On the tape, the interviewer asked, “What brought you to Miami?”
    Shustov scowled into the camera. “My mother was dead, I had no family. The part of Russia where I lived is far north. Very cold and dark. I wanted to be where it was warm and there was sun. I found work with traveling folk dance troupe.”
    Folk dancing? The background search had traced Shustov to something called the International Review, a Korean enterprise offering “the finest in private adult entertainment.” It was legal, but just barely.
    “How did your mother die?”
    “She and her boyfriend were shot eight times each. Mob hit.” He crossed his muscular arms and glared at the camera. “Anything else bad you want to know?”
    Eric shifted nervously, stealing glances at Cody. Maybe this was a bad miscalculation. DeWylde’s ex-skating partner’s husband, who’d delivered him a live TV beatdown, had also been Russian. He might not want any reminders. But to Eric’s surprise and profound relief, Cody started to laugh. “Where the fuck did you find this guy,