Julia was ambitious to make more money and every night practiced dancing in hopes that she could sometime do a turn at the theater. I served as her audience, sat around till the small hours, and often fell asleep in a chair or on the bed. One night we hurried home ahead of a storm and I was on the bed asleep before she had her supper cooked. She woke me up tugging at me. “Get up, you poor kid; take your clothes off and go to bed if you’re that dead for sleep.” She helped me take off my shoes and I was soon asleep again. She went to bed without waking me, but as I tossed about in the night I knew she was there and was glad. Once my body touched hers⁠—it was hot and sticky. I pulled the sheet down between us and turned away. The next morning as we were walking to the restaurant for breakfast a heavy hand fell on my shoulder; I turned to face my father.

My father’s hand was heavy on my shoulder as he pushed me into a doorway. He looked sad and his stern voice shook. “John, do you know what you are? You are a pimp.”