Gwen ordered dinner in, and they swapped stories of the good old days while sipping on wine and nibbling canapés. It felt great to talk to Gwen again. It had been like being in a vacuum, living in the favela; surrounded by millions, yet completely isolated and alone. Here, she could speak freely, and in English! She could laugh. She could cry. And now, she wondered why she hadn’t tried to make contact with Gwen sooner. More shame than anything, she supposed. It was big of Gwen to just welcome her in like she had, but Tina could tell that the conversation was starting to dry up. The inevitable question would be coming next. When there was a lull, Gwen finally popped it. “So . . . what’s up?” It was the kind of “what’s up” that translated into: “Why are you here?” Tina hesitated at first, but decided it best not to beat around the bush. “I need an out, Gwen. I can’t live like I am anymore. I still owe a lot of money, but I need to find a better way to pay it off. You do modeling or something, right?” “Yeah, I do some modeling, but . . . that’s not what pays the bills, hun.” “I’m willing to learn whatever. So long as it’s legal. I’m not trying to go down that road anymore.” Gwen paused for a moment. “You sure you want to do what it takes for all this?” Tina nodded. She had to. Going back to the favela was no longer an option. “All right.” Gwen sighed and got up from the table. She returned a moment later and dropped a data chip case in front of Tina with a plastic clatter. On the cover was a picture of Gwen, fully nude, along with several not as clothing-free men. “Well, there you go. That’s what I do, Tina. That’s how I get by.” Tina gawked at the cover as the fairy tale that had been Gwen’s life began to unravel in her mind. “But seriously, the movies and net-sites are just like advertising. You make good money, mind you, but the real money comes once you get a name for yourself and start escorting.” Gwen grinned. “Last weekend, I had this client. He flew me first class to Kuala Lumpur for three nights, all expenses paid, in a five-star hotel, and then gave me fifty grand on top of that. And I do maybe two or three like that a month.” “That much?” Tina could hardly believe it. She could pay off her debt in under a year with that kind of cash. “Look, if you want to get into it, I can get you the connections. You’d be surprised how in demand we are. Fantasy fulfillment, I guess. . . . You realize how many teenage boys grew up watching us in the ring?” Gwen’s eyes suddenly lit up. “Hey, we could do a scene together. We can do the costumes and everything. You’d be famous right away.” “What?” “Oh, come on, you know I’m not really into that. It’s just acting. No different than what we did in the ring, right?” Gwen smiled at her, trying to elicit ascent. Tina tried her best to force a smile in return, but the thought of what Gwen was suggesting repulsed her. “No, it’s a heck of a big difference, Gwen, I’m sorry,” Tina said despite herself. “In fact . . . it’s actually kind of gross.” “All right, all right.” Gwen flinched back, still smiling, but Tina could tell the insult had left a sting. “So it’s not your cup of tea. Fine. You’re the one who asked, remember?” “Yes, I know, but . . . you really couldn’t find anything better than this?” Gwen’s face grew stern. “Better? Like what?” “I don’t know. Like something . . . more normal?” “You think a normal job can afford all this? The drug treatments? The custom clothes? The mortgage? And what’s so bad about what I do?” Tina blew out a laugh. “Come on. Are you serious? Whoring yourself?” All humor dropped from Gwen’s tone. “Yes, Tina. I’m serious. Now, tell me, in my own home, which I’ve graciously welcomed you into, why you feel you somehow have the right to judge me about how I choose to earn a living.” A flush of embarrassment ran through her as Gwen’s piercing stare lingered. Glands pumped reflexively, dealing with the increased anxiety. Tina truly hadn’t meant to insult her like that. Her and her big mouth. She was going to blow this chance already. Her last chance. “Hey, look, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to—” “Yes, you should be damn well sorry, Tina.” Gwen’s tone was pure ice. “Trying to step to me like that. Ain’t nothing wrong with what I do, understand? Better than whatever the hell you’ve been doing, that’s for damn sure.” Tina remained fixed on her as the embarrassment edged toward agitation. And then she felt it—the subtle, but all too familiar, grip of control. The kind of control those with means held over those without. Marcos had used it to control her, so did Doc, and now, here Gwen was, using it, trying to control her very thoughts and opinions with her big fancy house and shitty generosity. “You know what? No. I’m not sorry, Gwen. And I can tell you plenty about what’s wrong with what you do for a living.” Gwen blinked, shocked. “What did you just say?” “You think that because you show me some hospitality, I have to kiss your ass? I may have done a lot of things to survive out in the favela, but I would die before I ever stooped to what you do.” All she could think about were Marcos’s girls back at the club—that stupid bitch who had laughed at her. Tina had broken the glass ceiling in her world. At least she had power and respect. No way was she giving that up to reduce herself to some rank and file whore. “Is that right?” Gwen’s eyes flared with hostility. “Well, you got some damn nerve trying to come preach to me, when you’re the one living out there in the slums, doing who the hell knows what. You think you’re not whoring yourself out just like me? At least I’m doing it by choice! That’s right. I enjoy what I do, Tina. Do you?” Tina’s skin grew hot as anger lit in her gut. “I do what I have to.” “So do I.” “Like hell you do. You think I don’t know how much those drugs cost? You’re not doing this to survive. You’re doing it to support your pimped-out lifestyle. You got so addicted to living like this in the League that you now think it’s okay to turn tricks to keep it up?” Gwen scowled at her, breathing heavily, but didn’t say anything right away. “Maybe you’re the one with the real League-addiction issues, you ungrateful bitch. You show up here, smelling like a sewer, wearing one of your damn costumes like you’ve gone batshit crazy. Is that the real truth, Tina? Have you gone and lost your damned mind?” “Don’t even go there.” Her temple throbbed as her pulse increased. “Did you forget it was all just a show? That we were just actors playing characters?” “I said, shut your mouth, Gwen.” “Or are you out there playing a villain for real now? Running around in your costume, causing mayhem? Beating people up?” “I’m warning you.” Tina looked her dead in the eye. “You got no idea. Drop it.” Gwen smirked. “You’re a joke, Tina. A real fu—” Tina stood, and her fist flew. Gwen let out a scream, cowering as Tina’s fist stopped inches from her face. Tina towered over her, breathing heavily. She could smell the fear in the sweat on Gwen’s brow, see the terror in her eyes. The sight repulsed her even more than Gwen’s repugnant lifestyle did. So pathetic. So weak. Gwen’s drugs made her body stable, but took away all the power it’d had in the ring. Now, she was like any other normal woman, cowering at the faintest hint of a threat. Could she ever truly go back to being so weak again? And then it hit her. Was this what being “normal” had become to her now? Something to be scorned, pitied, and despised? Her dream of normalcy had become just that. A pipedream. A world she had left behind and could never return to. Not because she couldn’t, but because, truthfully, she didn’t want to. “No,” Tina said as she leaned forward. “I don’t just beat people up, Gwen. I kill them now, too.” Gwen trembled as tears filled her eyes. “Was that what you wanted to hear me say?” Tina fought back her own tears as the pain and regret surfaced. “I killed two men because my asshole boss starved me, and made my body do something I didn’t want it to. And I have to live with that.” She swallowed back the hard lump in her throat. “That, and a whole lot of other shit you don’t even want to hear about. So if you want to go and screw a whole bunch of strangers to avoid doing what I’ve done, then I guess that makes you the better woman for it.” Silence hung in the air as they looked at one another. Finally, Tina smirked and let out a huff. “I suppose I owe you for teaching me at least one thing, Gwen. If a trick-turning whore like you can choose to be proud of what she does . . . then so the hell can I.” Gwen furrowed her brow and stared back blankly, incomprehensibly. She’d probably never understand. She probably didn’t deserve all the shit Tina had just given her, either, but to hell with it—it was too late now. “Thanks for the bath and dinner.” Tina turned to leave. “I’m keeping the clothes.” On her way out, she stopped by the glass display cases and the group picture on the wall. She gave her younger self an assured smile, and then toppled the cases over, breaking them open with an almighty crash. She stooped down and sorted through the mess, adding three more outfits to her new wardrobe. “What do you think you’re doing?” Tina looked over her shoulder to see Gwen standing timidly at the far end of the room, eyes darting with fear. She could almost thank her. No way was she turning into that. “Whatever the hell I want,” she said. “I’m a villain, remember?” And then she stood and stepped away, high heels clacking. “I’m Size Queen, bitch!”