Floating City by Sudhir Venkatesh

Author:Sudhir Venkatesh
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2013-08-09T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 5

SEX IS A PASSPORT

Not so fast!” I cried. The bar was hot and crowded and I was feeling dizzy. The noise from the crowd rang in my ears.

But Margot Kerry burbled merrily along, telling me the secrets of her trade. A bartender has to want you in his bar, she said. Maybe the bartender hears of a guy looking for a date. Some bartenders received a fee per week, others per client. You bring your high-priced clients to the bar, their drinks always get filled first. Bartenders in Midtown got lots of requests for phone numbers, bartenders in Soho not so much. A bartender who really liked you would even kick out your competitors. A bartender would hold cash if you were afraid of being robbed. Strip club managers were another link in the chain, a source of new girls. A car dealer laundered Margot’s money by reselling her brand-new car the same day she bought it, giving her clean cash back.

Clearly, she was enjoying the opportunity to demonstrate mastery of her secret world, the world I had been trying to break into for so many long months. But my pen didn’t seem to be working very well.

“I like this,” Margot was saying. “I never really get a chance to talk about my life without feeling ashamed. Thank you for not making me feel that way.”

Margot was in her mid-thirties, flamboyant and redheaded and harried looking, the kind of person who is always lighting another cigarette and somehow makes it look glamorous. She gave off the air of having suffered and survived with all her compassion and sense of humor intact, which I found very comforting. Every five minutes her phone would ring and she would answer all the calls immediately. “I can help,” she would say. “Leave it to me.”

I tried to make mental notes as the sentences streamed out of her mouth. But the world began to slide away from me like a camera going out of focus. My blood sugar was dropping way too low, I realized.

Margot noticed and waved at the bartender, who quickly ushered us into a back room and helped lower me down onto an old sofa.

“Panic attack,” I gasped.

This had been happening for a year. In the middle of lecturing to my class, riding a city bus, or just buying groceries, I’d feel a wave of anxiety so strong I’d nearly pass out. Where it came from, I had no idea.

Margot sat next to me, stroking my hand and saying soothing things. I have to admit I found her presence very calming. I felt that she would be completely accepting of anything I did, which was an unfamiliar feeling—a great feeling. I guess I needed it more than I realized. When I was breathing more calmly, she asked, “Anything you want to talk about? I’m pretty good with people’s troubles. God knows, I’ve gone through nearly everything myself.”

But I was too embarrassed. This whole thing was already so unprofessional.

“Girl troubles? You don’t look like a ’guy trouble’ sort of guy.

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