Blood on the Bentley: My Mother’s Price for Freedom
Language: en
It was 107°F in the scorching summer heat, and I was standing on the street handing out flyers. My mother’s Bentley was parked right by the curb. She was blowing the AC inside, supervising me as I earned my "cleaning fee." It wasn't until I shoved the very last flyer into the window of a Ferrari that had just pulled up. Two minutes later, I pulled open the car door and got in. My mother finally panicked. Speeding down the road, she called my phone: "Who is the man driving that car?" "What is your relationship?" "Have you slept with him?!" I just smiled. "He is a man who would buy me…