The advisor said, “I know it sounds bad, but it’s cheaper if you dump her. It doesn’t mean you don’t love her. In fact it’s the opposite. You’re acting in the patient’s best interest.”
Randall had no other choice.
Her mother was taken away on the day Betty graduated from high school. Randall was surprised at how excepting Betty was of the circumstance. He hadn’t realized how quickly his only daughter was growing up. She was serious and understanding. He was proud of his little girl.
To her it was just business. She knew that being poor was destroying her family.
He assured the young woman that the situation was only temporary. His plan was to save up enough money to retrieve his wife, buy back the farm and return home. To assure that commitment he began to work longer and longer hours. So did Betty.
She knew he would never make enough the money to get them home, but she knew she could. With the cash she was raking in at Razzles she could buy back the family farm on her own some day. She would do anything to get out of Citadel. She would do anything to save her family.
Betty and her father each worked a late shift, so it was easy for her to hide the fact that she wasn’t in the shelter each night. When she wanted out, it was easy to sneak past the nuns. They were so trusting. At Razzles, Betty was surprised how simple it was for her to slip into the role of a prostitute. She didn’t feel plucked or violated. She felt empowered. A voice inside her suggested that she should feel guilty or ashamed but she didn’t. She felt liberated. She needed lots of money and this was the quickest way she could get it. Besides, sex felt good. She must have been good at her job too, because she was competing with a lot of other Razzle Girls. And Betty may not have been the first picked on any given night. But she was always picked.
She was developing a talent for acting. Sometimes guys asked her to play games. They got their kicks and she got their cash. She would be whoever they wanted her to be. That was the deal. She met a lot of people on the job. Each wanted something different, but they all wanted something from her, even the most powerful men in Citadel.
Betty’s first encounter with Doctor Lacross was as unpleasant as any girl could imagine. He arrived like he was ready to work and left like he late for an appointment. His presence was one sided. There was no room for conversation or question. He was either lecturing, issuing orders or ignoring. He knew what he knew and what he had to do. He was all business. Lacross was the doctor and advisor of the Citadel elite. His oath bound him to act to benefit the health and well being of his powerful clientele. He took his oath seriously and went to great lengths to protect them.
Lacross exploded through the Razzles entrance two hours before it opened. By the way employees scattered, Betty thought the towering man wielded a Tommy gun instead of a doctors bag. When the manager approached him, Lacross produced a small notepad and spoke. “Prepare the females who were hired since the 13th.”
Betty was one of them. Before long, She was lying on the desk in the manager’s office. The surface had been cleared and covered with a crisp white sheet. An orchestra produced a haunting melody from a radio in the shadows as Lacross hovered over her.
“It’s been told that Cleopatra inserted small pebbles into her vagina as a form of birth control. Arabs invented this technique to control their camel population. She was royalty and wanted to control what grew from her. So she used a tool of man. Nothing can do more damage to this world than an unwanted child. And we certainly don’t want any coming from you.“
Betty was rigid like a doll. He lifted her knees and her skirt slid open.
“A German gynecologist named Grafenberg developed this little device.” He held up a small object. It looked like a stainless steel nail. “It’s going inside you now.”
His gloved hand disappeared under her skirt like a magician. Betty gasped.
“Hold still.” He ordered impatiently.
A moment later his hand was empty and the procedure was over.
“If you happen to expel the device, do not let anyone into your vagina. Notify your manager and we will make an appointment to replace it. If you think you’re pregnant. Don’t do anything stupid. Notify your manager and we will make an appointment to remove the embryo. You’re done, now go.”
Betty repositioned her skirt as she exited the room, and Lacross shouted, “Next!”
At some point, everyone who was anyone in Citadel came to Razzles. The members of the Silver Spoon Circle were no exception. It fact, they were its greatest patrons. They engorged on the offerings at Razzles quite often. The Silver Spoons were an exclusive club of the twenty most powerful men in Citadel. They were its royalty. Their membership included; financiers, speculators, politicians, industrialist, capitalist, oilmen, moguls, tycoons, and playboys. The Silver Spoons were very special guests. When they came to dine, they got whatever they wanted. When they arrived, the Razzle girls dropped what they were doing and lined up to welcome them.
The Spoons looked like a million bucks in their tails and tux. They were polished and well groomed. But once the Razzle girls had them alone and peeled away their veneers, there was nothing special. In public these men were erudite and statuesque but behind closed doors there was nothing to brag about. Betty played along. She did what they wanted, got their money, and banked it. It was green like everyone else’s.
Over time, Betty got to know all of the Silver Spoons. They all liked to brag. They talked open and unashamedly about everything they did, even crimes. They weren't discrete. They didn't care. They flaunted it. She knew what they did and how they operated, inside and out of Razzles. They got away with everything and people were hurt. In a way, Betty wished that someone would hold them accountable. But no one did.
Everyone outside of the Silver Spoon Circle were their playthings. People could be activated into servitude with coins from them, like a mechanical, children’s bank.
The Spoons loved what Betty did for them. She could tell what they needed. Her empathy made her a chameleon lover. Each one of them wanted something different and she gave it. The control she had over these powerful men made her feel superior. She was a formidable pleaser. She could take their power and make them weak. She loved it!
For Betty’s father, his big plan seemed more like a dream than a reachable goal. The expense of survival crept up on him. He fantasized of returning to pioneer days and living off the wilderness. No one could take that away. He began to feel resentment. He looked at the people he was forced to clean up after with new eyes, with angry eyes. Betty noticed changes in her father. The kind face she loved had eroded to a scowl. He took to muttering to himself, and snapped at his daughter often. She couldn’t tell if being poor had poisoned him or if the shelter was driving him mad? Eventually he became ill. When he did Betty got very scared. She thought he was invincible.
She felt guilty for going out and having so much fun at night while her father was sentenced to a hospital bed. She couldn’t bear to see the mountain of man she had known reduced to a shriveled, trembling stranger. He lay there muttering about the simple life he once had. She wanted to bring the man she loved back from the brink and thought she knew how to do it.
Late the next morning, Betty deposited her previous evening’s earnings in the bank. The pleasant teller updated her savings book. Betty smiled at the final tally. To her it was a good number that kept getting better and better. She took her bankbook to her father’s bedside. He seemed to brighten up at her presence. Then after some small talk, she asked how much he needed to get the farm back. It was becoming harder to have substantive conversations with her father. He responded to important issues with the words, “I don’t want to think about it.”