When I went down to the kitchen, Roxy was back on the couch, giggling as normal. She was the most free-spirited and lighthearted girl I had met at the apartment. Perhaps it was because she was new to the sex industry. She was the typical girl next door with a great personality, trying to make it on her own in the big city, like most of us in the business—you do what you have to in order to survive and get ahead. Most of the girls were trying to be actresses or models, but Roxy and I were different. We were both highly educated and attractive, but on our own. She was looking for a professional job and I was trying to make it through graduate school without loans and debt. It’s not so bad pleasing men—in fact, it’s quite rewarding. When she wasn’t nervous she seemed to always be laughing, just excited about life, despite the fact that she carried a big weight in the duty to take care of her family. Her father was an alcoholic and her mother left when she was twelve years old, leaving Roxy with the responsibility for her father and two brothers. Perhaps that’s why she seemed so much older than twenty-three.