Chapter 1: The Girl Named 25

25 isn’t a date. 25 is her name—a nickname, or maybe a working alias. When I first heard it, I had to bite back a grin. 25? That’s a new one. I’d heard of girls named after flowers or cars, but numbers? It threw me for a loop.

She was the first woman in my life, in any real way. And for all the wildness of her world, I never tried to talk her out of it. Maybe I was afraid, or maybe I just knew better.

1

The year I graduated college, I landed a job at a logistics company in Cleveland. There was this guy at work, Old Hank—a real local legend. He’d drag us out for greasy breakfasts, late-night bowling, and, tonight, karaoke in a dive bar that reeked of cheap beer and fryer grease. Old Journey tunes blared from tinny speakers. A Browns game flickered on a dusty TV above the bar, ignored by everyone except the bartender. Out of nowhere, a line of young women filed in, leaning against the wall by the door, waiting for us to pick. I’d never seen anything like it: these women, each working their own half-smile, sizing up the crowd.

I just sat there, stunned. Up until now, my dating life was a string of awkward prom nights and group hangouts in college. I’d never even been on a real date.

Even with the music thumping and blue cigarette smoke curling in the air, my face went hot. I tried to look anywhere but at the women, as if not seeing them could make them disappear.

Old Hank nudged me, so I just pointed at random, and a girl came over, dropped into the seat next to me, and started cracking peanuts.

She had this cool, unbothered vibe. Leaned back, boots crossed, popping peanuts with a little smirk. The sound of shells crunching in her palm felt real—something solid in a place that felt totally unreal. She flicked a shell at the ashtray, missing by a mile, but didn’t care.

My palms were sweating, heart pounding so loud I thought she might hear it. Old Hank patted my back and said to the girl, “This is the college grad from our warehouse. Take good care of him.”

Old Hank’s words always had a way of pulling focus. The girl turned to me with a lazy, appraising smile, like she was figuring out if I was worth her time.

“Oh, a college student?” she teased, grinning. “So you’re the smart one, huh?”

She said it like a dare, her tone half-mocking, half-genuine. If my aunt had said it at Thanksgiving, I’d have rolled my eyes, but from her, it was different. I couldn’t tell if she was impressed or just messing with me.

“N-no, I don’t deserve that.” I stammered. “How should I address you?”

I sounded like I was asking for a job, not a date. Way to go.

She burst out laughing, loud and unfiltered, like someone who’d stopped caring what anyone thought. “What do you mean, how should you address me? Just call me 25.”

Her laughter pulled me in. For a second, I felt my shoulders drop, like maybe I could just be myself.

I was flustered by her teasing. Old Hank came over again, wanting me to sing ‘God Bless America’ with him. The idea of belting out a patriotic anthem in this dive with a bunch of strangers made me want to crawl under the table, so I begged off, blaming the beer and a headache.

Hank always had a talent for picking the most awkward song possible. My head throbbed with a kind of self-consciousness only cheap lager and neon lights could bring.

“Want to do a quick trick?” 25 leaned in, her voice low and teasing in my ear.

She smelled like a mix of sweet perfume and cigarettes—a weirdly comforting blend. Her tone made me feel like I was being let in on some private joke.

“What’s a quick trick?”

I felt like I was missing something obvious, like everyone else in the room knew the answer but me.

25 rolled her eyes and smirked. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of a quickie, college boy.”

I barely caught the words over the noise. Old Hank was clutching a girl and wailing into the mic, his voice as shrill as a cat in a blender. 25 pointed at the room next door, and it clicked.

The bass thudded through the walls, Old Hank’s off-key screech echoing even as the door closed behind another couple. Everything was too loud, too bright, the world spinning just a little faster than I could keep up.

Someone was already dragging a girl into the next room—no stage show, just a quick, off-the-books arrangement. In this world, it was just math: time, cash, need.

25 held up three fingers, waving them in front of me. One quick trick, three hundred bucks. Simple as that.

She tapped her nails against the table, waiting. This wasn’t her first time at the bargaining table.

Back then, I hadn’t even passed my probation. My monthly salary was just over a grand. Three hundred? That was rent. That was groceries. I faked a shrug, tried for a half-smile, my throat clenched like someone hit mute on my soul. “Let’s skip it today—I didn’t bring any cash.”

“Who goes out to have fun without bringing money?” she scoffed.

Her tone was blunt, almost bored, like she’d seen a hundred rookies with the same excuse.

“Really, if you don’t believe me, check.” I patted my pockets, turning them inside out, showing a couple of small bills. In reality, my freshly paid salary was in my back pocket.

My face burned as I played it off, secretly proud of the lie, but also a little ashamed.

“Oh, you really didn’t bring any money.” She grinned, shaking her head. “A grown man like you, going out without cash—is that smart? What if something happens?”

She raised an eyebrow, like she genuinely couldn’t understand how I’d survived this long.

“Come on, what could happen? This is a safe city. It’s broad daylight. Nothing’s going to happen.”

I said it like I believed it, but everyone in Cleveland had a story that started with, ‘You won’t believe what happened on Euclid Avenue last night…’

“Heh… College kids sure know how to talk. Say, judging by your look, are you still a virgin?” 25 laughed and mischievously patted me between the legs.

She grinned, playful but direct. I almost jumped out of my seat.

“How could that be? It’s not the 1950s anymore.” I hurriedly crossed my legs, feeling guilty.

I blurted it out, hoping to sound cool, probably just proving her point.

“Stop pretending. I could tell something was up with you as soon as I came in.” 25 tilted her head, looking into my eyes. “How about this—let big sis check for you? This time is free, no charge.”

She winked. For a split second, I wondered if she was serious, if maybe the rules were different here. My heart hammered. I just laughed nervously, not sure what else to do.