*Ava*

“What’s up, Dad? It’s really early,” I said, looking at the clock beside my bed. It was just rolling over to six a.m.

“Are you prostituting yourself to get money for my legal defense?” Joseph Williams demanded without preamble.

I held the phone away and looked at it, pinched myself, and decided I wasn’t dreaming. “Prostituting myself?!”

“You heard me. I saw the pictures of you and that James Kincaid fellow. You were hanging ...