Easy Innocence

Chapter 33

"Maybe I'm hopelessly naive, but I still don't get it," Pete said.

"Get what?"

His brow wrinkled, and he looked almost pained. "Why?"

Georgia pointed to the pile of articles. "What it says there. Money. Independence. A sense of power."

"Still, for a girl to go to bed with someone at that age, just for what you can earn...."

"Actually, I think there's something else at work."

"What?"

"Peer pressure."

"Huh?"

"Status—the acquisition of things—is so much more important for kids today. I saw that when I was on the force. It's not about having a pair of jeans from Gap. It's about having a four hundred dollar pair of jeans. It's not about having a Walkman or a stereo; it's about having an iPod. Or an iPhone. Or a Blackberry." She paused. "You can't get those things working at Starbucks or McDonald's."

"So they're having sex for them?"

"Tell me something. If your parents can't afford to buy them for you, and you can't earn enough money to buy them yourself, what are your options? Besides shoplifting?"

The monitor cast a bluish light over his face. He looked upset.

"Think about it," she went on. "For years girls have been getting the message that flaunting and using their bodies is okay. Some of them have just taken it to the next level. So what if you give a few blow jobs? Fuck a few men? If that's what it takes to buy a Michael Stars shirt or a pair of Jimmy Choos..."

"I suppose I could understand if they were older. Over twenty-one and on their own. But these are teenagers. Living at home. From good families."

Georgia didn't answer.

He fidgeted on the couch. "Whatever happened to kids going steady? Dating? Proms?"

"There's still some of that." She leaned back. "But a lot of teenagers don't date like we used to. Or do romance."

"Come on."

"I didn't say they're not having sex. They are. In fact, it's all about hooking up. Friends with benefits. That's what they call it."

"Call what?"

"Sex without complications. Or consequences. Or even real connections. Like I said, maybe teenage hookers are just..." she paused "... the natural evolution of that."

He frowned. "How do you know all this?"

"I told you. I used to be the youth officer on the force."

He didn't say anything. Then he flipped his hand sideways, knocking his crutch off the chair. It clattered to the floor. "What about their parents? Do they know what their kids are doing?"

She leaned over and picked up his crutch. An image of Sara Long's parents came into her mind. "They're working their asses off, trying to make ends meet and give their kids a better life."

He went quiet. Then, "Both of my parents worked. I'll bet yours did too. But you didn't turn into a hooker, and I didn't end up a pimp. Doesn't it bother you?"

"It bothers me more when one of those girls gets killed."

Pete laced his hands behind his head. "You've got it all figured out, don't you?"

Georgia stood up. "Do you have a sister?"

Pete nodded. "She's twenty-nine. Lives in California."