This is a very harrowing and graphic account of the sordid side of Hollywood celebrity culture, including sex-trafficking, child prostitution and pornography. The unreliable narrator is on the run as the prime suspect in a violent crime and is suffering from psychotic hallucinations. Though there is plenty of dark humour to lighten the mood, the reader should be prepared for a severe assault on their sensibilities.
I flip her picture around and rummage through my mom’s night-stand looking for some kind of lotion – anything that won’t be too sticky or smell too strongly.
I find Cocoa Butter Formula.
I find Makeup Remover.
I find Collagen Elastin Enhancer.
Jesus, doesn’t she just have some old-fashioned Vaseline?
... Come on, where’s the fucking lotion? I open the bottom drawer. Jackpot. A little tube of KY jelly peeks out from behind the folded letters ...
But then I think, What’s Mom doing with a tube of KY?
... and that’s when I see it. The thing that all sons dread: their mom’s vibrator.
... And I feel a little sick on the inside.
But on the TV, Jordan Seabring is in red lingerie and I think, Screw it.