Go to a hotel room with a ballplayer and then cry rape?

[chichi]

Apparently, she hadn’t expected such a direct fifa 15 coins question, for now Patricia paused, and crossed her arms before her. “Look,” she said, “if they think he should go to jail, okay. If they say he should pay me some money, okay too. But listen, don’t you think it’s gonna cost me either way? If this goes on, my name’s gonna come out, and whatever happens a lotta people are gonna say: there’s Patricia Rich- mond, she fucked Jay Alcazar, and then the tramp tried to get his money. Who’s she kiddin’? Go to a hotel room with a ballplayer and then cry rape? Slut, huh? Right? So, yeah maybe I do deserve some money. He wanted to give me some money. Well, hey, maybe I should get a whole lot more. I mean, this is America, isn’t it?”

Howie shifted uncomfortably from one leg to another. For the first time, a little doubt about Patricia had crept into his mind. Maybe she sensed that, too, for now she laid it on a little thicker.

“So you know what?” she went on. “Maybe all the money in the world isn’t worth it. I thought about that. But then I decided, no, everybody should know that this great ballplayer raped me. He may be a big hero and all for what he did with that maniac in Boston. He may be greater than sliced bread on the, you know, the ballfield. Okay, but he’s a rapist. Believe it or not, he should pay for that.” She paused. “Somehow,” she added. “Jail or money.” Patricia walked over and picked up her yellow umbrella by the door. “But, you know, Mr. Traveler, it’s really up to you. Unless you tell the truth and tell the cops you saw him grab me and shut that door, nobody’ll ever believe me, will they, because it’ll just be he said, she said, and who’s gonna believe the slut who went to the ballplayer’s room and then said no? Who’ll believe that?” And she kind of stabbed the air with her umbrella for punctuation, and then the door closed behind Patricia Richmond.