CHAPTER THREE
I, Kitsy McRae, known to you, the reader, so far, as Ruby Gore, am basically a s****l bteing. As I write this, I am twenty-eight. I weigh what I weighed when I was eighteen, entering my first "beauty" contest at Old Town. I measure 36-24-36. My hair is my own. My skin is smooth, tans well. I'm writing this while seated on the balcony of a fancy resort hotel in Barbados, where I've come with a man who could buy and sell my first benefactor, old man Worth, a million times over. I don't look a day over twenty.
It's funny. In these few days, when I've been resting and thinking I remember things I haven't thought about for years. My current lover is down in the bar, making a dollar, talking about buying this hotel and half a dozen others over martinis. In my bank account, my che
