This is one brutally honest account of a 17 year old boy who finds himself alone in L.A.
“Replace the bad thoughts with good thoughts. So that’s what I do. I’m in Hollywood. It’s filled with exciting people from all over the world, and I’m one of them.” This is what he tells himself on his first afternoon there, before being picked up by a stranger.
“I sit on a sad overripe couch. It’s snowing inside the television. The man with the shirt that says SEXY disappears into the kitchen. I really should call my dad.”
If you wonder what comes next, it’s not a parental conversation.
Raped and having his $27 stolen, is how he finds himself in the sex industry, which is sometimes more about frisson or warmth, and sometimes it’s just an industry, a way to make ends meet which pays better than frying chicken.
The prologue, establishing this as a memoir, and mentioning the author’s wife and his baby daughter, make the experience all the more honest, and jarring. This could have happened to someone you know. Someone normative. Like you. In fact, this could have happened to you.
Let Chicken take you on a once-in-a-lifetime tour to the dark side.