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The door opens slowly, and the same lady from this morning sticks her head into the room. “Hey, sunshine, you hungry?”
Starving, actually. I haven’t eaten all day. “I could eat something.”
I watch her wearily. The door opens farther, and she walks in holding a plate with a variety of food on it.
“Thank you,” I tell her when she hands it to me, as well as a bottle of Coke she has under her arm. She nods and turns on her heels to leave.
“Hey, can I ask you something?” I keep my voice calm. I have no reason to be afraid of her, right?
Looking back over her shoulder, her eyebrows raise. “Depends on what kind of question you’re asking.”
I nibble on my bottom lip for a moment. “What kind of work do people do around here for Damon?”
I don’t think Damon would tell me what my brother did for him even if I could muster up the courage to actually ask him. This might be the only shot I have at finding an answer.
“Most of the girls just strip, but some do more for extra cash.”
“Oh…What about the guys he has working for him?” Her eyebrows suddenly draw together, like my question angers her.
“Don’t ask shit like that around here. That will only get you in trouble. If you want to know about working here as a stripper or hooker, I’ll fill you in with all the info you’ll ever need before taking the job. Other than that, don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”
Her words chill me to the bone.
Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.
“Sorry,” I mutter. Clearly, I’m barking up the wrong tree with some of my questions, but I am curious to know more about the women who work here.
“Why do girls work here?” I don’t understand how anyone would work in a place like this…for a man like Damon.
She shrugs. “The money is good, and Damon lets the girls keep a fair amount of what they make. He also doesn’t pimp them out unless they want to be pimped out.”
There is a moment of silence that settles between us, and then she continues. “He doesn’t force any of them into prostitution. That’s better treatment than you’ll get from any of the other clubs around here.”
I nod like I understand, but I don’t. I don’t understand any of it. How could a woman sell herself to a man—to be used…for pleasure?
If the way Damon treated me earlier on the couch is an example of the way his men treat women, then I want to get the hell out of here as soon as possible.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to work here if you don’t want to. Damon won’t force you into something you don’t want.”
Uneasiness filters into my veins. Obviously she doesn’t know the Damon who showed himself to me a few hours ago. If she did, she’d probably think differently…or maybe she wouldn’t because she’s so used to this behavior.
“No offense, but I don’t want to work here. I don’t want to be touched, or even looked at. This place and these people terrify me.”
She nods and smiles. Her expression makes me feel warm inside.
“No offense taken, honey. Eat your food, relax, and I’ll be back later to see if you need anything, okay?”
I nod, my eyes going to the plate in my hands. The woman turns around and walks out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.
I listen for the lock to be turned back into place. When I don’t hear anything, I scurry across the floor, my heart beating loudly in my ears.
Can I really escape? I’m not sure where I’ll go, or even what I’ll do. With my brother gone, I have nowhere to live, and no way to pay my bills. That’s not even mentioning the men who are searching for me—the ones who left that scary ass note on my fridge. I forgot to tell Damon about the note and the men I saw in the stairwell at my apartment.
Would it really matter if I told him?
A part of me says no. He’s heartless, dangerous, and oozes arrogance. I’m naive…I know this. My brother reminded me often, but even I’m not dumb enough to get mixed up with Damon.
I want to run—no, I’m pretty sure I need to run. The fear of what may happen to me if I stay controls my movements. In Damon’s presence, I am weak and afraid. All of this—these people and this place—leaves me scared.
I can’t stay.
I won’t.
After waiting a few more minutes to make sure she has walked away, I open the door enough to stick my head out. When I don’t see or hear anyone, I swing it open all the way and make a run for it.
I force air in and out of my lungs as my pulse pounds in my ears, and I don’t even consider what may happen to me if I get caught.
