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Once the tables are cleared, people get up to mingle. Women drink champagne and men drink scotch or whisky. The energy amps up as the grand stage in front of us gets set up for the live auction. They’re ready for the fresh meat. It makes me nauseous, and my four-course meal threatens to make a reentrance.
I notice Alexia walking around the perimeter of the room. Her role in tonight’s event is to serve whoever requests her services. It doesn’t matter the number of men that request it. She is to be a servant, to act like a proper submissive, and do whatever they please. She doesn’t notice me, but I do what is against the rules and stare at her as walks around in her shimmery rose gold dress that sits above her knees. Her chest is pushed up, showing off her cleavage. Her neck is slim and sleek, accentuated from her hair being up in a curled updo. She looks beautiful, but I can tell from her eyes she is as lost as I am. As all of us are.
“Welcome, Ladies and Gentlemen. Tonight, is going to be a spectacular night. We have got some exquisite numbers to introduce to you.” The announcer, whose name I’ve never bothered to memorize, speaks at the podium. The large wooden stage sits in front of us, the podium with a small microphone sitting right in the center. Memories flood my mind as I relive myself up on that stage. Remembering how scared and alone and cold I felt even as the spotlight burned down on me.
I remember the countless number of girls up on that stage that I’ve had to watch die and become someone else as the announcer would bark,“Sold!”
I can feel the excitement building as the men around me start salivating at the mouths like rabid dogs. My body tingles with nerves and unease. It feels like a snake is sliding across my skin and leaving its bitter venom in its wake.
I watch as a young girl is ushered out onto stage. She looks pale and sickly, even with the makeup caked on making her look like a model. She’s young, maybe sixteen years old. Her light brown hair looks like gold as the light shines down on it. The white dress makes her look angelic, pure, and I know men are going to gobble her up for it.
“From Alabama. Fifteen years old. We’re going to start our bid at fifteen hundred dollars.”
A hand raises.
“Two thousand.”
“Four thousand.”
“Forty-five hundred.”
“Six thousand.”
The numbers keep going, and the girl looks like she’s going to be sick as she silently cries. Her big eyes drip mascara down her cheeks as the tears smear her perfectly done makeup. She looks around the room, darting from person to person in hopes in finding an ally. A savior. When she lands on me, I blank out my face from the emotion that I know wants to break free. Her mouth opens on a silent cry, and my eyes drop off her face as I look at the wall behind her.
“Fifteen thousand.”
“Sold! Fifteen thousand to Mr. Patel.”
She doesn’t exist.
She doesn’t exist.
She doesn’t exist.
She can’t exist, because if she does, then I’m failing another girl as I let her get lost in the world. The moment she’s sold, she becomes another statistic. She’s no longer a girl.
And I don’t even know her name.
The announcer doesn’t say her name because her personal information is scrubbed the moment she crosses the border. Some people have preferences on where their girl is from, but besides that, her previous life disappears.
Seven more girls come up on the stage, all of them just as young and beautiful as the next. All of them are sold for over ten thousand dollars.
By the time the last girl is ushered off the stage into the arms of her new captor, I’m sick, sad, and completely exhausted. I want nothing but to curl up in my uncomfortable bed with my cold sheets and forget this night. Wake up tomorrow and spend my day creating good memories with Lilah so I can forget the miserable ones.
I spot Alexia as a man walks into her personal space. She is unaware though, and she startles, turning around and spilling some of her champagne from the flute onto the man in front of her. He turns from interested to irritated in a span of a second and slaps her across the face so hard she falls back into the bar behind her. The back of her head hits the corner of the bar.
I gasp.
My hand flies up to my mouth. “Alexia.” I whisper, smart enough to not cry it out or run towards her, but stupid enough to react in the first place.
Santiago whips his gaze towards me. Menacing fury slithers into his gaze like a raging fire. “What did you just say?”
I swallow, but all reflexes fail. “I’m so sorry, Sir.”
He grabs onto my cheeks, thumb, and pointer over my dimples, and he squeezes.Hard.“I think that’s enough for tonight. Go up to the room and wait for me. I will meet you there later this evening.”
The room.
