Having run out of options, Julie sat on the edge of the bed next to him, her hands trembling on her lap. She cringed when he stroked her hair and moved a strand of it behind her ear. He had impossibly long, elegant fingers—like a concert pianist. Without the stark evidence of armed guards in the house, she might not have been able to bring herself to believe Dmitri was a bad man.
If one only looked at his hands, they would assume a genteel respectability. But the cold, hard glint in his eyes told the rest of the story, which was why she couldn’t bring herself to look into his eyes.
Dmitri sighed. “If I had been a better judge of character, Aleksei would have never been in my employ, and you would not be in this house. Unfortunately, we cannot set you free, and I am a businessman. You will make me money. If you don’t make me money there is plenty of room in the ground next to Aleksei. Am I being clear?”
“Y-yes.”
“Good. You’ll start work tomorrow night. Can I assume that you are fully schooled in how to please a man?”
Julie gaped at him, her vocal chords having given up the attempt at speech.
Dmitri chuckled. “You’re an American bartender in your early twenties. I expect you’ve been... what’s that charming American saying? Around the block a few times?”
He was assuming she was a slut. Remembering what Carmen had said downstairs she nodded quickly. It was better that he thought she knew what was what. It was better if she didn’t stand out as anything startlingly unique here.
“Do you have any tattoos?” he asked.
“No.”
“Any unusual or unattractive scars?”
“No.”
“Undress. I want to see for myself. So many American college girls are simply riddled with tattoos and piercings these days. I find it grotesque.”
“Please, I swear I don’t have any.”
“Don’t create problems for me, Julie. I’m already angry that Aleksei brought you here. It is a kindness that I’m considering letting you stay with us.”
Why had the guards brought her back in the first place? If Dmitri felt this way, why not let them gun her down outside and be done with it? He was playing with her, squeezing the smallest amount of amusement he could manage out of the situation at hand.
“And if I refuse?” she asked.
“I can tell you are a smart girl. I’m sure you’ve figured out that I won’t hesitate to remove problems from my house.”
Death now or death later? Short of an unlikely rescue mission, survival wasn’t an option. Julie didn’t know how long Dmitri had been running this game, but he wasn’t going to keep any whores past their sell-by date. That meant at some point she’d die here. Shouldn’t that point be now? Wouldn’t it spare her unnecessary and pointless suffering and trauma?
But the girls downstairs had found a way to survive this, not just physically but mentally. And Umiko had been like her. If she could hang on, maybe rescue would come.
“My patience is at an end. Strip and show me you have no tattoos or piercings, or I’m afraid we can’t give you the job.” He said this like she’d filled out an application to work in his brothel.
Julie glanced around the room, looking for some kind of weapon, but Dmitri wasn’t new at this, and he had to know the trail her thoughts might go down. There was this idea hanging out inside her mind that if she could leave some permanent scar on him at least, she would somehow win. Even if she died in the commission of that task. He would always carry the mark she’d left.
Dmitri sighed again. “Very well. If that’s your decision.”
“No. Wait.”
He seemed bored. “I’m finished waiting.”
Julie stood and slowly removed her clothes. She closed her eyes, pretending that as long as she couldn’t see Dmitri, he couldn’t see her. And maybe if he didn’t make her look in his eyes while she did this, she could do this. It was just the human body. There was nothing wrong with the human body. And yet all that religious nonsense swirling through her brain made the act of nudity seem like the worst violation and shame—though she knew more and far worse things were coming.
“Good. Turn all the way around slowly.”
She turned.
“I’m satisfied. You are on probation. Do not disappoint me.” He said this as if prostituting her out to strangers was the greatest favor to her. “You can go back downstairs with the other girls now. Leave your clothes. You won’t be needing them.”
She’d expected Dmitri to do much more than look at her. She’d been sure in a very short time, he’d know her secret and Carmen’s laundry plan would be dead before it was off the ground.
Julie didn’t have time to feel relief at the brief reprieve. She was too painfully aware of her nudity and the guards outside the door. But though they made comments, and stared, they took her back downstairs according to their orders without touching her.
When they reached the door to the giant cell the others were being kept in, one of the guards said: “Dmitri does not like us to sample new girls before the clients. But... soon.”
Julie flinched and jerked away and stumbled back into the cell when he grabbed at her exposed breast. In response, he only laughed.
Inside, a guard with a flashlight led her back to her bunk and then went away. The room had gone quiet but not everyone was sleeping. Julie was sure she heard crying—the occasional quiet sniffle. She wanted to pretend someone or several someones had a cold or allergies. No one acknowledged the crying. None of it was really happening.
Julie didn’t want to sleep. If she slept, morning would come faster which would lead into the following night where she knew bad things would happen.
She tried desperately to pretend that this was something she’d chosen. She tried to play along with Dmitri’s framing of things. It was a job. She tried to pretend that she was a high-end escort making a ridiculous amount of money, and that it was no big deal. She told herself imaginary stories about the vast experience she had with men to the point that it was all casual and nothing to her.
In the bunk next to hers, she heard Carmen praying in Spanish. Carmen was so quiet and so quick with her words that Julie couldn’t pick out anything, but the fervent focus that came from that bunk convinced her that these exact words were spoken each night with this same sharp intensity. And for minutes at a time, Julie could will herself to believe that the virgin Mary heard these prayers and that plans were being made on some other plane of existence to bring down bloody vengeance upon these monsters.
But when Julie closed her eyes, she didn’t see Mary or angels. She saw Gabe. She imagined that fierce intensity and strength she’d been afraid of only a couple of weeks ago being aimed at the men here. She made up a story in her head where he somehow found her and rescued her from Dmitri and his gang. She imagined he would take her away somewhere and take care of her, and somehow everything would be okay. She replayed the story over and over, adding more details each time until, without realizing it, she’d lulled herself off to sleep. The fantasy of Gabe merged smoothly into a dream of him that was only lightly sprinkled with disembodied angry Spanish curses.
32
6 months later