Erin pulled her chair closer. "Follow along in your book like you usually do." I nodded. "Frank Russo owns the brothel."
"Brothel?" I knew that the house was a brothel because of the book Cannery Row, but hearing it come out of her mouth kind of surprised me.
"Yes, but the difference is, none of us chose to do this."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, for me …" She paused, frowning and scrunching her forehead. "I went out with friends after work for drinks, and afterward, I got into a taxi to go home. But the taxi didn't take me home."
My blue eyes widened as I pictured one of the yellow taxis I used to see when we crossed the street to the park. "Where did it take you?"
"To a warehouse where there were cages of other women."
"What?" I breathed.
Erin frowned while looking down at her book. "I never saw my friends or family again."
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "The other girls are Leanne and—"
"No." She shook her head. "The other girls in the cages never came here."
"Where did they go?"
She lifted a shoulder. "I don't know for certain, but they were probably sold to men as sex slaves."
"What does that mean?"
"Kinda like what we do here, but maybe not so—glamorous."
"How so?"
"I know that you've only known this penthouse as your home, but not every home is like this."
"Okay?"
"There are places that are dirty, smell bad, have no heat in the winter or air conditioning in the summer. And then there are places that have no windows, where women are chained up until they are used for sex."
"That's horrible."
Erin nodded. "It is. I hate to use this word, but the girls and I were lucky to get sent here and not sold off."
I let her words sink in for a few moments. "So, Mr. Russo is a bad guy, but are you saying that Frankie's a bad guy too?"
She shrugged again. "That was the first time Frankie has ever come here, but his dad does own the place."
"I thought Madam was the boss?"
"She's the boss of us, but Mr. Russo is her boss."
"Oh." I was silent again. "Do you like it here?"
Erin tilted her head slightly and furrowed a brow. "No one likes doing this, Zell."
"But you have to," I stated.
"But we have to," she agreed.
It made more sense now that I thought about everything that happened at the house. There were guards at the elevators, and Tyler, who used to go with us to the park. I thought it was for my safety because Madam didn't want anything to happen to me, but in reality, it was to keep the girls in and to make sure Erin didn't try to run when we went to feed the ducks.
My gaze flicked up to hers. "Is Mr. Russo my father?"
She started to shake her head but then stopped. "I … I don't think so."
"But you don't know?" Madam had told me that my father died but what if it was Mr. Russo? I hadn't known Madam to have any friends, but it was clear she had a long history with Mr. Russo.
Erin blew out a breath. "From what I've seen over the years, Mr. Russo and Madam are strictly business."
"Yeah," I agreed even though I didn't know that firsthand. "He's never wanted to see me."
"And plus"—she reached out and grabbed my hand—"I don't think Madam would let you sleep with your brother."
"Oh, gosh," I breathed, and my eyes widened. What if Frankie was my brother? It wasn't as if Madam was a good mother to me. Frankie chose me, and Madam did try to stop him.
"It's not like they're related, Saffron."
I remembered Mr. Russo's words, and that had to mean he wasn't my father. Unless Frankie wasn't his son? Several thoughts spun through my head, and it made me want to see Frankie again even more.
"I need to tell you something," I whispered.
"You can tell me anything."
I took a deep breath. "Frankie said that he'd get me out of here when he found out that I haven't been outside in five years."
"Really? How?" She arched a brow.
"He wasn't sure, and then he had to leave."
Erin squeezed the hand she was still holding. "Zell, that could be dangerous."
"I shouldn't trust him?"
"His dad owns us. I don't think Frankie is innocent in this."
I really liked Frankie, and I wanted to trust him. If he was a bad person, wouldn't he have made me have sex with him? "What do I do if he shows up like he said he would?"
She swallowed. "I don't know."
I didn't either.
Every time a man came to the house, I held my breath. It didn't matter if I was in my room, the kitchen, or already cleaning one of the rooms. When I heard the girls start to get ready, I waited to see if I would be called too. Not because I thought Madam would make me work with the girls now that she thought I wasn't a virgin anymore, but because I was still waiting for Frankie.
With each passing day, I began to believe more and more that he wouldn't come back. He’d seemed so sincere. He’d gotten my hopes up that someday I would get to see more than just the duck pond. I wanted to see the entire city, ride in a yellow taxi, make snow angels. I didn't even think he meant that he would get me out of the penthouse permanently. I just wanted a few hours to have fun again.
Except he never came back, and my life returned to normal.
My mother had been missing for three days.
She’d left her cell phone, her credit cards, and everything else that my father could use to track her—if he wanted to. The doorman had told us that she’d gotten into a taxi alone, and that was the last time he'd seen her.
I honestly didn't blame her, but I wanted to know why and make sure she was okay. I wouldn't have told my father anything if she would have told me her plan—I would have helped her pack a bag—but she never told me she wanted to leave. And Mom was never alone, except that day our housekeeper had called in sick, giving my mother a way out. It was as though she'd vanished.
Exactly what I had planned to do once high school was over.
Once my father learned that she’d gotten into a cab on her own, he’d shrugged, and that was that. That was fucking that. He didn't call the cops, he didn't cry or panic, and he sure as shit didn't care. He didn't even seem worried that she might turn him in or anything. How he and my mother had sex to make me eighteen years ago was a mystery to me. Not once did I remember seeing them hug or kiss; I never heard them say I love you to each other. He was all business and other women, and my mother was just—there.
The morning after my birthday, my father came into my room and told me to be ready in ten minutes because we were going to the warehouse instead of looking for my mother. I couldn't believe it, but then again, I could.
The limo pulled up to a big steel building. There were no signs or anything to indicate what was inside the door. But I knew what was inside.
"This is where you keep the whores?" I asked.