That’s someone else’s life, just like this will be someone else’s dress.
What will happen to us if they burn this place? Will they leave us inside? A chill runs down my spine. It would solve the liability problem.
Tia corners me at the end of the day, when all the fabrics have been put away and soup has been served for dinner. “Who were those men?” she whispers. “What did they want?”
She’s one of the only women who speaks fluent English. It’s just her and me, really. The other women sit quietly or speak in Spanish when Mercedes doesn’t see. Margo has already left for the day. No doubt Jorge is standing guard at the door again.
“It was some kind of inspection. They had me act like a secretary.”
Tia’s forehead creases into deep lines of worry. “What does it mean?”
I hesitate, because I don’t want her to be afraid. Like I’m afraid. But, in the end, I can’t keep this to myself. Maybe that makes me weak. “I think they want to close the business.”
Her eyes go wide. She crosses herself, muttering for God to protect us.
My heart pounds, and I realize I was hoping she’d tell me everything would be fine. That there’s no way the place would shut down, or that if it did, the women would be all right. I’m desperate for reassurance. “They won’t do it, though, right? Mercedes and Margo, they won’t let them.”
“Mercedes and Margo are foxes, shrewd and sharp. The men who walked through the shop earlier are lions, and even foxes bow before them.”
“Where will we go?”
Tia’s smile is small. “The lions do not care what happens to the mice.”
“Maybe they’ll sell us.” Except I already know that won’t happen.
At least we can sell off the parts.
It’s not worth the liability. I’d rather burn it to the ground.
“It’s not true,” I say quietly. “It’s not true that lions never care.”
She raises her eyebrow. “You’re young. Of course you believe that.”
“I’m not that young.” She still thinks of me as the twelve-year-old girl, crying in her arms. It’s been seven years. I’m a woman now, even though I don’t know the things other women here do. About men. About sex. Even though I never want to learn, if men are like Sebastian Conti. Cold. Uncaring.
Her mouth draws tight. “In some ways, you’re wise. But in other ways…you haven’t had a chance to grow up.”
My stomach clenches with grief, with anger. I take a deep breath. Anger won’t help Tia and the other women. “My father had a story about a lion and a mouse.”
Tia drinks her soup, eyes on the door. We can see Jorge standing outside, playing on his phone. The line of his shirt lifts above his gun. In a few minutes he’ll come inside to lock us in the rooms for the night. Sometimes I imagine us rushing him. We could overtake one person, couldn’t we?
Not before Jorge got off a few rounds.
I’d rather live in captivity than sacrifice innocent women. That wouldn’t be freedom.
My father’s presence sits in the room with me, raised by Tia’s words. I remember the stories he used to tell me, murmuring beside my plush pink bed until I drifted to sleep. That spill from my lips now, as familiar as a prayer. “One day a mouse grew curious, and he wandered into the lion’s den.”
Jorge’s gun isn’t the only reason we don’t force an escape. Even if some of us got free, where would we go? We don’t have money or identification. We don’t even have shoes. Margo swears that even if she and her sister and Jorge were dead, other men would find us. They would hunt us down like animals. Those of us who weren’t killed in the process would be sent to the whorehouse, sold to the worst customers to die in the worst possible way.
“Go on,” Tia says softly, her eyes soft and hazy the way they get sometimes.
I speak past the lump of fear in my throat. “The mouse, he got caught. The lion was angry and started to eat him. The small mouse begged him not to. He swore that if the lion let him live, he would one day return the favor.”
Tia pulls the bowl from me gently, and I look down to find my hands trembling. What I’m suggesting is what we’ve been too afraid to do. What I’m suggesting is almost certain death.
Almost.
There’s a chance we’ll succeed. How many lives is that chance worth?
“The lion laughed,” I continue, my voice shaky. “What could a tiny mouse do to save him, the great lion? But he was charmed by the mouse and decided to let him live.”
Tia’s silent a moment. “This story gives more credit to the lion than exists. Most would just eat the meal right in front of them.”
Maybe, but I already met this particular lion. I saw the way he looks at me, and though I’m not experienced, I know what it means with a deep-seated instinct. Sebastian Conti wants me—my body, my innocence. Maybe even my intelligence. You’re the smartest person in this shithole.
This lion wants to be charmed.
I take a deep breath. “Then one day, the lion was waking in the forest. His paw was caught in a hunter’s trap. He roared and struggled but could not break free. The mouse heard him from across the forest and ran to help. He nibbled through the ropes and the lion was free.”
“A brave mouse who would do this,” Tia says softly.
“I’m not afraid,” I lie.
“Perhaps. But you must be willing to pay the price.” In her eyes I see reflected the same deep-seated instinct, the years of experience in that brothel. We both knew what it would take to charm a man like that. My body.
I swallow hard. “Better that than let everyone die.”
“Do you really think he’ll kill us?”
“I don’t know. But he said he wouldn’t sell us. What else could he do with us?”
She shook her head, dread settling in her eyes. “Nothing good.”
“Then, I have no choice.”
“You do. I could help you escape from here.” Her voice is urgent. “You’re young. You speak English. You have the best chance of any of us to make a life for yourself outside these walls.”
And let them burn? Leave Tia? “I won’t,” I say fiercely.
A long moment passes, my words hanging in the air. Even if the men hadn’t come, Margo would punish all the women if they helped me escape. It would be a death sentence.
“All right,” she says, sounding resigned, as if she knew that would be my answer but didn’t like it. “Then, you have to find him. Convince him to let us live, however you can. Charm him with everything you have, little mouse.”
I look down at myself, my dirty shorts and thin tank top. “I’m not sure that’s much.”
“You underestimate yourself. And I’ll help you. But before we start planning, there’s one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“If you’re successful, he’ll let you live. He will let all of us live. But there’s a price to pay.”
“I know, Tia.” The last thing I want is a birds-and-bees talk from her. She’s like a mother to me. I’ve heard enough from the women to know what men like.
“Not only your body. Your everything. You’ll owe him. Understand? That’s the moral of the story. That’s what it means to free him from the trap.”