It was the vibe. None of the people outside of this room ventured in here.Of course not.If you’re not starving, you’re not worried about being hungry.I didn’t think any of these girls were homeless, but something told me they were all only a step ahead of the devil, too.
They were starved. They were in a constant state of fight or flight. They only existed.
Just like me.
Fucka me.
An insane urge to ask someone what was going on weighed on my tongue, but the weight kept me from speaking. There seemed to be unspoken rules floating through the richly scented air.No speaking. No questions. You read the rules. You accepted them. Now. Shh. Be quiet.
I hadn’t read the rules, which put me at a severe disadvantage. I had no idea what I was here for, or what was going to happen to me. All I knew was that desperation was a nasty bitch, and when she clawed with poison-tipped nails, you listened. No matter what, I’d separate my body from my mind,my emotions, and get on with it.
In a way, this was the survival of the fittest. Wherever the cornucopia was, whatever it held, I was ready to battle for it. The only problem was, these women were gorgeous, in all different ways. It was going to be a bloody war.
Ifthere was no competition and we were all herded like animals to sell to the highest bidder…well, I didn’t feel so alone. We were all here for the same purpose, living and not surviving.For good.
Only time would tell what side we stood on—unity or battle.
A man in a suit walked in, a piece in his ear, going straight for a girl about to stuff a cream puff in her mouth. Once he was close enough, he held out his arm for her to take. She looked at it a moment, wiped her mouth with a napkin, glanced back at the desserts once more, and then took his muscular arm. They took a right at the door and disappeared out of the room a second later.
I wonder what number she is and when I’ll be up next?
Taking my drink and leaving the room with the buffet, I decided to take a seat on a comfortable chair in the midst of the chaos. Laughter steadily grew louder. Two men in front of me mock-punched each other while one of the women I saw in the food room earlier watched them act like fools. A few more women who had been in the room were socializing with men out here, too.
Were we supposed to flirt if this was some kind of auction? I hated the thought of trying to sell myself. This entire situation was bad enough, but selling the goods before they were bid on?Impossible. How was I supposed to compete with all of these beauty queens?
Another one of those men wearing an earpiece came out, his eyes scanning the crowd.
Not me. Not me. Not yet.
I breathed out when his eyes passed me up and landed on the woman laughing at the two men. He strode up to her, gave her his arm, and before he led her away, she said something to the two men. Instead of heading right, this time the man with the earpiece went left. He and the woman were headed toward the stairs.
Huh. He was leading her back outside. Did she even know it?
A few minutes later, the same thing happened to a couple more women who mingled with men in the crowd.
Each time a man in a suit came looking, my stomach dipped. I sat my drink down on a marble coaster, not feeling so hot. No food had been a good idea. I was cold and hot simultaneously, and goosebumps puckered my arms. I broke out in a cold sweat, and I hoped the makeup Sierra had wasn’t the cheap kind. I patted instead of wiped, hoping the bruises would stay hidden for a little while longer.
Just as I thought a trip to the bathroom was a good idea, the old man with the suspenders took a seat next to me and said something in Italian.
I shook my head. “I don’t speak Italian,” I said, my voice close to betraying the nerves making me sick to my stomach.
“Ah,” he said, almost like a sigh. “How are you feeling?”
The kind eyes under the glasses took in my face, and I felt no need to lie. “Honestly?” I breathed out. “Not so well. Nerves.”
He nodded at this. “I am Tito. And you are?”
“Ma—Sierra. Sierra Andruzzi.”
His eyes narrowed under the glasses and he tilted his head to the side. “Sierra Andruzzi,” he repeated.
“Sierra Andruzzi.”
This Tito knew I wasn’t Sierra. He didn’t outwardly show his surprise that I gave her name, but I just knew. He opened his mouth to speak, but as he did, another man in a suit, another earpiece, came to stand before me. He looked down at me but said nothing.
It was time. 11:11 P.M.
Make a wish, Mari.
