“Police!”
* * *
“Be good, my little Sophie,”Rodney calls as he slips out of the dingy studio apartment, and I jump off the couch and race into the bathroom. Why, today of all days, did my savior-turned-abuser linger over a second cup of coffee?
My hands shake, and I drop the concealer stick twice, leaving pale beige splatters all over the sink.Shit.I have to clean those before I leave. Covering yesterday’s bruise in the crook of my elbow is easy. The older needle marks aren’t so simple. Then again, at this photo shoot? No one will look too carefully.
It’s $500 for six hours, and I cannot say no. I have to save up enough money for a bus ticket. For first and last months’ rent on an apartment. In another city. Where Rodney cannot find me.
He was one of my regulars. Four times he came. Asking questions. I thought he was nice—nicer than most of the men who used me, though he rarely bathed and wanted me to do disgusting things to him. I thought nothing of his babbling. Some men like to talk, others like to hit.
Until he was one of the policemen who raided the house. I know now, some of what I told him led the Philadelphia police right to Dimitri. Helped them put him in jail for more than twenty-five years.
We were so scared. Terrified we would be deported. Or jailed. Instead, some of the older girls were offered deals to testify. The younger ones were too emotional, but they were given asylum.
I was not. Rodney said they lost my paperwork. That I had no passport. He gave me only two options. Turn myself in to immigration and be sent back to Russia or let him protect me. I made the wrong choice. He arranged for a cheap hotel room for me. Then offered to sleep on the pull-out sofa. To protect me. Even then, I did not fear like I do now.
It took a week for him to demand sex. The day my medical report came back clean.
At least this morning, all he wanted was a blow job. Swishing a double dose of mouthwash, I pull out the phone he gave me. The cracked screen makes it hard to unlock, but at least I can still read the time. Shit. I have to leave in the next two minutes if I want to make the bus.
As soon as I sling my crossbody bag over my shoulder, I race out the door and pray nothing the “director” wants from me will leave a mark.
* * *
“Excuse me.Are you here for the lingerie shoot?” A smooth, refined voice cuts through my nerves, and I peer up into a pair of bright hazel eyes.
“Yes. Is there a problem?” Instinctively, my shoulders hunch, and I tug at the hem of my miniskirt. The man doesn’t belong in this place. His suitfits, and though he wants something from me—it’s in his gaze and the way his lips curve into not quite a smile—I think maybe...he is not all bad.
Withdrawing a shiny business card from his jacket pocket, he holds it between two fingers. “I represent the Harvey Ulstrum Agency.” With a more genuine smile this time, he sinks into the chair next to me. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I was told...” My heart hammers against my chest, and I can’t get the next words out. Not in English anyway. Russian tumbles from my lips, faster than any American could understand.
“No, no. There’s nothing wrong. You’re not in any trouble. What’s your name?”
“Sophie,” I whisper, glancing around at all the other girls sitting in the hard plastic chairs lining the hall.
“I’m Max. Max Snood.” He offers me his hand, the one still holding the business card, and we shake, but he doesn’t let go, his gaze on the crook of my elbow. “Do you want to get clean, Sophie? Have a career you can be proud of? Be able to show your friends what you do?”
Jerking back, I wrap my arms around myself. Men like this are how I ended up here. Alexi was the first. Back in Russia. He sold me to Dimitri. Then Rodney “freed” me only to hide me away. Max is no different. “Leave me alone.”
Max sighs, and I tense, ready to run. One call to the police and I will be deported. Or worse. Rodney will know what I’ve done. But instead of threatening, Max simply stands and drops the business card on the chair. “If you change your mind, my number’s on there. You have access to a computer?”
I nod. The library down the street offers free use for an hour a day, and I go often. Though I can speak English well enough, my reading ability is limited to street signs and what I can learn from commercials. Still, I go whenever Rodney is at work and look at fashion magazines, newspapers, and children’s books. If they have pictures with the words, sometimes I can read them.
“Go to my company’s website. You’ll see what we do. If you change your mind, call me.”
And then he’s gone, striding away with all the confidence I’ll never have.
“Sophie Lebdev!” a portly man with greasy skin and bad teeth shouts from the door a few feet away. “Get your ass in here.”
After two steps, I stop, turn around, and lunge for the business card on the chair. I don’t know why. But maybe...Max will be different.
* * *
Sloane
“Are you ready to see the new you?” Dr. Foster asks.
