Selling Out

by Amber Lin

  Sitting across from me, she stared sightlessly at the calendar on the wall. It had a picture of a laughing family and a logo of some home insurance agent on the corner.

  “I must thank you for telling me about the raid. I don’t know why you did.”

  I had warned her beforehand. Most of the brothels in the area had been raided, but her house had been empty. Luke told me about the raids in advance, with a look that said he knew that I’d pass the information along. It had been a compulsion, one I would probably always have to some degree.

  “I don’t know why either,” I admitted. But now that I had done it, I wasn’t above taking full advantage. “Maybe now you’ll tell me. Tell me the truth about Claire. I know you can.”

  “Yes. You deserve to know, after all this.”

  It took her several minutes to begin. I wondered if she had ever told this to anyone before and guessed that she hadn’t. She wasn’t the type to unburden herself to others. How lonely it was in that place of secrets and smoke. No one could hurt her there; no one could help.

  “We have more in common than you think, you and I,” she said. “When I was a girl, my parents sold me to Henri. I had six brothers and sisters. I sacrificed for them, like you sacrifice for your friend.”

  It didn’t surprise me that she had got her start as a prostitute, working her way up to madam. It didn’t even surprise me that she had been with Henri. It explained why she had so much hatred for him…while at the same time she couldn’t help but obey him. He had that effect on people, and years of that abuse would make anyone a little crazy.

  There was one big difference between us, though. She had forced other girls to whore themselves. I had been faced with the same choice once, and I had chosen to protect Claire instead. The thought didn’t fill me with triumph or superiority, because I remembered how hard it had been. I knew well the trouble it had caused me to protect Claire instead of use her.

  I spoke quietly, respect still lingering despite everything. “Somewhere along the way, it changed. You stopped sacrificing and started forcing others to sacrifice for you.”

  “Yes. I did that. They need to sacrifice for me when I give so much. One day, you will do same thing.”

  No, I wouldn’t, but she wouldn’t believe me. “Tell me why you really called me.”

  “I lived with Henri for years. I was his girl.” Her lips pinched together. “You know what that is like.”

  I knew. The scars I bore from those experiences weren’t on my skin. Much deeper, in the darkness of my soul. I wouldn’t have wished that on anyone. “I’m sorry.”

  “Then I got pregnant.”

  A small gasp escaped me. Henri had always used protection with me. He was actually a stickler for it. Other pimps would push their girls to go bareback because it brought in so much more money, but not him.

  “He actually wanted the child,” Jade said. “I wanted to get an abortion, but he wouldn’t let me. I ran away, but by then it was too late. I tried everything to get it out of me. I almost died trying, but someone found me and brought me to a hospital. They kept me there until the baby was born, and finally I could get rid of it.”

  My eyebrows rose. She killed it?

  “Adoption,” she said. “Then I started my own brothel. I knew how to run it from being with Henri. For years, we were like that. I knew better than to poach from him, and he left me alone. But I knew he always looked for the girl. He felt that I stole her from him.”

  “Claire,” I breathed.

  “She did it herself,” Jade said accusingly. “I gave her good family. Normal family. If she had stayed there like she should, he would never have found her. How could he? But she came to his place of business, getting a fake ID. Then going to his club. How could he ignore that?”

  “He couldn’t,” I said, just stating a fact. He wouldn’t have.

  “I didn’t want her. She was Henri’s child. I know you think I’m a monster now after helping him, for what I did, but at least I kept her from him.”

  And it was the only reason Ella was still alive and relatively sane today. A child under Henri’s control? Jesus. No one knew better than I the cruelty that could pass from father to daughter. Pimping her out had been the kindest thing he could do.

  “She’s safe now,” I said softly. I didn’t believe that Jade didn’t care at all. She had involved herself in this, had tried to help Ella in her own way, by helping me. “I’ll keep her safe.”

  “I do not know this girl. I don’t want to know her. She is tainted by Henri, always.” Jade looked down at her hands as they lay limp and open in her lap. “You stay safe. That’s what I want.”

  Some secrets weren’t meant to be spoken. Like fire, they would burn anyone who touched them, the speaker and the receiver. Those were my secrets, and I kept them locked away in the box I had built, the emanating heat a melancholy reminder of what had been. Jade’s secrets were different, because they had scorched us all. Like wildfire they had torn her down, leaving only a hollow bark where a strong, tender woman could have been.

  I would always harbor some resentment for the fact that she helped Henri, but it hadn’t been entirely unexpected. In many ways, they were birds of a feather. Both feared and successful pimps, both past their prime, struggling to hold on to the old power. Both had failed. They were irrelevant now, history in the Chicago flesh trade. It would be for other men and women to carry on the industry, for surely it would not end with two people dead and a handful of brothels shut down. It was the darkest side of man, and the most natural. To trade, to fuck. It was the oldest profession and the most enduring.

  I turned to leave, kneeling at the small table to give tithe. It didn’t matter whether I liked the information, whether I liked her. She had told me the truth, and for that I would pay. But as I reached for the folded bills in my pocket, she came and stayed my hand with hers.

  She held out her hand in a fist, facing down.

  Cautiously, I held out my hand underneath, catching the familiar jade necklace that no longer hung at her neck.

  “For her,” she said softly. “It’s the only thing I have to give. This and the truth.”

  I closed my fingers around the thin gold and jade, still warm from her body.

  In the car, I showed Luke the necklace and told him what Jade had said.

  He whistled. “Are you going to tell Claire?”

  “I don’t think it will help her to know. But…I just don’t know. Do you think I should?”

  “I’m not really the person to ask. I guess I’d want to know, if it were me.”

  “Yeah, that makes sense.” But still, I wasn’t sure. How could I hurt her that way? For nothing. She would gain nothing.

  Her adoptive parents’ house was a large colonial in an old neighborhood. Old money. Jade hadn’t been kidding about setting her up with a good family. We parked in the circular drive, and I didn’t argue when Luke escorted me to the door. A middle-aged woman cried when she saw me on the front step and grappled me for a fierce hug, which showed no signs of abating until I sent Luke a look of distress. He smoothly intercepted their thanks, assuring them that helping Claire had been no trouble at all. I didn’t laugh at that, which I considered a major coup. She showed us upstairs to Claire’s room, where Luke opted to wait in the hall.

  The decor was very modern, with light wood paneling and ochre fabrics. There weren’t any posters on the wall, any knickknacks on the desk, and I wondered if the sterility was related to her penchant for stealing.

  Claire herself looked good. Young, especially against the backdrop of a teenage bedroom. She stood awkwardly, hands in her jeans pockets. I looked at her critically, thinking maybe I could see Henri’s eyes or Jade’s sleek, straight hair, but that was just the suggestion talking. For all I knew, Henri had made a mistake. Maybe it wasn’t her. I found it didn’t really matter.

  “Did you talk to Philip?” she blurted out. Then blushed.

  I suppressed a smile. “Not really. I did speak to Alli
e earlier, so she told me how he’s been. Busy with work, I think.”

  “Oh.”

  I waited for the did he ask about me? But it didn’t come. Smart girl. I understood the compulsion, but they were light-years apart. She was a mostly good girl in the senior class. Philip was a kinky bastard. She’d found a lifetime’s rebellion in one petty crime, and he was in for life.

  “Here.” She gestured to the bed. “You can sit down, if you want.”

  I eyed the bed. This whole high school bedroom setup hit a little close to home. “No, thanks.” Then realizing it had been curt, I said, “How has school been? Are you caught up?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Lots of homework to make up, but I’ll still finish the year out.”

  “Ah. Good.”

  She rolled her eyes, and I saw hints of the spirited young girl I’d come to know. “I’m sure you used geometry theorems every day.”

  “Every night, baby. My work is all about angles.”

  “Was,” she said tentatively. “That was your work, but not anymore. Right?”

  “Right,” I said. “Though don’t ask me what I’m going to do. I don’t know.”

  I had some ideas. Marguerite had asked me to join her at the shelter. “Who better than to teach Jenny and the other girls how to function in society?” she had said. I knew where they were coming from, that much was true. But I wasn’t in a position to tell them where to go next, not when I was still searching for that myself.

  Claire shared a few stories from school, things about boys and class clowns, before broaching the topic I dreaded.

  “Did you ever find out why he took me? What started it all?”

  I swallowed. I could tell her now, and it would make sense, but it would break her. What started the whole chain reaction was her deciding to be naughty, stepping out to the club with a fake ID. What started it all happened nine months before she was born. No, it had started years ago, lifetimes ago, endless cycles of abuse and betrayal. I didn’t want that for her. I wanted this. The pristine room. The goofy friends who thought they knew everything.

  “It was random,” I said, and as the words left my mouth, I realized there was truth to them. I would never know whether other decisions, other roads would have kept me safer. I could be somewhere without this pain, without these scars—without Luke. There was only now, tomorrow. There was only love in all its forms, even the ones that made me lie to her. “His business was struggling, and he thought a new girl would bring in extra cash.”

  “Well,” she said after a moment. “That sucks.”

  And yeah, it did. But I had gotten to know her, which mattered more than I could say. “Will you come visit me sometime?”

  She made a face. “Where are you staying?”

  I laughed. “Not at Philip’s. I’m going to live outside the city for a little while.”

  A long while, if I had my way. But Luke’s job was here, and so I was playing it by ear.

  “I’d love to,” she said. “I have to thank you for what you did in that hotel room. And after. I know no one else would have.”

  It was my turn to make a face. I had wanted to shake this need to please, this compulsion to keep everyone around me grateful to me. But here I was, thanked twice in two hours. It seemed I would never escape it, and maybe it had been a mistake to even try. These were my friends. Of course I should help them. It hadn’t been the gratitude I needed then, but the company. There had been a void in me, and I had frantically filled it with fawning men and a neat collection of owed favors. The void was gone, filled with things far more weighty. Filled with hope.

  I left her room with the jade necklace in my pocket. It was rightfully her inheritance, like those jewels had been mine. But they had been like poison, infecting me with their very presence. If Jade had wanted to be sure Ella received it, she could have sent it herself. By giving it to me, she was leaving it to my judgment. I would throw it away like the trash that it was.

  Chapter Twenty

  From the bed, I watched the leaves drift to the ground through the window, a mural of greens, browns, and reds as autumn arrived. It was hard to believe that a few weeks ago, I had stared out the window, seeing only the gray tones of the city.

  Luke came into the bedroom, carrying a mug of steaming tea.

  I took it with thanks, wrapping my fingers around the hot ceramic.

  “How’s your leg?” he asked softly, but he didn’t wait for an answer.

  He crouched in front of me and carefully pulled up the long sheet. He cradled my foot gently as he examined the wound. It had completely closed, so the bandage was off. The raised, jagged line ran from my knee down along my calf. It would probably scar, just like the round wound in my shoulder.

  Some days I felt like I was nothing but a collection of scars—a cautionary tale. Other days I found a certain quiet glory in the pain of my past. I had survived them. Sometimes triumph wasn’t a fanfare but a series of small events: the first breath of morning, a warm body sharing the sheets, the sight of green eyes watching me as I came awake.

  “It looks like it’s healing well,” he said. “How does it feel?”

  “I barely notice it.” At his disbelieving look, I said, “Except when I walk. Or, you know, move. Sitting’s good, though.”

  “We’ll sit, then.” He sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb my leg.

  He had already been up and dressed for an hour. The cottage needed a lot of work before it was livable, but I had refused his requests to stay in a hotel while he did the work. I wanted to be here, even if the kitchen needed new cabinets, even if the water heater kind of sucked. I never wanted to see another hotel again in my life. Besides, this place filled a part of me that had long been empty. The wound on my leg was healing. More than that, I was healing. Both outside and inside were a slow-ass process, I was finding, but at least it was progress.

  “I got a call from the captain today,” he said.

  My gaze sharpened. We had carefully avoided the subject of what would happen after his leave of absence. I strove to match his casual tone. “What did he say?”

  “He asked about you.”

  “Really?” I laughed in surprise. “Has he found something new to charge me with?”

  I immediately regretted my outburst. The captain of the CPD had put me through hell, and I wasn’t sure I could get over that. Far worse, he’d made Luke an outcast for fighting for me. So the guy had reinstated Luke. I still didn’t have to like him.

  Except I sort of did, because he was Luke’s boss. I would answer the phone when he called the house for Luke. I would see him at the department’s Christmas party. And I would deal with it, for Luke. It would just be another way of faking it.

  Luke watched me with a resigned look. “You hate him.”

  “He’s not my favorite person. But it’s not like I have to work for him. And when I see him, I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise.” I never wanted Luke to feel ashamed of me. It was bad enough that everyone he worked with knew what I had been. That would already hang over him. I wouldn’t make it worse.

  He looked amused. “You realize your best behavior is also your worst.”

  A smile curved my lips. “You love that about me.” I pouted. “At least I thought you did.”

  “I do.”

  His voice had gone low, his eyes a dark emerald color. He teased me about how much I talked about sex, but really he loved it.

  “I’ve been here a whole week,” I said in a singsong voice. “I’ll start to get a complex.”

  “You’re hurt,” he said quickly. “You need to rest.”

  “I have been resting. In fact, I’m exhausted from all this rest.”

  “Oh yeah?” The glint in his eye said I wouldn’t be falling asleep anytime soon.

  I raised my eyebrow in challenge. “Yeah.”

  He climbed up beside me. I barely had enough time to put the mug on the bedside table before he pulled me up against his body, my back to his front.
>
  Snuggling back into the warmth of his body, I said, “Not to complain or anything, but cuddling counts as resting.”

  “Hush,” he said. His hand snaked over my hip.

  I sucked in a breath. It had been so long…really, never. Never exactly like this, with Luke. We had a hundred different ways to explore each other, a million times to make each other come. I looked forward to every single one.

  I had taken to the habit of wearing his undershirt to bed. Now he lifted the hem from my thigh and walked his finger beneath the waistband of my panties. I jumped at the touch of his hand on my mound, realizing I hadn’t shaved all week. It had been hard enough to shower with my damn leg hurting every time a drop of water touched it. Plus it had felt kind of nice to take a shower without doing that sort of primping. Just getting clean without preparing myself for a man.

  “Sorry,” I said quickly. “Maybe this isn’t a good time.”

  His hand froze. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m…bristly.”

  He laughed softly. “Bristly?”

  “You know, like a beard. But less sexy.”

  “I don’t know,” he mused. His fingers resumed their stroking. “I think it would be pretty hard for me not to find this sexy. A little bristle isn’t going to cut it. Besides”—he touched my clit lightly, then backed away—“this was the spot I was going for. Not bristly at all. Very smooth. Only a little wet, but we can fix that.” He dipped his finger lower, into the dampness that had pooled between my folds. Drawing it up, he circled my clit again.

  “Oh, Luke.” My heart swelled along with my clit. He made me feel so wanted, inside and out. I knew he enjoyed my body—the hard ridge pressed against my ass from beneath his jeans paid testament to that—but the way he touched me, it was as if that didn’t even matter. Whether my hair was the old blonde or the lingering brown, whether my cunt was shaved or not, he was just as hard for me, just as ready.

  “It’s okay, Shelly. You can let go.” He knew the effect he had on me. “I’m here with you. I’ll do anything to be with you.”