by A. Gomez
The scene was all very off, it seemed so normal for them. The blinds in the kitchen and a few in the hallway leading to the kitchen were all open, letting the sunshine through. I could see the garden out back and how sparse it was. Autumn was here and all the leaves were falling and Chang’s shrubs and other vegetation was beginning to look thin and dormant. Perhaps this was why they wouldn’t let the girls outside… because there was not enough shrubbery out there to keep them hidden. I didn’t see why that would make a difference considering he had a giant wall surrounding the premises.
We finished breakfast and cleared our plates. The same girls that cooked clean up.
“Isabel,” Debbie called, “please follow Priscilla and Elsa. They’re going to get you ready for the pictures. Betty Lou can go with you too since she’ll be taking pictures as well.”
I nodded and Betty and I went hand in hand behind Elsa and Priscilla. We passed a room that looked like an office. The furniture and bookcases in there looked very sleek and modern. I saw Victor Chang sitting in front of a computer, staring intently at it. I managed to get a glimpse of the art and of course it was modern art. I might have even seen an Andy Warhol in there but we passed by so quickly I couldn’t be certain.
We continued up the majestic set of stairs by the front door and passed a few sculptures that Chang had educated me on last night. Our discussion of the artwork and his carefree and relaxed demeanor were very unsettling. He and Debbie acted as if it was just business as usual and it was anything but. We walked into someone’s room. Priscilla’s? Elsa’s? It looked just as big as ours… maybe a bit bigger. They had two walk-in closets, we had one. It was decorated very teen girly, bright and happy. Huh, at least Chang was making them comfortable here, or at least putting forth some sort of weird effort. Priscilla was saying something but I ignored her and headed straight for the windows. Damn! Screwed shut, shutters and everything.
“All the windows and shutters are like that,” Priscilla said. “We’ve all tried. Some of us have gone as far as to steal a hammer from Miss Debbie and try to pry it open.”
I placed my hands on my hips and exhaled, “Do y’all still have the hammer?”
“Yes. It’s hidden safely away where Debbie can’t find it.”
I turned around and gazed at the girls. Betty was strolling toward me, and Elsa and Priscilla were eyeing me speculatively.
“I heard what you were telling Miss Debbie,” Elsa commented.
“Yeah, me too, Isabel. Why did you tell her you wanted to help her?” Betty asked.
“I don’t really want to help her, I’m just trying to get into her head, confuse her a little. Just enough for her to let her guard down so I can, maybe, help us get out of here.”
“Oh,” they all said in unison.
“Ladies, can you tell me how to find these cell phones and wifi jammers?”
“They’re not hidden,” Priscilla replied. “They’re all over the mansion and in plain view. They look like a small, black, rectangular box with a bunch of short antennas attached to it. You can’t miss them.”
“The only problem is we don’t know how many there are,” Elsa added. Her English sounded pretty good. I thought for sure she would not be able to communicate at all. I guessed she learned English in Kosovo.
“I don’t think we need to worry about how many there are,” I began. “If I can disable half of them then I’m pretty sure I can get a signal. What about a cell phone charger for an iPhone X?” I asked. “Do y’all know if there’s one I can get my hands on?”
Priscilla and Elsa eyed each other. They looked as if they wanted to tell me something but were apprehensive to do so.
“I can steal one this afternoon,” Priscilla said. “I have a recurring appointment every Tuesday with the same man and he has an iPhone X. He likes to play music during our appointment and he always plugs his phone in. I’ll just take it before I leave.”
Both Elsa and Priscilla looked at me for assurance. “Priscilla,” I paused, gazing at her. “Only take it if you know for sure you’re not going to get caught. Don’t risk it otherwise. I can always figure out another way.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t get caught. He’s always drunk.”
I nodded and gave her a half smile. “Okay, then, where do you want me?”
She placed a chair in front of the bathroom mirror and patted it, indicating for me to sit down. Elsa scurried off to fetch her makeup products.
Priscilla cut and styled my hair first. Her instructions were to cut it short, up to my chin short, but I told her to only go as far as my shoulders. My hair was naturally wavy and the shorter it got the wavier it got, so it had the illusion of being shorter than it was. She could just curl it a little more and it’d look even shorter. She did a fantastic job! I actually loved the haircut. I asked her if she was once a hairdresser before landing in this God forsaken place. She told me she had taken a few cosmetology classes while in high school but that was all. Her dream was to be a hairdresser and own her own salon.
Now it was Elsa’s turn. I moved seats so Betty Lou could have my seat and get her hair fixed. I watched Priscilla as she brushed and curled Betty’s long, blond hair. She fixed it to where it was partly up and partly down. It looked lovely and very grown up. Grown up… Chang wants her to look older and me to look younger. The thought behind all this… what they’re doing to us… what they’ve done to all of these girls… getting us ready to be placed up for sale on some website or app, was utterly abhorrent.
“Girls, how long before someone starts requesting to make an appointment with us once we’re uploaded into the system?” I asked.
“As soon as your pic gets put in… just a few seconds or minutes,” Elsa answered dryly, as she was applying my mascara.
I gasped, pulling away from Elsa. “SECONDS?!”
They both nodded, stone-faced.
“Girls, I can’t let Betty’s picture get uploaded! Please! Y’all have to help me somehow. She’s just a little girl!” My voice was desperate.
“But we don’t know what to do,” declared Priscilla. “We wouldn’t know how to begin to stop that.”
“Also, Debbie might have An punish us if we did try and stop it,” Elsa added.
I began to pace the floor in the bathroom, wringing my hands. Think, think, think, think, I kept chanting in my head. I couldn’t ask any of the girls to put themselves at risk for a little girl they’d only just met. As far as I could calculate, I had three options. I could have the girls preoccupy Debbie and I would take down her picture and whatever else they had uploaded. The only problem with that option was I didn’t know where to look so I could take it down. It would probably be hidden within a website or app so it wouldn’t be so obvious to the FBI or the police. Or I could appeal to her softer, compassionate side and plead with her not to put her up for sale at all, or I could just threaten her. I was still pacing, warring with myself on which course to take. Option one was out. I wouldn’t know where to begin to look and since I wasn’t as quick as my brothers on all things tech, it would take me hours to figure it out. I was going to go for option two and if that didn’t work… well, I still had my gun.
“Priscilla, take down her hair please and part her hair down the middle and give her two French braids,” I exclaimed. “Betty is not going to get her picture today or any other day.”
31
All three girls looked at me like I was insane. No one moved. They were all frozen where they stood. I sat back down so Elsa could finish my makeup. Betty turned around in her seat and sat still for Priscilla. Everyone resumed what she was doing and Priscilla did as I instructed.
“Elsa, this is such a fantastic job. You’ve done a great job on my make up! You even managed to cover up that giant bruise I got.” I stood up to look at myself in the mirror. My eye shadow was several different shades of purples, lavenders and mauves. She gave me the smoky eye look but instead of doing a lot of black around my eyes she used more of a charcoal with black mascara. It
accentuated my green eyes. I was impressed.
“You and Priscilla should go into business together when we get out of here. Both of y’all are very talented.” Their giant grins quickly vanished. I could feel the atmosphere quickly changing in there. Elsa and Priscilla eyed one another communicating some unspoken thought. “What?” I asked. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No, Isabel, you said nothing wrong,” replied Priscilla. “When I first got here I would tell myself I would get my cosmetology license once I got out but now, I don’t think I’m ever getting out of here and I don’t think you are either.”
“Oh. I’m sorry if I upset either of you.” I stood up to embrace her and Elsa. “How long have you been here?”
“I’ve been here two years now. I got here when I was seventeen years old,” Priscilla answered. “And Elsa just got here with another girl named Inara.”
“I’m so sorry, girls,” was all I could say. I gazed at them. They had baby faces. Their spirit was broken and their expression screamed powerless and lost. They’d given up the will to fight and had succumbed to their fate here in this beautiful, cold art museum.
“Well, let’s get this show on the road,” I breathed. I took a deep steadying breath and squared my shoulders. Whatever I decided to tell Debbie I needed to be prepared to back it up with actions.
“Wait,” called Elsa. “I have to put some lipstick on you.”
Once she was finished with me, we all headed back downstairs to find Debbie. I was told she was the photographer and had a very high-tech camera that Priscilla would like to steal one day. I giggled.
We found Debbie in the larger of the two living rooms, setting up the camera. I was holding Betty’s hand and gazing up at the Picasso. I looked around the room and noticed another piece. It too was abstract art. How did I manage to miss this one? It was Black Iris III by Georgia O’Keeffe. It was beautiful. Perfect. Amazing. How could such a depraved and disgusting man own such beauty? The thought of his wealth and how he acquired it was nauseating.
“Oh, good, you still have your pajamas on. That’ll work out great since you’re going into a different website and app,” Debbie exclaimed. She briefly eyed Betty Lou. “I thought I told you to fix Betty’s hair, Priscilla. Why is she in braided pigtails?” She stalked over toward us and reached for her. I pulled Betty Lou behind my back and placed my body between Debbie and Betty. Debbie eyed me, shocked. She looked at me intently and drew her brows together. She tentatively tried to reach around me and grab Betty. I blocked that as well.
“Debbie,” I began, “you look confused, so let me briefly explain. Betty Lou will not be getting any pictures today or any other day and she will not be uploaded in that repugnant website or app you people produced. She is just a little girl.” My voice was low and even. “You have to see that. You will be subjecting her to a fate worse than death and I can’t allow that to happen. She’s just a little girl!”
“Oh really? And are you going to stop me? You forget, Isabel, all I have to do is call An and he’ll take care of you,” she threatened.
“I haven’t forgotten a damn thing, Deborah Danhour,” I hissed, still holding Betty behind me.
She stared at me, shocked that I knew her last name. She was balling her hands into fists and placing them on her hips. She called for An, who was sitting in the corner on one of the chairs, apparently watching everything transpire. I watched him as he marched in my direction, quickly assessing him. He was big and thick but I thought if I could get a few hits to his nose, chin and throat I could then knock him out with a blunt object. I pushed Betty out of the way and took my kickboxing stance. I heard An laugh, amused at my ready position. Prick! We’d see how amused he was after he hit the floor. Elsa came to Betty’s side and they both moved to the opposite side of the room. Adrenaline was coursing through my body and my heart was thumping. Hard.
“Enough!” a raspy deep voice boomed. An stopped in his tracks and took a step back. I was still holding my stance but could see Victor Chang in my periphery. “What is going on here? And why is An about to damage my property?”
“Boss, she thinks she can spit out orders at me and contradict what you want,” Debbie seethed, pointing at me.
He eyed us both. “And what would that be?” he calmly asked.
“Well, she thinks that she can just dictate over whose picture gets uploaded and who’s doesn’t,” Debbie spewed. “That little girl is…”
“That’s right,” I cut Debbie off. “She is just a little girl. Mr. Chang, Betty Lou is terrified and so innocent, please don’t do this to her. Let me take her place. Put me up on two different websites. I’ll be glad to take her place and do whatever it is you want, just… please… don’t subject her to this horror.”
He stared at me impassively. Was he angry? Was I about to get the shit beat out of me?
“The little girl can stay off the internet for now,” he snapped. “Dr. Langley, if I didn’t know you are about to make me an obscene amount of money, I would beat you myself and not think twice about where this child goes.” He turned to eye Debbie. “Betty Lou will stay off the internet for as long as Dr. Langley is with us. Once she is gone, we will place her on the website and app.”
I exhaled, not realizing I was holding my breath. I really didn’t expect that but was relieved I was able to make something happen. “Mr. Chang, if I could ask one more thing of you?” I was pressing my luck but I didn’t care, I had to try. “Would it be possible to get some special groceries and ingredients so I can bake some milk-free, nut-free cakes and cookies?”
He just blinked at me, still impassive. “Yes, that should be fine. Just give your list to Debbie and she’ll take care of it.” He turned on his heel and walked out.
Debbie eyed me suspiciously. “Take a seat in this chair.” She pointed to an oversized velvety green chair. It was striking. The seat and the back cushions were a soft-looking, deep green velvet, the arms, legs and around the back cushion were an antiqued white wood finish with very elegant and intricate carvings. Again, it looked like something out of Architectural Digest. I rubbed my hand up and around the wood and down the back cushion, admiring this work of art. And that’s exactly what it was. A work of art. I thought I was beginning to understand how Chang’s mind worked. Debbie’s words came back to me: The boss likes to keep his house elegant and beautiful. And Chang saying, It would be a shame to destroy something so beautiful. It would be like destroying my beautiful Picasso we were just admiring. So, if he thought I was beautiful and couldn’t kill me, then I could use that to my advantage, somehow.
Debbie took several pictures of me in the chair in several different poses. I was not smiling in any of them. I didn’t think I could have forced a smile if she asked. We finally finished. Betty ran to me and wrapped her arms around me. I held her tight and kissed the top of her head.
After writing my list down on a pad that Priscilla gave me, I handed the piece of paper to Debbie. She begrudgingly took it and read it over.
“I’ll place the order for this but it won’t get here until Friday,” she snapped.
“That’s perfectly fine. It’s just a few days away,” I answered with a smile. She looked at me expressionless, hate, reproach, and contempt emanating from her.
“I have to show you and Betty Lou what your chores will be around this house. I’m assuming that wherever you go she goes, so you’ll just get double chores and Betty will just have to help you,” she declared.
Debbie took us to the laundry room. Our chores were to wash and fold everyone’s laundry and do the ironing too when needed. The laundry room was as big as the bedroom Betty and I shared with Lilly, minus the bathroom. It had two washers and two dryers, two ironing boards and two irons. The room had a door with a window that led to the backyard garden. Surprisingly, this window didn’t have shutters or any sort of blinds. I walked straight to it and looked out through the window. I couldn’t see hardly anything, just trees, bushes and more bushes. I couldn’t see the
wall either. Either the wall was hidden behind the very tall bushes or the laundry room was at an angle where one couldn’t see the wall. I was sure the door was locked and booby-trapped, making it almost impossible to open.
Debbie didn’t pay much attention at what I was doing. She kept going on and on about where I could hang the clothes, fold the clothes, and something about stain removers.
“That door is always locked and has an alarm on it too, so there’s no way you can open it and if you did manage to open it the alarm would go off,” Debbie offered.
Yup. I knew it. I glanced at her, stone-faced, and then back out the window. I said nothing. She led us down a hallway. She was going to show us where the downstairs linen and towel closet was. Washing linens and towels was to be the “extra chores” we were supposed to have. As we made our way down the hall, that Andy Warhol caught my eye again. It was in Victor Chang’s office, or I suspected it was his office. Betty Lou and I walked in, not bothering to tell Debbie we were making a pit stop. Debbie just kept walking without the slightest idea we were no longer following her. I stood in front of it, gazing at it, admiring it, not knowing how to feel about this particular piece. I had never really liked Andy Warhol but there was something about this piece that was speaking to me. Was it the colors? They were all very bright and bold, just like my makeup. Her bright red lips jumped out at me and her yellow hair as well. It was nothing extraordinary, really, just the actress Ingrid Bergman, wearing a hat that the artist decided to color purple.
“This is called Ingrid Bergman With Hat, 1983.” Chang was at my side, interrupting my introspection. “It is by Andy Warhol. He started out as a commercial illustrator in New York City before he began to make art for galleries.”
