Layers Deep Read online

  Comfortable loungers were set up in front. Behind them rose a floor-to-ceiling mirror that I was sure was a two-way. And it had been some time since I’d seen velvet tapestries on walls, black patterns weaving up in a combination of curves and tear-shaped blots. Side tables filled with drinks as waitresses wearing nothing more than see-through panties and bras strolled around the room. Tristan had chosen my clothing. My strapless black dress laced along the nude fabric that camouflaged my skin and clung to my body as if it had been sewn on. It covered the most important areas, including where the crack of my ass should have been visible. But I still felt overdressed in the skimpy outfit, which wasn’t as revealing as what the other girls in the room were wearing.

  The mirror in front reflected the row of women. We stood in a straight line, a line of two dozen ghostly faces. Dark circles under the women’s eyes couldn’t be hidden with professional make up. My own expression in the mirror startled me. Either I played my part well, or I was scared beyond what my instinct told me. But Tristan had said I’d be safe. Whoever bought me, Tristan guaranteed my safety, and I trusted him.

  I scanned the faces without moving to see whether I recognized any of the girls. I was right to think the one standing beside me was young. She couldn’t have been more than twenty and her features were eerily familiar to mine. The more I concentrated on her face the more I’d thought she could have passed for my slightly younger sister. From her golden brown eyes to the auburn hair and high cheeks, the resemblance was astounding.

  Most girls here had their eyes darkened not only with gray under-circles, but also with the fear of uncertainty of what would happen to them. There was nothing more I wanted than to rescue them all. Having worked in a strip club, this wasn’t the first time I’d seen girls mistreated and abused, but at least we got to go home. These girls had their lives stolen. Their souls were transparent, and some of them had probably chosen for their souls to leave their bodies before they entered this room. The reality of sex trafficking in a modern world made me sick to my stomach.

  I concentrated on each hollow face again. I’d memorized Kendra’s contorted features of fear and emptiness, but none of these women seemed familiar. Today wasn’t going to be the day we saved her. I kept my stance steady, with shoulders high up; but inside, everything shrieked in disappointment.

  Someone lit a chocolate cigar, and its white puff floated above a man’s head. The scent camouflaged the wet stench of fresh mildew. My gaze began scanning the gents in the plush seats, every single one of them drooling at the sides of their mouths. Most had a hardened bulge inside their pants. One in particular had his gaze fixed on me. I didn’t like it. I recognized the predatory look, and it gave me the creeps.

  James sat in one of the loungers to the side, legs crossed and a scotch in his hand. He blended in with the crowd flawlessly. I took my gaze away from him to not to be obvious. A middle-aged man in a suit clapped his hands, and the room full of gents silenced their whispers as they decided who would buy whom.

  “You have forty minutes before they go back to their owners. This is our special crop tonight. As you can see, every single one is under twenty-five.”

  Everything inside me twisted and I held back the bile that wanted to come out of my throat. At this moment Tristan was my ‘owner’, and it felt good, but I doubted most of these girls felt about their captors the way I did about Tristan. And I wished all of them could have their own Tristan with whom they could go back home. More than anything, I wished Tristan were here. No matter how many times he reiterated his support and my safety, everything about this place made the goose bumps on my arms stand like soldiers.

  Was there any way I could save them all?

  Desperate feelings from the past returned. Could I really do this? Knowing James could not take me back, and that he was here on a different sting, I had no choice but to be sold. Tristan promised whoever ‘bought’ me would keep me safe. But something about this guy staring at me was off; or perhaps it was me, or the situation I’d placed myself in. I’d been here before, and it felt as real as six years ago when I fought off a drunk who tried to rape me. Once again, I remembered my promise that I’d never let another man scare me that way. But these were not men – they were disgusting pigs who should have been hung by their balls. Still, I didn’t feel like I was on the job; but then I wasn’t supposed to. Tristan had warned me this could happen.

  Get a grip, Allie. For the first time ever, the little devil on my shoulder had something encouraging to say. Or perhaps my conscience kicked him out here because she was too afraid to step out herself.

  The thud who’d been starring at me strolled toward me. The predator in him fired lust through his eyes.

  “I like this one,” he growled possessively, skimming my bare arm with the back of his hand. Everything about the touch was so wrong, and my impulse to shove him away or grip him by the throat tingled in my hands. Instead, submitting like I belonged, I fought the chills on the tip of my spine caused by the touch, and I flinched.

  This isn’t real, I kept repeating in my mind.

  My whole body felt cold and numb. I had to remain numb; otherwise, I’d throw up or break apart. Or worse, I’d punch him in his square nose and break every single finger on the hand that neared me.

  Hold it in, Allie, I coached myself.

  If the gate opened, nothing would stop the natural reaction of fear, not even the cop inside me nor the training I’d gone through.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Whatever you want it to be,” I replied in the submissive voice I knew these jerks liked.

  “Katie,” he repeated. The huff of his toxic alcohol breath on my face was disgusting, yet oddly calming. “From now on you are mine, Katie.”

  He was the first to sign some papers.

  I held my breath. Either this was a coincidence, or it was Tristan’s way of letting me know I was safe. It was what I had called myself to Tristan, as a hooker on the street. Could I take the chance?

  Lowering my head in submission, my insides twisted in revulsion. I didn’t like this part. I’d left that girl who succumbed to the dirty minds of sick smiling men as they stuck bills down her chest and panties in the past, when I quit stripping. But looking at the other girls beside me, it was clear I’d gotten off easier than most had. My purchaser only devoured me with his gaze and put me down with his words. But at least I’d been claimed already. No one else could touch me. The other girls were subjected to having their dresses lifted and panties lowered as the men checked over their merchandise. The young girl beside me was fondled. Her whole body tensed, and he slapped her bare ass. All my nerves tightened as I fought the urge to stop him, but I knew I couldn’t. I’d just make it worse. The girl beside me, my look-alike, whom they called Marissa, couldn’t have been more than twenty. She stiffened but spread her legs on his command as he put his hand up her dress and jabbed a finger inside her.

  “That’s a good girl. You like this more than you’re letting on, don’t you? I can feel how wet you are.”

  I wanted to puke. To subject her to such embarrassment was the lowest of the low, but that’s what got him off. I could already see his pants running out of room to hold his erection.

  “Focus.” I heard a whisper from the thug who had purchased me.

  “Virgins are rare, but I guess you won’t be one much longer, will you, sweetheart?” He pulled out a photo from his breast pocket.

  I wished I could have seen it.

  “Your new owner will be pleased.”

  And she wasn’t even for this dweeb. The pleasantries out of his mouth were filled with hate and acid. They were meant to frighten, humiliate, and mortify at the same time. Everything inside me crunched and turned as I thought about this girl’s first sexual experience being with this man, or whomever he was buying her for.

  The fondling went on for another half an hour. The girl’s breasts were freed from her bra, and her nipples flicked in front of everyone until th
ey hardened. He clasped them harder, then released them again, and I could tell the effect it had on her below the belt as she squeezed her thighs together. The man liked it. He smirked while saying, “You’re mine.”

  Further down the line a familiar scene unfolded.

  Everything was done to imply we were the ones wanting and enjoying all this. A man lowered to his knees and sniffed a woman’s panties, then removed them and sucked her off until she came. Another one, right beside him, pushed on the girl’s shoulders, forcing her to kneel and shoved himself in her mouth. One gent sat in the corner of the room, shadowed by a fake tree, masturbating to the sale which had become more of a show for many of these men.

  “I want to see this one’s pussy.” A short man resembling a stump stood in front of me.

  “She’s already bought.” The thug crossed in front of me blocking the way.

  “So?”

  “So, she’s mine. I don’t share.”

  “I’ll pay you double.” He adjusted his glasses, sweat beating down his face.

  “Piss off!” my thug growled. I was beginning to like him more and more.

  A bell dinged, as if a boxing match had ended. The men zipped their pants. A waitress brought papers on a clip board from one to another, and they each signed for their new toys. Some girls were covered with robes; other had collars fastened to their necks with leashes hanging down. Their owners handed them branded scarves and cloths.

  I got a black tie.

  “Cover your eyes,” my thug instructed.

  The smooth fabric against my face reminded me of Tristan. It was him I was doing this for, and for Kendra. And if I could have bet, I would have said this exact tie belonged to him. No one else had that specific sweet and musky smell of scotch and Old Spice.

  “What’s your name?” I whispered.

  “Gene. Don’t talk yet.”

  He tightened the tie around my eyes and led me out the room, guiding my elbow. I expected his firm grip to loosen when we stepped into a different room, but it didn’t. Something automatic resonated in my ears, like the opening of a supermarket door. Gravity pulled my insides down to my feet and I felt heavier than before. The ascent was quicker than the elevator in Tristan’s penthouse. I hadn’t gone through a tunnel or outside, so we must have stayed in the same hotel.

  The thug removed my blindfold just before the elevator came to a stop. There was another man with a girl I recognized from the room downstairs.

  “Not a peep out of you,” the Elvis impersonator said to her.

  I saw him squeeze her arm until her skin whitened under his fingers. The fear in her eyes crawled up my own skin. When we exited the elevator, we turned in the opposite direction.

  “We’re almost there, Katie,” my thug said; except this time the hint of compassion in his voice soothed my speeding pulse. Elvis and the girl turned the corner, and he added, “I work for Mr. Cross.” He then added, “Last door on your left. Go, and stay safe, Ms. Green. I have another job I need to be at.”

  “Thank you.”

  He simply nodded and left into a different corridor.

  I rushed down the hall, almost tripping over my feet. In a hurry I removed my heels and continued over the plush carpeting. This hotel appeared mid-class: nothing near the top of the line. I’d imagined every single employee here had been paid well to keep their mouth shut about the events downstairs. Or they’d simply been threatened and feared for their lives.

  At the end of the hall, I knocked gently on the door.

  My heart raced.

  Sweat dripped down my cleavage.

  My hands shook.

  I prayed no one would exit one of the other three elevators.

  The door knob turned, and I imagined I looked like a deer stuck in the middle of a road, mesmerized by the headlights of an oncoming car. Was I about to be hit?

  The elevator sounded. My gaze skidded down the hallway, then back toward the room.

  The lock clicked and I pushed the door open. All the lights were off, and I smelled scotch. I should have listened to my instinct that I was safe here. But what I’d seen downstairs and the memories that rushed back all at once of Wright touching my mother without her permission were all too much. Then, everything happened all at once. I stepped inside and locked the door behind me. Someone touched my arm and I jumped up, grabbed the muscled arm, and flipped him over my shoulder. The sound of his body hitting the floor and a loud grumble stopped my punch as I came to hover over him.

  “Tristan?”

  “Yes, it’s me, Allie.” He squeezed the pain back, trying to cover that I’d hurt him.

  I threw myself at the black silhouette. Everything inside my body had told me he would be here, waiting for me. And he was, and his arms felt like I’d just been embraced by an angel. Why did I hurt him?

  “I’m sorry.” I knelt at his side, leaning down into his arms. “You should have told me you’d be in the room. I could have really hurt you. Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. I needed you afraid. Very afraid.”

  Well, it worked.

  “She wasn’t there.” I’d just noticed I was panting.

  “I know, Allie. Otherwise she’d be in this room, like we planned. Are you okay?” He pushed himself off the floor, still groaning, and turned on the lamp.

  “Yes.” My answer came out in a whimper.

  “Come here.” He pulled me tighter into his arms, sitting up on the floor, and then whispered, “You’re all right now, Allie. You’re all right.”

  I remembered the promise I’d made to myself that I would never let another woman down when she was in need. I owed it to my mother, whom I’d already disappointed. Yet downstairs, I’d left so many of them all alone. That old familiar guilt returned. I held on tight, gripping Tristan’s shirt until my fingers ached.

  “Shh,” he cooed.

  My body shook in his arms for several minutes before we moved to the couch in the corner. I sat in his lap like a little child, leaning against his chest, and he cradled me in his arms. The shock of what I’d seen began to fade, but it would take a while before I found control over myself.

  “I don’t know if I can do this again,” I sobbed into his shoulder. “All those helpless girls...”

  “Just say the word, and you won’t have to.”

  “What about Kendra?”

  “We’ll figure out a different way.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “You said this is our only chance. I don’t want to fail you, but these girls, these helpless women. Who’s going to save them?”

  “One at a time, babe. One at a time. Even I don’t have the power to save them all, or you know I would. Infiltrating this circle was tough enough, but I do promise you, after Kendra, we’ll do everything we can to save as many as we can.”

  “Okay.” I wiped my nose on his shirt.

  He scooped me up under my knees and carried me to the bathroom. The dim lighting felt soothing.

  “Can you stand?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  Tristan set me down as if I were made of porcelain. The sound of water pouring into the tub and aloe smell of the bubbles comforted me. He undressed me while I stood still, frozen in one spot. Steam began to rise and moisten my skin. Guiding me by my elbow, he helped me step into the tub. I couldn’t speak. Memories of what I’d seen downstairs flashed through my mind. The disgust piled up in my stomach, mixed with a feeling of pure helplessness. I couldn’t even provide a little comfort to those women, just to show someone cared, so they knew what had happened hadn’t gone unnoticed. Instead, I had just stood there, like a victim, unable to help them. I’d promised myself I’d never be a victim again, yet there I was, doing absolutely nothing. My toes warmed. The cold began to drift away from my body and I hugged my knees to my chest.

  “I hate seeing you like this.”

  I didn’t say anything. The feeling would pass; I knew it would. And it wasn’t even about me. I couldn’t stop thinking about those poor girls, m
ost of whom hadn’t experienced love and sex the way a girl should. They’d been abandoned, alone; or perhaps they were so drugged up they couldn’t feel? No, I knew they’d felt it. In between the smell of smoke, sweat, and even semen, I’d smelled fear and despair.

  God, it hurt! It hurt so bad inside. Like that day Wright took everything away from us. These men were taking everything from these women. Why?

  I broke down. I couldn’t hold them back any longer. The tears spilled like an overflowing dam. Tristan cooed comforting words I couldn’t hear while I sobbed. He turned off the water, soaped the sponge, knelt at the side of the tub, and washed me without saying a word.

  “Press harder.” I blinked, the last tears dripping off my lashes. I promised myself they were the last ones. I had no room in my soul to cry, and could only help the girls and women if I was strong. For them—I had to do it for them. One day I’d find a way to help them.

  The pressure of the scrubber felt good. It didn’t hurt. A sponge is a sponge, but I wanted to make sure every inch of my skin was washed. Somehow everything I’d experienced tonight clung to my body. I didn’t think I could stand another smell of cigar, not tonight. And I needed tequila, badly.

  “I can take you home,” he said, lowering the shower head.

  I leaned my head back saying, “Not yet. I’m tired.”

  He washed my hair, massaging the shampoo into my scalp. The pads of his fingers hit the perfect pressure points. I was finally beginning to feel like Allie Green. When he rinsed the shampoo, it was as if my weakness washed away as well. I refocused on the task, but couldn’t deny that emotions had drained me this evening. Tristan wrapped a fresh towel around my hair and helped me into a robe.

  I looked at his eyes, underlined with shades of worry. For the first time tonight I noticed the concern and fear in them. The job had taken its toll on him as well. It was a burden he’d carried without saying much. The nights he’d spent at his computer, the scouting, constant interviews with hookers on the street, all in disguise—Tristan had poured his heart and soul into finding Kendra.