What if it was your daughter trapped in such a life? Wouldn’t you beg for someone to step in and help?
—Comment from the Global Reporter message board
The door to Mia’s cell flew open. That was what she was calling her room. It was plain, with no windows or closets. The only furniture was a bed in the center of the room. Mia couldn’t even find a loose nail to use as a weapon. She didn’t remember falling asleep.
“Hello,” a female said, greeting her. She was pretty, with long, dark hair. Two others followed her inside. “We’re here to get you ready,” she said. “For your big night.”
“Where’s Dalmy?” Mia asked.
She saw a guard with a gun close the door and turn the lock, keeping Mia inside this room with these women.
“She couldn’t make it,” one said.
The women carried several boxes with them. They set them down on Mia’s bed and started taking out their contents. One was plugging a machine into an outlet, while another started holding up pieces of hair to Mia’s head. The third grabbed Mia’s hands and started cleaning her nails.
“What’s going on?” Mia asked.
“I already told you,” she said. “We’re making you pretty. Stand up.”
Mia did as she was told, still trying to process the situation. One of them took her measurements and wrote down the figures. Mia glanced down at the bed, which was now covered with makeup brushes and hair accessories. This was a standard makeover. A game Mia used to love playing with Whitney back at her father’s house. This time it wasn’t a game.
“So these men are going to pay to talk to me?” Mia asked.
The three girls giggled.
“Yes,” one said. “Talk all night.”
“Ow,” Mia said.
She raised her hand to the nape of her neck; it stung from a burn.
“Sorry,” she said. “Trying to get your new hair attached.”
“By fusing it into my head?” Mia asked.
She had assumed someone was bringing her a wig.
“Extensions,” the girl said. “Sit down again.”
Mia did as she was told. These girls were moving fast. None of them could help her. She needed Dalmy; her life was the one Mia could trade for Carter and Andrew. Horrible memories of her appraisal invaded. The procedure that earned her a price tag for the Registry. This scenario echoed that, only this time it would be in person. In arms’ reach of men who sought to buy her. There was no way Mia was going through that again.
“Stop,” Mia said.
She pulled her hand away and stood up. The three girls looked shocked.
“I want to see Dalmy,” Mia said.
“Are you getting nervous?” Dalmy said.
Mia spun around and there was her captor at the door, looking glamorous as ever.
“You three wait in the hall for a minute,” Dalmy said, coming inside.
The girls got up and left. Ricky walked into the room. He shut the door. Ricky’s rifle was gone; now he had a handgun hanging in a holster. It was easy for Mia to see. Her eyes went up and met Dalmy’s; the woman wore a cruel smile.
“What’s your husband look like?” Dalmy asked.
“Brown hair, blue eyes, average height,” Mia said.
“What’s his name?”
“Michael,” Mia said.
“Last name?”
“Riley,” Mia said. If she used Grant’s real last name there was too much risk.
“Mr. Michael Riley, a brown-haired, blue-eyed American,” Dalmy said.
“What’s going on?” Mia was trying hard to fight her nerves.
“You show up one day before another American, with loads of money ready to toss around,” Dalmy said.
Mia’s eyes widened at that. Was Grant here?
“Are the two of you working together?”
“No,” Mia said.
“Do you know what is expected of you tonight?” Dalmy asked.
“Yes,” Mia said. “As I stated earlier, I’ll do anything to avoid going back to my husband. What did the American look like?”
“Not like the man you just described,” Dalmy said. “Jeanette, I want to believe you, really, but this might be too much of a coincidence.”
“I’m just a girl who ran away from her husband,” Mia said. “Nothing else.”
If this new American man was somehow connected to Grant, Mia had more to worry about than just Dalmy’s intentions. Dalmy’s face seemed to relax a bit. She broke eye contact and started walking around the bed.
“Are you really a virgin?” Dalmy asked.
“Yes,” Mia said.
“Your presence has caused quite the commotion, and the people are excited. You could pull in tens of thousands for us tonight.”
“I went for a lot more than that in the Registry,” Mia said.
“I’m sure you did,” Dalmy said.
Mia couldn’t read Dalmy. She wasn’t sure if the woman was speaking sarcastically or not.
“I could have this man disposed of, if he is your husband. Would it bother you if I did?” Dalmy asked.
Mia was relieved. If Dalmy took care of whoever was here, that would clean up some problems. Whoever this American was, his presence was a blessing. It made it harder for them to connect Mia to Andrew and Carter. She thought twice before speaking up. Acting like someone who was indifferent to the death of another might spark Dalmy’s curiosity even further.
“Ricky’s gun,” Dalmy said. “It didn’t scare you. In fact, none of them do. Why is that?”
“I’m from a farm,” Mia said. “I’ve been around guns my whole life.”
“So you know what I want from you and you’re on board?” Dalmy asked. “Is that your story?”
“I’ll do what I have to not to get deported,” Mia said.
Mia kept her eyes glued to Dalmy’s. Both of them were trying to feel each other out.
“I have people watching that man,” Dalmy said. “If he tries anything funny, I’ll make the call and he’s dead.”
“I’m not with him,” Mia said.
Dalmy gave a small laugh and started walking toward the door.
“Be a good girl and let these ladies make you beautiful. Life can be pleasant here. All things are more enjoyable when you’re dressed for the part.”
Dalmy opened the door and walked out. Ricky stayed; he was more than ready to pull out his gun if need be. The three girls came rushing back in and started working on Mia again. She didn’t protest. Mia told herself nothing had changed. Tonight was the night she’d make her move. All she needed was a weapon.