I clenched my jaw shut to keep my lip from quivering as I tried not to hyperventilate. I pulled the hood up, closed my eyes, and envisioned Jackson’s face. I recalled the soothing sound of his voice when he told me he loved me. I replayed his words over and over in my head as the car moved down the country road.
Unlike Zane, Nate drove slowly, and I doubted he went over the speed limit as to not call any unwanted attention to himself. The spring landscape was a whirl of pastel and green as we accelerated down the highway. I stared at the passengers in the passing cars and wondered what sort of normal activities they were up to.
I knew where we were going just moments before we pulled into the parking lot of Paradise, Nate’s strip club. The neon sign that read OPEN was turned off, and two bouncers stood outside the door. Unable to resist a chance to shove me around, Zane grabbed my arm when I climbed out of the car.
Apprehension grew until it was almost unbearable. I had to force my legs to keep moving as we neared the entrance of the club. The two guys who manned the door nodded at Nate, looking at him with admiration. I could feel their eyes on me when I passed by.
Two tables were set up in front of the stage, seating a dozen men. A large man with combed over blonde hair sat in the center. He turned around at the sound of the door closing. He stood and opened his arms in a gesture of welcome when he saw Nate.
Zane grabbed my arm and yanked me around the stage. My feet caught on the dark red carpet as we wove through tables with overturned chairs resting on their tops and walked through a dark doorway that led behind the stage. Zane pushed open the door to the dressing room.
I was immediately choked by the overpowering scent of a dozen different types of perfume. The white laminate flooring was scuffed and worn from being walked on by countless girls. Lockers and hooks for purses and coats lined the wall that housed the door. Almost directly across from us was another door with a black and white sign that read STAGE taped to the middle, right at eye level. Tables with illuminated mirrors were crammed in the middle of the small room. Chairs with cracking vinyl cushions were haphazardly crowded around the tables. Racks of clothing—all lingerie—took up a good portion of this small room. A sparkly green corset caught my attention. Light reflected off the sequins, displaying an array of greens and blues, reminding me of a peacock. Then I saw the crusty white stain along the bottom.
Five girls were in there, dressed in lingerie and sky-high heels. All had a number pinned to them. They stopped what they were doing and snapped their attention to us. The girl closest to me was wearing a red push up bra that matched her satin panties. A short, sheer bathrobe did little to cover her exposed body. The number 261 was pinned to her back. She wiped tears off her cheeks with the back of her hand.
Zane tightened his grip on my wrist and walked ahead. I hurried to catch up and not get dragged behind him. Again.
“Put something else on, and for God’s sake, learn how to use a hairbrush,” Zane sneered at me. I crossed my arms.
“No.”
He gritted his teeth, talking under his breath about dealing with me once the other girls were on stage. He snatched my wrist and pulled me along with him.
“Get in a line," Zane ordered the other girls. There were a few seconds of chaotic clacking of heels as the girls shuffled into a line. Keeping me next to him, Zane walked up the line, smoothing hair and straightening hems.
Tendrils of tension wrapped around me. Two girls at the front of the line clasped hands, both crying. My hands trembled, and I felt my empty stomach bubble with nerves. Zane looked the girls over once more and nodded in approval. Fear prickled down my spine. What the hell was going on? We went to the front of the line. Zane put his hand on the knob of the door that led to the stage. I caught a glimpse of Nate. His eyes met mine, and he flashed an evil grin.#p#分页标题#e#
“Let the bidding begin,” he spoke.
Zane let go of my wrist. I brought it to my chest, rubbing the sore spot where his fingers had twisted my flesh. He ushered the first girl onto the stage. She was tall and pretty, reminding me of Rochelle. Black curls cascaded down her back. She had on ivory colored lacy boy shorts with a matching demi-cup bra. A thin, silver chain was loosely wrapped around her tight stomach. Her legs wobbled, and she teetered on five-inch heels as she crossed the stage. The number 258 was pinned to the back of her bra.
Just how many girls had Nate sold? Had the numbers once started from zero? I shook my head. It couldn’t be true.
“Why are they bidding?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“To buy, dipshit,” Zane answered without looking at me.