Traffick (24 page)

too, where several women ignored

their excited children while vying

for the title, Crap Mother. “Why is

everyone so in love with their phones?”

Paige quickly stashes hers.
What

do you mean? Oh, look. There's

a MyBoardwalk kiosk. Let's get

some cards. They use those instead

of tokens here now, so you know.

I hand her some of the cash

Mom gave me, thinking about

people and their cell phones.

I guess maybe I used to text

a lot. But in Vegas I only used

my phone for business, and after

a while I hated when it rang.

Sometimes when it blares now,

it plops me right back in that

shit-hole apartment with Bryn.

We spend a couple of hours

on games. Bowl. Shoot pool.

I'm miserable at all of them,

but have fun, anyway. “Hey,

are you hungry? I'm starving.”

Get something. I already had

a candy cane, and if I eat I'll have

to go puke it up. I need to lose

five pounds before winter break.

We're going to Hawaii and I want

to look good in my new bikini.

“You're kidding, right? If you

lose any more weight you'll dry

up and blow away. What are

you now? Size three?”

Exactly. I don't think my bone

structure will let me get down

to size zero, but I'm trying.

“I think you're being ridiculous

but I can't force a cheeseburger

down your throat. I plan to eat one,

anyway. Fries, too. My modeling

career is on indefinite hold.”

And I take pleasure in eating

it slowly, watching Paige

salivate. She does swipe a few

of my fries. Hope she doesn't

feel the need to vomit them.

Fed, full, feeling pretty good,

I go throw my trash away and

when I get back, find Paige flirting

with a couple of guys who have

joined her at the table. Their faces

are vaguely familiar. I'd peg them

as seniors, and jocks. “That was quick.”

Paige laughs.
They're stalkers.

Actually, this is Gary and James.

You guys remember Whitney?

She just moved back from Vegas.

Gary seems to be connected

to Paige. So much so, in fact,

that I suspect she made sure to let

him know we'd be here tonight.

James, who's sandy-haired and

obviously built, turns assessing

dark eyes toward me and grunts

something resembling a hello.

Next thing I know, we've become

a foursome, which is irritating, but

at least it keeps Paige off her phone.

Gary, who is much better-looking

than the guys I've seen Paige with

before, keeps an arm wrapped

around her shoulders as we head

back toward the arcade. James

measures my stride and adjusts

his accordingly. “You a senior?”

I ask because one of us should

say something.
Yep. Five more

months and I'm out of here. Not

sure where I'm going yet, though.

Did you like Vegas? I hear it's ugly.

“Oh, baby, you have no idea.

I mean, if you like lots of neon

and phony facades, the strip is kind

of pretty. But underneath all that

it's filthy. And goddamn hot, too.”

So, are you in school or what?

“Right now, I'm homeschooled.”

I give him a very short version

of the modeling/rehab story.

He's surprised when I tell him

I'm only a junior. “Why? I look older?”

Yeah. Drugs can do that to you.

My sister got into that shit. Hope

you can stay clean. She couldn't.

Some people look at rehab

like it's for losers. Others,

like it's a badge of honor.

James sees it as a necessity

for someone who's chosen

to play with fire. His sister

got scorched. She OD'd.

“I'm really sorry to hear that.”

Thanks. It sucked. What a waste.

She was special, too. And it

was all because of some dude.

“Usually is.” I don't elaborate.

It's been a long time since I felt

this comfortable around a guy.

He's different somehow. Sweet.

That's the word. At least, on

the surface. Which makes me

wonder what, exactly, he's hiding.

Gary, however, is obnoxiously

obvious. The arm that was

around Paige's shoulders now

circles her waist, and once in

a while his hand falls to test

the muscle mass of her butt.

Doesn't bother her at all.

Not sure why it's bothering me.

Brake to a stop in front of

the laser tag entrance. Damn.

I was hoping to avoid it, but

Paige and Gary are hot to play.

I shake my head. “I'll wait for you.”

Come on. It'll be fun. We used

to do this all the time, remember?

I'm not brain-dead. Of course

I remember. She's right. We

did, and it was fun. Besides,

they're all looking at me like

I'm totally lame. “Okay,” I

agree reluctantly. “I've just

been a little claustrophobic

lately, so I might quit early.”

We pay, go inside. Strap on

vests, choose our weapons.

James and I play blue; Paige

and Gary go red. The game

begins and everything goes

dark and my stomach starts

to churn. Now neon streaks

the shadows and, as I feared,

I'm back in the black alleys

of Las Vegas, and there's

movement signifying faces

I can't see and don't want to.

And this is nothing like fun.

Behind you!

I spin, heart stammering,

and a laser beam lights my chest.

Inhale. Exhale. I breathe in stutters.

“You're fine, you're fine,” I chant.

It's a game.

No danger here.

Kids are playing.

Danger loves kids.

Danger seeks kids.

Danger leaves kids

to die in the desert.

Exit.

Where's the exit?

There. Over there.

I run for the door and feel

someone running behind me.

“No!” I scream. “Leave me alone!”

Whitney.
He's there. Right

there. Reaching for me. His

hand falls against my shoulder.

Whitney. It's James. It's okay.

James? James! I turn into him,

sobbing, and he takes me gently

into his arms, guides me to the exit,

my pendulum swinging toward crazy.

Finally, Eden's found

the courage to tell me

where she's been hiding

these long, lonely weeks,

and today—today!—I'll see

her

again. The mirror

reveals a different man

than the one who last held

her. It's not just that my hair

is longer, or that my

face

has grown winter pale

beneath a full beard.

No. It's the deep

trepidation that

haunts

my eyes, despite the surfacing

joy. What if we've moved

too far beyond the halcyon

days we share in

my

recollection? What if

she isn't real at all, but only

something I imagined,

or the invention of overactive

dreams.

First, my mother informed me

that she has condemned my sister

to the dungeons at Tears of Zion.

She caught your disease,
that's

what Mama said, as if falling

in love is a contagion—a virus

of the heart. I vowed to find a way

to get Eve out, and know transparency

is the only way to make that happen.

I have to confess before I can accuse.

But before I could take my story

public, we got the news about

Shayleece. No one stepped forward

to claim her body, so the counselors

here pooled enough money to bury

her properly. All the girls went to

the funeral, so at least she had people

there to say goodbye, whether or not

they wanted to. Most of us did. Most

of us realized it could have been one

of us lying in that coffin, which

remained closed. The speculation about

why turned into some interesting,

if macabre, gossip. Hard to think

about what the buzzards managed.

To come out of all the bad

is I get to see Andrew today.

My decision to talk about Tears

of Zion freed me to let him know

where I am. He's catching the first

available flight. My stomach

is doing flip-flops. I'm scared

and happy and crazy excited,

all knotted up together. I wish

I had something nice to wear,

instead of the thrift-store clothes

in my drawers. When I told him

that, he said he couldn't care less,

he'd be looking at my face, not

my jeans. That's good, because

I've gained a few pounds since

the last time I saw him. Will

he look the same? It's been almost

eight months. Not a lot of time

in the scheme of things, but enough

to change our appearance. What

matters is what's left inside.

Right now, my heart is buoyant

with love. I just wish I knew for

sure that's how he feels, too.

Mine are in upheaval because

my parents cut me loose. That's

a relief because going home

is unthinkable. But what Mama

said is I'm no longer their daughter.

I've been orphaned, and that hurts

more than I could have guessed.

And what will I do about Boise?

Andrew still has solid ties there,

and it's not a very big city.

If I go back, I'm sure to run into

my ex-family, plus people from

church, where ugly rumors must be

circulating. Once I make a big stink

about Tears of Zion, that's bound

to get worse. Some pills are worth

swallowing, I guess. At least I'm

moving forward. I can't change

a single minute of yesterday.

But I can take charge of the future,

and at the top of my list is saving

my sister and hopefully playing

a role in the demise of Tears of Zion.

It's anyone's guess what will happen

once I report Father Samuel Ruenhaven.

Before I see Andrew, so

I can't change my mind.

Right now, I'm sitting

in the offices of the Nevada

Investigation Division.

Tears of Zion is in a different

county, and it will be up to

a detective here whether or

not to inform Elko County

that they might want to take

a look at this so-called religious

retreat center. Sarah is with

me, sensing I could still bolt

at any time. I'm relieved when

the detective who calls me in

turns out to be a woman.

It would be harder to look

a man in the eyes and relate

the horror stories I have to

tell.
Come in,
she says.
I'm

Detective Finnegan. But you

can call me Marlene.
She must

see the sudden rush of fear.

It's okay,
she soothes.
Don't

be afraid. I'm on your side.

I almost believe she might,

in fact, be on my side.

She listens intently to every

word, and I find no disbelief

in her body language.

First off, I want to thank

you for bringing this to our

attention. We take allegations

of child abuse quite seriously

in this office. I do have a couple

of questions for you, though,

as I'm sure the Elko County

DA will be asking them, too.

One: Why did you wait so long

before coming forward?

“Humiliation, for one thing.

Before all this happened I'd

had exactly one boyfriend,

and we never did anything

like . . . that. I had no idea

people
ever
acted like that.

And then, what I did here

on the streets, just to eat . . .”

Emotion wells up, uninvited.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cry.”

Marlene leans forward,

hands me a box of tissues.

Please don't apologize.

Memories like that are hard

to relive. Any other reasons?