Page 67 of House of Cards
“Not sure.” She chugs back some cherry soda, stifles a burp with the back of her hand, and rolls onto her side, studying meas she props her head up with one hand. “Liiiike…six months? Maybe seven?”
“Jesus.”
Her eyes flick briefly to the screen before settling on me again. “You get used to it.”
“Being fucked against your will by some randos?”
She rolls her eyes, sighing loud enough to risk us being yelled at again. “You know when it got easier, Z? When I stopped fighting.”
“Wow. You keep the blue Kool-Aid in the fridge next to the protein shakes?”
“Living here is better than pulling tricks, hoping my next John wasn’t the kind who’d leave me dead in the gutter with a broken bottle up my snatch.”
I’m stunned into silence.
I thought nothing could be worse than this hell, but I’ve obviously lived a privileged life.
“So you’re here by…choice?” I manage in a thick voice.
Anita shakes her head, ramming some more popcorn into her mouth before tugging up the sleeve of her red silk robe. Despite the dim glow of the screen, the track marks inside her elbow are visible.
“Got hooked on H, then fent. Wracked up a huge debt with my dealer.” She pauses, looking down, and I’m not sure if it’s just the play of light on her face, but I swear I see wetness glittering on her lashes. “Long story short, I’m still paying off that debt.”
Jesus. So Smith isn’t just involved in sex trafficking, he’s got a finger in the drug pie too?
Anita rolls off the daybed she’d been lounging on. “I’m going to bed.”
“Wait, Anita, please. I have so many questions.” I stick out a hand to reassure her. “Not about…your past.”
She quirks her lips.
“About your future.” It’s not a question. She sniffs, crossing her arms over her chest as she stares at the screen for a minute. The vivid colors of the rom-com play over her features, painting her pale skin in too-harsh shades of red and orange. The on-screen couple are busy jet skiing away from the thugs chasing them, the sun setting on the horizon.
“Rich told me Howler was your first client.” She tightens her arms a little, still staring at the movie.
A shiver chases through me at the mention of the mysterious man I never saw, just heard, andfelt.
“They’re not all like him. Some want really weird shit, like having us dress up and stick to scripts. But most of them want us to pretend thatwedon’t want it.”
“Pretend?” I murmur, more to myself than Anita, but she hears me anyway.
“You’ll get used to it. I even have a few clients I…” She sniffs, chews on her lip a second, then shrugs. “I’m relieved when I hear it’s them and not one of the old, fat creeps.”
I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get into that mindset. Then again…if I had a choice, I’ddefinitelychoose Smith over Howler.
Or anyone else, really.
Better the devil you know.
Jesus, I hope that’s why I’d choose him.
“Look, I won’t lie and tell you it’ll get better.” Her voice is a little stronger now. “Staying here’s like riding a roller coaster, blindfolded. You don’t know if you’re going up or down. And sometimes you get spun around so fast you think you’re gonna puke.” She finally turns to me, a sympathetic pull to her mouth. “Luckily, we spend more time waiting in line than on the actual ride.”
There’s a beat of silence where I try my best to shut my mouth, but curiosity is burning me up.
“How long have you still got?” I whisper.
“Deal was for a year. So five, six months? I’d know if they’d let us keep a calendar or something down here. All kinda blurs together, you know?” She laughs weakly.
