Page 66 of Claiming Vanessa

I look at her, startled. “That’s not… That’s not what I meant,” I protest. “I just meant that the other girls I’ve met aren’t like that. They’re too jaded. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. No one deserves to be here.”

“Yes. Sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped.” Elena smooths out her skirt. “Stef’s story isn’t any different from the other girls. A few of them were even as traumatized as Stef when they first arrived. But unless somebody is the perfect victim, perfectly hurt, perfectly crying, perfectly innocent, they often get accused of being sluts, of having brought it on themselves. They’re all simply trying to survive in any way they can.”

Guilt stabs at my gut, and I set the fork down and push the tray away. I can’t help but remember blaming Lucia for her own predicament. She’d… done what she had to do, and I’d treated her like a slut.

And now, here I am, with the horrible revelation that if I want to make life better for myself here, I have to play along. Offer my body. Sacrifice my mind.

I wish I could apologize to my sister again, with more empathy this time, but I can’t help but think I’ll never even have a chance to.

“I’m sorry,” I say again, much more softly. “I just know Traci and Cat wouldn’t give a damn if I starved myself to death, and I thought… I don’t know. I didn’t expect Stef to care when she has enough of her own problems to deal with. I’m not trying to…” I trail off. God, I’ve been so sheltered.

“Sometimes it’s easier to worry about somebody else than worry about yourself.” Elena smiles crookedly at me. “If you’re done eating, why don’t we go visit Stef? Reassure her that you aren’t going to disappear on her?”

I can’t help but feel another jolt of guilt. Of course I’d disappear if I could. I’d leave this place if I only had the chance to.

I nod anyway, feeling a little numb. “I’m done. I’ll talk to her,” I say. I get up, picking up the tray. “Where does this need to go?”

“Here, I’ll take it. There’s a small kitchen behind the bar.” Elena takes the tray off my hands and heads toward the door. “Stef should be in the changing room right now. Maybe you can get some practice in, too, in doing more elaborate make-up.”

I look at her warily. “Do… do you think I’ll need more elaborate makeup?” I ask, dreading the answer. Does she think Giulio is going to put me on the floor after all, despite me being so terrible at dancing? I can’t help but think I wouldn’t survive it, the constant soul-sucking of the men visiting me and trying to get me pregnant while I also have to try to service men on the dance floor. I’m just not strong enough.

Maybe suicide isn’t the wrong answer.

I shudder, hating myself for the thought, and shut it away.

“Probably not for yourself, but you could help some of the others apply theirs, and it can be fun.” Elena’s expressions are hard to read, but her voice sounds bitter. “I used to love trying out new make-up looks.”

I nod, trying to hide my relief but knowing she can probably see right through it. “I don’t have much experience with it, but I can learn,” I tell her. “I wouldn’t mind being able to help out.” It would get me out of the room, at least, and maybe the other women wouldn’t hate me so much if I was useful.

I pull the dress, shirt, whatever it is, tighter around me and follow Elena down the stairs. She points me toward the backstage area, and I reluctantly part from her. I feel unprotected, like anybody could grab me at any second.

But this is the first time I’ve been alone in the club too, not locked up in my room. I stop and glance around. Is there an exit I could take? If I just… disappeared, would I be able to escape Giulio, Damien, and Slayer entirely?

If I left, would they take their anger out on Elena, Stef, and everybody else who didn’t prevent me from leaving?

It’s tempting to try, but I remember what part of town we’re in. The oversized shirt I’m wearing covers my ass, but not by much, and I know perfectly well that people consider that an invitation. I don’t have any shoes, either, and I don’t think I could handle walking barefoot through glass and trash and everything else.

My shoulders sag as I cast one last wistful look at the door, then I turn for the changing room instead of trying to find my way out.

I enter the dressing room, finding Stef, Traci, Cat, and a few other women I don’t recognize. They all stop what they’re doing to stare at me, but Stef reacts to my presence by throwing herself at me and hugging me.

“Vanessa! You’re okay!” The relief is heavy in her voice, and I feel even guiltier for considering trying to run away.

I return her embrace and smile as best I can. “Yeah. Sorry I worried you. But what about you? Are you doing all right?”

Stef nods, her smile surprisingly bright. “Yeah. I just have to… I have to stop living in the past.” She scratches her arm, right where the injection bruises are. “Donny said I can have a bit more product before opening, so it’ll be easier.”

I look down at her arm, my smile disappearing completely. “Stef…” I say softly. “What do you mean, more product?” I’m not that naive. I know what she means. But for some reason, I need to hear her say it.

“It means, Donny’s gonna let her be high while working,” Traci interrupts. “We should all be so lucky, right?” She bumps her shoulder against Cat’s, who snorts in amusement. “Better hope you don’t end up tripping into a customer’s dick.”

I glare at Traci. “You don’t have to be a bitch about it,” I snap at her. I already knew they were supplying the girls with drugs, but for some reason, it hits just as hard as the first time I’d heard about it. The way they exploit these women is deplorable, keeping them trapped with their addictions as much as the supposed “room and board” they charge.

“Oops, sorry if I hurt your delicate feelings.” Traci laughs and goes to sit down at one of the vanities. “But we can’t all be fucking the boss for preferential treatment.”

I’m surprised when Stef takes a step toward Traci. “Shut up! Vanessa isn’t like that.”

Cat claims a chair near Traci and rolls her eyes at Stef. “No, of course not. That’s why Vanessa isn’t out on the floor, why she gets her meals delivered to her, why she gets to mope around for a week without repercussions…”