Page 4 of Madam Alana

I groaned under my breath as I plastered on a barely-theresmile. My legs shook and my knees practically knocked together, but Ieventually made it to the front of the stage. The bright lights blinded me fora full thirty seconds.

“Un million.” I heard the man with the Frenchaccent speak.

My breath caught and I covered my heart with the palm of myhand. Why would he raise the price when he could have had me for less?

“One and a quarter million,” a Southern American voice Ihadn’t heard in the crowd before pierced the air.

“Deux million.”

My Frenchman countered with two million and I shook like aleaf, my mind failing to understand what was happening.

“Three million buck-a-roos,amigo.” A shadowy figure stood up at the very back of the audience. The redhalo of the exit sign above his head shined over what seemed to be the outlineof a cowboy hat.

Suddenly my Frenchman stood and held his number near hisface, highlighting his features. He had dark hair that was parted on the sideand swept back and away from his face. A strong, chiseled jawline with astraight nose and high cheekbones. His lips were of average size but lookedsoft even from a distance. His eyes, though, were hard to see.Definitely lighterthan mine in color. But when he looked atme, all I saw in his gaze was kindness.

I stared into his eyes and saw his gentle soul staring backat mine.

Safe.

His eyes told me there was safety to be had in his presence.

I clung to that feeling of security and responded with asingle plea.

“Please,” I mouthed.

“Cinq million. Five million US dollars.” Hereiterated the amount in English.

“Shooooooot, partner. Too rich formy blood.” The cowboy chuckled, lifted his hat off his head, and bent over inwhat I believed was a bow of surrender.

“Five million! A record!” Angus clapped joyously, the soundcrackling around the room through the speakers. “Going once…going twice… Soldto newcomer Mr. Toussaint!”

I pressed my hands together in a prayer position and bowedat the audience. “Thank you,” I said out loud and smiled, not being able tohold back my relief.

I was in a happy haze as I turned around, walked through thecurtains, and down the stairs. Immediately my best friend’s small body crashedinto mine. She hugged me so tight I could hardly breathe.

“Five million dollars, Alana! Fivefuckingmillion dollars! Add my million and we’re going to be able to buy our ownisland five years from now!” Celine jumped up and down wildly.

I got caught up in her joy. My skin tingled while my heartpounded a hopeful beat and I clung to her.

“You were right. Everything has changed for the better.” Igrinned and finally gave into the excitement.

“We’re millionaires!” Celine gushed as one of Angus’s menapproached.

“Not yet, ladies. Let’s get you changed into wedding attire.Then we’ll have you sign the marriage certificates and contracts.”

Hand in hand, we followed the hulking man who called himselfBurt. He led us to a room in the hotel where the other girls who’d been bid onwere going through racks and racks of what looked like American-style whitewedding gowns.

“Shit, we’re last to the party!” Celine griped and thenbolted to one of the racks.

I, however, was in no such hurry.

My hesitance wasn’t because I didn’t want to marry theFrenchman; it was because I knew what happened after we said those two words:“I do.” It meant that Celine and I would be separated. She’d been my rock foryears. We took care of one another, always having each other’s backs. We werefamily by choice. Family through sacrifice and our small gains over the years.We had been each other’s touchstone.

Even on the streets we had a system to care for one another.While she was with a “gentleman caller,” her term of endearment for thelowlifes we’d had sex with for money, I would stand watch. It took us a goodyear to find an acceptable place that was clean, would allow us to pay for therooms in cash, and was relatively safe so we could carry out our business. We’dgive the hotel owner extra cash if he threatened the guys as we entered.Promising retribution if they hurt “one of his girls,” even though he wasn’tour official pimp.

Oren was a Black man who’d been a street fighter in anotherlife. He took pride in his rent-by-the-hour hotel even if most of it wasfrequented by call girls and drug dealers. If the shelters were full, he wouldlet us sleep for free on super cold nights when he wasn’t filled up. We justhad to make sure we washed the sheets and towels using the machines in thebasement and put the room back together by noon. That had worked for years.

I had been with Celine every day. Now I was going to bestaying with andsleepingnext to a stranger. Sure, it was supposed tobe far better circumstances, but did we really know what was going to happen?No, we didn’t. We had putall ofour faith into luck,karma, and worst of all…Angus. None of those three things had ever truly servedme well in the past.

---