Page 19 of Sold Blood
His shoulders drop and his bottom lip slips between his teeth in hesitation. "Maybe some chicken wings and waffle fries?"
I smile and stand up to push the button on the wall. When a voice comes on, I place an order of wings and fries, and ask that they leave it on the table outside the door.
I don't stay any longer than the time I had paid for, and I don't ask any more questions. Instead I stare at the list in my pocket, deciding what place to try next. The dancer eats in silence beside me, taking his time savoring each bite. I have a feeling he hasn't eaten a meal like this in weeks. Who knows if this is even his first stop? For many it isn't.
The madam returns and I promise to come back to visit again before leaving the club. The massage parlor on fifth is next on my list and I'm about to leave the parking lot when a white van pulls in beside me.
A man steps out and stares around before entering the club. I roll down my window enough to hear a few muffled sounds coming from the van. They are almost like soft cries. My stomach ties into knots and I remain in my car waiting for the man from before to return.
He comes back outside with the madam beside him, and she takes a peek into the van and points to the back after shutting doors. I don't have to be where they are standing to know what's in that van.
I bring my phone to my ear, rolling up my window and pretending to be in deep conversation with someone on the phone when she looks my way. When she heads back inside the man clenches his fists and gets back into the vehicle, starting theengine. He disappears to the back of the building and I start my car with the plan to pull into the restaurant across the way so I can watch where the man goes. Maybe he’d take me to his boss and maybe his boss would lead me to Joey. I stare at my watch and based on the time it reads, I have seven hours until the auction starts. Plenty of time to kill.
By the time I get across the road, the man is already driving out from the back of the building. He must have unloaded the men and women quickly. They usually have strict schedules and try to do these things before daylight. I hope to stay unnoticed. I watch him pull onto the road and when I feel he's far enough, I follow the direction he goes in, careful to keep a good enough distance between us.
The man pulls up in front of a large brick building and parks his van on the side of the road. I get out of my car with a tracker in hand and quickly place it under the van before getting back in my car. I go to a nearby taqueria, sitting outside, eating my breakfast while I watch the tracker move on my phone.
When the man goes to the hotel, I know I'm staying at the right place. This man is the one who transports the men and somehow must be connected to the man with the scar on his face. There's a place he goes to more than once within the next two hours and it seems to be far away from residential areas, closer to a lake. Maybe a secluded building or warehouse? Maybe it's a check-in point. I leave the restaurant after I finish devouring my fifth taco and drive back to the hotel to get ready for the auction.
I'm told this is a smaller one and the next one will have more options. I'm not sure I can stomach two events where young boys are being showcased like shiny new cars in the same week. The man down in the lobby had said the hotel normally only hosted one auction every two weeks. Only there was a mishap at the last one and the man in charge wanted to ensure his guests had a better experience by giving them more options.
This one isn't open to as many people and therefore had less risks of an altercation breaking out. There was a misunderstanding with one of the cartels last time and things got out of hand. Some people didn't get to go home with their purchase.
At the event tonight, you are allowed to see and touch your toy before purchasing and take them home on the spot. It sounded too easy so I needed to not get my hopes up by assuming Joey may be there. Joey's older and more experienced. Chances are he won't be at one of these special auctions, but hopefully I could meet people tonight that will help me locate where he is. I plan to check out the location the man in the van has been spending most of his time at once the auction ends.
I get dressed in a dark blue suit after showering my travels off me. It fits me pretty well for not being one of mine. I don't own many suits. I put on Isaiah's jacket in hopes Joey would notice it if and when he sees me. It's my way of putting up a flag, I just hope it sends off a friendly message and not the wrong one. Even though I'm not feeling very confident that today will be the day I find Joey, I can't help but feel like I'm very close.
Eleven
Joey
I wake up in a dark moving vehicle. The same sobs and cries I've grown accustomed to surround me. We bounce up and down as the van travels over a bumpy road. When the van comes to a halt, the engine goes silent the way it always does.
The boy next to me covers his mouth, trying to muffle his sounds. It hasn't been an easy day. None of them were, but today's events are another reminder that we've been here way too long and it doesn't matter how well behaved you are. Milo did nothing but mourn the loss of his friend and got punished for it. What had happened to Archie was anything but inhumane. He didn't deserve to have his body mauled by a pack of hungry, unhinged dogs. It was used as a lesson.
The man with the scar loved watching all of our faces go pale and many of the boys quiver with fear after having the pieces of what was left of Archie laid out in front of us. I had to swallowdown the bile that ran up my throat more than once. They will pay for what they've done. Every single one of them.
The van's doors slide open and the man with the scar snaps his fingers. We all rise to our feet, some taking longer than others. He doesn't tie us together this time. We are too surrounded that he doesn't need to, and most are too shaken up to make any wrong move anyway.
We head into the back door of a large house. It's bigger than the last one, maybe five floors. We get pulled in different directions and Trenton reaches for my hand. I shake my head at him with my face hardening. I want to promise him we will be back together soon, but I can't. Who knows what will happen in the rooms we are taken to?
I get shoved into a brightly lit room full of men in fancy suits—all clearly with money to burn. There are already a few boys in here, dancing around poles and between men's legs on the floor. The man with the scar pushes me to the ground. "Don't try anything tonight, boy." He turns away from me when a man with blond hair and a sharp jawline whispers something in his ear, pointing at me. The man with the scar nods with a forced smile on his face. "He's all yours."
The man with blond hair takes a seat on one of the black chairs, pulling out a wad of cash and handing it to the man with the scar before shooing him away.
"Come here boy, let me get a good look at what I'm purchasing for the next hour." I walk closer to him, taking my time, not in a hurry to have this vile man's hands on me. I don't say anything and kneel to the ground when he snaps his fingers and points to where his feet are.
The hard slick floor digs into my knees as I slide between his legs. He yanks at my hair, pulling my head back. "You are a beauty, aren't you? Not as young as I usually like, but you'll do." He uses his other hand to unbutton his black slacks and pullsout his cock. "How about you show me how good that mouth of yours works."
I swallow hard, clenching my jaw with a rancid taste in my mouth. I know what I have to do to get through this alive even though I don't want to. I've always been a survivor and need to buy myself some more time. Closing my eyes, I think of Isaiah and our life together. I revisit old memories of when we’d first fled home, not knowing where we'd go. It didn't matter as long as we had each other. We were so starved and desperate for one another that we’d spent weeks locked up in an old, secluded cabin barely taking the time to eat and breathe.
I replay each kiss and touch in my mind until it's over. Until the man yanks me off his cock and tucks himself back in his pants with a satisfied grin. "You can go back to where you came from now, boy. I'm done with you." He kicks me to the ground with his leather shoe. "I said fuck off, whore."
I get to my feet, wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, resisting the urge to vomit. The man with the scar on his face grabs me by the neck and shoves me down a hallway into a bathroom. "Get in there and get cleaned up. You're not done yet. I don't want any funny business, you hear? You got two minutes."
I hover over the toilet, shoving my finger down my throat to force myself to puke. Afterward, I stick my face under the sink with my mouth opening around the running water. I gargle and spit down the drain. I hate that I can still taste that creep on my tongue. I pour soap on my hand, coating my mouth in it. I rub it all over my tongue until there are suds and the taste is strong in my mouth, overpowering everything else.
The door pushes open and the man with a scar has a scowl on his face. "Times up. What's taking you so damn long? Get back out there. More clientele just entered the purple room. Maybe you'll catch someone's attention."
