Page 13 of Stains of Desire
I blink hard. You need to stay strong for her right now. If she doesn't do this, Santiago may kill her.
I lean into her ear and whisper so the cameras can't hear me, "For now. But my daughter is out there, so somehow, there has to be a way out. Tonight, we play his game. Let's go." I take her hand and lead her to the bathroom and help her with her hair and makeup. I ask her where she's been, and she tells me how Santiago threw her in a dungeon-like cell, gave her drugs, and made her go through a worse detox than the one she already went through with me. My heart bleeds a little more as she tells me.
"I don't want to sing naked," she whispers.
"Shhh. You can do this. You used to go on stage with hardly any clothes, right?"
She sniffles. "Yeah."
"So, pretend that's what's happening."
She inhales deeply and nods. "Okay."
The man comes to get us.
"Head up, rock star," I mumble.
With our heads held high, we make our way through the house to the grand ballroom.
I squeeze Zoe's hand and sit at Santiago's table. His thug guides Zoe to the front of the stage.
There are over one hundred men, and they all begin to shout, whistle, and make lewd comments. I cringe inside, but smile at her, hoping I can somehow give her some comfort and courage.
The lights go down, and a boy who's maybe thirteen hands her a microphone.
For several hours, she sings on stage, naked. I don't know how she does it, but she gives a great performance. As soon as she's done, Santiago's thug rips her off the stage and takes her out of the room.
At the end of the night, I get taken to a different bedroom. It has clothes in my size, but instead of just having evening wear, there are also normal, daytime clothes.
"Why am I here?" I ask Santiago's thug.
He doesn't reply and shuts the door. My fear grows, and Nicolas soon comes in.
"W-why am I here?"
"Savannah likes you."
"She's nice," I reply, not sure how else to respond.
He steps closer. "She needs someone to hang out with while I'm in meetings the next few days. You will be her friend."
Someone should teach you how friendships work.
"Okay."
"You will stay in this room and have access to the house. You will not disclose to Savannah anything about your relationship with Santiago or anything you wouldn't normally say. Do you understand?"
I swallow hard. "Yes."
For several days, I hang out with Savannah, cautious about what I say, and try to keep the conversations focused on her, which is easy. She's always high and is pretty self-absorbed.
Every night, I watch Zoe perform. When I'm finally allowed to return to our room, she asks, "Where have you been? I've been so worried about you."
"I'm sorry. I'm fine. I can't tell you where I've been. Please don't ask again."
"Okay."
She asks me about Savannah, who she saw me sitting with during her performances, but I give her the same answer.
