I should have known something was wrong when I came home from school today and my parents were sitting at the dining room table with my sister. For most people that sight would seem normal, but for a family as dysfunctional as mine it’s an omen for something bad.
And when they all turned to me with smiles that almost touched their eyes, I should have thrown my backpack over my shoulder, turned around and got the fuck out of there. But I didn’t, and that’s how I find myself here in a club I’m not old enough to be in, with men who are old enough to be my father leering at me like they’re planning to eat me alive.
When my sister told me we were going out tonight to celebrate my eighteenth birthday, which was three months ago, mind you, I thought it was because she wanted to spend time with me. We’ve always had a strained relationship, probably because there are ten years between us, but I’ve always wanted us to be closer. I’m not close with any of my family if I’m honest. My parents resent me because I was a mistake. They already had their perfect little family with Sarah, and when they found out too late that they were pregnant with me, they brought a child they never wanted into the world and my sister has never let me live down the fact that she’s not only the favorite, but the only one our parents can tolerate.
So perhaps I should have been more suspicious when Sarah was being nice to me, and when she ushered me into my bedroom and showed me the dress she bought me to wear. The tiniest, sheer black dress I’ve ever seen in my life, something I shouldn’t wear with a body like mine.
I wouldn’t call myself fat, but I’m not thin by any stretch of the imagination. I have curves, and I usually do my best to cover them to avoid unwanted attention from members of the opposite sex, but that all went out the window tonight.
For what feels like the hundredth time since we walked through the doors of Empire, I look around for someone to save me. Realistically I know none of these people give a shit what happens to me, all they care about is getting drunk and dancing, probably going home with someone for some sloppy drunken sex, and then spending tomorrow feeling sorry for themselves, but I still search. The more time I spend in the company of these men, the more I suspect something sinister is at play and I need to figure out an escape route before it’s too late.
Sarah shuffles closer to me until I’m forced to shift closer to Adam. His too tight shirt has its sleeves shoved up around his elbows and sweat stains at the armpits. His receding hairline is greasy and unkempt, and his dark eyes are almost lifeless as they roam over my bare thighs. He hasn’t taken his eyes off me since Sarah pushed me into the booth the moment we walked through the doors. That should have been another red flag, that we didn’t even stop to get a drink before she ushered me toward two strange men, but my need for my sister to like me is stronger than my self-preservation.
“So, Ayvah, why don’t you tell Adam and Andrew a little about yourself,” she encourages, placing her hand on my leg as if she’s offering support. They clearly don’t know my sister if they believe that’s what this is.
I flash my sister an annoyed look. I still haven’t quite worked out what we’re doing here, but the more time we spend in this booth, the more I suspect this is some kind of set up. But that’s ridiculous, because these sweaty, slightly overweight businessmen can’t possibly be interested in a college freshman who has a few extra pounds and hasn’t managed to lose her virginity because no man has ever wanted her.
She’s just as dressed up as I am, with a short red dress that barely covers her ass and tits, and her long brown curls resting on her heavy breasts. Where I’ve always been short and a little plump, Sarah is tall and thin, with curves in all the right places. Her eye makeup is dark and smoky, just as she replicated on my own eyes. I’ve never worn this much makeup in my life, mainly because no one ever took the time to show me how to apply it, and dad gets angry when I use the internet for anything other than my schoolwork so watching tutorials has always been out of the question.
“Go on,” she pushes, her grip on my thigh becoming tighter.
“There isn’t much to tell.” I half laugh at how pathetically true those words are. I’ve lived a boring, miserable existence. I have no hobbies, no friends, no life outside the four walls of our crummy apartment and the University of Chicago. And the only reason I go there and not a local community college is because I got a full ride scholarship with all the bells and whistles included.
“I find that hard to believe.” Andrew reaches past Adam, his fingers brushing across my knee and my stomach immediately revolts at his touch. It’s wrong and unclean and nothing like I remember touches of the opposite sex being. I’ve only ever been kissed once in junior year, and this touch is different. It’s dirty.
“I… uh… I’m studying education, majoring in English Literature,” I tell them because it’s the first thing that comes to my mind.
“So, you’re going to be a teacher?” Adam asks. “I’m sure all the little fucks are going to drool at having you as their teacher.”
A nervous laugh claws its way from my throat and my eyes flick back to the dance floor. What the hell has my sister got me into with these two? And what’s it going to take to get me out of it?
“Ayvah, why don’t you have a drink?” Andrew smiles, pushing an already filled glass of champagne toward me.
“Oh, I couldn’t. I don’t drink.” It’s not so much that I don’t drink, it’s more that I’ve never had many friends and never really had the opportunity to drink, and I don’t want my first experience to be with a couple of strange men and my sister who has never wanted me around. Doesn’t seem like the best time to find out what I’m like when I’ve had alcohol.
“Come on, Ayvah. Don’t be such a stickler,” Sarah goads. She swipes the champagne flute from the small table in front of us and hands it to me. “You’ll have to excuse her, she doesn’t get out much.”
I take the glass with a shaky hand and bring it to rest on my thigh. I may not have had many friends or been to many parties, but I know when something doesn’t seem right, and this whole situation has more red flags than an episode of a trashy reality dating show.
“What do the two of you do for work?” I ask, trying to drag their attention away from the fact I’m not drinking the champagne they’ve insisted I take.
“A little of this, a little of that.” Andrew smirks, looking from Adam to my sister and then settling on me like they’re all in on some kind of inside joke.
“Drink up, sis.” Sarah bumps me slightly and I’m forced to bring the glass to my lips.
The bubbles of the cheap champagne burn as they slip down my throat. I don’t know anything about alcohol, and even I can tell this is shit, but I drink it nonetheless just to appease them. I’ve spent my entire life trying to please the people around me so why would this be any different?
When my eyes meet Andrew’s, a satisfied smirk is etched into his lips and I know I’ve made a mistake. I knew something was off from the moment I walked into our apartment this afternoon, but the way these men are staring at me like the cat that got the cream, it’s only amplified.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” I blurt out. It’s the only excuse I can think to get me out of this booth and away from these men.
“Just wait a little while, sis, and I’ll go with you.” She smiles sweetly. I still haven’t worked out what the fuck she’s getting out of this little arrangement other than fucking with me. She’s always been good at that, but I never thought she’d stoop so low.
“I really need to go,” I insist, depositing my empty glass on the table and pushing to my feet. Except the moment I’m upright in these ridiculous shoes Sarah made me wear, my legs give way from beneath me. The leather seat catches me as a wave of dizziness washes over me. What the fuck is going on?
Surely one glass of champagne wouldn’t have this effect on me, even if it is the first drink I’ve ever had. Which means my fears are being recognized. I’ve been drugged. And my sister is complicit. She encouraged me to drink it. She pushed me even when I said no.
I turn my head to my sister and take in the smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I… I…” But I can’t speak. My mouth is numb and my tongue feels foreign. Has it always felt like this? Or is this a new feeling?
“That shit you gave her is good,” Sarah says, tearing her eyes away from me to look at the men on the other side of me.
Adam chuckles. “We’ve been working on new drugs the last few years. Conscious women don’t tend to go easily, and roofies can take half an hour to kick in.”
Sarah nods, leaning back into the booth and looking out at the dance floor, not an ounce of remorse in the brown eyes so similar to my own.
“Remind me again why you’re selling your pretty little sister, virginity and all?” Andrew asks, his grubby fingers brushing across my sensitive thigh and causing nausea to roll through my belly. Maybe if I throw up, they won’t be interested anymore. Maybe they’ll let me leave. I could run away, get the fuck away from my parents and Sarah before they could try anything like this again.
I could see about a transfer with school because there’s no way I can stay in Chicago, not if my family is selling me. Another wave of nausea hits me and this time I barely manage to swallow the bile that rises in my throat. How can you sell another person? How is that possible? And where do you even go to find someone sick enough they’re willing to drug and buy an eighteen-year-old?
Sarah shrugs, dragging her attention back to the men before briefly casting her eyes over me. “My father has a gambling problem and my mother likes to live above her means. We’ve never been particularly attached to Ayvah here. It just makes sense.”
The words are cold and callous, and although she’s never liked me, I never thought she would be capable of something like this. And my parents. How could they do something like this to me? How could they agree to sell their youngest child to filthy men in an equally filthy club?
“Well, your parents will find a hefty sum in their bank account tomorrow morning, once we’ve verified your little sister here is actually a virgin.” Adam’s fingers move up my bare thigh and slip beneath the hem of my dress.
Sarah watches the movement and something like regret crosses her face, but she makes no move to stop him. Instead, she stands, pushing the strap of her bag up to her shoulder. “Well gentlemen, it’s been nice doing business with you.” She barely spares me a glance before she turns on her heel and leaves me with men who seem like they would like nothing more than to break me.
“We should get her out of here. It was risky doing this at a Saint James establishment,” Andrew says, his words slicing through the panic settling in my chest. Saint James. As in Frost Industries. I’ve heard rumors about the family, about the two sides of the law they use as their playground. But surely they’re not involved in anything this heinous.
An arm snakes around my waist and lifts me from the leather seat. “Come on, Ayvah. Let’s take you to meet the boss. She’s going to like a pretty little thing like you. Probably already has a buyer set up.” Adam sneers. “It’s too bad she bought you a virgin, or we could have had a little fun before we hand you off.”
I try to move, try to fight, but I’m powerless against whatever they’ve given me. The drug makes its way through my system and leaves me limp and at their mercy. I don’t want to go. I don’t want them to take me. I don’t want whatever future my parents and sister have signed me up for. But there’s nothing I can do to fight it.
“Get out of my way,” Andrew snaps at someone, but I can’t lift my head. I can’t do anything other than stare at my own feet and the unidentifiable liquid coating the floor beside our booth.
“Give me the girl,” a calm but powerful voice orders, and it’s almost enough to give me the strength to look in his direction.
“What part of get the fuck out of my way did you not understand?” Andrew growls, stepping around Adam and me until the back of his cheap suit fills my view.
“The part where you’re trying to take a woman who is clearly under the influence from my club, and I don’t think she wants to go with you. Do you, baby girl?”
