Disturbed Beauty

by Ashley Beale

  I take a seat in it and look down at the floor, wanting to avoid contact with everyone in the room. Blaise talks to one of the men in Spanish, telling him to bring me to Bianca, whoever that is.

  One of Blaise's men, Miguel, had strict orders to bring me straight to Bianca's. He puts me in the back of an all-white van that had no windows in the back end, so I can’t see out and no one can see in. The whole concept is appropriately cliché.

  I'm not sure how long we we’re in the vehicle for, since Blaise had picked up my phone back at the church. I should have tried to hide it in a different spot, but knowing Blaise, he would have found it one way or another. I'm not sure what will happen to my car or the belongings in it, but I can only hope that nothing is ruined or lost- just in case I actually live.

  Bianca is a sweet little Mexican lady. From the looks of her sassy bob hairstyle and the glitter eye shadow, I'd say she is only a few years older than me. She is so skinny that she looks unhealthy, but her skin glows and she wears a bright smile. I feel comfort in her presence, even if she is part of the operation. I can only imagine she is ordered to do whatever it is she does.

  Her English is better than I imagined it would be, but I remind myself she probably has to speak to so many Americans, probably of all ages, that she is used to speaking it by now. I tell myself that I really should ask her some vague questions. Maybe I can get some of the answers I've been searching for.

  Bianca and Miguel continue to speak to each other. Some words in Spanish, some in English. I listen without actually paying attention, because I don't want there to be any hints that I know Spanish. The longer I pretend I don't know what everyone is saying, the longer I can overhear countless things Blaise and his men talk about in front of me.

  They mainly discuss waxing me and making sure I'm cleaned up nicely. Things about makeup and hairstyles. He talks like I'm going to a ball, not into the vault Blaise talked about earlier. Maybe I'm not going into it. Maybe Blaise is too scared that if he sends me in with the rest of the females that I'll truly save Clarissa and ruin his entire empire.

  Miguel tells Bianca in English that he'll be just outside, then gives me a warning look when I glance his way. He is telling me that I cannot escape, no matter how hard I try. I wasn't planning to try anyways. I need to continue with my plan. I came here for a reason, knowing deep down I'd end up exactly where I am. I have to believe there is a higher power that will guide me to a saving grace.

  "Hello," Bianca speaks to me when the door is closed. Her smile remains, as it has since I entered the room. "I'm Bianca. I'm not sure how much you've been told, but I'm here to clean you up nicely."

  I look down at my clothing, which are perfectly clean. I showered this morning and I know I don't look disastrous, even if a little distraught. "Okay," I say, dragging out the words.

  "Have a seat, por favor." She points to the metal table that reminds me of a mortician's office. It doesn't even look cleaned up from the last person who was there.

  I don't say anything, instead I walk over and hop up on the table, taking a seat. She brings over a tall metal stool and places it in front of me, then uncovers a wooden table filled with instruments of all kinds. They look mostly like beautician products; scissors, a comb, nail stuff, waxing strips, and then there are other things you're less likely to see in a salon. Mainly saran wrap, gauze, and a gun. Those items are what make me nervous.

  She continues for a while prepping things, singing a Spanish song quietly while she does so. When she is finally done with her organization, she slides the wooden table closer to where her chair is. "Now for the hard part," she says with a small laugh. "Don't hate me for anything I'm about to do. Master has direct orders and I must obey." Even though her smile remains, I see the pleading her eyes.

  I wouldn't dare have her get hurt by Blaise or Miguel, nor anyone else, just because I want to be stubborn. So I simply smile myself, even though it's not nearly as heartwarming as hers, and tell her, "I understand." Which I most certainly do.

  Bianca starts from the bottom and works her way up my body. First it's my toes, clipping and shaping each nail before painting them in a clear coat, then she goes with waxing my legs as well as in between them. My entire body is clean cut, all the way up to my eyebrows.

  It's a strange concept to me, that I'd be done up so well, just to be turned into a rag doll. Unless it's not like I've seen in movies. I thought I'd be thrown into a dirt covered jail cell with a thin mattress and nothing more. I assumed I'd be dressed in rag doll clothes and my hair would always be down without so much as a brush. This is completely opposite to all my thoughts.

  By the time Bianca makes it to my hair, the only thing we've talked about is what she will be doing to me next. She explains each detail before she actually does them, and when it came to waxing, she even told me the level of pain with each strip of wax. She is incredibly kind, almost too kind.

  "I have orders to keep your hair long but to give you bangs," she explains. She stands behind me as she brushes out my thick hair.

  "That's fine," I tell her.

  She comes around to face me, examining my face and hair. She curls her lip, obviously not liking the fact of giving me something as simple as bangs. "Men don't understand style."

  I can't help but laugh at her remark. She seems so oblivious to what is going to happen when I walk out of here. The last thing I'm concerned about is my hair. I love that she is this concerned about the subject though.

  With a small sigh, she grabs the scissors and comb, then proceeds to do what was ordered of her. "The least they could do is let me brush them off to the side. Your hair is thick, it'd look good. But no, they have to be boring and straight across your forehead."

  She continues mumbling on about my hair and I let her. When she takes a step back to examine me once more, I see a hint of a smile on her lips. "Okay, it's not horrible. Good thing you have a bigger forehead."

  "Hey," I say jokingly. "That isn't very nice."

  Bianca smiles. "It was a compliment, go with it."

  She sets down the scissors and comb, then grabs a black case from under the table, putting it on top. "My favorite part," she says. "Makeup."

  "Makeup?"

  She looks over at me. "Makeup is the closest thing to magic I've ever discovered. I believe we all need a little magic in our lives. Without magic, there is no hope, and without hope, life is... miserable."

  "That is definitely thought provoking." To say the least.

  Bianca goes about collecting makeup and placing it on the table. A few times she brings different color palates to my skin, then she digs through her kit some more. I was hoping that she'd continue to talk after her little spill out about makeup and magic. There was so much more behind her words that I don't think she realized. She explained something I wanted to know about her, and now, I want to know more.

  I wait until she starts adding foundation to my skin before speaking again. "How long have you been doing this?"

  She ignores eye contact with me, focusing extra hard on what she is actually doing. "Makeup?"

  "This job," I explain.

  "I've lost count. Eight, maybe ten years."

  "How old are you?" I ask, surprised by her previous answer.

  She whispers, "I can't remember." Setting down the foundation, she then grabs a tissue to plot along my jaw line. Her face is closer to mine than necessary, but when she whispers even softer than before I understand why. "Don't ask questions like that."

  Standing taller, she examines my face from a distance then grabs some blush. I have to think hard about what I can ask that isn't going to get her in trouble. I can only imagine she has cameras or something in here if I'm not able to ask questions.

  When she comes close to me to add eye shadow, I question, "Do you like it here?"

  As cold as possible, she says, "I love it." She flashes a large smile my way, and although it looks as authentic as the first one I saw on her face when walking in earlier, this time I can se
e behind the curtain. She has perfected the best fake smile. She is miserable and doesn't want to be here anymore than I do.

  I decide to cut it short with Bianca. It scares me that she'll get in trouble. I can tell she is afraid, and I would hate to think that I'm going to make anything worse for her. "I'm excited to see what I look like."

  She doesn't say anything, and continues to avoid eye contact, even when she coats my eyes with eyeliner and mascara. When she is finally finished, she stands back and looks me over once more. "I think you're beautiful.” Placing her makeup back into the kit, she grabs a mirror and hands it to me. I examine myself in it, and smile politely at Bianca.

  "Thank you. I love it."

  She nods her head but doesn't speak again as she continues to clean up from everything. Once she is finished packing things up, she glances towards the back of the room. "There is a room straight to the back. It's the only door, so you can't miss it. There will be a dress hung from the shelf. Change into that and leave your clothes in the hamper, including your underwear. Miguel will be in here when you come out."

  "Okay," I respond casually and look around. "Will you be too?"

  She shakes her head. "Have a lovely night, Liv."

  I walk over and place my arms around her, giving her a small squeeze. I'm not sure if it's okay, but I'm hoping that if there are cameras, that Blaise or whoever sees that I'm the one who hugs her, not the opposite away around. Before I pull away, I hear Bianca say in such a light voice it's almost inaudible, "Escape. Your future is limited and grim."

  Bianca's smile is wide when I pull back. "Thanks," I say, quickly adding on, "for the makeover."

  Without a word, she turns quickly and walks out of the room. I walk down the hall towards the back door. The room I enter is actually a bathroom with nothing more than a toilet, porcelain sink and shelf. Under the shelf is a dress hung and a hamper next to it. I strip myself from the clothes I'm wearing and put on the fancy dress.

  The dress reminds me of a prom dress. It's a midnight blue, form fitting gown, which flows to my ankles. From my waist down is sequins, with a slit all the way up to my hipbone. The top feels like cotton, and the straps go over only one shoulder, instead of both. It's honestly one of the most beautiful dresses I've ever seen, let alone worn.

  Getting into this dress reminds me of the business party at Roman's home. The one that I never understood. I feel like I'm attending another one, except this time, apparently I'm wearing my sandals.

  When I enter into the main room once more, it's not Miguel that greets me, it's Blaise. His smug smile expands when he spots me coming into the room. "Don't you look alluring?"

  "I try," I say sarcastically.

  He laughs tediously. "Your wits won't get you very far, my dear."

  "They've gotten me to you, haven't they?"

  "Yes, and why is it that you're here?" He cocks his head to the side, and by the look in his eye, he dares me to say the truth out loud.

  I know he knows the truth, so honestly there is no use in lying to him. He has to know I know everything at this point. It's just a matter of who told me, and how much I know. No matter what happens, I can't give Roman's name, because for some strange reason, I trust him to save me. After speaking to him on the phone today, I have a confidence in the situation I didn't have before.

  "I'm here to make sure Clarissa is safe." I avoid telling him I'm actually here to save her.

  But apparently I didn't need to say that part out loud because Blaise already knows. "To save her," he says, reading my thoughts. "You want to save your friend." It's not an inquiry, and it sounds almost like a joke.

  I still pretend that wasn't exactly part of my plan. I want him to believe he has the upper hand. In this situation, it's not hard to convince him, because he already believes it. "It crossed my mind, but I'm not entirely naive Blaise. I know your operation is run by many people. I know escaping is nearly impossible, so I haven't even attempted to come up with an escape route. I truly and honestly just want to make sure she is safe. That she is alive."

  He watches me closely, and with each second that passes more of his smile fades away. He believes me, and that is a good thing.

  "She is alive," he admits. "You'll see her tonight."

  My body warms with... happiness. I have no other words to explain how I feel right now. I'll see Clarissa tonight, and she is alive. Those are two things that I thought would take me days, if not weeks or months, to discover.

  Before I'm even able to react though, Blaise rips a chunk of that bliss away. "We have a business meeting tonight. On the way there, I'll explain your job and everything that is expected of you. The only thing I'm going to warn you of right now, is that if you so much as smile in Clarissa's direction, let alone speak to her, I will have my men behead her in front of you. This is your only warning."

  My head instantly becomes light as the room around me turns fuzzy. Blaise's face is duplicated, and both faces are hideous. I hate myself for ever being attracted to a man of his kind. My stomach turns, causing me to bend over, ready to lose everything I've consumed today. The thought of anyone harming Clarissa, especially killing her, rips my insides apart.

  Blaise's hands are on me, ready to adjust me upright, but I push him away. "You're an animal," I tell him. I have to close my eyes to steady myself.

  "You do realize I have the advantage, right?" he reminds me. "That I have complete control. I could kill her now if I want. It takes a simple phone call for it to happen. I suggest you treat me with the upmost respect, Liv, or you'll regret ever meeting me."

  I peek up at him, and there are so many words I want to say to him right now, but I can't. I can't give him the power to kill Clarissa. I'm here to save her, not to push her closer to her death.

  He watches me closely, waiting for me to say something... anything. But I don't give him the satisfaction.

  I stand tall, mentally pushing away the dizziness, and with a harsh smile I nod my head. "Understood."

  "Perfect. Now, we have somewhere to be and people to meet."

  I walk beside Blaise out to a car. Miguel and another one of his men are standing outside the door, both holding a gun. I can only imagine what would happen if I so much as tripped at this point. He opens the front door for me, and I slide into the seat. He gets into the driver seat, then adjusts his mirror. I look in my door mirror to see his two men getting into the car behind us. I didn't realize quite how protected Blaise was. I never saw him protected in Arizona.

  I know I shouldn't say or ask anything, but curiosity tends to get the best of me, so I ask anyways. "Why me, Blaise?"

  His eyes remain focused on the road, but mine watch him closely. "History," he replies vaguely.

  "We don't have a history. I never met you before that party."

  "Which was the best coincidence. I knew exactly who you were though."

  "How?"

  He glances over for a quick moment, and any hint of amusement is gone. "Your sister."

  "So you do know Taryn?" I ask. I still haven't received the answers I need to connect Taryn with Blaise or Roman, or any of these people. It scares me to think she was part of this one way or another.

  Blaise's hand reaches over and touches my bare leg through the slit. I want more than anything to push it away but I hold onto my will power a little tighter, allowing him to keep his hand placed there. I know he is just trying to test my patience. "I do," he admits.

  "How?"

  "Stop asking so many questions, Liv. You don't know what you're asking, and quite frankly, you don't want the answers."

  "With all due respect, Blaise. I do want to know the answers. I know more than you think I do, and I can handle it."

  "You don't know the half of it." He glances over once more. The headlights from the oncoming cars light up his features in an intimidating way. "Let's play a game."

  "Okay," I tell him.

  He turns away to watch the road once more. I can see him thinking before he finally speaks.
"Every time you ask me a question, I lower the bid on you."

  I'm not sure if this is a trick or not. I want to ask him, what bid, but it’s a question and it may screw me over more in the long run. I think on how to rephrase it without making it into a question.

  Before I have time to speak, Blaise practically answers the question for me. "Low bids go much faster. You may think staying with me is dangerous, but truth be told, it's your safest route at this point. You're absolutely beautiful, I never lied to you about that, and that body..." His hand goes further up, reaching my inner thigh. "It's incredible. Everyone is going to want to buy you- or at the least rent you. I suggest you follow my rules, Liv, or that pussy of yours won't be so tight."

  I hold myself together, which isn't nearly as easy as I thought it would be. I have so much fear invading me, but I remain composed. I do stop asking questions though, and instead look out the window, watching where we're going. I need to remember landmarks and pay attention to time and distance. It may take me a while to escape, but if I'm sure of one thing, I will make one hell of an effort to get away from this place, with Clarissa by my side.

  "Good call," he says after a few minutes. "Now, about tonight. I have to explain to you all the rules."

  I don't say anything, but I listen closely.

  "You are a servant. Not only to me, but to my men and clientele as well. Your job is to make us happy, with whatever we want. Refreshments, food, blow jobs, drugs. We tell you what we want, and you do it. You don't speak unless you're told directly to do so. You don't speak to the other servants, don't even look at them. No eye contact with any of them is allowed. I don't need to remind you of the repercussions if you don't obey."

  Again, I don't speak.

  "You do have a price. Ten thousand American dollars for purchase, four point five to be rented per week. You may be required to give blow jobs, but unless you're rented or purchased you will not have sex with anyone. The only people allowed to have sex with you at their beck and call is myself, Javier, or Roman. You'll meet Javier tonight, he's one of my bosses." Blaise squeezes my leg hard all of a sudden, shocking me. "And we all know you've met Roman already."