by Alana Terry
“That’s nice of you to say, but last time I checked, this wasn’t your house.” She rubbed her legs and found she could barely wiggle her toes.
Benjamin leaned in just slightly toward her. “Don’t have to get baptized just to stay here.”
She shrugged. “Isn’t that what you did?”
He looked down into his lap. “Maybe at first. But I’ve learned more now.”
“How nice for you.” She stood up, trying to figure out if there was a way to sneak back to the house for some clothes without running into the Sterns.
He reached out for her wrist. She tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong. “Please.” He loosened his hold just enough so it stopped hurting. “Go in with me. We’ll talk to them. Together. Nobody’s sending you away.”
***
Juliette yanked the barrette out of her mess of hair and slammed it on the counter. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into baptizing her.” She ran her fingers through her curls, but they only made it halfway before catching in the tangles.
Roger came up to hug her from behind, his breath warm on the side of her neck. Her sweater scratched against her skin. He took in a deep breath. “I guess she just wasn’t ready.”
Juliette rolled her eyes. That was so like her husband. No matter what the problem was, he’d find a way to understate it. If she had only listened to her gut and never mentioned baptism to Mee-Kyong in the first place, today’s fiasco would have never happened. She jerked her glasses off her face, and pointed them at Roger’s reflection in the mirror. “I hope you’re impressed with yourself. I really do. Guilt-tripping a traumatized little girl ...”
Roger sighed. “She’s not a little girl.”
She threw up her hands. “Not a little girl? Oh, that’s right. She’s not a little girl because you found her in a brothel. Is that what you’re saying? That because she used to sell tricks to earn money for someone else she’s corrupt? Disgusting? Un...” Juliette’s face was hot. Her throat failed her. She swallowed and tried again. “Un...” Roger was there, his hot breath smoldering her shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her from behind. Juliette flung her glasses aside and tried one last time to swallow away the cry that threatened to betray her. “Unredeemable.” The word came out as a whisper, and with it came a torrent of fears and frustrations. Her husband didn’t say a word, but held her in his arms while she sobbed.
***
The cool breeze stung Mee-Kyong’s skin. She craned her neck and looked behind her. The Americans’ outer fence extended all the way around the perimeter of the yard, but she could scale it in five seconds or less. Still, she wished she had some shoes. It was time to go, though. Staying any longer was just a waste of daylight. She jumped up, refusing to look back when Benjamin called out after her. She started to sprint, knowing his instinct would be to reach out toward her. “Thanks for the sweatshirt,” she called back to him.
She was halfway over the fence before Benjamin grabbed her by the waist. “Get down.” He tugged, and she landed on the lawn on the pads of her feet. Benjamin held his hands up. “You’re soaking wet. You can’t wear that out there.”
She tilted her chin up. “I’ve earned a living in even less.”
He lowered his eyes for a moment. Mee-Kyong didn’t waste the opportunity and clambered to the top of the fence, poised to kick him if he reached up for her. He put his hands on the railings, his eyes pleading. “Nobody’s going to make you do anything. Stay here. Keep up your studies with Mrs. Stern. Or tell her you need a break. Just talk to them.”
“They’ll keep trying to convert me like they’ve been doing this whole time.”
Benjamin shrugged. “Maybe. But they’ve been good to you. Better than you’ll find on your own.”
Mee-Kyong scowled. “And what if I’m never ready to convert? What if I never get baptized? What then?”
He took his hands off the fence. There was a softness in his dark eyes Mee-Kyong had never noticed before. “At least you won’t go hungry.”
“I know how to take care of myself.”
“You leave the Sterns’ and you’ll be back in the hotel district by nightfall. You know that, don’t you?”
She narrowed her eyes. “I’ll starve before going back there.”
He reached up slowly toward her. “Please.” She had never heard him sound so concerned. She was used to pity — Mrs. Stern doled out enough of that to last Mee-Kyong a lifetime — but this felt different. “Please come back. I’ll go with you. We’ll talk to them. Together.”
She looked down at him and realized she was at another crossroads, forced to decide her fate in a single instant. No wavering. No second guesses. It was as though the way had been paved for her years ago, before Pang, before her escape from Camp 22, before the Round Robin, before Sun. Mee-Kyong knew the path she was going to take.
She just hoped she wouldn’t live to regret it.
PART 5
CHAPTER 41
Several years later
She clicked up to the front desk, precariously balanced on her high heels. The man behind the counter raised his head from his computer screen. His eyes went first to her face but then traveled quickly to her business suit and designer handbag. He curled up his lips. “How may we help you today?” He laid both hands in front of him and sat perfectly still.
She looked around and appraised the double chandeliers, the large mirror hanging in its ornate mahogany frame, the hand-designed rugs splayed out for all to see. Once satisfied, she nodded at the proprietor and extended her card. “I am the president of Morning Pleasures. We plan and promote parties for some of the most prominent local businessmen, whose tastes extend to the ... more delicate members of the hotel district.” She didn’t give him time to respond. “I’d like to hire thirty of your girls for a gathering this Saturday evening at the Glorious Dynasty Hotel. You’re familiar with the venue, I presume?”
The proprietor nearly dropped the credentials she handed him. She smiled and tapped a perfectly-manicured fingernail on the marble countertop. “I’ve been told you have a wide selection of girls in the following age ranges.” She turned the card over, pointing with her blood-red fingertip. The man coughed once and cleared his throat. She raised an eyebrow. “I assume you have what we’re looking for.”
He scratched at his neck, which had reddened against the white starchiness of his shirt, and dabbed his forehead with a pocket handkerchief. “Of course, we have just what you need. Shall we choose the girls for you, or do you want to select them yourself?”
She raised her chin until she was staring down slightly at the balding manager. “At Morning Pleasures parties, we guarantee each patron receives nothing but one-hundred-percent satisfaction.” She leaned forward as she said the last word. “We don’t leave anything up to chance. We examine each girl and personally ensure she is the proper fit for our clients’ needs.”
The man reached into a desk drawer, fumbled with a key, and hustled around the counter. “In that case, if you’d be so kind as to follow me, I’ll introduce you to our young ladies right now. If ... if now is quite convenient.”
In her heels, she stood several centimeters taller than he. “Quite.” She followed him to a winding staircase, and the clicking echoes of her footsteps sounded off the gaudy wallpaper.
***
“Hold still,” Sang-Hee admonished as she brushed her little sister’s hair. Girls were scattered across the large dormitory like rags tossed haphazardly into an open bin. Some rested on flimsy cots. Others sat looking out of the only window, huddled together to share the tiny view. A few sat in a corner playing marbles, using earrings instead of balls. In the opposite corner, two girls argued over a doll made of rolled-up fabric.
When the door flung open, the chattering stopped and was replaced by the sound of rushing feet and rustling cloth. Sang-Hee picked up her sister and hurried her along with the others. “It’s all right,” she whispered. When she reached the line-up, she propped Min on her crooked f
eet and leaned her against the wall. The girls each stood in their proper places, their arms at their sides, except for the one who had forgotten to put down the doll, which she hid behind her back. Sang-Hee hoped the innkeeper wouldn’t notice.
He marched in as proud as a peacock, followed by a lady, a very rich one. She had thick hair the color of starless midnight and wore a tailored suit made of stiff maroon fabric that didn’t wrinkle when she walked. Her shoes sparkled subtly and made her even taller than the innkeeper. She entered the room with a severe frown. Sang-Hee instinctively put one leg in front of Min’s, both to help her sister withstand the weight on her crippled feet and to shield her from the woman’s attention.
Without waiting for the innkeeper to invite her, the woman strode to the start of the line and inspected each girl in turn. Every so often, she’d instruct one of the girls to open her mouth or turn around. She examined several heads of hair and cleared her throat more than once. When she got to little Min, she leaned over. “What is your name?” Her voice was distant, almost bored.
Sang-Hee trembled inwardly. “She doesn’t talk, ma’am.” She stared at the woman’s spiked heels.
“Silence,” the innkeeper roared. Sang-Hee squeezed Min’s quivering hand.
The woman straightened up and tilted her chin toward Sang-Hee. “And you are?”
“Her sister, ma’am. I mean, adopted sister.” The word tore at her throat. She shut her eyes for a moment. “I just help take care of her.”
The innkeeper had closed the distance between himself and his client, and he placed a hand on the woman’s waist and led her further down the line. “A speechless idiot,” Sang-Hee heard him mumble.
She held tight to her sister with one hand and dug her fingernails into the palm of the other. Once the innkeeper passed by, she leaned toward Min and whispered that old, familiar lie she had long ago ceased to believe:
“Everything’s going to be all right.”
***
The innkeeper’s pen scurried to record her selections as Mee-Kyong singled out the girls. “That one there, with the short hair and freckles.” She despised this part of the job, having to make such snap-second choices, but she refused to show any indecisiveness. “The one next to her who’s trying to hide that little dolly behind her back.” She thought, as she did every now and then, about the promise she made to Benjamin to never return to the hotel district. Well, at least she was on the right side of the industry now. She adjusted one of her dangling ruby earrings, a gift from a generous benefactor.
“Her. In the white blouse.”
The innkeeper grunted his assent. Mee-Kyong crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one hip. She studied the small one with the mangled feet. The older girl beside her put a defensive arm across the cripple’s chest. “I’ll take the silent one, too.” She hadn’t spoken very loudly, but the teenager visibly tensed. Mee-Kyong scrutinized her next. She hardly ever requested anybody that old. The teen met her stare, and Mee-Kyong shrugged her shoulders. “I’ll take the older one with her, too. The sister.”
“Adopted sister,” the innkeeper corrected.
“Just put her name on the list,” she snapped and continued to scan the line of children.
***
The innkeeper tried not to let his excitement bleed through his words. Assuming the woman’s finances cleared, this would be his biggest deal of the year. “You’re sure that this will be enough girls to meet your client’s needs?” He licked his top lip as he left the children to their lazy leisure time and walked down the winding staircase.
She ignored his question. “The girl with the crippled legs ... what’s wrong with her?”
“Ahhh, the idiot.” The manager smiled. “Yes, some might turn away from the sight of a deformed beast like that. But I see you know your business well.” He turned and added conspiratorially, “Of course, many show preferences for such ... creatures.”
The woman cleared her throat. “How much assistance does the cripple require?”
“Just help walking, just help walking,” the innkeeper hastened to explain. “The rest ... well, you know. Her customers always leave quite content,” he added when he noted the woman’s severe scowl. The expression didn’t change, so he quickly continued. “I assure you that all our girls will surpass your guests’ expectations. They are well-trained, willing to oblige.” He realized he was rambling, but he couldn’t stop himself. “As you can see,” he prattled, gesticulating with both hands, “we keep our girls clean. Clean and well-kempt. Not like other establishments in the hotel district.”
The president of Morning Pleasures gave a curt nod and interrupted his jabber. “They’re adequate.” Disgust dripped from the word.
She was several paces ahead, and he scurried to catch up. “It’s early in the day still, you see. They’re tired. They work best at night, of course. You won’t be disappointed at all, I assure you.”
She didn’t slow her pace. “I’ll judge their quality when my client is satisfied. Before that, we have your fee to discuss.”
The proprietor held up a hand. “Not now, not now. It’s still morning. You should come back this evening. Allow me to treat you to a dinner, perhaps. Money is such a bore to talk over unless there’s good food ... and pleasant company ... involved.”
The woman halted and turned so abruptly the innkeeper nearly bumped into her. “We will settle the payment now,” she declared. “Half today. Half when I return with my driver to pick up the girls Saturday night.”
The innkeeper opened his mouth once but didn’t have a chance to interject.
“If all goes smoothly,” she continued, “you can expect us to call on you again after this weekend. Good day.” She waved a check, and he struggled to catch it with both hands before it fluttered to the ground. When he saw the amount was already filled in, he scampered after to thank her for her business, but she had already left. The gold-plated door swung inward behind her, and the innkeeper barely scurried back in time before it hit his nose.
CHAPTER 42
Sang-Hee hadn’t let go of her little sister’s hand for the entire bus ride. She rested one cheek on the young girl’s head and whispered sweet senseless musings: “It’s going to get better.” “One day, this will be over.” “Life won’t always be so hard.” When the bus slowed down in front of a hotel, she took a deep breath. At least the building looked fancy enough to have an elevator. The last time Min had been taken to entertain at another establishment, Sang-Hee had to carry her up three flights of stairs.
The businesswoman, now wearing a low-cut dress with beads swirling from its short skirt, stood up in the bus aisle next to the driver. “This is where you will work tonight. The party begins in forty-five minutes, which should give you time to freshen up in your rooms upstairs.” She furrowed her brows, and Sang-Hee blinked as she stared at the mascara caked onto the woman’s eyelashes. “You’ll go right to your assigned rooms. Hurry up.”
The girls filed off the bus. “Let’s go now.” Sang-Hee hoisted her sister up on her back and made her way down the aisle. She stalled once at the top of the steps and did what she could to shift their center of gravity to make the descent safely. The businesswoman was on the curb, but she put one foot up on the lower bus step and supported Sang-Hee by the elbow as she made her way down.
Sang-Hee and Min would share a room with two other girls. They had each spent over an hour primping before the bus ride, and there was little left to be done now but wait. Once they were settled in their suite, Sang-Hee lay down next to Min, carefully ensuring neither of their dresses would get crumpled on the soft hotel bed. “It’s all right,” she whispered. “You can rest for a little bit. Nobody’s coming to bother us.” She sighed with weariness. “Not yet,” she added, quietly enough only she could hear.
Sang-Hee woke up to the sound of quiet knocking several hours later. A tiny smudge of drool moistened her cheek. She shivered once with the chill. One of the other girls in the bed next to her snored slightly. She l
ooked at the clock and sucked in her breath. They had missed the party. She sprang out of bed. How would she explain her mistake to the innkeeper? She was several years older than the other girls. She should have known better. She threw on the lights, fluffed her curls once in the mirror, and flung the door open.
“Shhh.” It was the woman from the bus. She had taken off the evening dress and now wore casual black leggings and a dark hooded sweatshirt with the same pointed heels. She glanced behind her once and slipped into the room.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Sang-Hee whispered. “It’s my fault.”
The woman shook her head. “You didn’t do anything wrong. There’s no party. I came to bring you these.” She held up four small backpacks, two draped over each arm. “Wake the girls up. Tell them to get changed. We leave in fifteen minutes.”
A chill raced its way up Sang-Hee’s spine. “Leave?” The word caught in her throat like a desperate gasp for air.
The woman met her gaze. “Leave. I’m getting you out of here.” Sang-Hee thought about the borders she had already crossed, the miles she had already traveled. Was it starting all over again, then? “I’ll explain more on the bus,” the woman whispered. “Just wake everyone else up, and tell them to be ready. I’ll knock once when it’s time.”
Sang-Hee’s legs were heavy as she made her way to Min. The child was cherubic, her porcelain cheeks shining with a babyish radiance. Sang-Hee nestled her nose into the side of her little sister’s neck. “Come on,” she whispered. “We’ve got to get dressed.”
Half an hour later, thirty sleepy-eyed girls stumbled down a back staircase to the bus that waited for them in an alleyway. Sang-Hee hadn’t been able to fully rouse Min but had managed to dress her and carry her downstairs. The woman in heels was at the bus waiting. “What’s going on?” Sang-Hee asked.
“We’ve found safe homes for you. Away from here. You’ll never have to go back.” She placed one hand on Sang-Hee’s shoulder, and with the other, gestured to the girls behind her to continue boarding. She lowered her voice. “I made sure that you two would stay together.” She swept a strand of hair from Min’s forehead. “She’ll need someone like you watching over her.”