Chapter 7 : The Perfect Father

I had so many questions I wanted to ask Ginger, but I thought it would be insensitive to start our conversation with that. Instead, I decided I would let her take the lead and see what she had on her mind. While she had no problem smiling at me, she didn't seem interested in opening up, and understandably so. Compared to all the girls I had seen here so far, she seemed the most malnourished and mistreated. In fact, I couldn't see how any man would buy her in this condition. It made me wonder if she'd end up dying here like an abandoned animal. All she said was, "You're beautiful, Catalina." I put my lips together and nodded. I wanted to say, 'you are too,' but then I felt it would seem disingenuous by giving the same compliment back. Ginger was beautiful, but I knew she wouldn't see herself that way given her current appearance: bruised, scraggly hair, dirty. Given that I was still a fully functioning human being just a few days ago, able to eat whatever I wanted and exercise at the gym to keep my figure looking this good. I was sure I'd end up like her too if I was stuck in here much longer. "Thank you, Ginger. Your eyes are bea—" She raised her hand. "Please, don't lie to me." I wasn't lying, but I could see why she would assume I was. Ginger continued, "I'm not beautiful. Nothing about me is, okay? If I was, I would've been sold already." Her smile faded by now, and she even seemed a bit upset at me. "I'm sorry, if I brought up a sore subject, but I really meant what I said," I tried to reassure her. I clarified, "That's one thing you'll either love or hate about me—my honesty." "If only more people in this world were honest," she muttered, fiddling with some pebbles that were on the ground. She wouldn't look at me. "Yeah, if only, right?" I laughed, trying to brighten the mood. She didn't break her trance on the pebbles. "How does a girl like you end up in a place like this?" Ginger pried, as she started throwing the pebbles one by one at the iron bars of the cell. They made minor clanking noises, and a girl across the way yelled at Ginger to 'shut up.' It seemed like Ginger wasn't well-favored here. "Ah, where do I begin?" I sighed breathily. "How about the part where I was sold by my father?" All I heard was her pooling her saliva together before she spat against the concrete. I wasn't sure if she was disgusted or had dirt in her mouth. "Nothing surprises me anymore," she scoffed. "He told me we were going out to lunch to celebrate the end of my semester at the university," I explained. The memory made my face flush with anger. "He wasn't lying about eating though. I was literally fed to the wolves," I thought aloud. "Dad of the Year, huh?" she exhaled after throwing the last pebble. "Yeah, I know," I chuckled, but I realized how dark the humor had become. Ginger's mind state seemed equally fragile, and although I wanted to know more about her, and wondered if she too had been betrayed by her family, I knew I shouldn't ask. Instead, I focused on what I could expect down here. Ginger stood up, wrapping her arms around the iron bars of the cell as if she was looking for someone. "So, we just sit here all day until Felix calls us or what?" I asked. "Felix, you said? He doesn't make any calls. He just enforces them. Actually, he used to be one of us, kind of," she trailed off. "What do you mean?" I followed up, curiously. "He's a slave too, so-to-speak." Ginger paused before continuing. "He was looking for his sister who was trafficked by El Lobo. He snuck on a boat to try and find her. He still hasn't located her." That made me wonder how many lives were ripped apart due to this trafficking ring. It broke my heart as it seemed many of these girls weren't sold like me, but rather kidnapped. "When he got here, he pleaded with El Lobo not to kill him. El Lobo agreed and saw Felix as cheap labor. Felix was so diligent, and ran such a tight operation here, that clients loved him, so Oscar had no choice to pay him properly—remove his shackles—because he had gained so many connections with the wealthy elite buying these women. Felix started to make a name for himself, and these hypocritical men wouldn't have stood for their favorite ring leader to be a slave himself," Ginger scoffed. "But, they have no problem letting us be, right?" I replied. "It's a man's world, and we're just living in it," Ginger said as she spat once again. "Not as long as I'm still in it," I chuckled. "Just wait until they let me out of here," I threatened. Ginger turned around and faced me. I was still sitting on the ground when she said, "That's how all us girls thought at the beginning until we realized the harsh reality. Think again at your statement. You said, 'until THEY let me out.' Who is THEY?" she asked. "Well, Felix," I guessed. "Outside of Felix. Think broader," she countered. I massaged my temples, trying to get my brain to work properly. "El Lobo? The people buying us? The men—" Ginger quickly interjected, "Ding Ding Ding Ding Ding. We have a winner." She mimicked the sound of a bell as she knocked on the iron bars beside her. "All men are terrible," she muttered with a disgruntled tone. "I think so too," I confessed as I stood up to get closer to her. "At first, I looked at my papa as my hero. I saw him as an anomaly. I knew he was involved in the mafia, but I also knew he was doing it to support me. To give me a better life than he had. I trusted him, and then he betrayed me. That's the last time I'll ever trust a man." "Same here, sister," Ginger agreed, and the word 'sister' lightened my dark heart. I knew she was just speaking casually, but after growing up an only child, and losing my mother early, I missed not having a female figure who I could talk to. "No luck with men, either, huh?" I sighed, but surprisingly it caused Ginger's expression to harden. She shook her head repeatedly and tears were welling in her eyes. I placed my hand on her shoulder to reassure her, but I knew it was too late. I had already opened the wound. Regret instantly flooded my veins. "Ginger, I didn't mean—" She sighed between sniffling. "It's fine, it's fine. It's time I got this off my chest," she said as she wiped a tear from her cheek. "I probably won't be seeing you around much longer, so it wouldn't hurt to finally let someone know. You're the first person I've felt I can trust since coming down here, and I don't know why." I wanted to take her hand, give her the last bit of strength I had left, but I felt it could make her even more uncomfortable. She took a seat in the dark, far corner of the cell, and I remained where I was to give her space. "My father," was all Ginger said. I could still see her amber hair and blue eyes peering through the shadows where she was sitting. The cell had no windows either which meant the only light was a dim bulb hanging in the hallway. The darkness could consume anyone here. After she cleared her throat, she continued on, "He was the definition of everything right in a man: intelligent, witty, strong, righteous." I imagined what her father would have looked like. He seemed dreamy, fantastical, and mythical even. Kind of the opposite of my papa who had a stereotypical 'dad bod' and a balding head. Then, Ginger carried on. "He was always faithful to me. Despite how busy he was, he always made time for me. He attended every tennis match I played in, he came to every orchestra concert I participated in, and he never missed a parent-teacher conference, even though he was the CEO of many Fortune 500 companies." Ginger's tone sounded wistful, and a lump formed in my throat thinking of how her father could have betrayed her. "He seems like the perfect man," I chimed in, but I actually meant to keep that thought reserved in my head. Ginger heard it and replied, "He was." She stopped talking and I heard the sobs returning. Surely, there was a 'But then,' coming to her story. Yet, the 'but then' never came. I couldn't help myself. How did someone like Ginger end up here if her father was so perfect? "Why are you here and not with him?" I pried, selfishly. "I'm sorry for asking," I added, knowing I overstepped my boundaries. "Because he died," she cried from the shadows. My body shivered as she began shrieking in agony. Again, some girls yelled 'shut up b*tch' from across the way. I scurried up to Ginger and knelt down to console her. I massaged her back and after a few minutes she regained composure. I didn't want to say anything else that could reinvigorate her painful memories. As much as I was still left wondering about how her father died, or how she ended up here, I'd have to table that conversation until she was ready. The one thing she said, though, that made me confused was, 'All men are terrible,' because certainly her father didn't fit that description. "How could he have left me alone here? I thought he loved me," I heard Ginger mutter between labored sobs. Since she brought it up, I offered my opinion. "Knowing how highly you speak of your father, I'm sure he didn't willingly die and leave you behind," I noted. I wondered how he had died. "He never told me he was dying. He left me a note at the house when I returned on spring break during my first year of college. He said he was terminally ill and wouldn't be alive when I came back. He didn't want to disrupt my studies. He left me everything—the house, his bank accounts, but all of his businesses he had stepped down from prior to his death in anticipation," Ginger recalled. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I mean, it made sense, with how much her father loved her, maybe he just couldn't bear to tell her he was dying. Maybe he didn't want to put his daughter through the pain of having to say goodbye, but inadvertently it had hurt her more. "I'm so sorry for your loss, Ginger," I said. I grabbed her hand tightly, wanting to give her the little warmth I had left to offer. Her breathing steadied a bit, and all that she was left with were some sniffles. "I thought he would have more of a backbone than to leave me without saying goodbye." Her tone firmed up. "Is it possible he had a reason?" I offered, although she didn't seem in the mood to think objectively. "He probably did," she said as she removed her hand from mine and wiped her nose on her brown long-sleeved shirt. It wasn't supposed to be brown, it just hadn't been washed in awhile. Then she added, "But, I wouldn't forgive him even if I knew the reason." I knew Ginger's life wasn't mine, and I should be focused merely on my own survival, but the curiosity in me wanted to find out the 'reason' why her father didn't say goodbye to Ginger. It seemed like the emotional impact of how he died hadn't left her, and it seemed like she'd been here for a long time. Changing the conversation I asked, "How often do clients come in to buy girls?" I wanted to know so I could be prepared for when I would be expected to strip down. The first man who blew his load on me, I was going to strangle alive as soon as I was out of that glass enclosure. "Every day," she answered, and my stomach churned, realizing my time could be coming soon when I was auctioned off.. "Do they call out the same girls often?" I followed up, wondering if we would be expected to present ourselves daily. "Depends. They take the healthiest girls first. Now, you have some fresh wounds on your legs so I'd expect they'd wait until those healed, or else you'd be sold at a massive discount. But don't think you can keep yourself in that condition for too long. You will be offloaded to one of our cheapest buyers named Javier. He purchases any of the remaining women who are at a discounted price and f*cks them until they bleed to death. It's better if you go to one of the top clients." Ginger clearly was well-versed on the whole situation here. She knew all the tricks and all the clients. It made me wonder, why was she still here after so long? "You're probably wondering why Javier didn't buy me? Purely because he couldn't c*m when he saw me. I was meager and bony when I got here. None of the other women are. A few scratches won't scare him off, but no man would ever pay money for an ugly girl like me," Ginger stated plainly. It pained me personally how Ginger's self-confidence had taken such a hit here, but I fully understood why. Not that anyone wanted to be chosen by a bunch of horny rich men, but also, not being picked was a bigger blow to one's self-esteem and meant one could end up with a worse client. "They keep me here to do the dirty work. Clean up the cells, wash the girls, and even act as a translator between the women and the clients," she clarified. This whole trafficking ring was a burgeoning ecosystem in the darkest parts of Miami. Although, I wasn't shocked to have known it existed, I was surprised at how meticulous of an operation it was. This was a full-blown industry that the government was keeping under wraps. I wouldn't be surprised if they had a hand in it. My thoughts were disrupted as I heard the vault unlock and Felix's voice harken through the hallway giving commands. I heard his footsteps near our cell, and he knocked on the bars to get our attention, but it was actually Ginger who he wanted. "Ginger, get the girl here ready for our showing tomorrow," he ordered. Ginger acknowledged but countered, "But sir, she still isn't in great condition. Look at her legs, they will only devalue her price, and I'm sure she would set the record for highest sale price if she was in perfect condition. We should wait a few days." Felix paused and surveyed my body. He grunted and followed up, "Just wash her up and get her a new pair of clothes, okay? I'll make the decision tomorrow." "Yes sir," Ginger exclaimed as Felix unlocked our cell. Felix took off down the hall and entered a small office where it seemed he kept his administrative documents on all the girls. "Psst Ginger," I whispered under my breath. "Couldn't we make a run for it?" Ginger released a low chuckle, "Yeah, if you think you can survive swimming across the Atlantic ocean, then be my guest. The closest island is a good fifty miles away." I gulped. There was no way out of here unless it was by the hands of the highest bidder.