Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 80139 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80139 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Despite myself, I smile.
“My parents wanted me to become something respectable. A lawyer, maybe. Or at least the wife of a lawyer. Either would have pleased them, as long as there was money and no visible scandal.”
“That sounds suffocating,” I say.
“It was. So I went to college and did exactly what they wanted for almost two years.”
“Almost?”
Her grin turns wicked. “Then I discovered theater. I thought I was meant for the stage.”
“What happened?” I ask.
“The stage disagreed.”
I frown. “I’m so sorry.”
She shrugs. “I dropped out of school to act. I was young. Dramatic. Convinced I would become famous within six months because obviously the world was waiting for me.”
“And?” Cruz asks.
She looks at him. “And the world wasn’t.”
Señora Valentina nods. “It can be a ruthless business. Nowhere near as respectable as what we do,” she adds with a wink.
“I landed flat on my ass,” Mercedes says. “No roles. No money. No patience left from my family. I could have gone back, of course.”
“But you didn’t want to,” I say.
“No,” she says. “I didn’t want to go back and listen to them tell me I was stupid. I didn’t want my father’s money if it came with his contempt. They were rich, yes, but they were also dicks. So I fell back on the thing men have been telling me I could use since I was fourteen.”
My stomach tightens. Clearly we all know how it ended.
“My body,” she says simply. “At least this way, I set the price.”
I hear no shame in her voice. Of course, I don’t hear pride either. I don’t know what to say, so I simply nod.
Esmeralda rests her chin on her hand. “My story is the opposite.”
Mercedes groans. “Hers is sadder.”
“It’s not sadder. It has a better ending.”
“That depends on how you define ending.”
“Alive and well-paid is a good ending.”
Señora reaches across the table and pats Esmeralda’s hand.
“What happened?” I ask.
Esmeralda looks at me over her coffee. “I was orphaned young. Very young. I barely remember my mother.” She shifts her gaze. “And I remember more about the orphanage than I want to.”
Mercedes stops playing with the tie of her robe. Though she knows this story, clearly she feels Esmeralda deserves her attention.
“The woman who ran it was cruel,” Esmeralda continues. “Not the kind of cruel that leaves bruises every day. The smarter kind. Hungry children. Cold baths. Locked doors. That sort of thing.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say.
“Water under the bridge,” she says. “I escaped when I was fifteen.”
Fifteen.
A child.
I glance at Cruz.
His face has hardened.
“I had nowhere to go,” Esmeralda says. “No money. No family. No plan beyond not going back. Señora found me trying to sleep behind the bakery two streets away.”
Señora Valentina sniffs. “You were terrible at hiding.”
“I was hungry.”
“You were also rude.”
“I was fifteen.”
“That’s not an excuse for being rude to the woman offering you bread.”
Esmeralda smiles, and the love in it is unmistakable. “She brought me here.”
“To work?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“Not to work,” Señora snaps. “She was a child.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know what you meant,” Señora Valentina says, softening only slightly. “But no. She stayed here. Ate here. Slept here. Helped with cleaning and laundry when she wanted spending money. Nothing else.”
Esmeralda nods. “When I was old enough, she told me I could stay and work if I wanted. Or I could leave and she would help me find something else.”
“And you stayed,” I say.
“Yes.”
Her answer is simple. I want to understand it. I’m not sure I do.
“I chose it,” Esmeralda says. “This house had been kinder to me than anywhere else in the world. The women here were kinder. Señora was kinder. Men were men, but at least here they paid and followed rules.”
Mercedes nods. “Mostly.”
“Mostly,” Esmeralda agrees.
“And when they don’t,” Señora says, “they leave without teeth.”
Esmeralda sips her coffee. “I actually made a lot of money my first time.”
Mercedes leans toward me. “She auctioned off her virginity.”
I drop my jaw.
Esmeralda rolls her eyes. “Don’t make that face. I was of age.”
“I wasn’t—” I stop, because I absolutely was making a face. “Sorry.”
“You’re allowed. It was dramatic.” She bites her lip. “I was lucky, I suppose. A lot of people who left the orphanage had been abused sexually. I’d avoided that at least.”
“Still,” I say, searching for the least offensive word. “Was it…safe?”
Señora answers before Esmeralda can. “I chose the man.”
Strangely, that reassures me a little. Señora Valentina may work in a questionable field, but there’s no doubt in my mind she’s a good and trustworthy woman.
“I chose the man too,” Esmeralda says. “From options. Señora filtered out the animals.”
“There are many animals with money,” Señora says.
“Many,” Mercedes agrees.
Esmeralda shrugs. “I made enough to have choices afterward. More than I’ve ever made in one night since, of course, because men are ridiculous about firsts. But I don’t regret it. I know that makes some people uncomfortable.”