My throat closes up at the mention of silver.

“Do you have any idea what that color does to  you?” Mike is standing behind me and we’re both looking in the mirror. I’m wearing a silver sheer nightgown and I’m scared for the first time since I’ve been with him.

One of his fingers traces my arm from elbow to shoulder and seductively moves across my chest and teases a nipple until it forms a peak.

“You’re trembling. There’s no need.”  He catches my eyes in the reflection of the mirror. “You’re such a good girl, I just have to share you. I want him to see how good you are. You’ll do it for me, right? Because you love me?”

They’re rhetorical questions. I’ve already told him I didn’t want to do it. But he becomes angry and quickly lets me know I have no choice.

“I’ve done so much for you,” he says, still watching me in the mirror. “This is the least you can do for me.”

“Fuck your friend?” I snap back. “That’s me doing something for you?”

He slaps my face. “Yes. Now get out there.”

“No silver,” I choke out. My closet back at the apartment is filled with silver, because Mike decided the color looked best on me after that night. Silver gowns, silver lingerie, silver scraps of fabric all tailor made for a man’s fantasies. “No way.”

The sales lady politely ignores the terror in my voice and expression. “Ivory, then?”

Angels wear white, surely that means the fallen among them would be appropriately attired in ivory. We aren’t as good as they are;we shouldn’t be in the same color.  Ivory, though, represents a lesser white, right?

The red is definitely out, though that’s probably more appropriate. Pink is too...pink.

“There’s a lot of thought going on in your head to be thinking on color,” the lady says.

“I don’t know, maybe this was a bad idea.” If I can’t even decide what color I like, how in the world am I going to function not being a prostitute?

“Shopping is never a bad idea.”

The group of young teenagers who appear beside us certainly agrees with her. Loud, boisterous laughter floats up from them as they discuss boys, clothes, boys, shoes, and boys.

Watching them, I wonder if I had it to do over again, would I do it the same way? How had I gone on for so long living as I had? Why had I not seen before how my life had slowly been draining out of my body, as if some knife had pierced my heart and I walked around slowly bleeding to death? Perhaps when the wound’s small enough, you don’t notice it until it’s too late.

“Ma’am?” the clerk asks. “Do you want to try those on?”

I look down to see I’m still clutching the dresses in a death grip, and I give her a sheepish grin. Damn, she must think I’m an idiot. “I think I need some coffee.”

“Okay, coffee’s always a good idea. My name’s Cathy if you want to find me when you return. Should I hold one of these for you?”

That’s probably a good idea. Isaiah isn’t going to like it if I show up with nothing.

“Yes, thank you. I think the green one.” I pass that one to her.

“Green would go lovely with your coloring.”

Green. Green is my new favorite color.

I make my way to a busy coffee shop on the edge of the food court where I order a latte. I don’t notice her at first when I sit down. It’s only because of my relentless fear of seeing Mike that she happens to catch my eye as I glance around the seating area.

Young, pretty, and fidgeting slightly in her micro mini, nothing much stands out about her. I doubt anyone who hasn’t been in her situation knows what she’s getting ready to do. She stops twisting her hands in her lap and looks up. I follow her gaze to where a lone man stands, watching.

“Athena?”

I knock my coffee over, because it’s Harris. He’s found me.

Chapter Twelve

I quickly calculate how close he is to me and guess whether or not I have enough time to run. It’s worth a shot, and I can always yell. I push my chair back and prepare to jump up and sprint away.

He sighs and sits down. “I had no idea you’d be so stupid to be seen out in public this soon.”

His words surprise me so much, I drop back down in my chair. “What?”

“Someone might recognize you.”

“You mean other than you?” I study him, watching for any signal he’s getting ready to touch me. I’m still poised to leap.

“Yes. I’ve known where you’ve been since you left Theo’s bed.”

“Of course you have.” And I’m an idiot to still be sitting here.

He leans toward me. “Flipping Mike the bird and telling him to fuck off probably wasn’t the smartest thing you’ve ever done.”

“You saw that, too?”

“Of course.”

“And you’re going to tell him you saw me here?”

He smiles and settles back into his chair. His body language gives the impression he’s completely relaxed and wouldn’t harm a flea. I know differently. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I have my reasons.”

“Which are?”

“None of your business.”

I’m not sure I believe he’s not going to tell Mike. He’s his second in command; it’s his job. But some part of me must believe him because I’m still sitting at the table with him. I exhale deeply, but the girl I’d seen before Harris came over stands up and walks to a window.

“Damn it,” I say.

“Do you see someone you recognize?” Harris is suddenly on alert, looking around.

“Yes,” I whisper. “Me. Ten years ago.”

“Here?”

“Standing near the window at three o’clock.” I don’t want to point. Don’t want to bring attention to either the young girl or myself.

“The one in the blue dress?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, but continues on, “She’s young.”

Bile rises in my throat. “More naïve that way. Try to start them much older and they know too much.”

There’s a look of disgust on his face.

I nod to the guy standing off by himself, the first one I noticed. “See the guy in the black jeans?”

He shrugs. “Normal enough looking guy.”

The worst ones usually look that way.  They only grow ugly as you get to know them better.  I close my eyes against the onslaught of memories.

“That’s her Mike. She’s young,” I say, remembering, “fifteen maybe, no older than seventeen. Alone.  That’s a certainty. He’s older, good-looking, and knows everything. She thinks she’s in love.  He’s the solution to all her problems and has all the answers, even to questions she hasn’t asked yet.” Behind my closed eyelids, the girl in the mall becomes me and the guy with her becomes Mike. “He says if she loves him, she’ll do this and she’s too scared to say no. She’s scared she’ll lose him. Scared he’ll leave.”

“She’ll do what?”

My eyes open; Harris is all blurry. “He wants to share her. With a friend of his. And she’ll do it. But he won’t be the last friend he shares her with. Not by a long shot.” I sigh. “In the end, she’ll turn out just like me: ten years older, sitting in a food court coffee shop, wondering why she’s unable to decide by herself what color she likes.”

Harris is silent, so I continue, “That’s only if she’s lucky, though.” Pictures of girls work their way into my subconscious, desperate to be remembered. “Otherwise, she’ll end up in an unmarked grave, collateral damage of a wild night, and no one will care. After all,” my voice cracks, “she’s just a whore. The world’s better off without her, right?”

Across the table, Harris reaches his hand out, like he’s going to take hold of mine, but he sees the shock in my eyes and stops. I look at the girl again, she’s sat back down on the bench.

I turn my attention back to Harris. “You’ve really known where I’ve been this entire time?”

He nods. “It behooves me to know where you are.”

“And yet, you haven’t told Mike?” I try to think about why he would want to know where I was if he wasn’t going to tell Mike.