After three days of degradation and despair, Kimi felt like she’d lived an entire lifetime at Whispers Tavern. Every day was the same. Big Mack would throw them some meager food in the morning, fix the girls up with dope, haul them to town and pimp them out at the bar until the wee hours, and then stuff them back into the crowded trailer. Most of the girls were sick or strung out or both. Maybe that stuff transported them to a better place, at least temporarily. She buried her nose in the collar of her guardian angel’s leather jacket and inhaled the lingering scent of jasmine, remembering the barely visible turquoise capillaries dancing at the delicate corners of Lolita’s keen eyes.
As usual, around four in the afternoon, Big Mack bought the girls burgers and fries and installed them in a
