“Where do you sell the bags?”
“Usually in the VIP Room.”
“What is the VIP Room?” queried Oliver.
Cyllvia bit her lip nervously again. “It’s a room where we take a customer for a private dance.” Her voice descended, almost to a whisper. “Sometimes we do other things, too.”
“I see,” said Oliver.
“Charles would send people into the club who would request us to meet them in the VIP Room to obtain the drugs he wanted us to sell. Sometimes, it was even Charles, himself, who would meet us in the VIP Room. We all hated to see him in there.”
“Why?” Oliver braced himself to hear a disconcerting response to his question.
“Charles made us do things.” A tear formed in the corner of her eye. It dripped slowly from her eye to her cheek before falling onto the floor.
Oliver reached for Cyll
