Chapter Twenty-One
Unloaded from the carting box, crowded between two burly men in blue coveralls, Kelli was towed through a cathedral-style door to an imposing woman with skin as white as milk, bleached hair the color of corn, and lips outlined in black. She was tented in a gold muumuu, with breasts that drooped like sausages and cleavage that stretched from her neck to her knees. Dark circles gripped her eyes and her hands were camped on her hips.
“I’m Madam Claudette,” the woman began. “Charles wants you well supplied with gents. Ya’ know, what the boss wants, the boss gets. We’ll get you set up right away.”
Kelli’s neck was barely vertical, but her eyes skipped over the tent to an adjoining parlor where several women mingled amid hushed voices and vacant stares. Kelli nodded unders
