The Ganglord's Girl

Chapter 12: Object

Amelia

I peer at the dark building before us.

There are many cars parked outside, and I can hear the music blasting from here. I don't have to be told that the Kellers own this establishment. It's one of their 'businesses'.

Why would he bring me here? What kind of loyalty test am I expected to pass? I'm thinking of a million things at once. His driver parks the car, and Ethan turns to me. "Your attire is inside. I'll show you." Attire? That means I'll have to dress up.

They wouldn't make me strip, would they?

Ethan doesn't show any ID at the door, which confirms that they own this place, too. I'm beginning to think they own half of the city. They have shares in multi-million-dollar companies, wine bars, lounges, and clubs. And it's all just the tip of the iceberg.

Once inside, there's only one word that perfectly describes the scene before us: pandemonium. The music is loud. I've heard this song on the radio somewhere, but I can't remember the title. It's everything I thought a strip club would be. Dimly lit, neon lights, blaring music, big-breasted girls twirling around poles on platforms.

We don't stay long. I follow Ethan down a corridor. I guess they always have one of these in all their establishments. He unlocks a door, and I find myself inside an office. There's a red dress hanging on the wall; it's the first thing I see when he switches on the lights. "Be ready in five minutes," he says, and leaves me by myself.

I look at the silky, low-cut dress with a high slit on the side. I can't envision myself in a dress like this. I touch it tentatively. If they want me in this, it means they're trying to impress someone. By using me. It makes me sick to my stomach, yet I don't have much time left to think about this. I peel my work clothes off and put the dress over my head. It falls to my ankles, and my right leg is completely bare. It doesn't sit well with the bra, so I have no choice but to take it off. My n*****s strain against the soft material. I've never felt this exposed before.

I fold my clothes, and Ethan opens the door. He examines me. "Let your hair down," he commands. I untie my hair, and it falls around my shoulders in waves.

He motions for me to follow him, and he locks the office. The entire time I'm following him, he offers me no explanation of what's going to happen or where we're even going. We pass the main area and I avert my gaze. I've seen enough naked women here to last me a lifetime. Apparently, we're not staying in this area.

There's a more private area in the back. Four men are waiting, and I recognize the short man. He was at the nightclub with all those men. Ethan closes the door, so it's just me, him, and the men. I grow nervous. My palms start sweating. What am I doing here, after all? Most importantly, why did Damien want me here?

They stand and shake Ethan's hand. "Mr. Keller," begins one of them. "It's a pleasure to see you again." His eyes dart in my direction. "I see you've brought another girl."

He smiles apologetically. "My cousin, Theodora, wasn't available this evening. I hope that doesn't bother you."

"Not at all," the man says. "We're here to conduct business after all, aren't we? The women are just pretty sights."

They take their seats, and Ethan squeezes my forearm. "You sit next to Mr. Pascual. Move."

Mr. Pascual happens to be the man who asked about Theodora. He smiles brightly when I am near him and instructs the man sitting beside him in Spanish to scoot over. I'm sure my face is the same shade as my dress. A woman enters and pours drinks. I'm handed a glass of champagne, and it calms my nerves. I'm not a drinker, but in this instance, it's necessary.

When she leaves, another man asks, "May we begin? We want to conclude and get to the fun part of this business venture."

Ethan smiles. "Of course. You've already agreed to everything. You discussed it again with Damien last week. All that's left is for you to sign."

Mr. Pascual has a question. "What about funding? Will that be our responsibility?" he shifts in his seat and places his hand on my exposed thigh. It's a shock to me that he'd touch me like that. His hands start rubbing circles all over my thigh, and I'm so focused on it that I've zoned out the entire conversation.

"That's your only obligation," Ethan is saying. "Everything else will be on us. Damien explained all this to you, didn't he?"

"Yes, but what if..." I watch as his hand moves from my thigh to my right breast. He grabs it and squeezes. Ethan's watching me closely now. He wants to see how I'll react. The other men don't even see me. They're looking at Mr. Pascual. It's like I'm invisible, just a piece of meat specifically designed to be fondled, nothing more.

His index finger circles my hardened n****e slowly. He's really taking his time. He's determined to feel every inch of me, I can tell. For what purpose? I can't do any more of this. I've never felt this kind of humiliation before. It scorches my insides and makes my face flush. Is this why I'm here? To serve as this man's entertainment?

I get up and leave the room. I leave the door wide open. Now that I'm away from them, I can think clearly. And I'm getting angrier by the second. This isn't what I signed up for. Maybe I thought I was ready for anything, but I'm not. This isn't something I'm prepared to do.

I storm out, and the guards eye me with confusion. I realize I'm still carrying the glass of champagne, and I toss it. It shatters when it lands on the ground, and it's satisfying to break something when I'm so angry. This must be why people break things when they're at their worst.

"You shouldn't have left without permission, Huxley."

I face Ethan. "You're not serious."

"Mr. Pascual is one of our best clients. You've disrespected him by leaving."

"He was groping me!" I raise my hands over my head. "Did you expect me to sit there and endure all that?"

"It's what you were there for," he says as if it's the perfect explanation. "You're here to entertain. Mr. Pascual is much more gullible when there's a beautiful woman by his side."

"How could you?" I ask after a beat. "You brought me here for this s**t? You didn't even give me a heads-up. You offered me to that man like a piece of steak!"

"You had an idea of what you were getting yourself into," Ethan says, pointing at me. "So don't come with that talk. I didn't bring you to a strip club for a nice dinner. You could've said no earlier. No one's forcing you to do anything. Besides, you said you'd do anything for us."

I point angrily at the building. "Not that!" I never expected to be in this situation. I remember when Jason said someone might be to get with me, but that's different. In the presence of those men, I feel like less than a person. That Mr. Pascual treats me like an object, he can touch me whenever he pleases. I've never had a stranger tug at my n*****s before. Never.

"Then you don't deserve to be part of our staff." He says all of this calmly and steadily, as if reading a passage from a book. "We expect everyone who works for us to be...open-minded. If you want this job, you must do everything we tell you to do. If you don't want to, then you'll be better off somewhere else."

I thought they had trusted me before, but I was wrong. Dead wrong. Delivering letters is nothing compared to this. He lights a cigarette and fixes his gaze on me. "Look on the bright side," he adds and puffs out thick smoke. "At least we're not asking you to f**k him."

It's like a stab to my heart, that statement. "And if you did, you'd expect me to do it?" He shrugs, but I know the answer. I've reached a dead-end. It's all or nothing. I could either go back or climb over this high wall and reach a place I've never navigated before.

I want to keep this job. I've come too far along to give up now. If I do, what happens to Aaron? He seems to sense this and smiles. He's pleased. I follow him back inside. Every step I take is a blow to my heart. I fix a fake smile on my face just as we re-enter the room.