Truth or Lies? by A. Gomez (book club recommendations txt) 📗

Priscilla as she brushed and curled Betty’s long, blond hair. She fixed it to where it was partly up and partly down. It looked lovely and very grown up. Grown up… Chang wants her to look older and me to look younger. The thought behind all this… what they’re doing to us… what they’ve done to all of these girls… getting us ready to be placed up for sale on some website or app, was utterly abhorrent.

“Girls, how long before someone starts requesting to make an appointment with us once we’re uploaded into the system?” I asked.

“As soon as your pic gets put in… just a few seconds or minutes,” Elsa answered dryly, as she was applying my mascara.

I gasped, pulling away from Elsa. “SECONDS?!”

They both nodded, stone-faced.

“Girls, I can’t let Betty’s picture get uploaded! Please! Y’all have to help me somehow. She’s just a little girl!” My voice was desperate.

“But we don’t know what to do,” declared Priscilla. “We wouldn’t know how to begin to stop that.”

“Also, Debbie might have An punish us if we did try and stop it,” Elsa added.

I began to pace the floor in the bathroom, wringing my hands. Think, think, think, think, I kept chanting in my head. I couldn’t ask any of the girls to put themselves at risk for a little girl they’d only just met. As far as I could calculate, I had three options. I could have the girls preoccupy Debbie and I would take down her picture and whatever else they had uploaded. The only problem with that option was I didn’t know where to look so I could take it down. It would probably be hidden within a website or app so it wouldn’t be so obvious to the FBI or the police. Or I could appeal to her softer, compassionate side and plead with her not to put her up for sale at all, or I could just threaten her. I was still pacing, warring with myself on which course to take. Option one was out. I wouldn’t know where to begin to look and since I wasn’t as quick as my brothers on all things tech, it would take me hours to figure it out. I was going to go for option two and if that didn’t work… well, I still had my gun.

“Priscilla, take down her hair please and part her hair down the middle and give her two French braids,” I exclaimed. “Betty is not going to get her picture today or any other day.”

31

All three girls looked at me like I was insane. No one moved. They were all frozen where they stood. I sat back down so Elsa could finish my makeup. Betty turned around in her seat and sat still for Priscilla. Everyone resumed what she was doing and Priscilla did as I instructed.

“Elsa, this is such a fantastic job. You’ve done a great job on my make up! You even managed to cover up that giant bruise I got.” I stood up to look at myself in the mirror. My eye shadow was several different shades of purples, lavenders and mauves. She gave me the smoky eye look but instead of doing a lot of black around my eyes she used more of a charcoal with black mascara. It accentuated my green eyes. I was impressed.

“You and Priscilla should go into business together when we get out of here. Both of y’all are very talented.” Their giant grins quickly vanished. I could feel the atmosphere quickly changing in there. Elsa and Priscilla eyed one another communicating some unspoken thought. “What?” I asked. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, Isabel, you said nothing wrong,” replied Priscilla. “When I first got here I would tell myself I would get my cosmetology license once I got out but now, I don’t think I’m ever getting out of here and I don’t think you are either.”

“Oh. I’m sorry if I upset either of you.” I stood up to embrace her and Elsa. “How long have you been here?”

“I’ve been here two years now. I got here when I was seventeen years old,” Priscilla answered. “And Elsa just got here with another girl named Inara.”

“I’m so sorry, girls,” was all I could say. I gazed at them. They had baby faces. Their spirit was broken and their expression screamed powerless and lost. They’d given up the will to fight and had succumbed to their fate here in this beautiful, cold art museum.

“Well, let’s get this show on the road,” I breathed. I took a deep steadying breath and squared my shoulders. Whatever I decided to tell Debbie I needed to be prepared to back it up with actions.

“Wait,” called Elsa. “I have to put some lipstick on you.”

Once she was finished with me, we all headed back downstairs to find Debbie. I was told she was the photographer and had a very high-tech camera that Priscilla would like to steal one day. I giggled.

We found Debbie in the larger of the two living rooms, setting up the camera. I was holding Betty’s hand and gazing up at the Picasso. I looked around the room and noticed another piece. It too was abstract art. How did I manage to miss this one? It was Black Iris III by Georgia O’Keeffe. It was beautiful. Perfect. Amazing. How could such a depraved and disgusting man own such beauty? The thought of his wealth and how he acquired it was nauseating.

“Oh, good, you still have your pajamas on. That’ll work out great since you’re going into a different website and app,” Debbie exclaimed. She briefly eyed Betty Lou. “I thought I told you to fix Betty’s hair, Priscilla. Why is she in braided pigtails?” She stalked over toward us and reached for her. I pulled Betty Lou behind my back and placed my body between Debbie