Three (Article 5 #3)(97)

“Hey!” I called softly. She looked up, rose, and tucked the tube of lipstick back into her purse.

“Someone there?” she asked tentatively, fluffing her hair. She glanced back to the group, continuing on without her.

“Over here!” I said. She appeared around the backside of the van, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Girl.” She whistled. “They already worked you over good, didn’t they?”

I covered the wound on my shoulder with one hand and tried to look meek. It worked—she moved closer, until we were both out of sight from the front gate.

“I need to get into that party,” I said.

She crinkled her nose, stretching the dark freckles across her cheeks. “Haven’t you already had enough? I mean, the pay is good, but it ain’t that good.”

No time left.

“I’m sorry.” I withdrew the knife from my pocket. The blade was still stained with my blood. “I’m going to need your dress.”

*

TWO minutes later I was jogging toward the entrance of the building, unsteady in the girl’s high heels and trying in vain to stretch the fabric to cover both my bra and my thighs. I’d left her my clothes beneath a car two rows away. If she wanted them she’d have to crawl out half-naked and get them. I got the impression she wasn’t stupid enough to call a soldier’s attention to help—she’d have to wait until everyone was inside.

Under other circumstances I would have felt bad about that.

As I neared the entrance I opened her clutch and searched through the contents. Lipstick, eyeliner—things my mom had kept hidden beneath a loose floorboard underneath her bed. Contraband items, apparently deemed acceptable by the MM when it came to their parties. I thought of Sarah the first time I’d seen her in Tent City. A pretty girl in a pretty dress, pregnant and na?ve, and in desperate need of safety. I hoped she would find it now in Tampa.

The last of the girls was being checked before going inside. I watched her remove her shoes at the door guard’s request, and hold her arms out to the side as he patted her down. He checked her purse, but left her shoes alone.

As subtly as possible, I bent down and slipped off the high heels. I dropped the knife into the toe of one, and carried them by the strappy heels toward the door.

At the door, a soldier with pudgy cheeks and an extra chin smirked at me, running his thick tongue over his bottom lip. I kept my head lowered, trying to look coy as I cocked one hip out to the side, but was tense beneath his wandering stare. I might as well have been naked, so much of me was exposed. The dress was barely long enough to hide the puncture wound in my thigh where I’d gotten stuck in the fence at the printing plant. At least it covered my shoulder.

Behind him on the wall was a clock. The time was 10:37 P.M. Less than an hour and a half until midnight.

A bead of sweat dripped down the side of my face. I didn’t have enough time. We weren’t going to make it.

I had to try.

He stood and slid his heavy hands over my shoulders, back, stomach, lingering in places that made my muscles twitch and my stomach turn. I tried not to stare at the shoes, which I’d set on the ground beside me, even when he separated my toes.

“Good. No needles,” he grunted. “No razor blades up top, I hope.” He thrust a hand through my hair, eyes pausing only a moment on the welt on my cheek.

When he was satisfied, he opened a metal box on a podium beside him, and I forced myself to apply a layer of lipstick in the way I’d seen my mother do when I was young. My hands were trembling. I hoped I was hitting the right spots.

“Two now, two at the end of the night. Pending your work is satisfactory.” He handed me two slips of paper—rations vouchers—which I stuffed into the handbag.

“It will be,” I guaranteed. I slipped on the shoes, waiting until he looked away to slide the knife back into my purse.

I followed the crowd until I caught sight of the group of girls who had come in from outside. They ignored the men in the hallway, seeming to have their minds set on something else. I watched the way they walked and tried to swing my hips as they did. I placed one hand on my waist and stuck my chest out. Despite my best efforts to look confident, my ankles would not stop wobbling in the stupid high heel shoes. I hurried to the back of the group and clung close to the others while the soldiers called for me to give them a chance.

“Are we going to the party?” I whispered to a skinny girl with short, black hair. Her eyes darted around the hall, never landing on mine.

“First timer?” she guessed.

I tried to smile.

“Piece of advice.” She lowered her voice. “Officers give good tips, but they think they can do whatever they want for it.”

I checked to make sure the knife was still in my purse.

A girl in the front gave a giddy yell and clapped her hands, and soon the others had joined her. My heart beat faster, keeping time with the cadence of their applause. We were ushered through two double doors, which gave way to a large courtyard, brightly lit by fluorescent overhead lights.

I was bumped and jostled on my way toward the center, and held onto the girl beside me so I didn’t fall. Around us swarmed more soldiers than I had ever seen in one place—more people than even in the Square in Knoxville. The closer we got to the center of the courtyard, the denser they were packed and the louder they became. I lifted my eyes overhead as a roar took the crowd. Surrounding us on all sides, and stretching up at least ten stories high, was the rest of the Charlotte base.