They’re still backing up, forming a circle around us, growing wider. I’m in the middle. I’m the drop, and the men around me form a ripple. Then they fade into the blackness and are gone.
It’s just me and the man in the suit.
He hasn’t spoken. I’m not sure he’s going to. I half expect him to pull out a gun from somewhere underneath that smooth black fabric and shoot me. That’s what happens in the city, isn’t it? That’s what everyone told me about the outside world, how dangerous it is. And even while some part of me had nodded along, had believed them, another part of me had refused.
There had to be beauty outside the white stucco walls. Beauty that wasn’t contained and controlled. Beauty with color. Only apparently I was wrong. I haven’t seen anything beautiful—except him.
He’s beautiful in a strange and sinful way, one that makes me more afraid. Not colorful exactly. His eyes are a gray color I’ve never seen before, both deep and opaque at the same time. The building itself is beautiful too with its wrought iron gate around a large courtyard. The fountain in the center is broken, but that only adds to the mystique.
The marquee sign reads Grand, a flash of neon pink against the black night.
He steps closer, the light from the sign illuminating his face, making him look even more sinister. “What’s your name?”
I couldn’t answer those other men, but I find something inside for him. I find truth. “I’m not allowed to say my name to someone else.”
He studies me for a long moment, taking in my tangled hair and my white dress. “Why not?”
Because God will punish me. “Because I’m running away.”
He nods like this is what he expected. “Do you have money?”
I have twenty dollars left after bus fare. “Enough.”
His lips twist, and I wonder if that’s what a smile looks like on him. It’s terrifying. “No, you don’t,” he says. “The question is, what would you do to earn some?”
Anything.
My voice is just a whisper. “I’m a good girl.”
He laughs, and I see that I was wrong before. That wasn’t a smile. It was a taunt. A challenge. This is a real smile, one with teeth. The sound rolls through me like a coming storm, deep and foreboding.
“I know,” he says gently. “What’s your name?”
“Candace.”
He studies me. “Pretty name.”
His voice is deep with promise and something else I can’t decipher. All I know is he isn’t really talking about my name. And I know it isn’t really a compliment. “Thank you.”
“Now come inside, Candace.”
He turns and walks away before I can answer. I can feel the night closing in on me, the sharks in the water waiting to strike. It’s not really a choice. I think the man knows that. He’s counting on it. Whatever is going to happen inside will be bad, and the only thing worse is what would have happened outside.
I hurry to catch up with him, almost running across the crumbled driveway, under the marquee sign for the Grand, past the broken fountain, desperate for the dubious safety of the man who could hold the darkness at bay. It’s the same thing that kept me in Harmony Hills for so long—fear and twisted gratitude.
Chapter Two
Harmony Hills is a place of purity, of paleness, and the city is black. Inside the building is something else entirely, an explosion of light and color. So much color.
The women are beautiful, skin flushed and painted and glistening with glitter. Their bodies are strong—and almost naked. Not completely. Satin straps and lace tie them up like presents as they swirl around a shiny silver pole.
No man is telling them to cover their bodies.
No man is making them sit down and be ashamed. Instead the men are looking up to t
hem, practically panting in their eagerness, desperate for a glance or a touch, holding up money for the possibility.
I’m so enraptured by the sight of the stage that I almost lose sight of the man.