Pricey, p.14
Pricey, page 14
“Here, beautiful. Try a stick of gum,” Mr. Vega offered. I smiled at the kind man and took the gum, but it didn’t work.
“Just lay your head on my shoulder and try to sleep. We will land soon and, when we do, the pain will all disappear.”
I did what I was told and drifted off into a light slumber. When I woke up, we were landing in Miami, Florida.
I took in my first breath of American air and in my young mind it smelled of money, in a sweet way. Growing up in Haiti, all I heard about was how rich everyone in America was and how that was the place to be if you really wanted to make it. I daydreamed about what it would be like when I made enough money to bring my mother here and what her first breath of America would smell like to her. I was already missing her terribly, but I knew that I had acquired a new purpose in life, and that was to work and provide her with a better life.
The ride to the Vegas’ home was quiet. What stuck out in my mind was the texture of the leather seats I sat on. All my life, my only means of transportation was a camionette. A camio, for short, is a pickup truck, which is transformed into a taxi with hard wooden benches. Anywhere from five to ten people would squeeze in the back hoping to make it to their destination on time. Coming from a hard bench, the butter soft seat under my behind was a dream to me. The car was spacious and fit for a queen.
“This car, what is it?” I asked in my broken English.
“A Jaguar. Nice, isn’t it?” Mr. Vega answered.
I sat in that vehicle and promised myself that I would buy the exact same car for my mother with the money I would make from modeling. That was the only thing that kept me going that whole trip. The dream of becoming a big-time fashion model would have to keep me going.
When we pulled up to the Vega home, I was amazed at the size and beauty of their house. My mother had worked as a maid in some nice places in Haiti, but none as beautiful as this. Upon entering the house, I gawked with pure excitement. The Vegas had taste, and I could only hope to be gifted with such exquisite taste.
“Carmine, take her shit downstairs,” Mrs. Vega shouted.
That was the very first moment I laid eyes on him. He was tall, dark as night, and absolutely beautiful, in a manly way.
“Don’t just stand there like a dummy. Move your ass,” Mrs. Vega yelled.
Slowly, Carmine approached me. The minute our eyes met, I felt something. I wasn’t sure what it was. We locked eyes and even as he reached down to grab my belongings, we never lost eye contact.
“Come with me,” Carmine ordered, and I complied.
“What am I doing down here?” I asked as I surveyed my surroundings. The basement I was standing in frightened me to the point where I was shaking from head to toe.
“What in the fuck does it look like, white girl? You’ve been tricked, bamboozled, and misled.”
I looked in the direction the voice was coming from as my mouth hung open. Her face and arms were covered with white bandages, making her look like a real-life mummy.
“What . . . what do you mean? Why I’m here? I come to model,” I answered as fear riddled my Haitian-accented words.
“Listen to this one, she came here to model. Well, the only thing you’ll be modeling is a fucking thong for the sicko who either buys you or rents you.”
“Leave her alone, Erin. You could have let her sit down first,” Carmine jumped in.
I started to back away from everyone until the wall behind me stopped me. This was a real-life nightmare, and I wanted to wake up. “I want Mr. Vega. Please, I should not be here.”
Erin started to laugh, and the other girls joined her. “You are right where you’re supposed to be, trust me,” Erin added.
“Mr. Vega. Mr. Vega!” I yelled.
When the mummy started coming toward me, I panicked and headed for the stairs. I was halfway up the staircase when Mrs. Vega opened the door and came storming down.
“What in the hell is all the yelling about?” she asked before she saw me. Once her eyes landed on me, I saw anger in them as she marched me back to the middle of the basement. “Did you girls not tell her what was expected of her now?” Mrs. Vega asked.
“I tried to tell her but she freaked out,” Erin answered as she laughed.
“Why I’m here? I come to model,” I answered.
Without hesitation, Mrs. Vega lifted her right hand and slapped me. “Bitch, there is no modeling job. You’re here to sell pussy. Do you understand me?”
I was in shock. What did she mean I was there to sell pussy? I called out for Mr. Vega, hoping that he would clear things up. He was the nicer of the two and it just came natural to me to call out for his help. When Mrs. Vega’s hand slammed across my face once more, her violence came with a warning.
“Billie, stop calling out for help. My husband is nothing to you but the man who will sell your ass. You better calm down before I am forced to kill you. Do you understand me?”
I couldn’t even answer. My head was spinning and I needed to sit down.
“What in the hell is going on down here? Why is Billie in the basement?” Mr. Vega asked as he ran down the stairs.
“Your new little bitch is down here acting a fool,” Erin spat out with laughter.
Mr. Vega was now standing between Erin and me. He turned to her, and with one quick motion, he slapped her. Erin fell against the wall behind her. The white bandage on her face instantly became drenched with her blood.
“How many times do I have to tell you that you are not the fucking boss around here? Don’t run that smart-ass mouth of yours until you are spoken to.”
Instead of being upset with Mr. Vega, Erin sent a chilling look my way.
“Your wife say I’m here to sell pussy? I thought I come to model?” I looked at Mr. Vega for answers. I prayed that this was some big mix-up and I hung off of every word that slipped from his mouth.
“Billie, come upstairs with me. I will explain it all.” Mr. Vega reached for my hand but I refused to give it to him.
“She doesn’t need to go upstairs with you. Just tell her the truth right here and now. She is here to work as a fucking whore, that’s it, that’s all.”
I fell to my knees and started to beg. For some reason, now that Mrs. Vega said the truth in front of her husband, I knew that she wasn’t lying.
“Please, just send me home. I will tell no one. I want to go home,” I said as I groveled at the couple’s feet.
Mrs. Vega raised her right foot and swung it across my face. The pain was blinding and caused me to grab my head.
“Why would you do that? Come here, stupid bitch,” Mr. Vega snarled.
Everything was out of control. Mr. Vega was physically attacking his wife as Carmine came over and helped me to my feet.
“I’m sorry, baby. I just thought that she should know the truth. I’m sorry,” Mrs. Vega cried out.
Meanwhile, her husband was trying his best to put his size-twelve shoes up her ass. After a few well-placed punches, and some kicks to different parts of her body, Mr. Vega pulled his wife close and spoke in her face. “Listen up, bitch. If you ever lay a hand on that girl again, I will fucking kill you. She is different, and she will be treated as such. She will be upstairs with us and she won’t be sold until I say so, understand?”
“But . . . but why? She’s just another worker. That’s what you said to me when I told you that I didn’t want her to come with us. I knew that you liked her. I fucking told you that you wanted her.”
Mr. Vega met his wife’s accusation with another hard blow to the face. “You’re fucking right I want her. She is mine, so that means you are to stay away from her. You want the truth, bitch? The truth is that the minute I saw her, my dick got hard. She is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. The way she talks, the way she moves, her body, her smile, her eyes: they just do something to me. The truth is I fucking hate you! You have turned into an old, bitter bitch, and I can’t stand you. What, did you forget that I found you at the auction block your damn self? That’s why I fucking hate you. You left Colombia for a better life and got caught up in this shit just like these other girls, but you forgot where you came from. If I hadn’t saved you, you would be a working girl just like the rest of them.”
“You can’t do this, baby. You can’t have her,” Mrs. Vega cried.
Pulling her close enough to smell his breath, Mr. Vega continued. “She is mine! I will have her upstairs and she will fulfill everything that you can no longer provide me with. I fell in love with Billie the minute I saw her and, now, she is mine.”
I watched the woman who I thought held so much power fall to her feet and kiss her husband’s shoes as she begged him to leave me in the basement. Just as she had done to me, Mr. Vega’s foot met the side of her head, sending her body backward. It would take me years to understand Mrs. Vega’s fears, and why she hated me. She was afraid that I would replace her as the girl her husband saved at auction. I would be the girl in his life she once was. I was also what she would never be again. Partly because of her age, but mostly because of who she had become. Her mean spirit and fleeting memory were her own worst enemies.
“Carmine, take Billie and her belongings upstairs. Get her settled in one of the spare bedrooms. Make sure she showers and is ready for dinner.” Mr. Vega headed upstairs with his wife following and pleading behind him.
While Carmine gathered my things to take upstairs, Erin sent evil glances and harsh words my way. “What did you do, suck his dick? Why do you get to sleep upstairs while we’re down here? You’re not even that cute. I hope you fucking choke on his dick, bitch.”
The other girls joined in on the laughter as Carmine told her to shut her mouth.
“Mrs. Vega is going to kill you the first chance she gets, if I don’t get to you first. Stupid girl made him hit me. You better watch your back, bitch,” she warned as I followed Carmine to the guest bedroom.
Once on the main floor, I looked around and eyed the front door. I took one look at Carmine and realized that he was preoccupied with my belongings. Sensing that this would be my only chance to run, I bolted for the entrance. There were a lot of locks, but I unlocked them pretty quickly. Once the door was open, a loud alarm went off, but I didn’t let that stop me. I ran for my life. All of the walking I had done in Haiti had paid off and I was in shape for the escape. I didn’t know where I was or where I was going. I just knew that I had to get out of there.
I sprinted through backyards and, once a few blocks down, I noticed what looked like a police car from what I had seen in the American movies. I waved it down and asked the officer to help me. In my broken English, I managed to say that I was kidnapped and that I needed help.
“Okay, sweetie, come with me. I will keep you safe,” he assured me.
I got in the back of his car and thanked God that I was able to escape the hell I was sure to face. As he drove, I closed my eyes and said a million thanks to the Almighty. I couldn’t wait to be with my mother again. I just wanted to be with her and cry in her arms and tell her about this whole ordeal.
As I prayed, I felt the car come to a stop. When I opened my eyes, I looked at the house before me and screamed, “No, no, they are the bad people. Take me away.”
The nice policeman smiled before he jumped out of the car and said, “I am one of the bad people too. Welcome back home.”
He had to drag me back into that house kicking and screaming. I put up a good fight, but it just wasn’t good enough. Once inside of the house, Mr. Vega thanked the officer and gave him a wad of money. As the officer walked to the door, I spat at his feet as a show of the utmost disrespect. He went to hit me but Mr. Vega stopped him.
“Don’t worry, Jimmy. I’ll take care of her.”
“You better, she’s a slick one. Beautiful, but slick,” the cop added.
Once the officer left, Mr. Vega sat down beside me and lit a cigar. I stayed quiet in total fear that I was about to suffer a painful consequence for trying to escape.
“Billie, I understand that you are in shock but trying to run from this house can cost you your life. I know that we lied to you, but trust me when I tell you that being my special girl, well, that is as good as it will ever get.”
When I didn’t answer, he put his hand on my knee and began to rub it.
“Listen, we can’t always have everything we want. I know that you would love to just go back home, but that’s not going to happen. Just make the best of this and I promise you that it won’t be so bad. You are mine now, and I will treat you the best, trust me.”
He called Carmine over and told him to take me to my room. “Dinner is in an hour. Your clothes are laid out for you. Put on the lipstick and perfume I left on the bathroom counter after your shower.”
I stood up without saying a single word to Mr. Vega. I followed Carmine without even looking back at him.
“Sorry to see you back,” Carmine said, smiling.
“Sorry to come back,” I answered.
“No one has ever tried that. It’s like we all gave up the minute we walked in this house, but not you.”
I looked at the handsome boy and smiled. “I never give up. One day, I leave and never come back,” I promised in my broken English.
“I believe you. Trust me, I do.”
“I want to go home. I just want my mom.”
Carmine looked at me with pity in his eyes. Once I started to cry, he looked as if he didn’t know what to do. I walked close to him and hugged him. I didn’t know him, but he was the only one who had shown any kindness to me besides Mr. Vega.
“I just want my mom. I miss her.”
“It will be okay. I will watch over you until you see your mommy again. It’s okay.”
I held on to him for a while and just cried. His words were comforting and I was thankful to have a newfound friend.
* * *
After sitting through an uncomfortable dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Vega, I asked to go back to my room. Mrs. Vega hadn’t said much to me while we ate, but the way she looked at me let me know that she hated me.
“Go ahead, Billie. I will be in to see you in a little bit.” Mr. Vega smiled.
I was having a hard time knowing how to deal with him. He was holding me captive, but was being so nice about it. Was it better to have Mr. Vega on my side and be his “special friend” and play nice? I just didn’t know, and I was too tired to try to figure it out in that moment.
I got in the bed with the short dress Mr. Vega had laid out for me. I had wiped off the red lipstick he requested for me to wear and I prayed that, when I woke up the next morning, this day would be a bad dream. I was just starting to fall asleep when Mr. Vega entered my room.
“Billieeeee,” he sung my name. “Wake up, baby. I have something for you.” Mr. Vega waited for me to sit up before he held out a little Baggie toward me. “Sniff a little bit of this. I promise it will make you feel better.”
I took the Baggie, stuck my finger in, and tasted it. “No, I don’t want it.”
At first, he tried to convince me to sniff the cocaine, but after a while he gave up. “Fine, maybe a drink will make you feel better.”
I declined his offer, but he told me that he wasn’t taking no for an answer. He left the room and quickly came back with a bottle of vodka. He poured the first shot and held it up to me. I took it, held my nose, and swallowed, almost on the verge of throwing up. The taste was revolting. I gagged a few times before handing him back the glass.
“That’s a good girl. I want you to take five of them just like the first one, and you’ll feel much better.”
“I don’t like it,” I answered as I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
“Drink, Billie. Don’t make me upset.” His voice was stern and it scared me. He poured the shots, and I drank them all down.
I was starting to get hot and the room started to spin. Mr. Vega put on the television and sat in the chair beside the bed. As time went on, he gave me more liquor and I became drunk.
“You okay, Billie?” he asked as I lay back staring at the ceiling.
“I feel funny,” I answered.
Mr. Vega stood up and sat down on the bed beside my right knee. “It’s the alcohol, Billie. It feels good, doesn’t it?”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I closed my eyes to stop the room from moving.
“You are so beautiful,” Mr. Vega said as I felt his hand on my thigh. I tried to push his hand away, but I had a hard time fighting him off. My body felt heavy, making it hard for me to move.
“The minute I saw you, I knew that I had to have you. I wanted to grab you and feel you right there on the street. I wasn’t going to leave Haiti without you. That is why I had to trick you. I know you’re mad but I just had to have you.”
“Please, Mr. Vega, please leave me,” I pleaded as his hand went farther up my thigh.
“I can’t, Billie, I can’t. Ever since I saw you, all I could do was think about you. I tried to tell myself that you’re too young but I just can’t help it. I fell in love with you as soon as I saw those beautiful blue eyes.”
I continued to plead with him to leave me alone but he wasn’t listening. When his hand reached the spot my mother always told me never to let a man touch, I tried to fight, I really did, but the vodka restricted my body’s movements. He continued to rub me down there as he spoke.
“Just let me love you, Billie. Just let me love you. Don’t fight me. I will make you feel good.”
No matter what I said or tried, he would win that night. He did not penetrate me but his face did find its way between my legs. My body was now at war with my brain. What he did to me didn’t feel bad, but I knew that it was wrong. It wasn’t until a year later that I would find out the true meaning behind what he was doing.
On a talk show, the host had a special on molestation. She said that the predator at times tried to make what he was doing feel good in order to confuse you. It was a way to make you think that what was happening was your fault. It was a form of traumatic bonding. If he made you enjoy it, maybe you would grow positive feelings toward him and no longer see him as a threat.
