The Cunning

65

Madison joined the showing later in the evening. She knew someone would come and get her if she didn't. As with the previous showing, she grabbed a drink and stood in the corner, keeping her head down and trying not to draw any attention to herself.

"Hey honey, why the long face?" one of the other girls asked, opening the fridge. Madison's eyes flickered around for Jase or Adam, anything that would warn her she was walking into a trap. There was no one obviously watching them.

"Are you serious?" She replied. The girl chewed her lip. She had dyed brown hair, ironed straight to her shoulders. Her makeup wasn't cakey like when Lily did it, and her perfume wasn't that awful cheap stuff. Madison narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out who this girl was and what she was doing there. And why she seemed so happy about it.

"I suppose that's a stupid question," the girl said. Madison couldn't place her accent, just knew she wasn't local. There was a smoothness to it, a soft southern glaze. "I'm Stacey. You got a name?"

"Madison."

Stacey raised her eyebrows, recognition in her expression. "Ah, you're the famous Madison." Madison didn't say anything, Stacey smiled reassuringly. "People talk. News travels fast."

"What's been said?" Madison questioned hesitantly. The last thing she wanted to do was get in trouble for gossip. The girl shrugged.

"Enough." She looked Madison up and down, taking in the unrevealing outfit. "Enough to know you don't want to be here and you're making a point of it." She closed the fridge, a fruity drink in hand.

"And you do?" Stacey pretended not to hear the question, tossing the bottle top in the bin.

"I've been doing this for a long time. There is no getting out, so you may as well quit whilst you're still alive." She took a mouthful of the drink. "But there are tricks so you can keep some of your dignity intact." Madison shifted her weight from one foot to the other, folding her arms. She highly doubted this was a job where dignity could be maintained by any shred when the choice to do the job was taken away.

"Go on," Madison encouraged, willing to listen to any piece of advice at this point regardless of her doubts. Stacey's lips twitched upwards, a solemn look in her eyes.

"I remember being your age, grasping on to the fringes of survival-" Madison tilted her head, she didn't look that much older.

"How old are you?" she asked, cutting her off.

"27," she replied. Madison's eyes widened and the woman shrugged, "they keep me around because I look young." She sighed, shaking her head and getting back on track. "It's a bitter pill to swallow, but once you get used to doing it, it's a doddle. You learn to take your mind to a different place, or, failing that, fake it til you make it." Madison didn't follow, and the woman smiled, "I know it sounds mental but hear me out. They take everything from us. Our clothes, our names if they don't like the one you have, everything. If you can convince yourself that it's a choice, at the very least, you can feel empowered." Madison narrowed her eyes.

"What are you getting at?" she questioned. Stacey grinned.

"Sex appeal. Men are animals." Her words picked up their pace and the excitement in her tone spiked. Madison soon realised this was not sincere advice, there was a pleading lilt to it. There was something in this for her. She was still talking. "They can't help themselves but admire it. Your life isn't going to be perfect, but trust me, if you do what you're told and act like you enjoy doing it, they'll see you as an asset. It's a coping mechanism that hasn't failed me yet. Eventually, it won't seem so bad." Madison mulled over her words, trying to figure out what Stacey could possibly get out of convincing her to roll over.

Stacey was tall, her legs slender and faintly tanned. The red body-con dress she had on looked vacuum packed to her body. She was thin but appeared healthier than the other girls, suggesting there was a sprinkling of truth in her advice. Then Madison noticed the track marks on her arms.

Of course.

Stacey was doing what Madison had done with Tia and Gabby. Get her to behave. Except Stacey would get another hit of that nasty brown stuff when she returned to whatever pit her and the others were being kept in.

Rolling her eyes, Madison stepped past Stacey, concluding their interaction and making her way into the living room.

She spotted Jase, Janine and Sam sitting at the table. Jase was leaning over his phone with a rolled-up twenty. Keeping in mind what Janine had said about staying in the visuals of the boys in case something went wrong, Madison made her way over.

A pair of hands reached out to grab her as she tried to pass the sofa, pulling her down onto the lap of a man she didn't recognise. The stench of beer and stale cigarettes engulfed her, invading her lungs as the man breathed in her face. She recoiled, naturally.

"Fuck me, you're lovely, aren't you?" he laughed at her squirming. Janine looked at Jase, who had just come up from a line and was now watching Madison as he took a cigarette out of the box. He looked agitated. Janine wondered whether that was the coke or something else. He held the cigarette between his teeth for a few seconds, letting the guy run his hands all over Madison before turning away as he lit it.

"Let her go," he said calmly.

"Come on Jase, I was only messing," the guy said, but he listened, and Madison scrambled to her feet, wrapping her arms around body, patting out the grim heat his hands had left on her. Everywhere the man's fingers had roamed felt filthy, like he'd left films of dirt on her skin.

"You want to play; you pay," Jase said. The man leaned forward, slapping Madison's arse so hard it was heard over the music.

"How much for this one then?" he asked. Jase looked at Madison, taking a long slow drag. She was trying desperately to hold back tears. Her eyes glistened red with the threat of waterworks but Madison refused to let herself look weak in front of these vultures. She wouldn't give Jase the satisfaction.

"She's reserved," he said. She searched his eyes for anything that wasn't pure malice but there was nothing behind the shrunken spider pupils staring back. And they were spider pupils, Madison's vision was doubling, her head spinning, that unwelcome and oh so familiar race of her heartbeat in the back of her throat rose like bile.

Jase cocked a single brow at her, blowing smoke from the corner of his lips. Everyone was watching the exchange, the music had faded into background noise, all heads turned. Madison's cheeks were on fire. Now she knew what it was like to be one of the other girls. Not even her first showing had made her feel so violated and alone. The first tear fell, eliciting a roll of Jase's eyes.

"If you're going to cry, do it upstairs," he muttered, turning back to the table and his magic white lines. Madison quickly edged herself out of the living room, darting for the bedroom. Janine glared at Jase. "You got something to say?" She gritted her teeth, swallowed everything trying to claw its way out of her mouth and got up, following Madison. Sam shot Jase a disapproving glare.

"Don't be a dick to her," he said with an edge. When Janine spoke out of term, Sam let Jase do his job, but he drew the line at him being an arsehole for the sake of being an arsehole.

"Get her in line then," Jase warned.

*

Now we're back in Jase's arsehole phase, tell me, do you love to hate him or hate to love him?