Her mother smelled a fortune in the deal and signed a letter to the American immigration authorities allowing Magdalena to accompany their family friend, Dorian, to the United States on a short vacation. She made Magdalena promise to write every week and, of course, send a remittance home to help take care of her little sisters.
All had seemed fine on the airplane. People were still watching. But Dorian put on his wedding ring as soon as they reached Dallas. He hardly spoke to Magdalena at all, instead keeping her prisoner in a hotel at the edge of the city, while he did lines of cocaine and Oxy he bought from some guy in the next room. He took back the money he’d paid her in Jacó and never bought her any nice clothes. The only camera she ever saw was hooked up to the Internet, and he put her in front of that—a lot.
Dorian sold her to another man a week later, for enough money to pay for his entire vacation, including the money she’d given her mother, and then went back home to his wife.
Magdalena Rojas changed hands three times before being sold to Parrot, who already owned Blanca. She knew Parrot reported to someone else and probably gave him a piece of the money his girls brought in. He was mean, all right, but he didn’t seem smart enough to run a business by himself. Whoever that other person was, Magdalena never saw him. She was too busy staying alive.
The girls spent their days trying to sleep, and their nights bouncing between a biker bar and a couple different massage parlors in South Fort Worth.
Magdalena was nowhere near strong enough to give a decent massage, but she went through the motions for the guys that came to get massages—mongers, they called them. They got their fake massages, and then pretended the rest of it was all her idea.
Parrot or Reggie took them to the doctor every other Wednesday, where they got checkups and antibiotics. The doctor was old, with very cold hands, and Magdalena hated him even worse than she hated the stinking bikers or the mongers who came to the massage parlors. The doctor was supposed to be nice and only pretended to be.
Every so often, Parrot would get a call on one of his mobiles, and they would take a road trip in his Chrysler. Magdalena and Blanca had been to the Super Bowl and Mardi Gras and even the State Fair . . . well, cheap hotels near the Super Bowl, and Mardi Gras, and the State Fair. The ceiling of one cheap motel room was much like any other, but at least she got a road trip, and sometimes they got to meet a few other girls.
Tonight, Parrot had set up a private event with a bunch of Asian guys somewhere south of Dallas. The event had gone long, and there was no traffic to speak of on the roads. Reggie was starting to get twitchy and drove slower than the limit. He kept his eyes glued to the road so he didn’t appear to be drunk.
Magdalena hoped he didn’t get them all arrested. She didn’t want to get stabbed with a sharpened toothbrush—especially not tonight.
She didn’t mind Asians, but her last guy of the night was an odd one. She’d been so tired, and incredibly sore by the time she got around to him. He must have noticed, because he said he only wanted to sleep. He’d paid for two hours and just talked to her until he fell asleep, ten minutes into his time. Sometimes guys all but passed out when they finished with her, and she would usually just be still and try to grab a little rest until Parrot banged on the door.
This guy was weird, and she wondered what he’d want her to do when he woke up. He’d talked about all kinds of stuff—the places he’d been, the dangerous stuff he’d seen—like he was a spy or something. Magdalena had been carried away by his fantastical stories. She’d lain there beside him staring at the ceiling until his breathing became more rhythmic and she knew that he was asleep. She began to wonder what it would be like to be a spy, and once the man began to snore, she slipped out of the bed and snooped through his small backpack. The pack contained some wadded clothing, a camera, and a bunch of papers she couldn’t read—messy for a spy. She wrinkled her nose when she saw the loose toothbrush among the dirty clothes, covered in hairs and tiny bits of lint. That was just nasty.
Magdalena had stolen things before, usually small amounts of money that the johns wouldn’t miss. She’d taken a watch once, but she’d been caught and Parrot chopped her bad for that. She’d never taken anything as useless as a thumb drive. She had no access to a computer, no way to know what information the device held. But she reasoned that if this man was indeed a spy, the contents of such a drive would be very valuable—and might keep the police from putting her in jail with the other whores if she got arrested. With her heart in her throat, she shoved the drive into the pocket of her short shorts and climbed back into bed. The odd man stirred, whispered something in her ear, and threw an arm over her shoulder. He woke from his two-hundred-dollar nap an hour later and shooed her out the door, pretending for Parrot that she’d been good at her job. Maybe he was nice, maybe he’d just been too tired to be cruel. Men were strange—and though she was only thirteen, Magdalena was old enough to know that she would never understand them.
She’d told Blanca about her odd spy. She even told her about the thumb drive. The other girl was smart enough but could never focus on important things.
Magdalena felt herself slide forward on the slick seat. Her heart lurched into her throat as the car turned off the main highway. Reggie got out and fooled with a chain a minute before pushing open a big iron gate. He sat behind the wheel again without speaking. The tires rumbled over a metal cattle guard.
Magdalena peered over the back of the seat and out at the headlights as they played across the deserted gravel road. She rocked back and forth, about to jump out of her own skin.
“Why are we stopping here?”
Reggie shrugged. “Parrot told me to drop you off.”
“And Blanca, too, right? You’re coming back?”
“Nope, sweetheart,” Reggie said. “Just you. She’s too banged up for this job.”
Magdalena could see the lights from the big house on the hill now. She’d never been here before, but she’d heard about it from Parrot when he was trying to scare her. If there was a spot worse than the massage parlors and biker bars where she worked, then this was sure as shit that place.
She began to sob. “But for how long?”
Reggie looked in the rearview mirror like he expected the tears. Every girl cried when they brought her here.
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” he said. “I’m just doin’ what Parrot tells me.”
Blanca was awake now. She too began to sob when she realized where they were.
“Are we . . . ?”
Magdalena shook her head. “Not you,” she said. “Just me.” She took the thumb drive from her pocket and pressed it into her friend’s hand, careful not to let Reggie see what she was doing.
She whispered directly into Blanca’s ear.
“Take this.”
“I can’t,” Blanca said. “What if they find it on me? I’m hurt bad. I can’t get chopped no more. It would kill me.”
“Just take it,” Magdalena pleaded. “Stash it under my cot.”