Page 22 of Captive

Angie

Aside from thecreepy mirror incident, it is truly a party, and the fact that there are seemingly no boys allowed makes it that much more fun. Each of us were allowed to pick from an array of shimmery sundresses and sandals to wear for the event. Our clothes, underwear and all, had been swept up for cleaning. Yoli mentioned they would be returned at the end of the night 'smelling like sunshine'. That explained why she seemed to be wearing a ludicrous amount of layers. She knew her clothes would be fresh and washed by the end of the night. Yoli took street smart to a whole newlevel.

Luscious gravy covered meatballs are piled high in a silver chafing dish and there are baked potatoes with all the possible toppings a hungry girl could want. By the time I finish piling on the butter, sour cream and cheese, I have more toppings than potato. Aside from tea and ice water, a luxury I didn't even realize I missed until I saw the frosty glasses sitting on the table, there are flutes of champagne. And while I am no expert on the bubbly drink, it tastes like the goodstuff.

Yoli and I pull up chairs at one of the tables and sit with our filled plates and champagne glasses. White linen tablecloths and bud vases of pink roses have been set up around the room. Music plays through overhead speakers, but it can hardly be heard over the conversations andlaughter.

Yoli and I tap our glasses together. I take a good long drink. It tickles my nose. It's good and I finish half the glass. "I feel like I'm at a wedding." I smooth my hands over the silky fabric of the dress I'm wearing. It has spaghetti straps, a tight bodice with tiny buttons running down the front and a flirty short skirt. It's like nothing I have in mycloset.

"Maybe it's the champagne, but I've decided I love this dress. It feels just like silk." I take another drink of champagne. It seems to be going straight to my head, which I blame more on lack of sustenance in my body than being a total lightweight. Which Iam.

"You should slow down on that champagne," Yoli warns. I think it's a little unnecessary since I've only had three fourths of aglass.

"It's so good. I can't stop drinking it." I take anothersip.

"That's the goal," she mutters cryptically before plowing a forkful of food into hermouth.

"What do youmean?"

She answers with a shrug and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand as she chews the food. She opted for some heavy blue eye makeup and mascara. It makes her look harsh, lessfriendly.

The first bite of potato is so good, I find myself mirroring her and plowing in a large bite so fast my eyes water. I drink it down with more champagne as I survey the room. "There's no one here but us women. No food servers or people watching that we don't steal the tablelinens."

Yoli breaks off a piece of roll. "They have the food catered. It's all set up before we get here. And as for making sure we don't steal the table linens—" She motions discretely to the heavy drapes that line the entire front of the room. Three black cameras are positioned on the brass rods holding thedrapes.

I swing my face back toward her and grab the table edge as the room spins and twirls. "Whoa, that isn'tgood."

"Told you so about the champagne." Yoli reaches for my glass. "Eat the food and I'll get you somewater.

Yoli gets up. I glance at her champagne flute. She's hardly taken a sip. I look around but realize the spins have only gotten stronger. It seems some of the women are pleasantly drunk and others are drinking only water or tea, avoiding the champagne altogether. I stare at the plate of food and decide it looks less appetizing than it did a few minutes ago. My potato goes out of focus for a second. I close my eyes and open them. It looks like a potatoagain.

Yoli returns with a glass of water. "You haven't eaten enough. It's the only thing that will counter thechampagne."

I stare down at my plate. "I don't understand. I was starved when we walked in here. Maybe I'll just eat the roll." I pick up the bread and tear off a piece. It sticks in my dry throat. I gulp the cold water and put the glass down. "Yoli, this isn't regular champagne, is it? I don't drink much, but I've never had it affect me likethis."

Yoli avoids looking at me by focusing on her plate. The blue eye makeup is creased across herlids.

"Yoli?"

She peers up at the cameras as if they can hear the conversation we're having. She leans closer. "No one knows for certain but most of us have had the same experience with the champagne. Some of us just pretend to drink it because we don't want to be taken off the list. And some girls like the heavy buzz it gives them. It also makes you feel like shit after it wearsoff."

"Like a lousy hangover?" I ask, not looking forward to suffering the headache and nausea inside a squalid sidewalktent.

"Something like that," Yoli mutters quickly without making eye contact. She seems to brush off telling me something else and takes a quick breath to produce a smile. "Either way, I think it's supposed to help us forget about the night, so we don't blab about it all over theplace."

I sit back hard and the jolt sends a new wave of dizziness throughme.

Yoli reaches over and takes my hand. "I'm sorry. I should have told you earlier. It's just you were gulping it so fast, I didn't have time. You'll be fine if you just eat. It wears off much faster thatway."

I put my fork into a meatball and push it reluctantly into my mouth as if it's a golf ball and not a moist piece of meat. Earlier, the fragrant aroma of the food had me close to tears, but even with a hollow stomach, I have noappetite.

"It does that to some people," Yoli assures me. "They don't want to eat. That's why most of us avoid the champagne. We're here for one thing. Food. And the shower and shampoo ofcourse."

"That's why you don't want to be taken off the list," I say. "That's why this night is such a big deal. Food and showers and clean clothes." They were simple necessities for most people, but for the girls without a home or place to belong, they were exquisite luxuries. It was why no one questioned or balked at the unseemly ride in the dark, virtually windowlessvan.

"Keep eating," Yoli advises. "I'm going to go talk to some friends." I can't blame her for deserting me. I'm a hazy headed mess, barely able to keep my eyes from crossing. I am utterly disappointed with myself for falling for such an easy trick. I try to blame it on my weakened state from being hungry and tired, but I deserve a solid kick in theass.

I stay safely sitting on the chair as the frivolities continue around me. Yoli has joined two girls at the dessert table. She is running her finger through some frosting on a slice of cake. Her eyes flit my direction, and she points to the dessert table. Even though I have what Maddox refers to as an unholy sweet tooth, I can't even think about eating a piece ofcake.

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