“He took the phone? The one hegaveto you?”

“Yes, that’s how much he doesn’t want to see me.”

“Fuck!”

I wait. My wrist is on fire, and I’m petrified he’ll grab it again.

“It’s just a twenty-dollar phone. Why take it from you? Why not just... never call again?”

“I don’t know. But he told me to go to Vegas. We’re done.”

“No, no, no, no. You can’t be done. You still have time left onyour contract with him. We have to get you back in with him to discuss languages and get his story and see why they’re meeting. And I need you to get a strand of his hair. Then we’ll be done.”

“Wait, what? You literally want me to cut his hair?”

“No, I need you to pull it out or find a strand still intact. With the little white thing at the end of it.”

“Pull a hair off of his head? He doesn’t want to see me anymore, and you want me to yank out his hair? How does that not get me killed?”

“You don’t have to yank it. You can get a hair off a comb or a pillow. People shed ‘em all the time.”

“He made me give back the phone!” I protest. “He’s through with me!”

“I don’t care.” He scowls for a moment. “Oh! Here’s what we do. We’re set up at his restaurant, where he holds court two or three times a week. We’ll let you know when he’s there, and you’ll just show up.”

“That’ll be completely suspicious.”

“He’s a good-looking guy. Maybe you have a thing for him.”

“I don’t think that’s how prostitutes work.”

He levels a hard stare at me, and my blood goes cold. “I understand you’re getting straight As. A smart girl like you, you’re gonna figure out a way to make it happen. Coax out what you can about this language he and Orton spoke and whatever else, get the piece of hair, and then and only then will our deal be done.”

“Willit be done? I’ve fulfilled my end of our bargain, and you keep changing the rules.”

“I do, don’t I? Tough luck, you’re not in a court of law here. You’re in the Wild West, and I own you. You understand that? Your life is in my hands, and when I say jump, you jump. And you know why you’ll keep jumping? Because I guarantee you, the alternative will be worse.”

“I’m not so sure about that anymore,” I say.

“You ever played poker, Edie?”

“Does it matter?”

“Let me tell you about my cards. One card could be sending you to jail for prostitution, which you have definitely been doing. One card is the men I control who are holding your sister. They have her in a cage, and she’s safe for now, but that cage has a door. And the men on the other side of the door have knives?—”

“You’re holding my sister? You know where she is?”

Bender doesn’t tell me. Has he known where she is this whole time? Or is it all bullshit? I stare miserably at the fountain while he continues telling me the horrible things that bad men might do to my sister, clearly delighting in it. I have no way of knowing if any of it’s true. I have no power against this man. Ihavebeen working as a prostitute. He probably even has proof.

I want to weep.

“Here’s another card,” he continues. “I could put you in a cage, too. I was keeping that card a secret, but I think I know you well enough now that I can tell you about it.”

“What?”

“You. Think of it. A cage, just like your sister’s and men with knives. Even now, nobody knows where you are. Or I could just go ahead and put the word out that you’re a snitch. I could put it exactly where it would get to Luka. How do you know I don’t have a few photos of us together already?”

“You have photos of us together?”