Selling Out by Amber Lin

dressed up for her school
picture. A younger, happier version of the Jenny I knew, one who couldn’t
imagine the indignities that would be visited on her body.
    Beneath the photo was a number for the missing-persons
hotline. With a jerky motion, I threw the clipping back on the coffee table,
but it caught on the air and floated to my feet. My fingers had black smudges
left from the ink.
    “What is this?” I asked. “What does this have to do with
me?”
    Jade shrugged. “Maybe nothing.”
    Unaccountably, I felt angry. “This is from the original
paper, not a printout. So you knew about this at the time. Did you call this
number? Did Jenny even have a chance?”
    “Call them?” she asked scornfully. “What for, call them?”
    I shook my head, throat tight. Her words replayed in my
head: “What for, call them?” That
wasn’t how this worked; I knew that. Every one of these girls had a story.
Every one of us had a story, and it didn’t matter. I had a story. Don’t think
about it. What for?
    “Hey,” Jade chastised. “Did the rich bastard fuck you so
hard your brains are broken, huh? You want to save your skin, or the girl you
have, then pay attention.”
    I looked down, feeling properly chastised. Of course Jade
was helping me. My gut told me this was important, and I would never have found
it without her.
    Focus on Jenny. On Ella. This wasn’t about me.
    I picked up the clipping again and stared at her bright
smile. Was this the most recent picture her mother had owned of her daughter?
    “Yesterday Henri had those men shot in retaliation. The same
thing he did before, with her dealer boyfriend.”
    Jade shook her head. “You are determined not to see truth.”
    “It could be a pattern,” I said more gently. “Maybe those
guys at the party had done something to Henri. Cheated him.”
    She gave me a look not unlike the one she’d used on the
customers earlier. Idiot.
    Okay, then. “So if it’s not that… That’s how he acquired
Jenny. It wasn’t random. Maybe it was even a little bit of revenge, to whore
out the girlfriend of a man who screwed him over.”
    She looked approving, if that was what the retreat of her
scowl meant.
    I continued, “And if that’s how he acquired Ella too, then it
explains why she was so clueless about it. It also explains why he doesn’t want
to give her up.”
    “Face,” Jade said curtly.
    Everything was face with her. Face meant a man’s reputation,
his respect, his ruthlessness. If Ella represented some sort of revenge to
Henri, he wouldn’t let her slip away so easily. Killing the men and framing her
for the murder might have been the most convenient way of finding her in the
large city.
    “So what do we do?” I asked.
    “If you hand over the girl, Henri will owe you.” At my
shocked look, she raised her eyebrow. “Maybe owe you enough to let you go.”
    My freedom or the girl. Oh, she was good. Maybe she had been
sent by Henri after all.
    “No,” I said, my voice just a little too loud to be
confident.
    She didn’t look overly perturbed by my refusal. “I assume
you won’t send the girl away to live on the run and turn tricks for her money.
Otherwise you would have already let her go. The last option is look to the
source. If you restore face in some other way, maybe Henri will be happy. He
will make cops look somewhere else. You both free.”
    I was skeptical. “Did Henri tell you that?”
    “He tells me nothing. I hear things. You know this.” Her
surprise looked genuine. “So don’t listen to me. What do I know?”
    “No, no. I’m sorry. I’ve been messed up from this whole
thing. How can I find out what happened? Please tell me.”
    “I should make you ask girl for that.” Then she seemed to
reconsider. “I tell you what I know. I always like you. Henri is scared of the
girl, because she is only one who can put him away.”
    “No.” The word slipped out of my mouth, the thought of Henri
afraid so preposterous. Though he was hands-on,