Sold Into Freedom - 4. Chapter 4

Andrew rose early on Tuesday. He briskly showered, dressed in comfortable clothes, and went downstairs to grab breakfast.

Maeve, always ready to fuss over her favourite and only employer, had already put on a pot of coffee and prepared a hearty breakfast of bacon and scones. The table was adorned with cream, milk, jam, and butter, all waiting for Andrew’s arrival. A warm smile greeted him as he entered the kitchen.

"Good morning, Andrew. Would you like some eggs?"

"Morning, Maeve. I'd love some thanks. Scrambled?" Andrew pulled out the straight-backed wooden chair and sat down.

"Scrambled coming up." She moved a black cast iron pan to the stovetop. Maeve moved to the box of eggs and began to crack them into a bowl. "You'll be off for a few days then?"

"Yes, I'll be back Thursday, more likely Friday. I should be back in Scotland on Thursday, however, and I'll call you then, okay?"

Maeve held the bowl and beat the contents with a fork. "I'd appreciate just knowing that you're all right. I know you're an adult but—"

Andrew’s face softened with a grateful smile. "Maeve, we’re more than just employer and housekeeper. We’re family. Your concern for me is a testament to that. I truly appreciate it."

The eggs started to cook, and the gentle sizzle filled the kitchen. Maeve's movements were familiar as she stirred them with a practiced hand. "Andrew, I've known you since you were a young man, and I’ll always be here for you."

"I know."

"Do you? Well, I've got to speak me mind." The woman looked up from the yellow eggs. "I've a feeling you're up to something." Her eyes locked onto his. "Something dangerous."

I've spent nearly as much time with Maeve as with my mother. Andrew hated the worried look on his housekeeper's face. She'd lived with him full-time since he had sold his first book at twenty-three. He'd earned enough to buy Windy Island nearly eleven years ago. The island had come with a large house, and Andrew had decided he needed full-time help. Over the years, they'd become closer than simply employer and employee. That suited Andrew very much. "Sit down with me, and I'll tell you what I'm doing."

Maeve nodded and filled a plate for each of them. She poured coffee and offered the bacon and scones to Andrew before taking some for herself. As they ate and drank, Andrew told her about the book he hoped to write and the upcoming meeting with Mr. Black.

"So, the only real danger, I feel, is if I do anything other than what they have laid out. I'm following their instructions word for word. No funny business."

Maeve spooned some black currant jam onto the last bite of her scone. "It all sounds horrific and dangerous to me. Selling people like they are nothing. It's disgusting. Slavery at best. And what happens when that new boy or girl isn't handsome or pretty, or young anymore, Andrew? What happens to them?"

Lifting his mug to his lips, Andrew sipped before replying. "From what I've been able to determine, some are killed and disposed of; some are sent to work the streets, and some end up in something called The Market. I've not found much about it, and I don't want to push too hard. I'm a newcomer, and being too nosy can be dangerous."

"I know it happens. There is so much evil, so many who will use their fellows to get ahead or to scratch a disgusting itch." Maeve turned her mug in her hands. "I've seen documentaries about women who are forced into the sex trade." She gazed at Andrew across the table. "Sex is a good thing, and I'm not so old-fashioned that I think it should only be for married people. That nonsense came from the Church and their less than godly need to control people."

"It is a good thing, or it should be, but when humans turn it into a business—" Andrew checked his watch. "Oh, I better get going. I need to get to Stornoway to get the noon flight to Edinburgh. I'll spend the night with Mum and Dad. Then down to Green End's Gully to meet my contact Wednesday night. It's worrisome not being able to bring my phone, but as soon as I have it again, I'll call you."

Maeve nodded. "Yes, please do, Andrew. You best get on down to the boat. It's been windier than usual so the sea will be rough."

"You're right." The writer stood up, his mind filled with conflicting thoughts. "Sometimes I wonder what possessed me to buy this place. It's not very convenient for anything." He grinned. "Then I look out the window in my office and I see the grass bending in the wind and the off-kilter trees leaning and the sky and the sea …" He put a hand on Maeve's thin shoulder. "… then I know exactly why. It's a beauty like no other and it sets my heart free."

She smiled at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "It's rough and not always easy, but I feel lucky to be here. I've no desire to change it." Maeve pushed back her chair. "Now, before we both start to sound like Robbie Burns, get yourself gone laddie!"

Laughing, Andrew affectionately kissed Maeve's cheek. "You and your Scottish and Irish heritage."

"Just makes me doubly interesting!" Maeve chuckled and pushed her boss out of the kitchen.

Maeve searched in the little junk drawer for a pad and a pencil. She meticulously noted what Andrew had told her, the dates and times and where he'd be. Once finished, she carefully pushed the pad back into the drawer. "Just in case I need to tell the police."

She cleared away the leftover food. "I'll eat this while he's away. This house needs a good clean. It'll help keep me from worrying so much."

While she cleaned the kitchen, Andrew packed a few things he'd need while away. He paused in the kitchen to say goodbye to Maeve and left the house. He strode down to the dock, where he kept a couple of sturdy motorboats. They were nothing fancy but robust enough to get them to Lewis Island. He'd get a taxi from the landing to the small island airport.

⸛

Sitting with his back against the wall, Matt felt the boat roll with the movement of the ocean. He was a little nauseous. He'd asked for a can of ginger ale, and sipping it calmed his stomach somewhat.

The others in the room rarely spoke and kept to themselves. This situation suited Matt, who had little to say to them either.

He was bored and wished they had a TV or something to do. Ratty old paperbacks sat piled in a cardboard box in the corner. He'd tried to read, but the closeness of the walls, the heat, and the stale air hadn't helped his dizziness or unhappy belly. Will they ever take me outside for a little bit, just for some fresh air?

While he was daydreaming, there was a noise at the door, like the scrape of a key fitting the lock. The door opened, and all eyes were on it.

The man called D returned the young Asian boy he'd come for earlier. "Get in and relax." The slender, handsome youth carefully picked his way around and over the others to get to his place. He sat down.

D surveyed the others who hunkered down on their thin mattresses. "You, blondie." He pointed at the young kid next to Matt. "Let's go."

The very blond boy looked up at D with wide eyes.

He's scared. Matt watched the frightened youngster struggle to his feet.

"Let's go. I don't have all fucking day. You dicks need to be ready for tomorrow." D stood in the doorway. He was a solid man and nearly filled the opening.

When his next victim was in range, D grabbed the young man and bullied him through the door. "Move it!"

The door slammed, and the lock clicked. The sound was discouraging and only increased Matt's melancholy. He looked over at the Asian boy who had sat on the mattress next to him.

"Hi, I'm Matt. Are you okay? I have some ginger ale if you'd like it." Matt looked down at the drink, wiping the top with his sleeve. "I've only had a little."

The dark-eyed man twisted around. "I'm Isao." He glanced at the can. "Do you mind if I have a drink?"

"No, here, go ahead." Matt passed the ginger ale to Isao. "What did they do to you?"

"Haircut, body shaved and waxed. Hands and feet done." He held out his neat fingertips for Matt to see. "Making us pretty enough to sell." Isao accepted, then turned the can and then sipped daintily. "Nothing to drink. I'm so thirsty." He handed the container back to Matt. "Thank you. They only have horrible chili to eat. Pricks are starving us."

"You don't sound afraid, Isao." Matthew flicked the pulled tab, and it tinged. "But I am."

"Don't be." Isao's brow furrowed, and he leaned toward Matt. He spoke in hushed tones. "At least don't let them see it. You're worth a lot to them, so they won't hurt you."

"I don't want to be sold to some…some guy."

"Could be a woman." Isao laughed. "I think it has to be better than the street. At least we'll be warm and fed. Well, sort of."

Matt blinked and thought about that. "But what will they make us do?"

"Our new owners? Sex or something." Isao put his hands behind his head. "Maybe they'll fall in love with us."

"You think that's possible?" Matt's doubt was evident when he said, "I don't. I don't think that's what will happen at all."

"No?"

"No. If this is what they do—Matt gestured around the small room—there's no happy ending for us."

Isao gazed at Matt for a few minutes. It appeared he wanted to speak several times, but he never did. Instead, he shuffled around and lay down, blotting out the world with sleep.

Matt leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. He'd finished the ginger ale, and his belly felt calmer. He sat quietly and let himself think. What's the point of fighting them? If I do, they'll beat me or worse. I'm just going to do as they tell me. It's the best thing for me right now. Maybe there will be a time when I can run but that isn't now. Feeling somewhat better, Matt let himself drift to sleep.

Matt was suddenly jolted awake. "What?" Cracking open his eyes, he saw two legs. One was nudging his right foot.

"Up, Sleeping Beauty." D stood over him. "Your turn. Stop fucking me around."

Matt hoisted himself up. "Okay, sorry," he said as he got to his feet. "I'm ready."

Matthew's sudden cooperation took aback Dante. "You are?"

"I can't stop you, can I?" Matt ran his hands through his hair and yawned. "Yeah, so let's go." He moved toward the entrance.

Dante opened the door and gripped Matt just above the elbow. "This way."

They walked along the narrow passage, and Matt's stomach churned a little more with each step.

Once they'd passed a few doors, Dante stopped at the next. "In here."

Inside was a barber's chair, a glassed-in corner shower, cabinets, and a medical exam table. Matt's attention was drawn to the two other men in the room.

Dante released Matt's arm. "Everything off. These two will give you a nice haircut and remove your body hair. Get your clothes off."

Matt felt his bravado wane as he eyed the muscular man holding a straight razor. The other was donning a thick apron and gloves.

The slap across his face brought Matt from his daydream. Dante's angry visage was before him. "I told you to strip. Do not fuck around!"

"Sorry." Matt quickly tugged his t-shirt and sweats off. He bent to remove his socks.

"I'll be back for you. Behave, or J, that big guy…" Dante pointed. "…will make you. Understood, Matt?"

"Yeah, I get it, D." Matt stood naked, his hands over his privates.

D smiled at him, and his tone was kinder. "Good. Just don't argue; let them do their jobs, and it will be over quickly. Then I'll have some food for you. You must be hungry."

Matt pulled his gaze from the big barber back to Dante. "I am."

"I know. It's gonna be okay. Just go get in the chair and be a good boy."

"Okay, D." Matt smiled, walked over to the chair, and sat down.

⸛

About an hour later, Matt was dressing when Dante returned with another of the guys from their room.

"This is the last one, J."

The hefty barber grunted and lifted a hand. He turned to sharpen his razor.

Dante instructed the new victim to strip. Leaving the new boy, he turned to Matt. "Let's go."

"Okay." Matt got to his feet and followed Dante from the room and along the passage.

"In here." Dante opened the Crew's Mess door and waited for Matt to go through it. "Sit down. I'll get you some food."

"Thanks." Matt glanced around, noting the room held several small tables with chairs. Matt slipped onto the nearest chair and rested his arms on the round tabletop.

Dante returned carrying a well-laden tray. Reaching Matt, he put the platter on the table. It contained two bowls of thick chili, a plate of grated cheese, and sour cream. Spoons and cans of soda also sat on the tray.

Matt looked up to Dante, who pulled out a chair and sat.

Nodding at the food, D said, "Eat."

"Thanks, okay." Matt took a bowl. Chili was not his favourite food, but he added toppings and picked up a spoon. He scooped up a small serving with the utensil.

Dante grinned and inclined his head at the food. "You don't much like chili, I'm guessing."

Matt swallowed. "It's okay. I'm hungry. I'm not complaining."

"You learn to eat whatever there is. At least here, the food is clean."

"What do you mean?" Matt took another spoonful. As chili went, this was good.

"Before I came to work here for…here, I lived on the street for a long time." Dante shoveled in a spoonful and chewed. "You learn to deal with shit, eat whatever there is."

"That must have been hard. My life until now was never really hard. I thought it was, but that was just stupid."

Dante was silent as he ate. Matt decided to follow suit.

"I can tell you're not street or even ex-street." Dante's voice was soft. "That's good. Cuz the stuff I've done, and was done to me are chains I gotta wear forever. It is never gone, ya know? It fucked me up."

Matt searched Dante's eyes. What is that? Fear, hate, horror, and sadness all rolled into one? Dante's face roused feelings of compassion in Matt. I guess as things go, I'm lucky.

Dante saw pity on Matt's face. "You need to do whatever you need to do if you want to survive, Matt. People can be worse than you think. They have appetites for stuff you can't even imagine. But I want you to know, you can get through it. You can. I did."

"Listen, if you need to talk—" The look on Dante's face made Matt regret the triteness of his words. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"Talking don't help. Pills don't. What I did out there is mine and I don't think it ever will not be mine. The memories are like a snake that winds its way around and around me. Sometimes it's quiet, and when you least expect it—it bites." Dante pushed the spoon around the now-empty bowl. "What's coming for you, it won't be good. And it's gonna feel like it will never end." Dante's hand was across the table in a split second, seizing Matt's forearm tightly. "Ride it, do not sink. Ride the motherfucker and when you see a tiny island of hope, fucking jump, Matt. Don't do what I have, you fucking jump."

Matt stared at the man across from him. "Why are you saying this to me?"

Releasing Matt's arm, D sat back. "Why? Cuz you shouldn't be here. Yeah, you're young and good-looking. In nice shape and what those rich pricks are looking for. I don't know what you did to get caught up in all this." The young captor leaned forward. "But don't believe they are gonna care about you. You'll be shiny and new until you aren't. These dicks do not care, will not care. This isn't love. They will fuck you, beat you, maybe torture you. They will toss you to their pals or their pets."

"Really?" Matt squeaked the word out. He whispered, "You?"

Dante looked down at the tabletop. He was silent. Then he again met Matt's eyes. "I... I've done things I had no choice in. I'm not proud of it but I didn't want to die."

"How did you get here?"

"Mr. Black found me in The Market. He wanted someone with smarts. Someone who could deal with the boys he sells. I was lucky he chose me. I've never messed him around. So, he's been good to me, fair."

Suddenly, Dante was on his feet. "Shit. Listen to me. You say nothing about any of this. Fuck. You hear me?"

"Yes, D. I promise, I won't say anything. I'll just do what you said."

Dante grabbed Matt's bicep and squeezed. "Let's go. You need to rest."

"You can trust me," Matt said as his guardian pushed him out the mess hall door.

Dante grinned. "Trust no one that says that to ya. They are the last pricks you can trust."

Matt kept quiet as Dante propelled him back to the communal bedroom. Before they entered, Dante gripped his arm and said, "Promise me, Matt. Promise me you'll jump.

All Matt could do was nod.

⸛

Andrew disembarked the prop-driven ATR at Edinburgh Airport. He collected his small bag and went to the Enterprise Car Rental counter.

He contacted his parents, who were expecting him, waited patiently for his turn at the rental counter, filled out the forms, presented his credit card, and signed. He picked up the Ford Focus and made his way out of the airport.

Andrew arrived at Dalkeith, Midlothian, where the traditional stone-built family farmhouse stood. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of earth and old forest. The farmhouse, a beautiful building nestled amongst the trees, always inspired him. He parked the gray compact car at the rear beside his parents' vehicle.

Stepping out of the car, Andrew's eyes were drawn to the elegant lines of the Jaguar. A smile tugged at his lips, and he couldn't help but compare it to the Ford. With a playful pat on the little car, he murmured, "You're not in that one's league at all."

Andrew turned away, the sound of gravel crunching under his feet. His gaze shifted to the house, its beautiful golden-coloured brick standing as a testament to his family's history. He walked past the familiar sights of the garage and storeroom, and with a sense of homecoming, he reached the door. Opening it, he stepped into the vestibule and then knocked on the inner door.

Two to three minutes passed before the wooden door opened. Andrew grinned when it did.

"Hi, Mum."

Doreen MacCabe smiled and opened her arms. "Hello, darling! Come in," she said warmly.

Andrew stepped forward, his small bag dropping from his hand to the floor with a soft thud. He then wrapped his arms around his mother in a tight embrace.

"It's lovely to see you, darling." Breaking from the hug, Doreen shut the door.

****

Please let me know in the comments below what you think about this chapter or what you think may be coming.  Thanks for reading!
Many thanks to @kbois, who edited this story and @Reader1810, who read it for me.