Some of them got close enough that Mira could smell the odor of the fields they’d worked. Their breath hovered in her face as they asked questions about her body. They wanted to touch and a few of the men did. Mira watched as their hands felt up a woman’s thighs, moving to touch what was underneath the sheets they wore. Unsatisfied, wanting to see more, one of the men ripped off a woman’s shirt, revealing her bare skin for all the men to see. She quickly reacted to cover her chest, but the man who’d forced Mira into the room went and struck her, and she let go of her arms, relenting, and the men all stared at what she had to offer.

“How much?” they asked, and for each of them a price was yelled. Men thrust their money and paid. Afterward, they each took their woman and left the room, going off to another part of the house Mira couldn’t see.

“Her, I want her,” a man said, pointing to Mira. He had blond hair wetted so he could make a side part. Behind his mask blue eyes fixed themselves on her. His skin was tanned, most likely from working all day doing whatever fieldwork necessary for his living. He was dressed plainly, but many of the men in the room wore similar clothes.

“Marceline’s not on the table,” another man called. This man entered the room wearing a mask like all the others, but he carried himself with a different air. His clothes were more formal, as if he were attending a ball, and his dark shoes made a loud clack as the heels hit the floor.

“I’m not Marceline,” Mira said to them both, but the men continued on with their conversation, ignoring her.

“If she’s not on the table then why is she here?”

“She’s been waiting here for me. That’s why. Look, Tatum, I’m not going to argue with you. Either pick another girl or leave. Your choice.”

Tatum. Had she heard right? The man pouted, giving a once-over at Mira, and she wished she could see his face. Without thinking, she raised her arm to take his mask, to pull it off him, to see him for who he was. He backed away from her, deciding on another woman nearby.

After he left, the other man, the one with the clacking shoes, walked straight to Mira and gestured for her to follow him. He led her out of the room, down one hall and then another. As they walked, Mira noticed that more of the scenery had changed. This was not the house she’d seen before.

He led her into one of the rooms and cornered her toward the bed. “Shhhhhh,” he said, spittle dripping onto her chest. “Unless you want to play our game? We could play that game too, if you want.”