40
When Bianca found her sister crumpled on that filthy sidewalk, she’d picked her up and helped her stumble toward her building.
She’d found Lyric’s keys in her small purse and let them both into the lobby.
With her arm around the girl’s waist, she half carried her into the elevator and up to the apartment.
It was a cramped one-bedroom littered with clothes, shoes, makeup, and other girlish accoutrements.
There was no sign of the roommate who’d hung up on her, but she noted a closed door next to the bathroom.
Lyric had another roommate too, but she appeared to be out.
The sisters crawled into Lyric’s futon bed, and Bianca held the girl while she slept.
Bianca’s flight was leaving soon, and she wouldn’t be on it.
If she didn’t call Damian before the plane landed, he would go to the airport, and she wouldn’t be there.
She needed her phone, but it was in her purse on the floor, and she couldn’t let go of her sister’s small, limp body.
So she lay there, holding her as the hours ticked by.
From behind the thin paper screen, Bianca heard the roommate get up, shower, and leave.
Silence followed, and she felt sure they were alone.
She didn’t know how long they’d been lying there, but her arm had fallen asleep under Lyric’s weight.
What time was it? Could she still change her flight?
She needed her phone. Gingerly, she attempted to extricate herself, but Lyric stirred.
She turned over in Bianca’s arms, smiled weakly at her.
“You’re here.”
“I’m here.”
Lyric’s face crumpled then. “I’m sorry.”
Bianca shushed her, stroked her hair. “Tell me what happened…”
Lyric shook her head, still confused and discombobulated.
Her eyes filled with tears, and she looked so young, so afraid.
She was not hard like her older sister. Bianca had handled their cruel mother with no one in her corner.
Lyric had always had Bianca as a buffer, a safety net.
That love and support had allowed her to grow up soft. It had made her weak.
Bianca cradled the girl in her arms and made soothing noises until she stopped crying. Delicately, she began to ask questions.
“Why did you quit the restaurant?” There was no judgment, only curiosity.
Lyric’s voice was small. “This lady came in for dinner. She was so classy and sophisticated. She invited me to a party.”
“You went to a party with a stranger?” Bianca’s gentle tone was slipping.
“She was a regular. She seemed super nice.”
“Where was this party?”
“The first one was small, more like a get-together. It was in a fancy high-rise apartment. I had fun that time. I drank champagne and met all these cool people. Everyone was rich, and some of them were even famous,” Lyric continued.
“The lady—her name is Fay—told me everyone liked me a lot. And if I’d come to more parties, they’d pay me. ”
“Pay you for what?” There was only the slightest tremor in Bianca’s voice.
“Fay said I’d be like a hostess. All I had to do was chat to people and make sure they had drinks and stuff. She said I’d work less and make way more than I did at the restaurant. I thought it seemed legit.”
Then why did you lie to me about it? But Bianca couldn’t scold her, not now.
“So I quit the restaurant. I—I only went to two parties.” She was getting emotional again, but Bianca needed her to keep talking.
“What happened at these parties?” she asked softly.
“The next party was much bigger. It was in an office tower, in a big empty space. There was no furniture except some couches and a few bars. I—I must have drunk too much that night. I felt sick and kind of scared. I wanted to leave, but Fay said I had to stay or I wouldn’t get paid.
The next day, I couldn’t remember what happened or how I got home. ”
Bianca felt her body tense, her skull squeezing her brain, but she forced herself to relax, to listen.
“A few days ago, Fay called and invited me to another party at some big warehouse. I told her I didn’t want to go, that I was going to get another job at a restaurant, but…
she said I had to.” Lyric’s voice wavered with shame and regret.
“Fay had a video of me doing things that I don’t remember. Sexual things.”
Bianca felt her body quaking with rage toward this horrible Fay woman, but she stilled it, focused on her sister. “It’s okay,” she said. “It’s not your fault.”
“I went to the party, and I tried not to drink. I held the same cocktail glass all night. But somehow, something happened to me. I don’t remember anything after that, until you found me on the sidewalk.”
Bianca held her close, kissed her hair, and rubbed her back. “You’re safe now. I’m here.” She waited until the sobs subsided before she said, “But you’re coming home with me.”
“No…” But it was a weak protest, because she knew. Lyric was too young, too na?ve, to survive alone in New York City.
When her sister went back to sleep, Bianca called Damian. “I missed my flight. I’ll be home tomorrow. I’m bringing Lyric.”
“What happened? Is she okay?”
Bianca explained about the man dumping her on the sidewalk like a bag of garbage.
“She must have been drugged,” Damian said. “She could have been raped. Take her to a doctor. Call the cops.”
“I’m not going to put her through all that,” Bianca responded. “The cops won’t believe a young, drunk girl over a bunch of powerful assholes. And she doesn’t remember anything. That’s probably for the best.”
“She’s your sister,” Damian muttered, clearly disagreeing with her approach. “I suppose she’s going to be living with us?”
“Of course she is,” she snapped. “If you don’t like it, you’re free to leave.”
“Calm down, Bianca. I’m fine if she stays for a while.”
Damian needn’t have worried. Lyric wouldn’t live with them for long.
Within the year, she’d be dead.