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The girl at the table looks so forlorn that I sit down next to her, with
the idea of engaging her in conversation and perhaps cheering her up a
little. She is quite pretty, though she would be prettier if she wasn't
wearing quite so much make-up. She is wearing a bright red skirt slit to
the waist on one side, and a halter-neck top that leaves her midriff bare.
"Hello," I say. "I'm Hari," pronouncing my name the way the locals do. She turns to look at me, and a little animation enters her expression. "Hello," she says. "I'm Trina. You're new, aren't you? I thought I knew all the girls working this neighbourhood, but I haven't seen you before." I decide that explaining would be too complicated, as well as possibly unwise, so I content myself with: "Yes, I'm new." "Who's your pimp? Is he treating you well?" "I, er, don't have one." Trina looks surprised. "I suppose that's because you've only just arrived," she says. "You'll have to get one before long." "Why?" "You'll need someone to protect you. Course, he'll take three-quarters of what you earn in exchange for that. But girls who've tried to remain independent haven't lasted very long." I wonder if those pimps ultimately work for Gustav, if one were to trace the heirarchy back. I think of asking Trina, but I doubt whether she'd know, and a question like that might get one or both of us into trouble, if she should tell anyone that I asked it.
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12/21/2006 12:20:33 PM
Extending Enabled
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