Paradise Burning by Blair Bancroft

all three.”
    There was a general murmur of approval as
Peter’s full-color—and definitely swashbuckling—photo circulated
among the three women. This was the confirmation they’d all needed.
Peter Pennington was legit.
    “ Remarkable,” Jade drawled, along with
a lingering glance at the genuine original from under the canopy of
her luxuriant artificial lashes. “Even your passport photo looks
good.”
    Peter grinned his appreciation. “Okay,” he
declared, “I’m going to try to explain what we’re doing here.
Please go right ahead and finish your lunch while I talk.”
Dutifully, all four women returned to their food. “I’ve spent a lot
of time traveling around the world, and I’ve seen things that were
pretty ugly. Fortunately, the books I just showed you were
successful enough that my publisher said he was willing to take a
chance on my writing about something real.”
    Mandy leaned back in her chair, noting with
satisfaction that even Jade wasn’t bothering to look bored.
    “ What I’m writing about,” Peter
continued, “is modern-day slavery. Everything from migrant workers
to forced prostitution. Mostly, though, I’m writing about women who
never intended to be involved in sex work, and most certainly not
to be sold into slavery. Sometimes, these are women who were just
looking for a better job, or simply women and children who set out
for the market or for school and never came home. Or sometimes a
woman may feel she has no other choice.
    “ I was hoping,” Peter added, watching
each girl’s reaction carefully, “that one or more of you might have
had some experience with that.”
    Jaws had stopped moving. Forks rested
on plates or were clutched in frozen fingers. Surprise, anger, but
not a sound until Delilah breathed a long, heartfelt, “Shee-it, you
mean people jes git taken ?”
    “ That’s exactly what I mean,” Peter
said, as if Delilah were a student who had done all her homework
and just gone to the top of the class. “Trafficking in women and
children used to be called white slavery to distinguish it from the
early African slave trade, but the women and children being
kidnapped these days are every race and color, so it’s more
accurate to call it sexual slavery or forced
prostitution.”
    “ What about if it happens at home?”
Fawn’s voice was soft, her blue eyes huge.
    “ Sexual slavery isn’t something that
just happens in foreign countries, Fawn,” Peter replied gently. “It
happens here too.”
    He held up his hand, regarding the four
solemn faces around him. “Sorry, ladies, I didn’t mean to spoil
lunch. “We’ll talk later. Just think about what I said, okay?”
    By the time key lime pie had been washed down
with mocha almond coffee, Mandy was optimistic about the success of
the interviews. The girls had been touched by what Peter said, of
that she was certain. No matter how good or bad their own
situations, they had caught a glimpse of something worse. She
sensed a spark of sisterhood, of feminine outrage. The air quivered
with anticipation as they moved back into the living area of the
large room.
    When they were settled, Peter laid his
digital recorder on the coffee table and switched it on, making
sure each girl saw what he was doing. “Okay?” he asked.
    A shrug, a nod, the wave of a hand, but no
protests. Good.
    “ Jade, you were the first to arrive, so
you can start us off, if you don’t mind. Did you ever feel forced
into doing what you’re doing?”
    “ Not now I don’t.” Jade twisted a lock
of pale blond hair in her slim, perfectly manicured fingers. “At
first I was pretty hot about what you said. Forced? Who, me? I do
it for money. I was never forced in my life. And then I remembered
a few things.” The confident beauty from the Escort Service had
been replaced by a thoughtful young woman from the suburbs, a wife
and mother.
    “ My mother was into beauty pageants,”
Jade said. “I can’t remember a time I wasn’t being made up,