That day, Lola returned to the apartment, kicked off her high heels, and walked barefoot to the place where her mother kept their money. She reached out to grab it, but her hand came up empty.
She blinked in confusion and checked again, but still found nothing. There was no way their home had been robbed because she lived in a den of thieves; no one knew better than her how to protect against theft.
So, there was only one possibility.
She had spent all the money.
Where did it all go?
She didn't know.
She really didn't know.
Lola tried hard to recall what she had bought in the past few days, but it seemed like she hadn't bought anything. No, at first, she had bought some small items, like earrings, hair clips, and fake eyelashes... These little things only cost a few cents each, and she thought she could afford them, so she bought a bunch at once.
Later, she passed by a magazine stand where a magazine prominently displayed a female model in a white bikini, her eyes dreamy, her lips a bright pink, slightly parted to reveal perfect teeth. Many men lingered in front of this magazine, unable to tear their eyes away. She despised these men's lustful behavior, yet she found herself drawn to the department store, where she purchased a metal tube of lipstick.
The moment she got the lipstick, a slight regret flickered through her mind, but it was quickly drowned out by a swelling sense of satisfaction.
And so, without realizing it, she bought many unnecessary cosmetics. Because she didn't spend all the money at once, she didn't even feel guilty about it and didn't think she was wasting money until she got home and realized she had spent it all!
Although she had found a job, it would be some time before she got paid, and this restaurant didn't provide food or drinks for its employees like other places. Now that the money was gone, she even had trouble affording meals.
At that thought, cold sweat ran down her back, and for the first time, she realized how terrifying it was that her mother had left.
She no longer had any family, no safe harbor to return to—everything she faced, she had to face alone.
Lola stood up, dazed, and walked to the bathroom, hoping to wash her face and calm down. However, when she turned on the faucet and saw the water flowing, her first thought was, Would she have to pay the water bill now?
How do you pay it?
Where do you pay it?
How much does it cost?
Only at that moment did she understand how much her mother had sheltered her. To protect her, her mother had wrapped her in a warm, safe cocoon, keeping the darkness and filth at bay. Her mother never told her how hard her life was, nor did she express any love—she just provided Lola with the nutrients to survive. She had indeed survived, but she had no idea how to continue surviving. The one who provided her with those nutrients was gone, and now, as she emerged from the cocoon, she stumbled straight into the murky swamp of darkness.
Pretending to be calm, Lola turned off the faucet, dried her damp cheeks with a towel, and leaned closer to the mirror to carefully examine her pretty face.
After washing off her eyebrows, mascara, and lipstick, her face looked even more beautiful. Her skin was as sweet and smooth as honey, with a healthy pinkish hue. Even without lipstick, her lips were a bright rose color. However, this didn't make Lola happy because the trend now was for bright and light pink shades, and when she put them on, they looked ridiculous.
Her hair and eyebrows were exceptionally thick, so she had to trim her eyebrows every two days; otherwise, they would grow like wild weeds up to her hairline. Her thick hair was both a source of pride and a headache for her. It was so coarse and full of life that she had to spend at least ten minutes brushing it every day, causing her to frequently miss the bus.
Such a beautiful face would quickly lose its charm without the nourishment of money.
She thought of her mother's friend, a call girl who wasn't even twenty years old. Her mother had told her that the girl had ended up on that path because of an unplanned pregnancy: "Lola, girls these days are ruined! Still in high school and already pregnant! I heard from that girl that at her school, there were even girls who had their babies and then went back to school—can you believe it? Don't you dare follow her example, you're going to college!"
After saying this, her mother put out her cigarette, opened the door, and let the girl in. That was the first time Lola had seen a call girl who wasn't glamorous—before that, she thought all call girls lived a romantic life, occasionally eloping with clients like her mother did. This girl's face was pale, her cheeks covered with brown freckles, and there was a patch of dead skin on her lower lip that had clearly been neglected. It seemed she hadn't taken care of herself in a long time.
Lola didn't sympathize with the girl's situation—she had no idea what it meant for a girl to have a baby before she was even twenty, but she did feel sorry for her because she couldn't keep herself looking nice. If there ever came a day when Lola became that disheveled, swollen, and unattractive, she'd rather die.
With this thought in mind, Lola looked up at her youthful, vibrant reflection in the mirror and made a decision.
The next day, Lola found Emily and bluntly asked, "How did you find a rich man?"
Hearing this, Emily's cheeks turned bright red, thinking Lola was about to insult her, and she stammered, unable to find the words. But to her surprise, Lola's next sentence was, "Can you introduce me to one?"
Emily: "…"
Emily's face turned red as she looked at Lola's pure, beautiful face. She really wanted to persuade her not to go down this path, but Emily's thoughts were simple, and her words clumsy, so she couldn't think of anything to say. Besides, every person who falls wants others to fall with them. After hesitating for a moment, she agreed to Lola's request.
This time, it was Emily who led Lola to Mrs. Harris's apartment. As Lola walked in, she felt like she had stepped into the heart of a horror movie. The walls were a dusty pink, the carpet a dark red, and the air was thick with a heavy perfume, so overpowering that it reminded her of a summer garbage dump at the end of an alley.
A woman descended the stairs from the second floor, glanced at Lola with indifference, and then walked over to the sofa, sitting down and starting to paint her toenails. She was wearing a spaghetti-strap dress, her shoulders round, and her upper body so full it looked ready to burst like a flower about to bloom. She exuded the smell of alcohol and sweat. She didn't seem to notice her own scent, focusing solely on painting her toenails.
Mrs. Harris's room was at the very back of the apartment. Just as Lola was about to enter, she suddenly felt a strong urge to run away.
She finally realized she was heading down a path of no return. The thought that she might never turn back made her hair stand on end, her legs tremble, and her back drenched in sweat.
At that moment, all her senses became sharper. Like an antelope straying into a predator's den, she could smell the decay in this apartment, a smell like a tomb. She noticed the dark circles under the eyes of every woman there, the exhaustion on their faces. She slowly began to realize that selling herself was not a solution to her problems—but what else could she do?
She can't figure it out.
Perhaps it was because her mind was too small, too delicate—a head meant to be under the spotlight, on the cover of magazines, rather than one made for thinking.
So, she couldn't think of anything.
In the end, Lola walked into Mrs. Harris's room.
To her relief, Mrs. Harris didn't look as intimidating as she had imagined—in fact, she looked somewhat kind. Her hair was curled at ear length, her eyeliner was thick and dark, and her lips were full. Every gesture and movement exuded a desire for money, as if in her world, only two topics were worth discussing: the body and money.
Mrs. Harris glanced at Lola, a bit surprised. "Lucy?"
In front of Mrs. Harris, some of Lola's sharpness softened. "Lucy is my mom."
"I see," Mrs. Harris replied, removing the cigarette from her mouth with her thumb and forefinger, blowing out a thick smoke ring. "So, little girl, what do you want from me? I haven't had any trouble with your mother recently."
"My mom ran away," Lola wanted to make her situation sound more pitiful, but she lacked the verbal skills to do so. Besides, she had been living quite freely and lavishly lately, so she didn't know how to make herself sound pitiful. In the end, she just stated it plainly, "I'm out of money. Can you help me meet a rich man?"
"Sure," Mrs. Harris agreed readily, "but I'll charge a referral fee."
"How much?"
"Not much, just $150—the price of a breast augmentation surgery."
Lola asked, "Can I pay you later? I don't have any money right now."
Mrs. Harris squinted at her for a moment, then slowly nodded. "Okay, but you'll need to sign a contract with me."
"Fine."
The deal was made. Mrs. Harris placed her cigarette on the edge of the ashtray, licked her thumb, and pulled out a blank sheet of paper from a drawer, writing two lines in English. Her handwriting was very sloppy, but you could roughly make out the words "$150" and so on. Lola took the paper, pretended to study it for a moment, then signed her name: Lola Kane.
After everything was done, Mrs. Harris casually put the paper back in the drawer, as if she didn't care about the $150 at all. She took out a hard-covered photo album and tossed it in front of Lola. "These are my regular clients. Pick two that you like." She took a drag of her cigarette, then let out a raspy laugh like a witch from a musical, "Young people these days are always clamoring for fairness, right? Would this be considered fair? I'm giving you—what's that word? Oh, the right to vote."
Lola opened the album, which was filled with photos of various middle-aged men, all with odd faces, each as fat as a pregnant woman in her eighth month. She wrinkled her nose and flipped through the album for a while before finally finding one that looked somewhat decent. She pushed the album back. "Him."
Without moving her head, Mrs. Harris glanced down to see the man's face. "Oh, him. He likes schoolgirls—not the kind who drink, fight, and worship hippies, but the sweet and innocent type. I'll arrange for you to meet him tomorrow. Remember, don't wear makeup, and dress more innocently."
And so, Lola easily sold herself and incurred a debt of $150.
The next day, following Mrs. Harris's instructions, she flagged down a taxi and headed to the downtown opera house. She rarely came here because it was too glamorous—every woman who passed through here was dazzling. She knew she was beautiful, but she also knew she wasn't beautiful enough to outshine every woman in America, so she mostly stayed in her own neighborhood, where she could be the belle of the block, and seldom ventured downtown.
As she stepped out of the taxi, she passed by a candy store and saw her reflection in the display window.
She was wearing a white dress, the hem just covering her knees—the length middle-aged men preferred. Her thick hair was loose, covering her slender collarbone. Without the armor of smoky makeup, her beautiful eyes and brows held a hint of innocence, making her look like a genuine schoolgirl rather than a girl about to sell herself.
Lola was an optimistic girl, and part of being optimistic meant never thinking too deeply. So, she stopped at that thought, turned away from the reflection, and headed toward the opera house.
The white theater stood grand and solemn, its Roman columns ancient and luxurious, with the Stars and Stripes fluttering in the wind. After waiting for more than ten minutes and growing a bit bored, Lola popped a piece of gum into her mouth.
At that moment, two men walked out of the theater.
The first was a middle-aged man with a receding hairline, a round face, and a bit of a paunch. However, his straight nose and full forehead made him look not particularly unattractive—just within Lola's acceptable range. This was the wealthy man she intended to latch onto.
As for the other man…
Lola blinked, forgetting to chew her gum, and stood there dumbfounded.
For a moment, her heart seemed to stop for two full seconds, only to be filled by a louder, more rapid heartbeat.
Looking at the man's profile, she felt a sharp pain in her earlobes, only realizing after a while that it was the sensation of heat from a rush of blood.
…She couldn't believe that the sight of a stranger's profile had made her heart race to the point of making her ears burn with heat.
But the man was incredibly handsome.
He held a cane, wore a dark gray overcoat, and underneath, a black satin shirt. The hem of his coat reached down to his knees, and his shoes gleamed. His figure was particularly tall, almost a head taller than the middle-aged man beside him. It seemed he had to lean down slightly to hear what the middle-aged man was saying. As he listened, he curved his lips into a polite yet indifferent smile.
That smile made half of her heart go numb.
It was clearly not spring, and there were no flowers blooming around, yet as she looked at the man's face, she could hear the sound of spring flowers bursting into bloom.
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