Gloria stepped forward and leaned right into Brent's arms, her eyes bright with triumph.
"She's right, you know? This is Brent's territory. That whole queen-bee routine you run back in Kingsport? Nobody's buying it here."
"Don't waste your breath on someone like her, Gloria."
Brent held Gloria tighter against him and pointed at me, his voice sharp as a blade.
"Apologize to Gloria."
"Or you're not walking out of here comfortably today."
Dozens of men closed in around me, high-pressure water guns leveled and ready.
Their eyes dragged over the outline of my body through the soaked fabric, slow and deliberate, every mouth twisted into the same ugly grin.
I scrambled to grab the shawl that had fallen to the ground, trying to cover myself.
Brent ripped it out of my hands.
He clamped down on my wrist and yanked so hard my knees slammed into the ground at Gloria's feet.
"You're not deaf, are you, Maya?! I said apologize to Gloria!"
Gloria stepped closer. The point of her stiletto came down on my palm and ground in.
But her voice was all wounded sweetness, pouring out in one syrupy breath.