Chapter Thirty-Three: Panic Bells:
On that same morning, Becky called a little meeting in the hotel lobby. The other girls wished to be back in bed. Gillian's worn out face spoke volumes.
"Why are we all up again?" she mumbled. Becky paced around in front of the TV with pale knuckles.
"I found Anna," she said. Some of the girls looked shocked.
"What?" they asked. Gillian raised an eyebrow at her.
"Are you sure?" she asked. Becky showed them her phone. Everyone crowded around to see Beckyâ€™s picture of Anna with Tsuzuki.
"You sure it's not someone else?" Gillian asked, blinking.
"Oh, trust me!" the leader said. "I know Anna when I see her!"
"Who's the guy with her?" Clare asked. Becky's face became grim.
"Her pimp," she replied. The girls were as shocked as her, but Gillian gave her an odd look.
"What?" she asked. Becky took in a quivering breath.
"It's just as I thought," she said. "Anna's in serious trouble." Gillian thought about this whole theory.
"Okay," Gillian said. "So you claim Anna's alive."
"Yeah," Becky said.
"And she's in trouble?" the Pink Floyd fan asked.
"Yes," the leader said, nodding. Gillian looked at the picture again.
"And this is her pimp?" she asked.
"Yes!" Becky nearly shouted. Gillian made another face.
"Do you have any proof to back this up?" she asked in a slowed down rhythm. Becky switched to voice recording and played the conversation for the girls to listen.
"Okay," Gillian said. "And you're sure about this?"
"Yes!" Becky shouted. Gillian nodded in an attempt to humor her desperate friend.
"So, what are you going to do?" she asked. Becky stood still as she tried to calm herself down to think with what little ration that she had.
"We have to tell her aunts," she said. The girls all looked at her like spooked forest animals.
"What?" they asked.
"No!" Amy cried.
"What do you mean no?" Becky asked before her friend shook her head.
"Think about it," Amy reasoned. "Would you want to hear that your niece is a whore in a foreign land if you were them?" The rest of the former club thought about that.
"She does have a point," Gillian said.
"So what do we do?" Becky asked.
"Call the police?" Clare asked. Becky looked wary.
"They are probably sick of hearing my voice," she mumbled. "Besides, they might not believe me." Gillian stood up.
"I'll call them!" she said. The girls all looked at her with wide eyes.
"You would do that?" Becky asked. Gillian threw her hands up in the air.
"She's in trouble as you say, right?" she asked. "So, I'll make the call."
"But will they even believe you?" the leader asked.
"I'll work something out," the Pink Floyd fan replied. "You just find a way to break the news to Ms. Parkman and Ms. Kessler." Becky blinked at her.
"How?" she asked.
"I don't know," her friend said. "Use your social butterfly charms or something." Gillian walked over to her shoulder bag.
"What are you doing?" Clare asked.
"Calling the cops," her best friend replied as she looked for her phone. "I have to go out in the hall to make the call. Reception sucks in this place!" The woman found her phone and went out into the hall. The rest of the former club watched as Becky cleared throat.
"Rightâ€¦ I guess I could make that call now," she mumbled. The other girls nodded. The leader pressed her lips together.
"Okay," she said. Becky took her phone and headed onto the hall after Gillian. Better soften it the best way I could. Why do I have to do this part?