"Exactly what it sounds like. I have the authority to put the Level A and Level B employees on lockdown if they get out of sorts. That means it's straight to work and back to their rooms. No social time. Which really stings for the ones in relationships."
"Don't you think these people have it tough enough?"
Kate looked puzzled. "Um, do you know how much money they make? They have no right to complain about their lives."
"You said this place is a prison."
"Yeah, but still . . ."
The elevator dinged, cutting off the conversation. Pete and I had to wait while Kate disappeared with Bob into his office. Bob wasn't happy to see Pete with us, but he didn't resist when Kate pulled him away.
A few minutes later she emerged, a little flustered. Bob remained in his office, and the rest of us went on through the lobby--empty of Sean's guards, thankfully--and into the waiting room where Kate had drugged and seduced me.
"I don't want any of that stuff this time," I said immediately.
"Good, 'cause you don't get any. We don't have time."
"The Libido Drug?" Pete asked.
I nodded.
"Can I?" he asked.
"Keeping dreaming," Kate said.
Then we moved on to the Showcase Hall, and my heart started pounding against my breastplate.
Kate led while Pete and I walked several steps behind her. He looked eager, like an adolescent boy set to the task of looking up internet porn for the first time.
We came to the window where Flora had been displayed, on which hung a sign that said, "Currently Unavailable.". The box was bare and the lights were off. On the white floor remained a single leaf from the vines they had wrapped around her, and for a moment I was lost in memory of her warm, moist body swelling out of the foliage like a soft fruit.
When I came out of my thoughts, we had reached Frog Girl's window. Also empty. I was relieved. Who could ever be attracted to one of those things? Frog Girl, with her disproportionately long legs and her ear-to-ear mouth, would randomly appear in my nightmares for months to come.
"Are they all empty?" Pete asked.
Kate quickened her pace, ignoring or not hearing him. A few steps farther and I saw white fluorescent light pouring onto the floor.
"This one isn't," I said.
"Who's next?"
"I don't know."
Kate had her face pressed against the glass. She was smiling and waving at whatever ornament quivered inside, like a child picking out a puppy.
I knew it was Diamond Girl but still had no idea what to expect.
We reached the window, where the white light was blinding. As my eyes adjusted, I began to make out a human form composed of what I can only describe as a cloud of glitter. She had white hair, white eyebrows. Albino skin, though not much showed through the sparkling light all over her body.
"Oh my God," Pete said, and that's when I realized what made her so glittery.
Dermal piercings covered her from neck to feet, with the exception of her hands, vagina, and breasts. A diamond-encrusted human being, sitting on her shins with her back arched and her chest heaving. Her nipples were also pierced, just like Kate's.
"You should pick her," Kate said.
"I want to see the others."
"The others aren't as good."
"As good?"
"Yeah."
I started to go on a tirade, but instead I nudged Pete along and headed down the curving hallway. The next shaft of light spilling across the soft carpet had a pinkish hue. I rushed to the window, eager to see the next showcase, the next manifestation of Brian's dark fantasies--or was it Mr. Shriver who designed them?
"I want her," Pete said, stabbing his index finger at the glass like a child prodding a fish tank.
I couldn't speak. An acidic pain boiled low in my stomach, rising. By the time Kate reached us, tears were streaming down my cheeks.
"I want this one," Pete said to Kate.
"Got a million dollars?"
Pete huffed and turned back to stare at the girl. "What's she called?" he asked.
I knew the answer before Kate said it.
─Time for School─
PATTON WAS waiting for us when we returned to the room. Straight-backed, light-footed, gorgeous . . . like mornings didn't affect him. Much to Kate's chagrin, he quickly led me away, leaving her steaming mad and stuck with Pete.
We rode the elevator in silence. I was overwhelmed by a stilted, awkward feeling, like when I first tried to be flirty with Ted when he would stop in my yard on his daily run, me just a young teenager exhilarated and bewildered by a sweaty abdomen and hip bones guiding my nubile eyes to the mysterious bulge in his shorts. Or later, when I waited on him at the restaurant, and my infatuation evolved into something emotional, something personal.
Here I felt it all at once. I wanted his voice to break the silence, but at the same time I wanted him to grab my wrists and push me up against the wall without a word.
Nothing happened. We came off the elevator and into a small indoor courtyard with grass, fountains, stone benches, and even beds of flowers, ferns, and an assortment of dwarf evergreens, above which hung light fixtures like the ones in Brian's greenhouse.
Butterflies and bumblebees everywhere.
"The girls never get to go outside," Patton said as we passed through to a set of heavy double doors. "Studies show that everyone should walk barefoot in the grass now and then. Its effect on health and wellness is quite notable." He swung one door open. "And it feels great. Very grounding."
He walked alongside me and put a hand on my arm to guide me into his office. Somewhere down the hall I could hear the laughter of young girls, but he quickly shut the door and offered me a seat in one of two bulky leather chairs facing his desk.
I wanted to look around, especially after noticing the examination table, like those in doctors' offices, along the right wall, but Patton seemed to be in a rush.
"Melissa Reed," he said contemplatively. "What's your work history, Melissa?"
"I waitressed for a few years in high school," I said.
"Anything else?"
"No."
"Did you go to college?"
"No," I said reluctantly. I couldn't tell if he was judging me or just assessing my job skills. With a nervous hitch, I said, "I decided to marry a millionaire instead."
Patton laughed quietly, nodding. "Good plan," he said, "but I don't think it ever suited you."
"What do you mean?"
"You're too restless to be a housewife."
"Maybe."
"And despite your education, you seem quite intelligent."
Intelligent? Not an adjective used often to describe me. When you live your life being treated like you're stupid, it's hard to look at yourself any other way.
"Clearly not too intelligent," I said. "Look what I've gotten myself into."
"But you're alive," said Patton. He leaned forward in his chair and put his elbows on the table, resting his sharp jaw in both hands and watching me like a movie. He was in his early thirties, by my estimation, but his mannerisms were adolescent at times, grandfatherly at others. Calm and wise one moment, swift and athletic the next. Like Yoda, only much more attractive. "The events that brought you here," he said. "No one else would have survived them. You were smart to use your husband's estate as leverage. Mr. Shriver loves money more than he loves fucking and killing." He laughed, but there was anger behind it. "Do you know why that is?"
"No."
"Because money affords one more of both, without consequence. Money buys freedom, and freedom generates more money. In biology, this is referred to as symbiotic. Each feeding into the other. That's why the rich get richer, and evil always prevails."
"Is he going to kill me?"
Patton locked eyes with me deliberately and shook his head. "I would never let him."
I could tell he meant it, but I was shaking with nervousness. Something had come over me. Maybe it was the battle raging in m
y mind between wanting to trust him and feeling hoodwinked for possessing such a desire.
"Thanks," I murmured. "I like living."
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm just . . ."
"Scared."
"I guess."
"I don't blame you. This is a scary place. Most people would never believe it exists."
He crossed his arms and peered around the room. I couldn't help but think he looked downtrodden.
"What do you do here?" I asked.
"I . . . raise the girls," he said. "I give them a happy and healthy upbringing, make sure their innocence remains intact without stilting their education. Just in case."
"In case what?"
He sighed. "In case the day comes when they can be free. The ones who haven't graduated." He emphasized this last word with enough venom to startle me, but when next he spoke his affable tone had returned. "How did it go at the Showcase Hall? Did you pick a new girl?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I didn't get past Doll Girl."
"Yeah," he said slowly, "it's all difficult to stomach. If I were you, I'd hold off for another Flora. The Floras are the only ones who aren't altered in some way, except for . . ."
I waited for him to finish his thought, but it quickly became clear that he had almost uttered a secret.
"Are they completely paralyzed?"
"The Doll Girl on display, yes."
"But not the . . . future ones."
"Paralysis is instituted in the preparation stage, right before they go in the Showcase."
"That's sick."
"Yes it is."
"Is she in a coma?"
"No, she's fully conscious. Just unresponsive. She can't even speak."
"Who would want something like that?"
"Melissa, you'd be surprised at what some men want."
"Are you the one who does it?"
"Of course not."
"But you're the doctor, right?"
"Brian has a team of doctors, nurses, scientists, lab techs. My involvement with the girls ends the day they turn eighteen."
"What happens then?"
"You'll find out soon enough." Patton drummed on the desk with his fingers, appeared to be thinking. He said, "I need a personal assistant. Someone I can trust, someone who can see and hear things and keep those things to herself."
"I can do that."
Who did I have to talk to anyway? Kate? Whatever friendship we'd been developing went out the window this morning. I was even considering picking Diamond Girl just to appease her. Something about Kate made me nervous. Not just her childish temperament; she had a vengeful streak in her, and, given time, those who seek vengeance for everything make rash and dangerous decisions.
"My brothers and I don't see eye to eye on many things," Patton continued. "Most things, really. God, where we'd be if Dad had given me the controlling percentage."
"What would you do differently?"
He smiled. "That's too secret for an assistant."
"Would you still peddle sex slaves?"
"No, I wouldn't. I've always been against this. When Dad died, he gave Mr. Shriver the controlling--"
"Why do you call him that?" I interjected. I couldn't help it. "He's your brother isn't he?"
"It's what he wants to be called."
"Why do you listen?"
"As I said, he has the controlling percentage. On top of that, my ownership, along with Sean's and Brian's, is tied to a list of stipulations and rules. Mr. Shriver can essentially kick us out anytime he likes."
"Why doesn't he?"
Patton sat back in his chair and spun from side to side. "He values family, I think. The power of familial collaboration. He believes in capital gain and nothing else, but he knows he has to trust some operations to others. Sean, Brian, and I are his family. The rest of his world is populated by strangers, which brings me back to what I was saying about my role in the company. There were three positions Sean, Brian, and I had to fill. Sean got first pick, and of course he wanted Management. That left me with two choices: Production or Quality Assurance. Level B, Brain's floor, is a factory, and here, Level D? This is the warehouse. I knew I couldn't stop it from happening, so I chose to make sure these girls at least got good childhoods."
"Good childhoods? Without their families?"
"They have no families. They're created in the lab."
"Test tube babies."
"More than that. They never enter a womb. They're grown in what's basically a fish tank, in a soup of synthetic placenta."
"That's horrible."
"No, it's progress, don't you see? The alternative would be enslaving women to carry the new girls to term." He stood and came around the desk, saying, "There is no moral code here at Your Favorite Girl, Incorporated. Some of the worst things you can possibly imagine occur here routinely--systematically, you could say. You'll want to brace yourself for that, Melissa Reed." He cocked his head at the door. "Let me show you around."
I stood and followed him out into the hall, where the laughter I'd heard was gone.
"Are these classrooms?"
"Yes," Patton said. "Class is in session. We may stop in later. For now, this way."
He showed me around the floor, starting with the cafeteria, which was more like a lounge and cafe. Oriental music played softly behind the trickle of decorative fountains and the kitchen staff moved about silently behind the glass displays at various stations: deli, bakery, salad bar, grill. We made a lap around the room and Patton told me a brief history of the company, starting with his grandfather's upscale brothel, which earned Patton's father a substantial inheritance. "Dad hired a mafia hit man to travel around the country kidnapping girls who matched one of several specific descriptions. He lobotomized the girls, dressed them up, and sold them to wealthy men. Mr. Shriver took the concept and improved upon it by generating a uniform product. And the key to it all was Brian's innovation. Brian changed the game completely."
"The drug."
He nodded.
We stopped at a window where a sushi chef stared ahead, motionless, as though awaiting instruction.
"How's the sushi?" I asked.
"Are you hungry?"
"No, just curious."
"I've never tried it," he admitted.
"You don't like sushi?"
"I've never tried any sushi."
"Why not?"
"I don't know. Just haven't."
"You're insane. If I had a sushi chef at my disposal, I'd never eat anything else."
"Eh, seaweed?"
I frowned at him and crossed my arms like an angry teenager. "That's it," I said. "We're having lunch together, and you're gonna try some sushi." At "sushi," I poked his chest hard with my finger. It felt like stone and now my whole hand ached.
"We'll see," he said, leading me towards the entrance.
Next we came to the gym, a state-of-the-art facility with a pool, spa, private showers, rooms allocated to specific disciplines like yoga and Tae Kwon Do, and all manner of workout equipment wrapping around a basketball court. It was unlike any school gym I'd ever seen.
"You should see the Frog Girls swim," Patton said. We stood at the pool, no one about. "They get picked on the most. The surgeries begin at birth, so by the time they reach school age, the deformities have completely formed. In sport, though, they find retribution. Definitely the most athletic of the seven classes."
"Seven classes?"
"Flora, Frog, Diamond, Doll, Giggle, Glow, Vampire."
"Vampire. You have vampire girls."
He nodded. "They tend to pick on the Frog Girls the most. They've been conditioned for aggression and emotional instability. In preparation for the Showcase Hall, they're given porcelain veneer fangs. Razor sharp. And in Vampire Girl, the device secrets adrenaline on top of the Libido Drug."
"Wait, what device?"
"The one planted in their bodies to maintain levels of the Libido Drug in the blood. That's what keeps them
sexualized. The procedure is done in infancy so the girl won't remember, but the device isn't activated for the first time until Showcase prep."
"That's not what Kate said. She said their bodies produce the chemical."
Patton giggled half-heartedly. "Kate has a short attention span. She listens sometimes and then fills in the blanks later with whatever lies occur to her."
Next he showed me the infirmary. Several patient rooms, an operating room, a small maternity ward. We stood at the window looking in as a nurse held a bottle to a baby's mouth.
"Can we go in?"
"Restricted."
"Oh."
The infirmary proved uninteresting. We quickly headed back the way we came, returning to the hallway where beyond Patton's office were a number of classrooms. Seven, I guessed correctly. Each door was labeled with the same cruel product names: Frog, Vampire, Glow, Flora . . .
"We have time to stop by one classroom," Patton said. "Then we have rounds to make."
"Okay."
"You can pick."
"Should we disrupt class, though?"
"Come on, you were a kid not long ago. Kids love it when class gets disrupted."
I hesitated, but I knew my pick. The door we stood at, the knob Patton was reaching for before I said it.
"Flora."
"Great choice," Patton said. "They're a hospitable bunch."
He opened the door, and I saw their faces turn.
Dozens of them. Exact duplicates of the Flora I'd watched die alongside the deliveryman. They ranged in age, from teenagers down to small children, but they wore the same white sundress, the same cut of flower over the right ear, the same sandals. Blonde hair with light brown tones parted in the middle. Eyes bright and colorful, as if entire ecosystems thrived in their irises. And on each of them a smile so warm and genuine I could almost feel the ugliness of the world flaking off of me like old paint.
"Hi girls," Patton said as he stepped inside.
I walked into a chorus of response: "Hi Mr. Patton!"
Legs were kicking out from every desk now, except those of the oldest girls, whose smiles were biggest and gazes most focused. They all loved him.
"What a surprise, Mr. Patton," said the teacher. I hadn't noticed her there at the blackboard.
"Ms. Lane, I'd like you to meet Melissa Reed," Patton said, gesturing to me. "Melissa, this is Ms. Lane."
Your Favorite Girl (YFG Series) Page 10
