Ms. Lane extended her bony hand and I took it gently. "Nice to meet you, young lady." She looked like one of the old ladies you see working in plant nurseries: thin and healthy but with wrinkled, leathery skin from decades of direct sun exposure.
"Melissa is my new personal assistant," Patton said. Then he turned to the classroom. "Say hi to Melissa, girls."
"Hi Melissa!"
I was so embarrassed I couldn't look at them. They were so happy, and the truth about their fates thrashed around inside me like a caged animal. If I did anything but cry and scream, I would be lying to them.
I had to get out of here, and the only excuse I could think of was, "I have to pee."
A timid wave of giggles rose and fell quickly, followed by a voice, even more timid, chiming, "Me too."
"Who said that?" Ms. Lane asked.
A small hand rose from the crowd. A girl maybe six years old.
"Melissa, would you mind taking young Flora to the restroom? Just take a left and it's around the corner."
I looked to Patton, but he just smiled.
"Sure," I said.
Two small feet hit the tile floor. I turned and watched the little Flora find her way to the front of the room. She reached for my hand and I took it, leading her quickly away.
"Thank you," she whispered as we stepped out the door. "I really gotta go."
─Off the Clock─
WE SPENT the whole morning touring the building--all except for Level E, Mr. Shriver's floor, though we did run into him in the hallway on Level B. I thought he was going to pass us by without a word, but he stopped and asked, "Did you pick one yet?"
"I'd like to wait for the new Flora, if that's all right," I said nervously.
Mr. Shriver groaned words I couldn't make out. "How long?" he asked Patton.
"Two weeks," Patton replied.
"When she's ready, you'll be billed retroactively. You were supposed to pick today."
"That sounds fair," I said.
He glanced at me quickly, as though surprised by something. Then he groaned again and walked on.
The tour started in the jewelry store on Level A. We browsed the store and Patton whispered when he spoke of the company.
"These employees don't know who they work for," he said.
The Chinese girl had to know something. After all, it was her to whom I'd delivered the secret pass phrase: I want to fuck you, right here, right now. I noticed her watching us from the register, curious, even a little upset. Maybe she knew a little and wanted to be hired in like Kate. Rumors of the luxuries, the salary . . . likely nothing about the enslavement of both product and employee.
Patton tapped on the glass display case. "What do you think of that necklace?"
He pointed out a white gold chain with a flower pendant made of diamonds, rubies, and emeralds. The price tag said six-thousand dollars.
"It's beautiful," I said.
"Liu!"
The Chinese girl came over and he asked her to pull it out. He put it around my neck and then spun me to face him.
"It brings out your eyes," Liu said.
"Looks great," Patton said, pulling out a credit card.
"You don't have to," I said in spite of myself. In three years with Ted, I'd never once received jewelry as a gift. A waste of money, according to him. Like many girls, I grew up believing the weight and splendor of jewels denoted magic. That changes in adulthood, becomes just an appreciation of monetary value. A sense of power does come with wearing more than the price of a divorce around your neck.
Liu was humping Patton with her eyes. The compliment aside, she didn't acknowledge me once, except to curl her brow at me as we left
Next came the worst part of the tour, the remainder of Level A, where Clifton worked, but thankfully Patton kept it brief.
Mostly a utility floor, Level A consisted of boilers, air units, water heaters, electrical boxes, storage rooms, cleaning supply rooms, a maintenance closet, and a shipping area with a single loading dock. The air reeked of chemicals, dead rats, and, oddly enough, bacon. I could imagine Clifton gnawing on hunks of pork in some back room of this dingy floor, laughing hysterically at a fuzzy TV screen and scratching himself.
I was relieved to move on to Level B, where we encountered Mr. Shriver and then walked through the various laboratories, computer rooms, and employee lounge areas. I shook hands with all the scientists and lab techs and they told me their names, but the only names that stuck were the two I already knew, Judy and Murphy, who, when we came upon them, were hunched over the counter studying some kind of report and arguing at low volume.
Judy looked up first and her eyes filled with alarm. She elbowed Murphy and pushed her glasses back on her nose. It became immediately clear that her surprise came not from the appearance of a supervisory figure but from the appearance of Patton in general. Every girl in this place must be in love with him, which, strangely enough, was beginning to repel me.
At least Murphy looked my direction. He'd tensed up. Maybe he had a thing for Judy and was jealous of Patton's presence. We didn't speak, just exchanged a nod and smile. Then he joined in on the developing discussion next to us.
I absorbed exactly none of the conversation to follow. Patton inquired about some experiment involving chemicals with long names. The three of them spoke in a scientific language I couldn't comprehend, so I began to wander around the room, inspecting trays and Petri dishes and corked Pyrex containers filled with mysterious liquids. Magic potions, I liked to think, though it was hard to separate myself from the grim reality: all this research served the further development of Favorite Girls.
The first time I reached out for something--a small refrigerator door--a voice behind me said, "Don't touch anything, please."
I didn't even turn to see who it was. The voice was stern and unfriendly and I already felt out of place. Smart or not, I was definitely the dumbest person in this room. I didn't want to argue with a genius, so I moved on.
Coming up the elevator, I'd half expected to see all kinds of genetically mutated creatures floating in transparent tubes and failed experiments preserved in jars, like the things in Brian's living quarters. There was none of that here. Just clean labs bustling with research and experimentation I didn't understand.
When Patton looked at his watch and told me it was lunchtime, I bolted out the door.
I had to remind him about trying sushi. He ordered a California roll and a club sandwich. A half-hearted attempt to be polite. Non-committal. It made me think he wasn't interested in me. That I, too, was something to sample, as long as something familiar and satisfying waited in the background.
Our conversation ran out of steam here. My head was so filled with questions, I didn't even know where to begin. I wanted to see the rest of the Favorite Girls, the finished products as well as the students. He'd said the Frog Girls underwent surgeries beginning in infancy. What about the other girls? Were the Doll Girls born paralyzed? When did Diamond Girl get her dermals?
I wasn't sure why Patton got quiet while we waited for our food. Maybe he felt he'd divulged too much information too early.
When his sushi came, he ate a piece, nodded as he chewed, and then dove into his sandwich without saying anything.
After lunch, he dismissed me early.
"I have some stuff to catch up on," he said as he escorted me back to Kate's room. "We'll get a fresh start in the morning."
"So you're just gonna lock me up for the night?"
Patton laughed. "Your door doesn't lock until six. You can go anywhere on Level C, except for Sean's quarters."
Everyone was still at work. Aside from those who worked on Level C, I had the place to myself. Distracted as I was by Patton's odd behavior, I knew it couldn't hurt to get familiar with everything, especially if I ever planned to escape.
At the door, Patton reached out and squeezed my arm, then walked away briskly, saying, "See you bright and early."
"Thanks for everything," I called out, but he
disappeared around the corner.
I sat in the room for a while and stared at the wall. Then I tried watching TV, but nothing held my interest. I considered getting in the hot tub, but the thought of Clifton appearing out of the fog, fat and slippery, made me too paranoid.
I decided to call Pete for a snack, even though I wasn't hungry. When he arrived with my baby carrots and ranch dressing, I asked him sit next to me on the bed.
His face flushed and he swallowed hard as he sat.
"What can I do for you?" he asked in a shaky breath.
"I just . . . wanted someone to talk to. Patton sent me back early. I have no idea how to occupy myself till Kate gets home."
This sounds like the intro to a porno.
Apparently, this was Pete's thought, too. He was like a small dog that smells a treat in your hand. Kate must have tortured the hell out of him.
I decided to approach the topic the way I would've in high school: "So what's going on with you and Kate?"
Pete threw up his hands. "Nothing. We're just friends."
"She's more than that to you, though, right?"
"Well . . ."
"You let her torture you."
"I have to do what she says."
"Why?"
"It's my job."
"Your job is to bring her what she asks for. Not to let her tease you with the promise of sex."
"She doesn't. We're gonna. She said one day she's going to call in for something, and when I get here . . ."
For a moment, he wandered off into a fantasy he'd no doubt developed extensively in his mind. A film reel spliced and edited ever so slightly with each play.
"How long has she been telling you that?" I asked.
"Um, since I started," Pete said. "About a year, I guess?"
"And you still believe her."
"Yeah, well, I think she's just building up suspense."
"For who? Her or you?"
"Me, I guess."
"That's not how girls operate. If they want to fuck you, they want to fuck you now." I paused for a moment, surprised at myself. "They don't carry the desire around in a little sack like guys do. It's . . . more fleeting."
Pete stared straight ahead, mouth slightly agape. "So she's not gonna do it."
"She doesn't plan on it, no," I said.
Am I really doing this?
Pete was close to tears. "I don't think that's very fair," he said. "You don't lead someone on like that, do you?" He looked at me. "Why would she?"
"She's a bitch."
"But she's nice, though. She plays around, yeah, but she's . . . nobody else even talks to me most of the time."
I was losing ground. I had to keep him focused on the torment. The kindness was false. I was certain of that now. Ted ladled out kindness, too, just enough to keep me alive. Abusers bat their eyes and play innocent more than anyone else on the planet.
"I'm not saying you can't get her," I told him. "She's definitely gettable. You just have to play it right."
"How do I do that?"
"You have to seduce her."
He managed a laugh, then wiped his nose with his sleeve. "I don't know how. I don't even think that's possible."
He had a point. After all, in the Showcase Hall, he was really excited when he saw Doll Girl. You really have to fear women to want them paralyzed.
"Oh, it's possible," I said, not sure if I believed myself. "We just need to find a way to get you in here at night. That's when it could happen."
"Fridays and Saturdays."
"What about them?"
"The doors don't lock till ten. Sometimes Kate and I watch movies together."
"That's perfect. We'll shoot for Friday. Be here around eight."
"For what?"
I stood and headed to the shower room entrance, thinking I might have that bath after all. "I don't know," I told him. "Whatever happens happens, right? Thanks for the carrots."
"But you didn't even eat them."
"I will later."
I stripped naked walking through the corridor, and for half an hour I bobbed around in the hot, shallow water formulating my plan. Of all the cruelty and injustice in this place, it was best to start small. As small as baby carrots, or worse, Pete's penis.
An hour later, Kate returned from work, surprisingly quite jovial.
"So, how'd it go?" she asked, plopping down on the bed next to me.
"It was weird."
"What was weird?"
"All of it. The way this place operates. All those poor girls."
"You saw them?"
"The Floras."
"I've never seen them before. I'm not allowed on Level D." The anger was there after all, whitewashed with amiability. "No offense, but do you know how long I've been waiting for that job?"
"I'm sorry. I don't know why he picked me."
She waved her hand at me, dismissing the subject. Then she fell back on the bed and started taking off her jeans.
"My job sucks," she said.
"What do you do, besides dealing with customers?"
"Whatever Sean tells me to do."
"Like what?"
She sighed. "Some days I clean. Other days I get gangbanged by the security crew. Sometimes I do nothing. Sometimes I make calls to clients."
"What did you do today?"
She had her shirt pulled up over her face. "Today I got high and watched TV."
"That doesn't sound too bad."
"Want to trade?" she asked, naked except for a white thong.
I didn't respond. Kate got up and went to her weed stash. A few minutes later we were both blazed. I liked her better this way, not so much on edge. She even spoke more softly, and her nudity was so distracting I forgot about my mounting distain for her.
"Patton took me on a tour of the building," I said to break the silence. "I think I know how to escape."
Kate nodded slowly. "That's cool."
"That's cool?"
"Yeah."
"You don't want to hear how?"
"You can't escape, Melissa. You shouldn't even try."
"I have to try. I can't be stuck here the rest of my life."
"It's not like you have anything to go back to."
She said this in a conversational way, as if she didn't know how much it would sting, but it reminded me of her vindictive nature. I decided to bite my tongue, ignore the comment, and drop the subject of escaping. For all I knew, she might be relaying everything I say to Sean in hopes of getting me out of the way so she could fill my Position on Level D.
"You're right," I said, straining to force out the words. "I guess I'm just a little creeped out. Level A was the worst."
"Stinks, doesn't it?"
"Yes! What is that smell?"
"The incinerator."
"Why do they have an incinerator?"
"To burn the bodies," she said.
─Orientation─
I HADN'T anticipated that Patton would come every morning to escort me to work. Company policy, certainly, but I still found myself getting up two hours early to shower, dress, and do my makeup, while pretending not to notice Kate's glares. By the end of the day, her hatred of me would subside, making the evenings quite pleasant, but it all came back in the morning, peaking when Patton knocked on the door.
The first two days were uneventful. He gave me a small desk in the corner of his office, where I spent a lot of time doing nothing. I made coffee several times a day and quickly took to drinking it, though not as much as Patton, who came in and out of the office frequently to refill his tall mug.
I didn't see him much. He would leave wearing a suit jacket and return an hour later wearing a doctor's coat. When I asked what he was doing, he gave vague answers. "Routine check-ups," he would say, or, "One of the infants has a cough."
"What am I supposed to do?"
"Coffee's looking low."
Then he would disappear again.
I began to wonder whether he ever had a position to fill at all. This job
might have been just an excuse to save my life. But why? He didn't seem interested in me one little bit.
Then again, Kate had failed to seduce him, and where most men couldn't resist exotic sex with eighteen-year-old virgins, Patton, as far as I knew, remained unfazed. For all I knew, he was a virgin, too.
On my third full day of work, I couldn't take the quiet anymore. I got up from my desk and wandered out into the hallway, timid about it but determined.
It took a while to build the courage to walk away from the door, and even then I only went to the end of the hall and back, reading the labels on the classroom doors. I stopped long enough to put my ear to the Flora Girl room but didn't hear anything.
Then suddenly it swung open. I jerked back, terrified, but Mrs. Lane looked delighted to see me.
"Melissa! Were you stopping by? I was just taking the girls to the auditorium for their music lessons."
"Oh, I was just . . . yeah," I fumbled to say.
"You're welcome to join us," she said. "Do you like music?"
Behind her the Floras were forming a line, youngest in the front.
"Yes I do," I said, searching out the end of the line, but it curved around the desks and disappeared from view. I wanted to see the Flora I would be buying in two weeks.
"Well, come along," said Mrs. Lane. "You're in for quite a treat. This way, girls."
She led them down the hall, the girls emerging from the room like a Russian doll set, the first and smallest possibly pre-school age. Each one a little taller than the last, until finally a near full-grown Flora, beautiful and peaceful and curious about the world, emerged with none to follow her. Once the youngest of the group, now next in line for slaughter.
Except I would intercept.
When she passed, smiling politely, I reached out and grabbed her. She stopped, alarmed, but didn't pull away, and for a moment we stared at one another. She had the same eyes as the Flora before her, the same lips, the same everything, and yet the sexuality wasn't prevalent. It existed, yes, but in a natural way. Budding, developing. Not seeping from her like morphine from a poppy plant. This Flora still possessed something that had been stripped from the other. Something unquantifiable. A breath of life, definition, personality.
Your Favorite Girl (YFG Series) Page 11
