Your Favorite Girl (YFG Series)

by Steph Sweeney

  "Glad to help," I said dryly.

  "Okay."

  "Okay what?"

  "Tell Patton to take her back."

  "Seriously?"

  He nodded, patted me on the arm, and walked away. Patton had been watching us the whole time, and Mr. Shriver pointed at Flora and then the elevator, nodding.

  I met up with Patton on his way to the piano.

  "How did you do that?" he asked eagerly.

  "I don't know. I just asked and he said yes."

  "That's amazing. He never listens to anyone."

  "It makes me nervous."

  "As well it should."

  I stopped short of the piano and waited while Patton collected Flora. When he whispered in her ear, she immediately stopped playing and stood.

  She looked sad.

  "Did I do something wrong?" she asked.

  "No, you were spectacular," he said. "We've just had a change of plans for the evening and have to cut the music short. You'll still receive credit, don't worry."

  But that wasn't what she was worried about. This was a big deal to her. Maybe the first time she'd ever been off Level D. I hadn't considered that.

  "I have to go back," she told me. "Will you come to my graduation?"

  "Definitely," I said.

  I walked with them to the elevator with the intention of coming along, but Patton stopped me at the door. "Have a drink. Socialize."

  "With who? No one will talk to me."

  "Talk to Yakov. He wants something from me and I haven't pried it out of him yet. Maybe he'll tell you. I'll be right back."

  Flora waved at me and I returned it. When the doors closed, a sort of darkness fell over the room. The atmosphere changed. I could literally hear the difference in conversation. More irritability, more impatience. An argument developed between two men at the bar.

  No wonder Mr. Shriver brought a Flora Girl to every event. Her presence alone generated and maintained a pleasant aura.

  So why did he consent?

  The tension in the room was so visceral, it left me wanting to seek out Yakov, the only one amongst them whose natural condition was merriment.

  "We meet again," he said when I found him by the food. "Melissa, correct?"

  "You didn't forget me," I said flirtatiously.

  "How could I? You're such a treat to the eyes. Where's Patton?"

  "He had to run an errand. He'll be back in a few minutes. He said to keep you company."

  "A fine and hospitable man," he said.

  "So what brings you here?" I asked. "Business or pleasure?"

  He took a moment to chew and swallow his food. Then he said, "A smart man doesn't travel from Russia all the way to the United States without making time for both."

  "So you are here for business."

  "Of course."

  "Mind if I ask you a question?"

  "By all means, my love."

  "What business can a weapons company possibly have with Your Favorite Girl?"

  He smiled. "If Patton hasn't told you, neither can I. We must keep the secret, you understand? No one knows. Not even Mr. Shriver--especially not him."

  Intriguing, to say the least. Patton really was planning something. I found comfort in that. Whatever his role in this company, at least he was working against Mr. Shriver. How, I didn't know, but I added finding out to my To Do list.

  "Is Brian involved?" I asked, regretting it immediately.

  Yakov's face turned solemn. "I believe I've said too much," he murmured, walking away.

  I chased after him. "I'm sorry, I should mind my own business. Please don't go."

  "You've made me nervous, my love, and now I must leave."

  "No!" I grabbed his arm. "I was just curious, I promise. We can change the subject."

  "I don't like my secrets being shared. Patton was to tell no one of our business."

  "How about I tell you a secret?"

  The muscles in his arm relaxed a little. "It must be of equal magnitude."

  "It is. I mean, not on a scale to match big business dealings, but for me personally, it's . . . something no one can know about."

  I had his attention. I could see it in his body language. He turned to face me directly, his expression one of intrigue.

  "Go on," he said.

  I took a deep breath, leaned in close, and whispered, "I murdered my husband."

  He jerked back as though he'd been stung by a wasp. "You didn't!"

  "Shhh. If anyone finds out . . ."

  "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he said. "What did he do to you, if I may ask?"

  "He had an affair."

  "The bastard. What more could he want?" He began to look me up and down. "What more could a man want?" he said dramatically. "He deserved it. Don't you lose a moment of sleep, my love. May I ask how you did it?"

  I stalled, wondering how Mr. Shriver would take me sharing the details of how I came to be here.

  "I believe we're even now," I said, poking him on the chest. "You want more secrets from me, you have to tell me another."

  Once again, I had him under my thumb. "I do have another secret," he said, "but I fear you'll think less of me if I tell you."

  "It can't be worse than what I just told you."

  He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to the side, as if to say, I'm not so sure about that.

  "Tell me something," he said. "Who is your favorite?"

  "Of the girls?"

  "Yes."

  "Flora."

  "You haven't seen the others."

  "I've seen a few."

  "Really? And you still choose Flora?"

  "Yes."

  "She's the only one I've seen. I would like to see the rest."

  "Is that your secret?"

  "No, no," he said. "I'm building up to it. May I ask another question?"

  "Go for it."

  "This one will take a moment." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "I understand why Mr. Shriver refuses to sell Favorite Girls to his business associates. It's a scam, designed like all scams to cheat people out of their money. Everyone in this room has greater value to Mr. Shriver than any immediate capital gain, so he refuses. He shows us a glorious display of Flora Girls, laughs at us while we jack off, and then chooses not to sell them to us. I understand. But there's something I don't understand."

  He waited for me to ask, something I found extremely annoying, but I had to entertain him. "What don't you understand?"

  "Why is there no Favorite Boy?"

  I laughed so hard, Yakov backed away. I had to collect myself quickly so he wouldn't run in shame. All this time I thought he harbored some dark, scandalous secret.

  "I'm sorry," I said. "It just surprised me is all. I thought you liked women."

  "Oh, I do, my love, I do," he said, "but not as much as I like men. Do you think he would do that for me?"

  "I don't understand. You want a Favorite Boy? What's Patton have to do with that?"

  "Don't you know?"

  "Know what?" I asked. "Brian's the one who creates them. He's the lab geek. Patton is just a doctor. He just takes care of the girls."

  Yakov's smile made me nervous. He knew something I didn't.

  "I've bothered you too much," he said, turning away.

  "Wait. What are you not telling me?"

  "As I said before, if Patton hasn't told you, I can't either."

  I started to follow him, but then I noticed Patton returning from the elevator. He was approaching quickly, obviously in a hurry, so I decided to bite my tongue and save my round of questioning for later.

  "Come with me," he said.

  I followed without questioning, recalling what we agreed to on our way to the party. You say jump, I jump.

  He led me to a door, and I looked around for Mr. Shriver as he pushed me through it.

  "Will he catch us?"

  "No. When I got off the elevator, I saw him talking to Mr. Partridge. He'll be preoccupied for a while."

  "Who's Mr. Partridge?"
>
  "He's the reason we're here tonight. He owns a pharmaceutical company. Tonight they're signing a deal. Let's go."

  We walked briskly down the hallway.

  "What kind of deal?" I asked, though I thought I already knew. The prospect was terrifying. The Libido Drug on the open market? Civilization would crumble.

  Patton could read my suspicions. "It's not what you think," he said. "We hold many patents. This particular compound is somewhat similar to LD, only its strength is conditional and it's not nearly as effective. It's a painkiller that works by tricking the brain into experiencing pain as pleasure. Very dangerous. I've tried and tried to talk him out of it, but the potential for profit is endless."

  "That's sick," I said. "People will be hurting themselves on purpose."

  "Exactly."

  "How can you let this happen?"

  We stopped at another door.

  "Melissa, the only power I have in this company is that of influence, and clearly it doesn't get me far. If I'm going to change things, I have to play along. For now." He put his hand to the doorknob. "Now are you ready for this?"

  I nodded.

  Patton opened the door. "After you," he said.

  I stepped into a dark corridor lined on either side with prison cells. It was dank and cold in here. The smell of mildew was enough to make a person gag. Miserable conditions, clearly of deliberate design.

  "This is where the decommissioned Favorite Girls go."

  "How many are there?"

  "About thirty at the moment. Half of those are Floras. The rest are an assortment of the rest. Only one Frog Girl."

  I started up the hallway, reluctantly peering into the cells. They were all empty.

  "Where are they?"

  Suddenly Patton rushed past me, looking back and forth into each cell as he rushed up the hallway.

  "Good question," he said, clearly nervous. "That's a very good question indeed. The Floras aren't supposed to be here. They're being prepped for the show. But the rest of them should be."

  He stopped at one of the cells and turned to face it.

  "Frog," he said. "Where is everyone?"

  "Day took dem."

  "Where?"

  "Dunno."

  I came up next to him and looked in at Frog Girl. She was crouched on the wet floor, naked and shivering, her knees sticking out on either side of her deformed head. When she looked up at me, I thought I saw recognition in her eyes. It made sense. She was probably the Frog Girl I'd seen the first day I came here, the one who humped the lab tech's face so hard she crushed his skull.

  Jacob, Kate had told me. Mr. Shriver's son.

  Which meant Mr. Shriver probably had plans for this poor girl.

  "Hi," I said, waving to her. I felt like crying.

  "Can do dake me? I'm code."

  I couldn't make out what she was saying so I asked Patton. "Can you take me? I'm cold," he whispered. Then he said, "Something's wrong. We need to get back to the party."

  When we walked away, I started bawling. Patton stopped and hugged me. "I'm sorry," he said. "It's hard to take, but you need to see everything."

  "We have to put a stop to this."

  "We will, but I'm going to need your help."

  "I'll do anything."

  "Good, because I have some bad news."

  "What?"

  "Mr. Shriver wants something from you."

  I pulled back. "What does he want?"

  "He wants you to be the new Selection Guide. He plans to approach you with it tomorrow."

  The news hit me so hard I couldn't respond. I felt numb. All I could think about was how Kate had described her job to me: fucking clients, getting gangbanged by Sean and his guards, with long periods of doing nothing in between.

  And Patton was letting this happen.

  We returned to the party without speaking again. I immediately went for the bar, downed a shot, and asked for another beer.

  An hour later I was having trouble standing. Patton tried several times to engage me in conversation, and each time I politely told him to fuck off. I wandered the party alone, drinking and making smartass remarks to anyone who looked at me.

  When Mr. Shriver spoke into a microphone, I was sitting in the circle of chairs, almost asleep.

  "Can I have your attention everyone?"

  The party fell silent and everyone began to gather around him. He stood on a platform behind a podium.

  "You all know why we're here tonight: to celebrate a long-awaited deal between Your Favorite Girl, Incorporated and Partridge Pharmaceuticals."

  A brief round of applause, and then I felt a hand hook me by the arm. It was Patton. "Stand up," he said.

  I stood but jerked my arm away, dropping my beer bottle. It shattered on the floor, turning every head in the room.

  Mr. Shriver continued: "After months of negotiation, Mr. Partridge and I have finally reached an agreement that will bring LD-291B to market. A revolutionary analgesic that not only relieves pain but induces pleasure. The best part is it can easily be engineered synthetically at low cost and should replace opiate-based painkillers completely."

  More applause.

  "Unfortunately," Mr. Shriver began, and during his pause the murmur of conversation began. "Unfortunately there's been a change of plans, and I will not be signing any deal tonight."

  Patton looked at me. For the first time since we'd met, he looked genuinely frightened.

  "What's wrong?"

  He shook his head, and somewhere in the crowd a man whom I assumed to be Mr. Partridge started shouting and cursing. Everyone else seemed displeased, as well. The murmurs turned to a wave of heated conversation.

  "Why?" Mr. Partridge was shouting. "Why won't you sign? Why did you even invite us here, you sick son of a bitch!"

  "I know you're all disappointed," Mr. Shriver said, "but I hope you'll trust that it's for the best. I had a revelation last night, thanks to a very helpful advisor--" He was looking at me. The bastard was looking at me. "--and in light of this new outlook, I've made a change both in company policy and in my hopes for the future."

  Suddenly a bookshelf on the right wall split apart and opened up like elevator doors.

  "Enjoy the show, my friends!"

  "Oh my God," Patton said.

  I followed his gaze to the new hole in the wall and watched as something began to emerge from it.

  Patton ran across the room and dove at the platform, trying to push it back in, but it was automated. He couldn't budge it. In fact, it pushed him backwards, his dress shoes squealing on the hardwood floor.

  "Don't do this!" he screamed. "Mr. Shriver, it's a mistake!"

  "It's time you had a taste, my friends. Pick your poison."

  The men were transfixed. Even Mr. Partridge had nothing to say. They all stood there with their mouths hanging open as the platform extended from the wall.

  It was a bed, maybe knee-high. Spaced three or four feet apart were an assortment of Favorite Girls, all stretched out and tied at the wrists and ankles, legs spread apart.

  The smell was so thick I didn't know if I could contain myself.

  I approached the bed as it wheeled past me, observing the Favorite Girls, especially the ones I hadn't seen.

  Every other girl was a Flora, as perfect and young-looking as the one I would be buying next week. Their honey-colored bodies made snaking, humping motions and they moaned in rhythm with their dancing.

  In contrast, the Doll Girls lay perfectly still, only tied up, I assumed, so they wouldn't fall. They had albino skin, bright pink nipples, soft bodies with no muscle whatsoever, and no sign of life other than their heaving breasts.

  The Diamond Girls were easy to count because they stood out so much from the others. There were two of them, writhing and shimmering and jangling as hundreds, if not thousands, of dermal piercings clanked together.

  When the platform stopped, I stood over the only Vampire Girl. She was as pale as the Doll Girls but taller and more slender. She strai
ned her neck to look up at me, and when she hissed I could see her razor-sharp fangs. She jerked violently, thrusting her pelvis as high as it would go, then slamming herself back onto the bed and yanking on the rope that held her down, trying to free herself.

  I moved up the platform, observing the Favorite Girls and the men approaching on the other side.

  The lights were dim enough that I got the gist of Glow Girl. She looked like a light bulb. Literally. Her entire body emitted soft, golden light, as though she'd been tattooed head to toe with some kind of ink that glows in the dark. Even her nipples and labia. The only thing that didn't glow were her eyes, and the contrast created the illusion that she didn't have any: just dark, empty sockets. She was the scariest of them all.

  I took a few more steps and found myself opposite the first man to approach the platform. We made eye contact, and then we both looked down at a creature we'd never laid eyes on before.

  Giggle Girl, whose name did not disappoint. She was the only one amongst the Favorite Girls without a perfect figure. They'd made her slightly chubby. Skinny by normal standards, yes, but with just enough fat that it jiggled when she giggled.

  And all she did was giggle. There were four of them spaced evenly on the platform, and other than the occasional hiss from Vampire Girl or a moan from another, they were the only ones to make a sound.

  A crafty trick, I had to admit. It took everything I had not to reach down and plunge my finger into Giggle Girl's armpit.

  The man across from me didn't have the same restraint. He leaned over Giggle Girl and pinched her sides. She screamed and squirmed in response.

  That was all it took. The man simply fell upon her, not so much kissing her as licking her face as she jerked her head from side to side, laughing uncontrollably. He fought to get his pants down and when he entered her, his entire body froze.

  Beneath him, Giggle Girl's laughter turned to one high-pitched, drawn-out scream. I couldn't tell if it derived from pleasure or pain, but it was shrill, deafening.

  The man atop her looked up at me. His face began to contort, eyes widening, mouth stretching open. He began to laugh, and as his laughter grew louder, his humping became more and more violent. "Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-HA!" he screamed, and Giggle Girl's agony became apparent. Tears streamed down her face. She wasn't experiencing sexual pleasure. She was experiencing a tickling sensation that would drive a normal person mad.