“WTF?” Bremusa protested in acronym.
Antioche raised a palm up. “Not directly, a subsidiary. But it’s his, don’t forget that. And yes, this is high-level stuff. Like Olympian CEOs high. So, if anyone wants to back down, I totally get it. I promise I won’t hold a grudge, but say so now before the actual briefing.”
She looked at her two crewmates and waited for more than a silent minute.
“All aboard. Good. So, we are hitting Moiragetis.” She waved her hand around dismissively and gulped, trying to present it as just another target. “It’s just a data-mining whatever data-centre, Chubby will know best. What we care about is that for some bullshit diplomatic reasons, the orphans in SOS Children’s Villages can’t be adopted by Artemis and Apollo. The data is in there, so, we go in, change the data, Melousa does that if it wasn’t apparent, and we get out. The orphans’ status changes in legalese, Artemis can adopt the girls, everybody is happy.”
Melousa sat upright in her seat, the leather protested underneath. “Of course we’ll do it then! Those poor children… Artemis can give them opportunities, a home, careers. So nice!” She giggled.
“Yeah, yeah, we all get a golden halo and shit like that. Make sure you read the specs, know where the server is, have the whatchacallit?”
“Exploit,” added Melousa with her sweet voice like a schoolteacher.
“Right. Have the exploit ready, no seconds wasted, you hear me?”
Bremusa put two clips of ammo in her gear. Then she stood still, thought about it, and stuffed as many clips as the carrier could hold.
Antioche nodded at her silently in approval.
“What sort of tangos do we expect to find?” Bremusa asked.
Antioche shrugged. “Basic Zeus security. Mostly electronic, Melousa can handle it.”
“Riiight,” Bremusa said not really buying it. She clipped on a full belt of grenades. She wiped her machete one last time and put it in its holster.
“Where is that… Moiragetis place?” asked Bremusa.
Antioche rubbed her neck. “Oh, in thgrkprmnt…” she mumbled.
“Say again?”
“In the Greek Parliament…”
“What?”
“Inside it?” asked Melousa.
“Yup.”
Playlist: Video 15/67
Steel dug into her flesh and she screamed in agony.
“I’ll have security beat you senseless!” said Aura and gritted her teeth. “Mother! Help me!”
The smell of burnt hair permeated the entire room.
Mrs Nightingale was standing near the window, sighing. “Don’t be such a baby,” she said and eyed her sideways. “Beauty takes sacrifices.”
Aura turned towards her torturer and hissed, “Hell, I’ll beat you senseless myself, you tiny man.”
Andre took the pins out of his mouth and went on fitting the dress. “We are almost done here, patience. Your mother is right.”
His assistant was pulling on tufts of her hair, making her bob her head every few seconds. Every follicle had been pulled, dyed, washed, ironed, stretched. Every part of her head was acking.
“My hair is burning,” said Aura with her eyes firmly shut. They were doing curls or something, but from the smell and the exertion, Aura was certain that when she opened her eyes she would find just a few half-burned patches of curly hair left.
Her mother was still sitting by the window, idly watching over the make-over. She had unconsciously sat where the light would favour her if someone were to pop in and take a picture.
The machine Andre had brought in dinged. He got to it, took a little plastic tray off and showed it to Mrs Nightingale. “This shade madam?”
Mrs Nightingale squinted a bit and compared it to all the other little trays laid out in front of her. They had shades of make-up, their tint created at that moment by the 3D printer. “Hmm. Something between that one and that one,” she pointed at two shades, one green, one dark blue.
Andre picked them up and went back to his makeup printer. He tapped in something on the display and it whirred again, working to produce the new shade, on-demand.
“I know why you want me to go to this party,” said Aura, taking a peek and then shutting her eyes again.
“Why indeed?” sighed Mrs Nightingale.
“You hope I’ll hook up with Viko. Or you’ve arranged for him to hook up with me.”
The hair pulling stopped for a second, then resumed. This was prime celebrity gossip, tabloids would pay handsomely for such tips. But the assistant would be bound by contract to keep her mouth shut, no matter what she saw or what she heard. There was no other way Andre would employ her around celebrities. Tipping the press with unwanted gossip would mean the end of her career.
“Yes,” said Mrs Nightingale after a pause, “I certainly hope so. The young man is handsome and suitable for you. He might elevate your career as well. He certainly would benefit from a relationship with you. The PR capital is enormous.”
Aura gasped and opened her eyes, to stare at her mother. “You are whoring me out! For what? Fame? Some headlines? A few clickbait articles?”
This time her mother turned to her and eyed her strongly. “You are telling me you don’t like this young man?”
Aura opened her mouth and then shut it again.
Hair was pulled the other way now.
“I know what you mean Aura. There are fates worse than getting shoved into a young celebrity’s well-muscled and tanned arms. It doesn’t matter why I want this or how it may benefit us. What matters is that Dionysos wishes it, and it will be so. That reminds me,” Mrs Nightingale said and clicked her fingers towards Andre.
“Right! Backstage selfie time! Smile Miss Aura,” Andre said and took a picture, tagging it with #dionysos.
Aura’s discomfort was digitally immortalised as she was forcing a smile, her hair falling in perfect curls and her face almost unrecognisable from professional make-up.
Playlist: Video 16/67
Aura climbed down the stairs towards the lobby, very-very slowly so as not to fall on her face.
High heels weren’t her thing. How would someone run in those things?
Orestes was waiting downstairs, chatting with some of the staff. Everybody liked him, he was so pleasant and sweet.
He turned towards Aura and froze, his jaw hanging.
Aura noticed that and blushed as she managed the final steps without incident.
The housekeeper who was chatting with Orestes smiled, looked down to her shoes, kicked him lightly on the leg and whispered something.
Orestes coughed and took hold of himself.
“You look lovely Miss Aura. Have a nice evening,” the housekeeper said and left the lobby.
“Thank you Maria,” Aura said and kept on blushing.
Orestes looked Aura in the eyes. He tried really, really hard to keep his eyes at that level. “Lovely is an understatement Aura. You look magnificent!”
Aura sighed. “I look like a peacock. Like I’m headed to the stage on Broadway.”
Orestes stepped to her side and made a hook with his arm. “Then the world is your stage.”
“Ugh! I’m only doing this for your public image,” Aura said but didn’t believe it herself.
Orestes wore a classic tailored suit, ash gray like the old rebetes wore, though theirs were nowhere near as expensive as his. Aura noticed that he looked good in it.
She, on the other hand, wore a deep blue dress that shone iridescent as she moved. It had a row of feathers in an arc on her back, giving her a really glamorous look but making her feel silly. It was tailored to expertly cover the imperfections in her silhouette and attenuate her curves. The decolletage was deep enough that Aura felt the breeze coming in all the way down to her stomach.
Aura hated it.
Okay, she looked good in it. Better than she ever had anyway. And judging by Orestes’ reaction a moment ago, she would make heads turn.
It sorta felt nice feeling pretty.
Playlist: Video 17/67
Aura could feel cold sweat washing over her body. She was tense.
She hoped that makeup was waterproof. The feathers were sturdy enough up to now, she feared they would fold on the seat but they were fine.
“Why did I agree to this?” she muttered.
Orestes took her arm casually, as he had many times when she needed his comfort. “Relax, it’s just a party. Sure, it’s loud, I don’t like these things either. But it will be fun.”
The limo strode on the road, moving awkwardly for such a long vehicle. Aura snorted at that, she knew this was a stupid display of wealth and fame, paid for by Dionysos Entertainment.
But it was nice once in a while to revel in luxury.
Plus, she kinda liked how she and Orestes looked together. Not together-together of course, just… Friends beside one another. Yeah.
The limo took them to the entrance of the mansion, and she could hear muffled bass throbbing in. The valet opened the door and Orestes got outside to help her out of the car. For the first time in her life, she found out that she really did need that particular kind of chivalry because she couldn’t get up herself in those heels.
The group of photo-reporters swarmed in, taking pictures and Aura grinned and wanted to die.
She put her foot outside and it felt weird, trying to avoid a nip-slip. It was the most dangerous part, stepping out of the limo. She’d read that on a magazine list somewhere.
She took Orestes’ hand and stood up, thankfully no accidents, and she was promptly blinded by photo flashes.
One blogger, a small Asian girl, had her back to them and was talking on a small microphone. She was holding up a selfie stick, and was framing herself with the on-comers behind her, live-streaming the whole thing.
Aura couldn’t hear what she was saying over the indistinct voices but she was sure it had to do with her fashion sense.
“Don’t tell him I admitted this, but I’m kinda glad for Andre’s makeover now,” Aura muttered to her friend.
“So is every man here, trust me,” Orestes said and smiled for the fans.
That bastard always knew what to say.
They walked the red carpet, yes, there was a literal one laid there even though it was dangerously close to a mockery, and got inside the mansion’s grounds.
The security didn’t stop them, nor did they check a list of names or anything. It was dead simple, you were either instantly recognisable, or you didn’t get in. Orestes Dillinger certainly was, even though he was such a shy young man. She, on the other hand, was also recognisable despite her best efforts to sabotage that.
The security guy pulled a cloth rope so they could get in as if it was a nightclub. He nodded at Orestes and Aura assumed he was a fan.
They walked inside to the music and the lights. For all intents and purposes, this backyard was a nightclub because it had been turned into one. Large frames of lights and speakers, professional grade audio equipment, holographic displays just for fun, laser beams cutting into smoke, baristas mixing drinks for the celebrities and their entourages. An audio technician was sliding stuff on his console, a lighting technician was making the place pulse visually along with the music. A whole instrument area was elevated in one corner, filled with an assortment of professional guitars, a piano, drums.
Aura saw a couple of girls fumbling with their purses and appendages.
“Are they drunk? Is there alcohol here?” she asked, yelling over the music.
“I sure hope so. I could use a drink,” Orestes said, and they walked further in.
“It’s illegal for minors,” Aura said with a smirk.
“Bah! It wouldn’t be a Dionysian party without alcohol now, would it? Besides, my dad was making me drink beer since I was twelve. Said it will put hair on my chest.”
Aura raised an eyebrow at him. “Did it?” She already knew the answer to that.
Orestes pulled his shirt from his chest and checked down. “Not as many as I’d like.”
“Maybe you need to keep on trying. Get us some beer,” Aura said and leaned on his arm, brushing herself casually on him.
What was she doing? Why was she behaving like this? Any minute now she would find herself giggling at his lame jokes.
Orestes nodded and went to fetch them drinks.
As she waited, she saw the host of the evening.
Viko, wearing a see through black blouse that was practically leaving him bare chested. The blouse had tiny LED lights weaved inside, shining cold light against his abs. Yes, that was what they meant by body of a god.
Aura pried her eyes off him, in time thankfully, as he noticed her and came to greet her with open arms.
“Aura! I’m delighted you came. I can’t believe you are alone tonight?” Viko said with a perfect smile.
“No… I came with Orestes.”
“Orestes, yeah.” Viko looked around and spotted him. He turned back to her, picked up her hand and kissed it. “You are a million likes tonight Aura. Simply stunning.”
Aura blushed, she could feel her veins throbbing on her face. She felt a bit dizzy, but she forced herself to breathe in. She wasn’t going to faint now.
“I hate to leave you, I gotta greet some people, talk to my guests. But I’m really glad you came. Have fun, try to mingle and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can, right?” Viko said and darted away before she could answer.
She simply stared at his butt as he left, and Orestes coughed beside her.
“I got you a light drink, I know you can’t handle your booze,” Orestes said with a frown.
Aura was about to apologise, but for what? She took the drink and sipped, a fruity yellow red cocktail with something she thought was rum. She decided to avoid answering altogether and simply turned around to watch the crowd.
The party was full of perfect bodies. Adolescent bodies, twenty-something bodies, thirty-something bodies that had serious plastic surgery to look like the previous group. Athletic, lithe, half-naked in the latest fashion. Some of the ladies were wearing stuff similar to Aura’s, but not the same of course. Andre would kill himself before letting two of his clients wear the same dress to party, let alone the same one.
A girl walked next to Aura and swiped her hand over her feather, toying with it for a moment. Then apparently her favourite beat was on and she darted back to dance. She had abs.
Aura never had abs. She guessed she did have them of course, but they didn’t show like that. Sculpted.
She was now self-aware of her body and was feeling a bit silly standing there like a peacock.
Orestes was sipping his beer and looked cool doing it. Aura thought that he looked cool because he simply was cool. He was a manly teenager, not a softie like those metrosexual teen celebrities. His hero was his own father, a manly rebetes folk-singer and master of the bouzouki. Sure, he was a bit rowdy and bad-tempered sometimes, but he was the real deal, an original Greek. His son couldn’t be anything less, but only the good parts.
“Oh, there’s Mickey,” Orestes said and pulled her along towards the band stage.
As Orestes talked with his buddies, they were tuning their bouzouki. He was excited, making wild gestures with his hands and his buddies were telling some recent story.
Aura couldn’t hear anything, even though she was right next to them, so she just sat there and looked interested. She caught a couple of glances from the boys checking her out, and she felt shy again, but it was nice. She checked to see if anything had fell out of the dress. It was fine.
Desha came towards them, her entourage in tow.
Oh skata.
Aura took in a breath and fortified her patience.
“Aura!” she said and giggled.
Why did she giggle? What was funny about her name? Was it the peacock feathers?
It was the peacock feathers, wasn’t it?
“I somehow knew I’d find you among the
boys in the band,” Desha said and giggled. Again.
That was an insult, right? Damn, Aura needed to up her repartee. “And I somehow knew I’d find you leading scantily clad background singers.”
Bam.
Desha processed the unfamiliar words for a second too long. She then giggled, seemingly unfazed, and came close to Aura, touching her feathers. “I just love those. I saw them on a magazine two months back I think.”
Was that an insult too? That they were old fashion? Damn, weren’t these things supposed to last a year at least?
“Well, it’s not like I attend every party I’m invited to. Who has the time for that?” Aura said, repositioning herself to pull the feathers away from Desha’s fingers.
Bam.
Desha smiled. She didn’t giggle this time. It was odd. Aura had learnt to wait for her giggling after every sentence. It was weird that it didn’t came, like throwing a stone in a well and never hearing the splash.
One of her entourage, a perky young girl, not as pretty as Desha of course, stepped forward and spoke for the first time. She presented her phone and said, “Oh Desha, here are the fans votes.”
Desha took the phone, and it illuminated her perfect teeth from below. “Oh look,” she said. “We asked the people who should sing live, and they voted for you, Aura.”
Aura’s eyes widened.
Bam.
Playlist: Video 18/67
Aura gripped the mic and she felt stupid.
Stupid stupid stupid.
With her peacock dress and feathers, standing up on the stage, the band behind waiting. A spotlight was blinding her but she was thankful for that, she couldn’t really see their faces clearly.
Why did she agree to this? Why did she even get up here?
Was it the alcohol? Did it lower her inhibitions, make her courageous and stupid? She didn’t really feel drunk, she had the nagging suspicion that Orestes had told the barman to make her a flashy watered down cocktail, with the barest hint of rum in it. The blame was all hers for this poor judgement.
MOAB � Mother Of All Boxsets Page 47
