by C. E. Wilson
I moan involuntarily like I did when I first tasted pear pizza and Shawn pulls away with a surprised face.
“I didn’t know you were aggressive, Grace,” he says with a wicked smile. I don’t like how my body reacts to him. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He kisses me again, pushing his warm tongue inside the cavern of my mouth, and tickles the roof. I want to laugh and cry at the same time. I don’t think Reese would kiss like this, but Reese would probably never kiss me in the first place.
He would only kiss Celia.
“He’ll start working with you tomorrow,” Shawn says, pulling away at last. He wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve and stands up, dusting off his pants. He’s trying to wipe away all the evidence of being with me. “You will listen to him as though you’re listening to me. However, you are not to reveal your name, Grace. Your true name belongs to me.”
“I understand,” I say in a low voice. I want to wipe my face, but Shawn will punish me if I do. I don’t want to get in trouble. I want to talk to Reese tomorrow about why he’s doing this to me. I don’t want to work with him simply to be a better gift for Celia, but I don’t want to be punished either.
As the door closes, I fall back and stare at the blank ceiling, trying to understand what happened. I thought Reese was being kind to me. Turns out he is trying to find out if I am safe enough to be around his girlfriend. Beauties loved to play games. Former Potential or not, Reese is a Beauty and apparently about to enter a good family.
Did I really believe something sparked between us? Was I so achingly desperate for attention?
I take in a few deep breaths and close my eyes. I want to believe Reese is a nice person; he used to be like me, but he’s actually not like me at all. Not anymore. All the pieces fall into place. Looking at me with Griff because he was checking on me. Wanting to be alone to test Shawn’s theory about how I’m ‘crafty’. Working with me personally to make sure I’m a good fit for Celia.
I imagined the whole thing.
I wouldn’t ever have a chance with someone like Reese, so why did thinking about him hurt so much?
***
I try to make myself look as imposing as possible after darling Celia leaves for tutoring. Reese will be coming over to ‘train’ me to behave for his beloved. I’m not in the mood to look at him. I don’t want someone else to treat me like an animal. I can handle Shawn doing it; he’s my owner and I need a sponsorship from him, but other than Reese’s connection to Celia, who’s connected to Shawn, I don’t owe him anything. I talked to him. I thought we were getting along and within hours, that all came crashing down.
When the door opens, I sit up straight in bed and turn my back to him. It’s Reese. I can tell by the tempting infusion of chocolate and spice wafting to my nose.
“Hey, Eleven,” Reese says in an easygoing tone. He leaves the door open, which only confirms how much he’s still wary around me. “I came back like I promised.” When I don’t answer him right away, he shifts around. “I… I brought you some chocolate,” he tries.
“Keep it,” I mutter, keeping my back towards him. My mouth waters at the idea of more chocolate, but I try to stay strong and remember why he’s here.
“I will keep it,” he says, keeping his voice at a pleasant tone. “But I’d like for you to have it. I brought a different kind and—”
“I said you can keep it.”
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
When I finally turn to look at him, I make sure my eyes are blazing. I don’t want to have to say it. I want him to look in my eyes and understand why I’m upset. We look at each other and I swear I feel heat between us. I can’t be imagining it! The way he looks at me! It’s not like Shawn or Griff. It’s a completely unfamiliar look. It makes him different.
Ugh, but he’s not different. He’s like any other Beauty. I whip around, pull my knees up to my chest, and return to facing the wall. If I look at him for too long, I’ll have dangerous thoughts. I don’t want to look at his trim waist and belted pants. I don’t want to look at his chest through his school uniform and focus on the muscles contracting and expanding with each breath. I certainly can’t focus on those lips. Unlike mine, his upper lip is fuller than the lower and I can’t help but think about kissing them and realizing how much we would fit together like a puzzle.
“That was quite a look,” Reese says. I’m relieved he sounds uncomfortable. “I was kind of hoping you’d be happy to see me.”
“Yeah,” I grunt. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Did I do something wrong?” he asks. “Yesterday I thought…” He trails off and I imagine he’s trying to think over the whole day and what went wrong.
“You thought what?”
“I don’t know.” He falls silent for a few moments before snapping his fingers. “I had my aunt check deeper into your Registration Records.”
“So…what?”
He sighs in exasperation. “Seriously, Eleven. What’s wrong?”
I clench my hands into tight fists. He seriously wants to play this game? If so, he’s even sicker than Shawn. “Why are you here?” I ask.
“I thought Shawn told you.”
I stiffen. It’s true. Hearing this, my ridged spine wilts like a dying flower and I frown. “He did tell me,” I say in a soft voice. “He said you were disappointed in me.”
“What?” He actually has the nerve to sound shocked. Betrayed even. “I didn’t—”
“That’s what he told me. He said you want to work with me to keep Celia safe and—”
“Yeah that’s what I told him, but—”
“And I’m crafty and not to be trusted around your girlfriend.” I shake my head. I had made such a fool of myself. I couldn’t believe I thought someone so flawless was different. Beauties were all the same. “I’m stupid,” I mutter.
“Eleven, listen,” Reese says in a firm voice. “You’ve got me all wrong.”
“I doubt that.”
“Listen to me,” he says, making his voice harsh. I wince at the tone and he shifts. “Please,” he says softly. “You need to listen to what I have to say.”
“I’m listening.”
“I…” He sounds nervous as he starts to speak, but I don’t try to help him.
I want to trust him and believe that a Beauty can be a good person. I’m nervous about how he’s going to explain his conversation with Shawn to me. I’m afraid he’ll lie, but because I’m attracted to not only him, but the sound of his voice, his lies win me over. I mistook my attraction to him as something more, but it may be no more than lust. Animal lust.
“Can you at least look at me?” he says.
“Why?”
“I’d like to see your eyes when I’m talking to you. I want you to see my eyes when I tell you what I’m about to say.”
I grunt. Lies. Always lies. He wants me to see him look sad and sincere so it’s easier to accept what he has to say. It’s always such a game! As I’m about to give him a sharp response, I remember the collar on my neck and the power it holds. I remember Shawn knows Reese is here, so he probably gave him the controller. As always… Beauties hold the power. I shift around slowly on the bed and lift up my chin. He looks realistically desperate. I try to remain firm though the look in his purple eyes makes it harder than I imagined.
“Here I am,” I say. “What do you want to say?”
“I did tell Paulson I didn’t trust you with Celia,” he admits. As I whip back around, he keeps going. “Hear me out!” he pleads. “I told him so I could have a chance to talk to you. I have to see you.”
“You mean work with me.”
“If that’s what Celia and Paulson need to hear, then yes. That’s what I said, and that’s why I’m here. But it’s not true. I wanted to talk to you.”
My eyes grow curious and scan him head to toe. I still can’t be too careful. Reese could be recording the whole conversation. He could repeat everything I say to Paulson for some sick game they’re playing with me. “Wha
t did you want to talk about?”
“I had my aunts look into your Registration Records,” he says, glancing over his shoulder.
He sucks in his puffy upper lip and I want to kiss him. High and Mighty. It’s not time to think about kissing Beauties. I glance towards a different and surprising sound. Reese shutting the door, enclosing the both of us inside. He didn’t feel comfortable enough to shut the door yesterday but now he does. Is this part of the game, or is there actually something he wants to share that he doesn’t want others to hear?
“You have two aunts?” I ask skeptically. This isn’t the first time he’s worded his family relations strangely and though I’m curious, he waves me off.
“It’s a long story,” he says. “That’s not what I want to talk to you about.”
“So talk.”
He inhales and exhales deeply and finally I’m looking at him directly. My tongue swells up in my mouth so I swallow, waiting patiently so he’ll continue. I don’t want to rush him, but since he’s going to such extreme measures to tell his story, I can’t help wondering what he wants to say. What’s the big deal about Registration Records? I know the numbers. I don’t get to see the papers too often but I know…
“I know… I don’t think you’re actually an Eleven,” he says finally.
I look up. “Not an Eleven? Of course I am. I’ve been rated plenty of times and—”
“My aunts think someone messed around with your paperwork. Do you have any idea how rare it is for an Eighteen to fall all the way down to an Eleven?”
“I wasn’t an Eleven right away,” I admit. “I fell gradually.”
“Falling so fast is almost unheard of. Rumor is people work in The Grave Market to keep Potentials from becoming Beauties. They mess with the paperwork for money,” he explains. “My aunts think you were involved in one of those schemes.”
“The numbers weren’t part of a scheme,” I say. “One of my owners when I was younger… he…” I wince at the painful memory, “… he beat me into a Twelve.”
“That still doesn’t explain such a dramatic fall,” Reese says. “At certain numbering stations, highly-rated young Potentials were dropped by huge amounts with little explanation. That’s unheard of. You went to several of these stations during your time between ages five and twelve. I think people were messing with your numbers, along with other people’s numbers, so you couldn’t be a Beauty.”
“Why are you saying this? What does it matter?”
“It means a lot!” Reese exclaims. “If we can prove your paperwork was altered, then—”
“Then you can prove my paperwork was altered. Being an Eighteen or an Eleven doesn’t change anything. Unless your magical Aunts can raise me to a Twenty in the next few months, there’s no difference to me. I appreciate it, but it won’t change anything.”
“Getting your numbers changed could change your life. Don’t you want to get out of here?”
“Of course I do!” I hiss. “And I will. I have to be patient. Shawn will—”
“Are you sure Shawn’s actually going to help you?”
I stiffen. I’m not sure. “He works at the hospital. He knows about the procedures I’ll need. He’ll sponsor me.”
“And then what? He sponsors you. Then what happens?”
My mouth opens and closes a few times, as I try to figure out what sponsorship will mean.
“Since you obviously don’t know, I’ll tell you,” Reese says. “Paulson sponsors you. He gives you surgeries that you don’t need because you’re not actually an Eleven. The more surgeries he gives you the more money he can spend. And that means more money you’ll have to pay him back… with interest. Change isn’t free. My aunts know guys like Paulson. He’s in it for the money – he’ll use his success with you to burnish his reputation and then slap you with a huge bill. He’ll have you paying him back for the rest of your life.”
“I’ll be free—”
“You’ll never be free from him if you let him change you,” Reese says.
“So what about you?” I ask, unable to help myself. “You were an Eleven like me! How did you beat the system?”
“I didn’t beat it,” he growls. “I guess I got lucky.”
“Not all of us can get lucky,” I say. “Some of us have to work to free ourselves. I don’t think Shawn’s that cruel.”
“You don’t think he wants to change you to help his own career?”
“He does, but—”
“You’re making excuses for him,” he snaps. His voice flares with anger, but I don’t back down. If he wanted to shock me, he had plenty of opportunities. “Why won’t you let me help?” he asks in a softer voice.
“Why do you want to help me? You say everyone has an agenda. What’s yours? I’m your girlfriend’s pet.”
“Celia isn’t—”
“I don’t care what she is,” I snap. “What’s your angle? Beauties like you don’t waltz in and decide they don’t like the rules anymore. What do you want?” My eyes blaze with intensity. “Tell me.”
“I…” he trails off. “If you could remember…”
“Remember what? That you feel sorry for me? That you want to rebel against the system? What?”
“You don’t deserve this,” he says quickly. “I told you. I know you… I mean I know you’re not an Eleven. In fact… I think…”
I slide off the bed and rise to a standing position. My feet are bare and the floor is cold, but I straighten up and try to look as tall as I can. I still recognize that I would fit neatly under his chin. Ugh… now is not the time to think about this. The shock collar strains against my neck and my hair stands wildly on end, but instead of disgust, Reese’s eyes only soften.
I still don’t trust him.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t want him.
He could still be saying all of this to win me over.
To win my trust.
“What?” I ask him. “So you don’t think I’m an Eleven? You think someone messed with my paperwork? That’s not unusual. Why don’t you help other people whose numbers have been tampered with?”
“My aunts are trying to fight that corruption right now,” he admits.
I suck in a gasp. Talking about flaws in the system isn’t information you share with anyone. Beauties don’t badmouth the system; they love the system.
“But I don’t care about the others right now.”
The system works.
The system is perfect.
Or so we’re told. Reese admits that isn’t the case to an Eleven like me. My defenses fall slightly, but I don’t give in to him completely. “So help them,” I say. “I’m not doing badly here.”
“You don’t want to be chained up in a basement like an animal,” he says huskily. “You’re not wild and you’re not dangerous. At least not from—”
“You don’t know me.”
“You don’t deserve this.”
“Will you stop?” I groan in an irritated voice. “You don’t know what I deserve. I don’t need your help. I don’t want your help because you feel bad for me.”
“I don’t feel bad for you… I mean I do, but… gah, dammit,” he stutters out and leans against the back of the door.
As he crosses one lean leg over the other, his pants pull up just enough so I can see his socks. They are smooth and clean like the rest of him. I’m curious about so much. I wish I could touch him. I want to touch his arms and chest. I want to kiss his neck and lips. He looks conflicted.
“You can believe whatever you want to believe, then,” he says at last. “The point is, I’m going to keep coming here and seeing you whether you like it or not.”
He reaches into his pocket and I jump backwards onto the bed and land in the corner, pulling my legs back up to my chest. He’s going to shock me. He’s had enough. He’s going to shock me. He’s going to shock me.
The bed poofs lightly as something lands on the sheet and I look up. Reese’s fleeting back retreats and the door closes, sealing m
e in eerie silence.
He’s left.
But he’s also left a gift.
I crawl towards the end of the bed and look down.
It’s a single square of wrapped chocolate.
Bittersweet.
***
It’s snowing. There’s no way to tell from the tiny, underground room, but from time to time I can hear Celia whining to her father about the weather, and about how Reese is spending too much time with me.
I try to suppress a snort so I won’t drown out the voices above. My hearing is much sharper now and I want to catch every word. Reese has been visiting for more than a week, but I’m always greedy for more. I’m asking for too much. I’m a Potential. I’m not supposed to be happy and I’m not supposed to trust others, but Reese feels different. I curl up on the bed, pull one of the wool blankets tightly around my shoulders, and try to picture fluffy white flakes falling through gray skies. Puffs of air coming from my mouth with each exhale. Snowmen. Snow angels.
“I don’t like it,” Celia continues in a whiny tone. “He’s always going down there. If it’s always acting badly, then why don’t you get rid of it?”
“You’re acting like a brat, Celia,” Shawn says. I can hear the exasperation in his tone. Despite how Shawn treats me, he rarely uses this voice with me. His irritation is usually reserved for his wife and daughter. “Reese is doing this for you.”
“Oh, he is not! He’s doing this because he feels bad about what happened to him.”
“That’s not a bad thing, Celia. Some people are actually capable of thinking outside of themselves.”
“I don’t always think about myself!” she retorts. Her voice is like nails on a chalkboard. I can’t stand how she’s always whining and feeling sorry for herself.
“Do you have any idea of how pathetic you sound?” Shawn asks her. “Jealous over a Potential?”