“Uh, no, but she taunted me and flipped me the three-finger!”
Abigail rolled her eyes. “Don’t stretch it any further, kiddo. You don’t have the elasticity.”
Tilly couldn’t help the grin that rose from the corner of her mouth. But it vanished when Abigail’s eyes turned on her like laser beams.
“Yes, Ms. Breedlove, it is best to wipe that smile from your face. So I assume that you are completely without fault in this?”
Tilly swallowed hard, tried to work her tongue and get the words out. “Ahm laff da blame.”
“Can you tell me, Miss Breedlove? Or would you prefer to answer in semi four, sign language or crayon notes?”
Tilly held her palms out in submission, unable to explain the circumstances.
“I see.” Abigail faced the large Tranquility Harbor map on the wall and shook her head. She removed her glasses, polished them with the end of her blouse. She pivoted around, glaring.
“We have two headliners here,” Abigail went on, “one who cannot sing now as a result of an injury, and another one who is so blind she can’t see to place one foot in front of the other. Song and dance—that is the business we’re in, and if we cannot do either then we are not a business because we don’t make any money for the Entertainment and Leisure division.”
“If you won’t’ be needing me anymore,” said Buddy, “maybe I should go to my dormitory?”
Abigail looked at Buddy sideways. “I’ve considered not needing you anymore. Permanently. You’ll sit through this and witness the outcome.” She turned on Tilly. “I’m very surprised at you. You know I have an open door policy. Yes or no question: did you consider contacting me before this escalated into what it has become?”
Tilly shook her head.
“All right, that’s evident. The question is what’s to be done. This far surpasses any demerit slips. I have the unique position of figuring out how to levy a punishment without losing the company income. This has happened before, but the violators were not lucrative tickets. An object lesson has to be made of this, since the entire complex, from the outside ring to the core, knows what happened. You made front page in the company news web.”
“I’d like to ask for mercy at this time, if I could,” said Candy. “If not, I would like to demand an arbitration hearing.”
“You are in no position to demand anything at the moment,” said Abigail. “Arbitration costs funds, and you’ll not be allowed to draw those resources from this company. You’ve forced me to make examples out of you. Therefore, your mail will be withheld for sixty days. Your commissary allotment will be cut by 50 percent. Your job title statuses of headline entertainers are forfeited for sixty days. You will relinquish all of your tip pool savings to pay the damages incurred and medical expenses for injuries.”
“Are we confined to quarters, then, ma’am?” asked Candy, a whine beginning to rise in her voice.
“No, you’re going to work. As soon as you are released by your doctor, you’ll join the swing shift crew in the kitchen, working the scullery line. Sixty days.”
Candy stood up, wobbling. “You can’t just rip my title from me like that and take all my savings!”
“You’ve pretty much had it your way since you’ve been here, Miss Evans. With all the breaks and favors, your ascension to the top was more of a slither than a climb. I shudder to think what counselors and supervisors you’ve slept with to gain that status. Oh, I’ve heard the rumors, and we’re just now looking into the claims.” She paused for the effect. “This is not negotiable. The Dogs are not within my jurisdiction. The three of you are.”
“Haven’t you made some kind of mistake?” Candy pleaded. “Entertainment and Leisure is supposed to make money for United Western Mining. If you take me off the stage you’ll lose thousands upon thousands. There might even be riots and protests.”
Abigail Rogers did not flinch. “Oh, we won’t lose the major cash draw resulting from your lack of appearances. We’ll suffer only a slight drop in attendance. You’ll be working two jobs—one real, one virtual.”
“I don’t understand,” said Candy. “If I’m a ramp rat, how am I going to entertain my fans?”
Tilly didn’t have a firm grasp on the analogy of the statement either. Unless they were going to being working two jobs on different shifts. Buddy looked like he had lost the thread of the topic two sentences ago.
“Never mind how you’ll be filling two positions at once. It’s just one of my contingency plans, in case something like this ever happened. That is why I’m president of Entertainment and Leisure and you are not. You are dismissed.”
Buddy stood up. “Uh, what about me?”
“You stay. I’m not finished with you yet.”
Tilly rose to her feet and waited until Candy left the office. She gave Buddy a subtle thumbs up gesture and then walked out. A small crowd had gathered outside, friends and fans of both girls. A few booed and hissed at her. Candy and her entourage hurried down the corridor. Fia and Sue Lin smiled when they saw Tilly. Dorothy linked arms with her and the four walked down the corridor in a tight group. Tilly, trying to speak over a stitched and swollen tongue, explained about the sixty-day suspension, along with the other conditions and reprimands. It took her forever to get the words out.
Sue Lin reacted first. “Busting you down like that meant a serious reprimand. How do they expect to make up the lost revenue?”
“That’s what I don’t understand,” said Fia. “They emptied your savings, but what’s this about working you virtually? I dunno, maybe it’s best this happened. Tilly could use a break from all the glitz and attention.”
Dorothy looked at Fia. “Girl, there is no best on the scullery line. The first thing to go is your wrists, then your fingers, if you don’t get them cut off in the machinery. Then your lower back gets to squeaking like a rusty gate. I’m sorry. That wasn’t very positive, was it?”
“That which does not kill you makes you stronger,” said Fia. “Although she’s pretty fit as it is, it might be a challenge. At least that’s the positive way to look at it. She’ll get her entertainment status back at the end of the suspension period.”
Speaking of her in the third person felt disconcerting. Tilly thought of Buddy, wondering how severely his punishment would be. He didn’t have to involve himself in the scuffle. Yet he had done just that, risking his job status. She never expected to have such feelings for him. Yet now, he’d made a lasting impression upon her and she couldn’t shake some intimate feelings for him that continued to blossom. He couldn’t have gotten that far under my skin. But she knew the answer to that.
After 26 days on the scullery line and one station down from Dorothy, Tilly still hadn’t mastered the speed and dexterity required to pick out all of the saucers from the swift moving conveyor belt, rinse them with an overhead spray gun, rack them and then push them into a large auto-washer. Luckily the racks were disgorged at the other end and sped along another beltway to the serving kitchens. Stoop, pick, rack, spray, shove became so repetitive that she’d found herself duplicating the movements in her sleep. Plates, cups, glasses, silverware, it was all the same. The handling of silverware took some deft coordination and resulted in the most bloodletting injures. Even the butter knives were serrated and cut through the plastic gloves. If she thrust her hand too quickly or forcefully into the moving pile, the forks caught her between the fingers. Her fingernails looked like tree bark. At times the rinse water ran pink with her blood.
“How do you think you’re doing tonight?” Dorothy asked over the kitchen noise.
The question was one they’d shared every shift. It had nothing to do with their present work assignment. It had everything to do with Tilly’s performance on the Amazon stage.
Abigail Rogers had correctly termed her future performances “virtual.” Since every act and show had been recorded since day one, it was a simple task to run the shows in full 3-D Holoview. The images of the dancers were so clear and life-like that the
miners, who were often sloshed to the point of unconsciousness, could not tell the difference between the live and virtual performances. She had heard that her acts had even been cut and spliced to show variation—mixing up the song and dance routines. That’s why her billboards, banner signs, and posters had not been removed from the walls or walkways. As far as Tranquility Harbor was concerned, Sunshine S9555365 had never left the stage.
Tilly racked four saucers with her left hand, four with the right. “Oh, I don’t know. I suppose they’re running a “best of” edition tonight since it’s the end of the week. You would think somebody would catch on after throwing a coin right through a dancer’s body. Maybe they figured a way around that too.”
“The audience probably doesn’t care if it’s the real you or not; they’re just lovin’ the routine.” Dorothy brightened. “Hey, what a racket! You can take on a real job while you send your doppelganger off to work some other place. Heck, you could ghost yourself out for six different acts in six different lounges while kicking up your heels at home, sipping cognac and eating caviar. Girl, we are in the wrong damn business. Here we are instead; I’m plates and you’re saucers. It just ain’t right.”
“Tell me about it. You have to hand it to Abigail. She might be prehistoric but she’s got her head screwed into twenty-first century tech. If mine or Candy’s fan base has gone up, the Entertainment Division could be making more per show. Imagine that. Being upstaged by your own phony self. There’s a joke in there somewhere, but I’m too bushed to figure it out.”
Stoop, pick, rack, spray and shove. At least Tilly could think while she worked. Her time away from Buddy picked at her heartstrings. She’d seen him about a half dozen times over the past three weeks. It had been a mouthed “hi” and wave type of passing. He was scheduled for release soon. Abigail had not docked Buddy for any privileges or taken him from the stage, but she had told him to keep his distance from Tilly. He was not allowed within 50 feet of her.
It hurt. It hurt them both.
“Maybe when we get out of this racket,” said Dorothy, “we can set ourselves up as virtual whores and start our own business. Damn, that would mean I would have to be talented. Virtual people can’t wash real dishes.”
“Hah, you wouldn’t have to have any more talent than Candy. She’s proof that hacks can make a killing at a lunar lounge.”
“I always try to see the positive side of things. Except for this kitchen.”
When their shift ended, both girls walked to the foot tram, backs aching and hands numb. Tilly would have given anything to sit down on the ride but seats were not provided. The tram sailed by a few of her posters, prominently displayed on the walls. Tilly gave them a sarcastic salute. “I hope your back is doing better than mine, girl,” she said to her likeness.
Back at the dorm, Tilly pulled her suit off, flipped it over a crossbar and donned a shift. Stretching out never felt so good. She closed her eyes, but a joyful voice snapped them open.
“What are you slackers up to?” said Fia, tossing her handbag up on the top bunk.
“Recovering,” said Tilly. “Recovering from a whole shift of saucers. I broke about fifteen tonight, plus sprained my pinky. If you see my evil, famous twin, tell her to get her ass back in this bunk and stop slutting around like she owns the joint.”
“You’d be proud of you,” said Fia. “You did Thriller tonight. Had ‘em on their feet from the first note. You followed that up with one of your headliner acts. The director really mixed it up. I don’t think anybody can tell what’s going on.”
Tilly laughed. “I’m glad somebody’s having fun. Another 30 more days of this and I’ll end up looking like Abigail Rogers.”
“Hey, I object to that,” said Dorothy, popping her head over the bunk. “Look how long I’ve been doing it, and I’m still gorgeous.”
“By the way,” said Fia, “Buddy says hi and misses you.”
“Same back to him, then,” said Tilly.
Fia took Tilly’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Her next words came with a nervous waver. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something, Tilly. Would you mind if I saw that birthmark again? When we were in the shower a while back I noticed something that struck me as odd.”
Tilly cocked an inquisitive eyebrow. “Uh, you don’t fly that way, do you?”
Fia smiled. “Hah, with the amount of times I’ve been married? No, strictly dickly and I don’t intend on going over to the dark side.”
Tilly lifted her shift, showing the birthmark. Fia’s grip tightened, then relaxed. “Okay, I was afraid of that. Jesus.”
“Jesus what?”
Fia took a deep breath. “It all fits. Music in the womb…the natural blond hair and blue eyes…and now the birthmark. I just can’t believe it. It’s too impossible.” Fia raised her voice. “You’re sworn to secrecy, Dorothy. None of this gets out.”
Tilly sat up, straightening her back. “What’s too impossible?”
Dorothy leaned over the bunk. A paperback book slipped from her hand and hit the floor. “Uh, okay.”
“If I’m right,” said Fia, “you were born in Chicago, Illinois, and given up for adoption August 7th, 2018. You…” Fia tried to contain her emotions. “You were given up for adoption in Gary, Indiana, at the age of two.”
Tilly blinked. ‘How did you know that?”
“Because that’s when I lost someone very precious to me. She was born on a cool, misty morning just as the sun came up in Merced County Hospital. That’s why I named her Dawn. Dawn Ann. Of course, your adoptive parents gave you a name change.”
Tilly shook her head. “I saw the certificate. I was given up for adoption by a single mother named Sophia Ann Millhouse. Your last is Bluestone.”
“Millhouse was my name in marriage to Tom Hamilton Millhouse. My maiden name is Bluestone. Sophia was shortened to Fia, dropping the P and adding the F to the front of it. Kind of like a nickname. I used to rock you to sleep with a music player over my stomach. I used to sing to you, and dance around the room with you. I’ll bet you’ve never had vertigo in your life. But the most striking thing about you was the swan-shaped birthmark on your butt cheek. It’s still there. Only larger.”
Tilly tried to sort through everything said to her. The whole revelation was just too much to swallow all at once. The only thing she could think of was: “Mom?” She could see the likeness in her mother’s eyes, now. The small cleft in the chin, the tall, slender build, the hair. It all came together.
Tilly gave Fia a trembling but soulful hug, letting the tears flow--mother and daughter reunited. Having lost her adoptive mother through a terminal illness, it seemed fate had re-sewn the bond that had been torn away so long ago.
Fia smoothed Tilly’s face. “I know what you’re thinking, sweetheart. It’s a long story, and it’ll take some time to get it all out in the open. I had to be sure. That’s why I waited.”
Tilly really didn’t care about the story. Having just met her true birth mother was enough. She just bawled.
Chapter 9
The day her suspension ended, Tilly took her closest friends to the carnival for a small party, compliments of Fia and Dorothy, who pitched in to share the expense. The only one missing was Buddy. The party, bittersweet without him, reminded her of the time they’d spent together on the rides. She couldn’t get the image of his mischievous grin out of her mind, the joyful expressions on his face and way he looked at her. She assumed he had been picked up, as his five-month term had ended. She imagined that he would revive his old magical act again, possibly in his mother’s rescued casino.
Candy Evans had her own party in full swing at the park. Rumor had it that she would be modeling the latest swimsuit apparel, posing for snapshots at the waterfall for a bevy of photographers, friends and fans. Tilly didn’t care if Candy took over the entire park. The fact that she played up to the crowds over a hundred yards away gave Tilly great satisfaction. She did not want to cross paths with that woman ever again, for any reason. Su
nshine, one of the hottest tickets at Tranquility Harbor, would be giving her last performance in 30 days. A lot could go wrong within that time period.
Tilly’s relationship with her birth mother had given her a sense of comfort and relief, solving one of the biggest mysteries of her life. They enjoyed the rides together, hand in hand and laughing aloud. Like two inseparable girlfriends, they couldn’t get enough time to rejoice and discover each other. They spent every available minute together, talking about their past lives, loves and passions. Fia filled Tilly in on the numerous relationships she’d had, which were many. Three marriages had ended in divorce. Fia admitted to less than rational judgment when it came to picking life partners of the opposite sex—a choice in men that left disaster in her wake. Tilly confided that her first relationship with a guy came from meeting Buddy.
Sue Lin and Dorothy, although having fun, had refused to go on the more thrilling rides. Her instructor had said that she was too old to be thrown about on such antiquated machinery. Dorothy feared that she would become ill and spew chunks on fellow passengers.
They all agreed that the Ferris wheel served as the best compromise for all of them to ride together. Tilly and Fia took one car, while Sue Lin and Dorothy followed in the next. The ride up was slow, due to the loading.
“You have a month left before your term is up,” said Fia. “Have you made any plans for your future?”
“Well, if I can bank some tip money, I think I’d like to continue college, or maybe one of the nicer dancing schools. I know I want entertainment, so the choice isn’t going to be hard one. I love the stage and everything that goes with it. But I know that a dancing career can go bust real fast. I could pick something up in the food industry at first.” She also knew her father could sabotage her dreams, and decided if she got out she would make a break for it and cut the father-daughter bond. That’s if she ever got out.
“Tilly, don’t make the same mistakes I did. Set your sights high. You have loads of potential. The food industry is a dead-end occupation that requires no more brains than a chimpanzee. You could always start with dance. If you busted out, for whatever reason, then maybe you could become an entertainment scout or even a coach or choreographer—a related field. You’re not a bad singer, either. Maybe a recording contract is in your future.”
The Girl They Sold to the Moon Page 9