“Glad you popped in early,” said Sue Lin. “I have some new moves for you, costume changes, and a new music score. What do you say we get started?”
“No whimpers. Only bangs from here on out.”
“That’s the spirit.”
Tilly never worked so hard in her life, learning all new moves, wearing next to nothing and merging all of it with a new synthesized “hammer-tech” rock. Sue Lin incorporated cartwheels, back flips, running handsprings and other acrobatic moves into her program. Her costume consisted of several multicolored feathers, strategically placed over the groin and breast areas. Larger, single feathers were glued to the outside of each forearm and onto the backs of each calf, giving the illusion of a winged creature in flight, tumbling and spiraling through the air.
Tilly’s energetic rehearsals did not go without notice. Candy Evans had been prepping for her act the entire time, but could not keep her eyes off the winged prancer in the corner of the rehearsal room. Several others turned from their makeup tables to stare openly at Tilly’s jumps, flips and gyrations. A few coaches took notes. But Candy’s undivided attention gave Tilly the greatest satisfaction. She knew the best way to insult the girl was to upstage her—rip her confidence right out of her body—implant the seeds of doubt—create envy.
When Tilly went on stage for her first act, she felt like a new dancer. Everything she did felt foreign to her, but she made it her own as though she’d been born to it. It came through with a new-found confidence and energy. She had complete control of her body, feeling the music seething through her. The audience felt it, knew it right along with her. Most importantly, Tilly felt like she could regain her status as the sugar shack queen.
Her last show went even better. There were no stumbles, falls or hesitations. Her last handspring nearly landed her in the front row seats, but she stopped her momentum at just the right moment and pulled back to take a deep bow. Several audience members rose from their seats to applaud. She skipped off stage, meeting up with Sue Lin in the wings.
“That’s the way it’s done!” Sue Lin exclaimed. “Nobody walked out on that one and you got the lazy shits out of their seats.”
“It felt like magic.”
“They got lost in the fantasy.”
They strolled back to the makeup tables, where Sue Lin helped Tilly remove the feather appliances. Candy and a few of her minions glared at her from a distance. Tilly flipped them the three-finger and gave Candy a precocious, open-mouthed smile. Sue Lin laughed while she patted Tilly down with a damp towel.
“That’s the best way to get even with that no-talent hack,” said Sue Lin for all the room to hear. “Hell, with any amount of luck, you’ll probably run her off the stage before you have to leave. I can’t wait to tell you the next idea I have up for an act. It involves balloons and a sharp pin.” They both laughed.
Tilly’s head filled with thoughts about climbing ahead of Candy in the ranks and taking over the number one draw position. To nudge Candy out of contention would take give her the ultimate ego boost, and right now, she needed one.
Tilly changed mental gears and thought about Fia’s situation of having to spend another year at FTALC. If there were some way, anyway that Tilly could pulls strings or work a miracle, she would have Fia gone from the clutches of FTALC and on her way home to a happier and more prosperous life. Right now Tilly needed a miracle—her mind raced to find the answer.
Chapter 15
Tilly had just got out of shower and dressed when a voice message came over the room intercom speaker.
“Ms. Breedlove, your presence is requested at the Seven Seas main employment office. You will contact Mr. Jasper Newman in regard to an important matter.”
She left immediately, knowing that the order to appear had to do something with the end of her term, which was two days ago. She’d chalked up the delay to red tape or a scheduling foul up. She prayed and hoped that it was an official declaration that she’d been picked up. Then she would sign the papers and be officially released from the custody of FTALC.
She knew something was wrong when she entered the office of Jasper Newman, president of Seven Seas entertainment, and saw him and Abigail Rogers sitting behind a small conference table, wearing somber expressions. A guard stood at attention directly behind them.
Tilly took a seat, feeling very small. A tablecomp, with viewing screen and a folder of papers, occupied the tabletop.
“This is merely a hearing in regard to your status with Family Trade and Loan,” Abigail began. “I don’t take great pleasure in making these announcements, but it is part of my job description. We have lost contact with your father, Reginald Breedlove. He had already been advised by cyber mail and hard-copy post of your 30-day extension. There has been no acknowledgment or effort on his part to settle this account in whole, which is now past due. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Tilly looked at Abigail’s eyes and thought she detected real sympathy. “Yes, I understand what you’ve just told me. Is there any possibility that he might have become ill or involved in an accident?”
“Those possibilities were checked yesterday through the KED system. There has been no admittance to hospitals, clinics, or contact with law enforcement. Couriers have been sent to his last known address, the Long Island location, which is your home. The property has been abandoned. At this moment we have no trace of his location or residence.”
“In a situation like this,” said Newman, “we leave no stone unturned to locate the client. It’s a continuing process, whereby we put forth an earnest effort on behalf of the ward. However, according to our investigation, no restitution of any sort has been received by the IRS. I would suppose that the federal authorities will now launch their own investigation.”
Abigail clasped her hands. “There is no other way to put this, Tilly, other than to say that you have been impounded by Family Trade and Loan for default on advance monies owed. You are eligible for the labor auction, which will be held here next year. I’m afraid that you do not have enough banked savings to make a minimum payment to the creditor. If you would like me to read the impound conditions in the contract, I can do so.”
Tilly felt queasy, short of breath. “That won’t be necessary. I understand how it works. My father can still pick me up in the meantime. Is that correct?”
“Yes, with a small penalty on top of the original advance. This has happened before. Clients have appeared later with the full amount. Rest assured there is a very high chance of you being picked up within the next few days.”
Tilly didn’t want to tell her what she thought of her real chances of being picked up were, but simply nodded.
“If you’ll surrender your ID tag, we will replace it with a revised one. It’s just a formality.”
Tilly removed her tag and handed it over. Abigail gave her a replacement, which Tilly looped over her neck and said, “Does this mean I have to go through the whole process again?”
Abigail smiled. “No, we’d like to keep you right where you are, if that’s agreeable. Your coach and steward spoke very highly of you, so we see no reasons for a transfer or reassignment. However many days you have left with us, we hope you find your relationship with us pleasurable, as well as educational. All of your achievements here will be added to your permanent civilian work record and become part of your bio-history index.”
Newman stood up to shake her hand. She took it meekly, offered him a weak smile. He said, “It’s a rare occasion when a ward demonstrates traits and qualities that are not often seen in the regular employee pool. I would not regret seeing you on our civilian roster in the near future should you decide that the Seven Seas is a career that would appeal to you.”
“I’ll consider the offer. Thank you.”
Tilly left the office and walked down the hall in a daze-like delirium. She knew exactly what her chances of being picked up were. Zip. Never. Her father had skipped on her, most likely gambling away the entire advance amount. Now on the
run, they would never find him. Unless he became reckless. Or unless she knew where he was hiding out. Given the possible sightings she’d had of him, and if she was correct, it didn’t take a detective to realize that Reginald Breedlove might be taking up residence in the Vegas-Henderson gambling complex. Broke and destitute, it wasn’t a stretch to imagine that he might be wandering the streets at this very moment.
Tilly waited for her elevator to arrive, hopelessly dejected with what Abigail and Newman had told her. Now her term would last at least as long as Fia’s if she wasn’t picked up. At the worst, until the next labor auction. She couldn’t believe that with all the proceeds the company had made from her in the past seven months, nearly all of it ripped from her grasp, they still believed a debt was owed. She’d never trained and worked so hard in her life for so little payment. She’d been restricted in her movements, ordered about, penalized, ostracized, punished and subjected to a hostile ward who had inflicted injuries upon her. Not to mention, she’d been involved in an off-planet catastrophe that could have taken her life. Any future employer who saw references in her bio/history work record from Family Trade and Loan would laugh her out of the office. The devil was in the details, and the details were in the weasel wording clauses in a contract that made slaves out of destitute people. Her father’s lying and deceitful ways had brought her world crashing down on her.
Tilly went straight to her room and inserted her code card. Her hand was shaking so badly she missed the first two swipes. When she got the door open, a blast or warm air hit her. At first she thought the air conditioning had been turned off or was not functioning. Then she noticed the drapes pulled back and the open slider.
Dorothy stood naked outside, next to the rail. Her head tilted back, she looked to be enjoying the warm desert breeze. Without looking in her direction, Dorothy said, “How’d it go, Tilly?”
“Not good. I’ve been impounded. What are you up to?” She couldn’t believe she was carrying on a normal conversation when she felt like imploding with anger and frustration.
“About nine floors or so. I’m so sorry to hear the bad news. I didn’t think anything like that would happen to you. To me? Oh, sure, why not? But not to you.”
Tilly sat on the end of her bed, watching Dorothy. “I’m nothing special. I worked the kitchen line just like you. Maybe that’s where I really belong.”
“Nah, you belong in the spotlight. They can’t keep their eyes off you. You were born to entertain.”
“I just worked harder at it than everyone else. It’s a craft, you know?” Tilly tilted her head. “You trying for a natural tan or something?”
Dorothy made a half turn, looking in Tilly’s direction. She pulled the ID necklace from her neck and tossed it on the carpet in the middle of the room. “You’ve always been the best friend anybody could ever have,” said Dorothy. “I just wanted you to know that you were perfect and blameless in all of it.”
Tilly stood up. “Are you all right, Dorothy?”
Dorothy gave Tilly a warm, sincere smile. “Just comes a time when you have to call it in and start over. Hawaii would have been lovely. Live and love long…”
Dorothy sidestepped to the rail, kicked her leg up with a scissor movement, then the other one. She twisted around, showing her back.
“Dorothy!” Tilly screamed, and ran across the carpet. By the time she’d reached the slider opening, Dorothy had kicked off. Tilly threw herself against the rail and looked down. She saw Dorothy’s hair fluttering upward against the breeze, the body falling, hands outstretched. The whole thing seemed caught up in a slow, torturous motion Tilly pulled away from the rail, unwilling to see the body hit the pavement below. She heard a sickening thwack and a few screams.
Tilly fell on her knees, her jaw trembling in spasms. “Dorothy?” she whined. She crawled to the I.D. tag on the floor and clutched it to her chest. “Dorothy?”
The world closed in on her like a vise. It squeezed, mashing her into a tight ball. She saw nothing but blurs and smeared images as she pulled her legs into her chest and fought for breath. After the spasms stopped and her lungs filled with air, she let out a piercing scream. It sounded like a steam whistle.
The small assembly gathered in a chapel that was normally reserved for weddings, but this time it served the purpose of conducting a wake. Hearts and cupid angels were taken down by the owners, believing that such props were inappropriate for the venue. A Christian pastor was chosen by default. No one really knew Dorothy’s religious affiliation, other than her contract information which stated “Christian—nondenominational.” Flowers were brought in and arranged by the Seven Seas staff. Most of them were sunflowers, representing Dorothy’s status in the FTALC community. Invites were sent to the relatives of the deceased, but none had shown up for the meager ceremony. Those in attendance, 20 in all, came from the Seven Seas Hotel and Casino. Dorothy’s ashes resided in a small urn, sitting on a table in front of the podium.
Tilly sat in a pew, flanked by Fia on one side and Sue Lin on the other. Ben, the boy that Dorothy had liked, was allowed to attend. Abigail Rogers sat behind Tilly’s row, with kitchen workers who had befriended Dorothy during her time at the Seven Seas, along with a few who had transferred from Tranquility Harbor.
A pastor presided, standing next to an easel that held Dorothy’s large color portrait, a picture that came from her FTALC photo archives. He began the sermon by reciting Psalm 23, and then talked about the frailty of the human condition—ashes to ashes, dust to dust. When he asked those in attendance for any words or closing statements, Tilly approached the podium, filled with thoughts of her friend and their brief but loving time together.
“I only knew Dorothy Prospect through the agency,” Tilly began, clasping her unsteady hands and drawing a shaky breath. “She…was my best friend here. We met during the process…she gave me comfort during that time. If not for her, I might have lost my mind. She came from Bridgeport, New Jersey. I don’t even know much about her family or background, since we rarely talked about her past. I just know that Dorothy was a very good person and that she made a terrible mistake.”
Tilly paused, wiped her eyes. “She…she always had something positive and uplifting to say to me. She believed in the good in everybody and wished for their happiness. But she never gave herself credit for how beautiful she really was. I’m going to miss her terribly, and I know I will carry her in my heart forever. May she rest in peace and find glory in the eyes of the Lord.”
Tilly resumed her seat. The pastor ended the ceremony with a small closing prayer. They formed a single file line and stepped past the urn, each speaking a few words, some whispering. When Tilly’s turn arrived, she kissed her fingers and touched the urn. She stood for a while, gazing at Dorothy’s portrait before she turned and walked out of the chapel. The small assembly filed into the awaiting magbus. Tilly and Fia took up the back seat, both staring at their laps. The driver started the vehicle and turned on to the Strip for the ride back to the Seven Seas. The ride waxed somber, quiet—the collective thoughts of the passengers engaged in a moment of reverence and reflection.
Fia gripped Tilly’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Barely above a whisper, she said, “Now what do you think of this disgusting hole?”
It took Tilly a second to answer. “I’m fed up with it. I’ve changed my mind. I want to leave.”
“I thought you might. In the meantime, I’ll have a talk with Abigail and see if I can make some arrangements.”
Tilly didn’t ask her what kind of arrangements. Right now nothing mattered other than her rage and contempt for her father. To think that he had made a chump out of her and the system made her blood pressure go off the scale. Her suspicions about him had been right all along. I paid the price. I took the sentence. You never intended to pick me up. You threw me away like a piece of trash so you could take up your gambling hobby—your disease. And now, with Dorothy’s death, she was fast nearing the brink of a serious mental breakdown.
&
nbsp; The magbus stopped at the back entrance of the casino. A few guards stood at the entrance doors, monitoring the offload of wards. Tilly found it bizarre that they would think that anyone would make a break for it. Nevertheless, one of the guards held an arm out, keeping them from entering while he spoke into a headset.
“Neutralize door four-seventy-one for ward intake,” said the guard. After he received a response, he waved for the group to enter.
Tilly guessed that it had something to do with turning their chip alarms off or killing the door sensor in order to allow entry.
Fia leaned close to Tilly and whispered in her ear. “I’m going to talk to Abigail. I’ll meet you at your room.” Tilly nodded and stepped through the doors. She followed her assigned carpet pathway, feeling disgust at everything she saw around her. She hated this place—the air she breathed, the floor she walked over, the people, the games, the glitz and bling. Murderers.
She went straight to her room, entered the bathroom and splashed water on her face. She rubbed her face with a towel, gazing at her reflection in the mirror. She looked like she’d aged ten years—felt it. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy from crying. She hadn’t eaten in three days. When she stepped into the main room, she stared at the balcony and the fluttering drapes, hating the mere sight of it. Even Dorothy’s empty bed brought back memories too painful to bear. She wished she could blow the whole god damned casino to pieces—anything to get it out of her mind. Then again, she could see how easy it had been to walk over to the balcony rail and make the leap. The final solution. Dorothy had been right all along.
Twenty minutes later a knock came to her door. Tilly answered it. Fia, holding a large carryall bag, stepped in and tossed the bag on Dorothy’s bed. She spanked her hands. “And that’s that. Say hello to your new roommate. They wouldn’t allow you to make the transfer to my suite, so I asked if I could come up here. Abigail buckled.”
Tilly felt mildly surprised. “How come you wanted to—”
The Girl They Sold to the Moon Page 15