The Culling: Book 1 (The Culling Series)

by Tricia Wentworth

  “Nice to meet you.” I shake Gertrude’s hand, which is the softest hand I’ve ever touched.

  “First things first. You need to eat breakfast. You need to have strength for tonight.” I nod to him as I grab the plate off the cart he wheeled in and head to the couch while he continues, “Good girl. Ah! Just think, tonight you may find the man you marry.” He and Gertie share a dreamy look.

  It’s almost nice to think of it that way. Truth be told, I’m not looking for love, I’m looking for an ally or two. Love seems like wishful thinking at this point in the game. I know some presidential couples found it, like the Maxwells, but others did not. Is love a requirement to become the next presidential couple? Definitely not. And for me? Oil and water. Oil. And. Water. That’s me and boys. And isn’t this whole process difficult enough without opening that can of worms?

  “Now! We are going to wax you and then bathe you in our special mixture. Your skin must be soft to the touch so we will start with the waxing and then move to the special butter bath. And don’t you worry, my darling Reagan, no one else knows the ingredients!” he winks at me, obviously proud of himself.

  “Is that why Ms. Gertrude’s hands are so soft?” I smile. I’m a little worried about the waxing as it sounds painful.

  “Please, darling, Gertie, and yes, that’s why my hands are so soft. I’m glad you noticed,” she smiles.

  Having brought in a foldable table with them, they move my furniture to the corner and get to work. An hour later, I have smoother legs (although I shave them often), arms, and better shaped eyebrows. I handled it like a champ except for the eyebrows which made me jump and made my eyes water. Sheesh. The things we do for beauty.

  Gertie runs the bath for me and tells me I must stay in there for one hour exactly. I know Frank jokingly referred to the bath as a “butter bath”, but it smells amazing and looks exactly like butter. Gertie shuts the door so I can undress and tells me she will knock in one hour to help get me out of the mixture.

  A whole hour for a bath? Holy crap.

  I lie in the amazing smelling stuff and can’t wait to tell Marcia about it. She will have all sorts of funny things to say about my bathing in butter. Dang it. I did it again. Marcia isn’t here anymore. As I continue to just lie there, I wonder how tonight will go. My biggest fear is that no one will be interested in me, love interest or otherwise. That fear is putting a damper on the giddiness I have about meeting the boys. And if tonight sucks, I don’t even have Marcia there to laugh with.

  Oil. And. Water.

  In an hour, Gertie knocks and tells me to wear a towel while they come in and remove the special mixture from the tub. I then shower and rinse off the film left on my skin. My skin already feels great. I put on a special tank top without straps and some shorts they brought for me to wear.

  In two more hours I have my fingernails and toenails painted a dark beige color, my hair is treated in some sort of softening cream, and I have had three different creamy mixtures on my face. I then receive the most amazing back massage I have ever had in my life from Gertie. I feel like a million bucks! Bring on those boys.

  Lunch is delivered and I sit and talk to my attendants getting to know them better. They both seem very excited about the dress, no, gown, they have chosen for me to wear. I can’t wait either. I hope I won’t be wearing the same dress as anyone for this event.

  After lunch, Gertie takes some creams and massages my hands. She tells me my hands need to be the softest with all the dancing we will be doing. Sometime later, between more hair products and teeth whitening, Elle knocks on my door.

  “Ms. Scott, here is your information packet on this evening.” She hands it over to me and I know exactly what’s in there.

  I barely say thank you before I bring it back into my room and tear into the envelope.

  “Oooooh. Do tell, darling, do tell!” Stephen Frank says excitedly.

  I find the list of the boys who have made the cut, all 22 of them. Then I find the list of the girls who have made the cut and there are 24 of us. I smile finding my own name on the list. This means I officially made it to the halfway point and have gotten my family another promotion!

  Boom.

  Resisting the urge to do a little victory dance, I quickly scan the list looking for my friends and am relieved to find both Vanessa and Attie. I am surprised to find Marisol, a few girls from her group, and even Renae. I thought for sure they would be going home soon. How do girls like that get to stay while girls like Marcia go home? It just doesn’t make any sense. I see Elizabeth, as expected, and am pleased to find that October, who recently joined our group, made it as well. In my entire circle of friends, Marcia and Chrys were the ones to go. Two of the six leaving yesterday were my better friends. I’m sad to see them go. It feels like Marcia took a small part of me with her.

  I then focus in on the boys list. I’m rather surprised to find that most of the boys we jokingly picked last week are still in the running. Most who are gone were from Denver or Vegas. Only three from Detroit are left, and only one from Seattle remains. Perhaps even most surprising though, is the fact that Benjamin is still in it too. Two of the three Omaha kids made it to the halfway mark.

  “This is the list of people that made it to this evening. May I study this for just a few minutes or do we need to be doing something?” I ask my attendants. I want to practice putting faces to the names before me, but don’t want to be rude either. Apparently getting ready for this shindig is a whole day’s worth of work.

  “Oh we have plenty of time, dear. It’s only 3:30. Take a half an hour or so while we get everything set up for makeup,” Frank says as they busy themselves. Gertie is kind enough to drop off some iced tea on the nightstand before me. I’m fond of both of my attendants already. They’re hard not to like.

  Twenty minutes later, I hear Gertie catch her breath. She is looking at some of the pictures I have strewn across my bed while I sit cross legged practicing names. I know she is just itching to pick a few up so I nod to her.

  “Are you sure it’s okay?” she asks excitedly.

  “I am sure.” I smile. It’s not her fault. It was impossible for her not to notice them since I have them spread all over the giant bed.

  She picks up a few and is commenting on how handsome they are and then Mr. Frank gets into it with her. I sit back enjoying their banter and advice on which ones I should approach.

  “Ahhh. Henry. Poor thing has practically been locked up his whole life training to take over the country. I have heard he is very kind despite being spoiled rotten.” Gertie sighs looking at his handsome face wistfully.

  “What about this one? His eyes are laughing!” Frank laughs, looking at Trent.

  “Aww. This one works with animals!” Gertie swoons looking at Adam’s picture. “Oh my. This one is quite muscular,” she switches to the picture of Bronson.

  “Oh. This one is just too macho!” Frank says in reference to Christopher, imitating his face and throwing the picture on the bed before laughing.

  Gertie catches her breath for what must be the tenth time. “This one. Oh my. Look at him. He looks dangerous. Yet there is kindness in those eyes. He looks like the type of man who knows how to kiss a woman, if you know what I mean.” She winks at me and I blush knowing she has to have the picture of Lyncoln, the only one not smiling. “It reminds me of someone else I know,” she adds and winks at Frank this time, who swoops in for a quick kiss.

  “Wait! You guys are a thing?!”

  “Oh yes, darling. I have loved and been married to this woman for the past 25 years of my life,” Frank smiles affectionately.

  “Well now I love you guys even more,” I grin. No wonder it seemed like they worked so well together.

  “She’s going to make me cry!” Gertie fans her face.

  “Enough of this. Let’s get to the hair and the makeup, darlings,” Frank commands and we move to get back to work. “There will be no tears today, my dears. Not for ball preparations. No way!”
/>   ****

  In a few more hours, I don’t even recognize my face in the mirror. My hair is down and is curled in the most amazing way with just a few pieces pinned, making it possible to see the gorgeous earrings dangling from my ears. My makeup was put on with something Frank called an “air brush” and looks flawless. I have more eye shadow on than I normally do; it’s a light sparkly tan towards my tear ducts and a smoky gray around the outside corner of my eye. I have on black eyeliner that I’m not used to. They were going to put on fake eyelashes too, but decided against it and I’m glad. I look enough like me that I don’t feel fake, and beautiful enough that I feel confident. It’s perfect and I tell them so almost bringing Gertie to tears again. Apparently, she’s a crier.

  “Now. For the grand finale! Are you ready to see your gown?” Frank asks, practically bouncing on his heels.

  “Absolutely.” I smile, feeling nervous for more than one reason.

  Frank opens my closet and brings out my dress that was delivered earlier. He wouldn’t let me look at it, telling me it was a surprise. He tells me to turn around while he gets it out of the package and then hangs it on the back of the door.

  “Ready, and go!” He gives me the go-ahead.

  I turn back around and am left speechless. It’s perfect. The dress is made of a smooth black material. There is one strap, which swoops across my back to a very low cut above my derriere. The dress looks like it will fit somewhat tight around my torso and waist, and then flares a little as it reaches the ground. Perhaps the best part, other than the back, is that starting at my waist there are ever so slight black sparkles. The farther the dress goes down, the more of them there are, so the bottom of the dress is solid sparkles. There is a long slit up one leg also.

  “Do you not like it?” Frank asks, startled by my lack of words.

  “No!” I exclaim, “I mean yes, I like it! Oh my word, I love it. Where did you find such a thing? I’m not sure I’m worthy enough to wear it, but this is amazing. This is a masterpiece.” I reach out and touch a sparkle. This is amazing. I feel the shoes too. The shoes are a black suede heel adding at least three inches to my height.

  “Let’s get it on you, my darling!” Frank claps, very pleased with himself. “The slit and the sparkles should make you stop them in their tracks. You will outshine all the others, my dearie.”

  I head to the bathroom and Gertie helps me slip it on. It’s skin tight at the top around my chest just like I thought, and then more flowy once it reaches the hips. And it’s light as a feather. I have never worn anything so beautiful. My bare back makes me almost feel…sexy? I’m not sure because I’ve never used that word to describe myself before. I’m glad my hair is down to help with the naked feeling though.

  When I come out of the bathroom, Frank and Gertie both clap and make happy noises. Frank has me sit down and puts on my heels for me before helping me back up. I stand at the mirror ready to go. A million different emotions go through my mind. Above all, I’m nervous. Borderline terrified.

  Please let them like me.

  Frank puts his arm around Gertie and they both smile. “Our princess is ready for the ball.”

  Chapter 8

  I’m about to open the door to leave with Sarge for the ball when Elle shows up at my door with her clipboard in hand.

  “Oh my goodness. That gown. You look amazing!” she says honestly.

  “Thank you. I was about to leave. What can I help you with?” I ask.

  “Oh yes, I need you to sign this,” she says politely, remembering that she brought a paper and a clipboard.

  “What is it?” I wonder.

  “Dougall already addressed this with you all, but these are the rules for what you are allowed to do with the boys. The future Madam President has a reputation to uphold and we won’t hesitate to dismiss anyone who disregards the rules,” she says sternly but like she has said it a million times. Then she smiles. “Don’t worry dear, I have had to tell all the girls this and give them the rules in writing. Just routine procedure! You are one of the last to get to. I’m glad though. That gown is worth delaying you a little. Just sign here so that we can prove you understand the rules.”

  I sign her paper immediately. Who would lose their innocence or sleep with someone they just met at a ball, just like that? With someone they didn’t really even know? I have to take those stupid pills because of this too. I know we haven’t seen a person of the opposite sex for almost three weeks now, but you would think we would have more restraint than that.

  “Thank you,” I say, holding a copy of the stupid rules in my hand. Seems a bit overkill if you ask me, but whatever.

  Elle puts her clipboard back down at her side. “You still have fifteen minutes. I would definitely wait too. Make an entrance,” she whistles and nods her approval.

  Liking her idea, I smile. “Yes, Ma’am.”

  Exactly eleven minutes later, I look in the mirror and give myself a spritz of my favorite perfume, and then make my grand entrance upstairs. I don’t remember feeling this nervous before in my entire life. Sarge gives my arm a squeeze of support as he drops me off at the door.

  Other than a glare by Marisol and a few sighs from the other girls, my dress wasn’t as big of a hit as I thought. But I am a bit distracted. We all are. I can feel the hormones bouncing off the walls.

  I barely even notice the lavishly decorated room I didn’t even know existed here at Mile High, complete with a huge, intricate fireplace tucked in the corner. Extravagant bouquets of white flowers in vases taller than me line the outer edge of the room. A boisterous chandelier stands at the center of attention. Men in suits again come around with appetizers and champagne. The lighting is soft and a real life small orchestra plays in the background. I barely notice any of that.

  The boys are here.

  Getting extremely nervous, I look around shyly. Immediately seeing Vanessa in a lovely floor length, dark red dress talking in a group of people, I head in her direction not noticing or caring who is in her group, just glad for a familiar face from my circle of friends.

  “Hey, Reagan,” she smiles warmly.

  Not normally a huggy person, I reach out and give her a quick hug which she returns. “I’m so glad you’re here,” I say softly.

  “I’m glad you’re here too, although I’m not really surprised,” she winks at me and makes room for me to stand next to her while whispering, “Sorry about Marcia.”

  I nod my head in thanks. As I look around the group, I realize Elizabeth is here too and I am the only one not from Denver. I just ruined their little Denver pow-wow. Whoops.

  “Reagan, this is Christopher.” I already know his name so it’s just a formality, but it’s still nice to be introduced.

  “Call me Chris,” he says and shakes my hand. And holy crap he’s tall. He might be the tallest person I’ve ever met.

  “And Bronson,” Vanessa gestures to the next boy.

  I reach out my hand to shake his, but he laughs. “Nope. Bring it on in for a hug.” He gently lifts me into a bear hug. I turn bright red.

  “And Lyncoln,” Vanessa says.

  I reach my hand toward him, but am trapped for a moment by an amazing blue and brown mixture of eyes staring into mine. I knew from his picture his eyes were blue, but I didn’t notice the specks of brown also.

  Holy crap. This man is…intense…scary…hot? Definitely hot. His eyes are just so blue, a deep cobalt, almost navy, blue. Then at the centers near the pupils, there is an explosion of dark brown. It’s the weirdest eye color combination I have ever seen. Lyncoln doesn’t take his hands out of his pockets where they are lazily resting but instead just gives me a curt nod.

  Okay then, Mr. Sassy-pants.

  “Reagan, your gown is amazing!” Elizabeth smiles, moving to stand on the opposite side of me as Vanessa.

  “Thank you. Yours is amazing as well!” I respond with a smile and mean it. Elizabeth is wearing a pale yellow dress that is skin tight to her thighs and then spirals outward
in chiffon with one side having a slit showing off her legs. As usual, she looks just perfect. So perfect it would be sickening if I didn’t know her, if I didn’t know her inner beauty matches the outer one.

  “Ladies, ladies, ladies! Come on now. We all know that I’m the best dressed of the bunch,” Bronson says, giving his lapels a tug and making us laugh. I blush a little. I’ve never seen someone so naturally outgoing. Or handsy! He’s always reaching out to touch one of us girls whether it be a hand on the back or something like that. And it isn’t just with me, it’s with all of us.

  The group of us talk for a while. Soon I’m laughing and feel more at ease. I notice Lyncoln isn’t talking much, but the way he looks at me is almost as if he knows me. Weird. Dark and mysterious it is then, just like the flashcards and the conversation with the girls. Before I have a chance to drill him with questions until he cracks like I did with Mr. Winters, Professor Dougall makes the announcement that the dancing will begin. I resist the urge to run and grab a champagne glass and down it.

  As she explained to us earlier in the week, we are to line up and all dance with one another as it apparently is the best means to do introductions, or at least the most awkward anyway. There will be one song per match up with the boys rotating around to the girls. In a few short hours, I will have met and danced with every boy in the room. Tonight I will go from zero dances with boys to twenty two.

  Ready or not.

  “Oh, and due to the difference in numbers between boys and girls, Professor Bennett and none other than the President himself have offered to step in,” she says and the girls all give surprised noises along with applause.

  Make that 24 dances then.

  I turn to move to my spot and as I walk by Lyncoln, he clenches his jaw. I try to think back to the conversation we all just had and wonder if I said something that upset him. Do I smell? No. I remember putting on perfume right before I left. Who knows what his problem is. Maybe he and Marisol are two peas in a pod, moody and full of attitude.