Around
noon, on the third day after the exasperating meeting and the second
after the equally exasperating trip, just when she thought she was
about to go mad if she had to stand this state of antsy angst for
another second, Susan came in and saved her by asking Rachel to
accompany her on a trip to the hair artist. Rachel was still very
angry at Susan but, at least, it was something to do so she agreed to
go, having already almost lost it at least once over Alice listening
to Serious Tabloid Gossip Hour, which was currently on a break but
running some ridiculous weather ad declaring “Every cloud has a
silver lining and that silver lining could be about you. Contact The
Sky has no Limit and sponsor the weather today. Now for a short time
only cumulus clouds start at just one hundred and fifty mega
dollars,” all over a back ground of annoying tinkly music, probably
meant to suggest rain falling. “Remember, the sky has no limit,
but this offer does so act fast,” it continued ominously. But,
annoying as this was, she really didn't want to get mad at Alice,
especially after they had bonded over their awful time at the
gallery. Also, in light of her new concerns about Alice, she wanted
to have an ally who would help her make a case for the girl if need
be. And, since Susan both thought well of Rachel and was influential
with the other girls, she was the ideal choice. When they got off
the transport in the middle of the city, they saw a group of girls
from, it looked like, Innocent's.
What a stupid name for a brothel that was, Rachel thought. Though
Susan and Rachel were greatly outnumbered, the girls did not approach
them or yell insults. Instead, they slunk aside down an intersecting
street.
"They
know we have money again now," laughed Susan. "They can't
compete with us. By the way, what did you do the other night to earn
all that money?"
"Nothing,"
said Rachel. Susan raised her eyebrows in shock. "No, I mean
literally nothing. I swear we didn't have sex even once."
"What
was all that money for then?"
"I'm
not sure. I think it was compensation for all the jobs I lost by
being there. Mostly, it was because Grace insisted.
"But
why were you at his house in the first place?"
"That
I don't know Susan. I said I didn't want to be stared at, we got in
his transport, and arrived at his house."
By
now they had reached the plaza Navona in which the hair art shop,
Hair
Sound Salon, was located.
Fortunately, the large screens on the side of the buildings at one
end were currently playing a fairly chill commercial for a spa
offering a ultra deluxe glow wrap, made not only with real powered
minerals but even containing a trace amount of real plants, proudly
proclaiming that this miracle concoction would allow the client to
“detox outside and in, to remove all that no longer serves you.”
Rachel wanted to scream. The ultra deluxe glow wrap had actually
sounded rather enjoyable, at least if it hadn't been so frightfully
expensive, but she would never be able to enjoy it now, thinking
about how it was associated with the idea that all emotions and
attachments were ephemeral inconveniences that could, and should,
just be jettisoned for one's “highest good.” Then Rachel
remembered the last time she had gone to a spa...back when she was
Esteban's house pet she thought with a wrench...and how what was
supposed to be a relaxing indulgence had been anything but since they
attendants had been trying to hard-sell her their products the entire
time, making the experience nothing more than a very expensive
hour-long commercial, and decided she wasn't really missing much by
not being able to go to spas. Thankfully she was soon distracted
from these gloomy thoughts as they crossed the open space of the
plaza and Rachel noticed the fountain in the middle. She stared at
it, recalling pleasant memories of the fountain in Dave's house, and
almost walked into a table at an outdoor cafe. Susan took her hand
and guided her, without laughing or making spiteful commentary, which
reminded Rachel that, in spite of their recent differences, this
woman was supposed to be her friend. They entered the shop and Susan
sat down in a chair under the machines, which immediately clamped
several metal tubes onto her head, while she picked up the latest
issue of Corpritini,
flipping quickly to an article titled “Sexy, Sizzling Seasonal
Styles.”
"What
do you think of this?" she asked, showing a picture of a woman
with a bun on each side of her head and lots of ringlets hanging from
them. It took Rachel a moment to respond, being distracted by an ad
for an aura cleansing anklet. Quickly recovering herself, she shook
her head. "Then this." Susan held up a picture of waved
hair swept up over wire frames so it looked like butterfly wings.
Rachel nodded and Susan punched the style code into the monitor and
swiped her money card. The tubes began to whir and move across her
scalp. "Now, while that's going on," said Susan
pleasantly, "you should tell me something about this Dave."
"Why?"
Rachel felt resentment flame up inside her.
"A person who will give us that much money is very good to have
around. I want to try to figure out what his motives are for giving
it to us." Awkwardly, Rachel told her about her dealings with
Dave. But she could not find the right words and she forgot parts
and had to go back to them. She stammered and blushed and was sure
her feelings were horribly transparent to Susan. But, since Susan
did not immediately jump up to exalt her rightness as Rachel would
have done, Rachel hoped, perhaps, it had gone unnoticed after all.
After
Rachel had talked for a long time, during which Susan had been
silent, she suddenly asked, "Would you sleep with him if he
asked you to?"
"I
don't see that I have a choice. We desperately need money,"
said Rachel, feeling upset that Susan had brought to mind the thought
that had recently become both her favorite and her most painful.
Yes, the most painful, Rachel realized with a shock, more so than
remembering what Esteban had done to her.
"Yes,
yes, yes, that not what I meant," said Susan quickly. "Suppose,
just supposed, that whether or not you had sex with him had no effect
on the amount of money you got. And, from what you told me about
Dave, that's not impossible. Would you then?"
Rachel
stared at her blankly for what felt like several minutes while her
brain went through the ramifications of what Susan had said. "I
don't know," she answered honestly. "I hope I don't have
to make that choice." But it was not clear to her whether she
wanted to not have to make it because he never asked her or because
money would be an issue.
Before
Susan could respond, her hair design was finished. All the tubes and
plates lifted off her head, revealing the delicate butterfly wing
design. Despite her distraction, Rachel started in wonder, seeing
how nicely it had turned out, especially the way the bright
interwoven ribbons looked against Susan's black hair, though she did
think Susan looked a bit odd without her accustomed pony-tail. "Now,
what were we talking about?" asked Susan as they walked back
across the sun-drenched plaza. Rachel shrugged. Having escaped from
the conversation, she had no desire to resume it. It had been
getting dangerous. The screens were now displaying an ad for the
latest sensuality novel The
Preeminence of Being Diligence and
Rachel had hopped this would distract Susan. Apparently no such
luck. "Ah, I remember," cried Susan merrily, taking no
notice of how Rachel was squirming, internally, and probably
externally as well. "We were talking about you and Dave having
sex."
"Since
we're not, I don't see how that topic can be very interesting,"
said Rachel, making a feeble attempt to sound playful.
"But,
Rachel, that's exactly why it is interesting. If you were
having sex, everything would be normal and there would be no point in
talking about it. The fact that it's different is what makes it
interesting." Different is interesting. That phrase raced
through Rachel's mind yet again but something seemed off about it.
"But,
if sex is so interesting that no one ever talks about anything else
at dinner, how can not
having sex possibly be interesting."
"Because,
since so many people want it, they can't possibly fathom the brain of
someone who doesn't."
"Actually,
Dave sort of said something about that when I was at his house."
"What
was that?"
"About
people giving him a hard time because he doesn't do it and always
pressuring him to." She quickly stopped herself before saying
anything about the pill he had been slipped. She would never repeat
something that private but just remembering it made her blood boil.
"See,
that's exactly what I mean. For some reason, if someone doesn't want
it, people feel a need to make them want it. I don't know why. It
just is."
"And
so, this is you needing to make me want it," said Rachel
sharply.
Susan
laughed nervously. She was doing a courageous thing by risking the
anger of the Demon. "You could say that," she offered
tentatively.
Instead
of getting angry, Rachel sighed and shook her head. "Then be
your own independent person and don't do what everyone around you is
doing." Susan looked like she wanted to say more but kept quiet
as they boarded the transport home. Even during a horrible
commercial on the radio about the latest craze: frozen juice
triangles bars, “now available in coveted blue raspberry,” Susan
just looked over at Rachel and smiled sadly. Rachel smiled back
sympathetically, knowing all the eager new hires at the brothel would
soon be clamoring for them, and so would Alice. Even though she was
now quite a bit older, she still loved the kinds of weird gimmicks
meant to appeal to new hires fresh out of the boarding house.
When
they arrived back at Luther's
and stepped into the front room of the brothel, they were greeted by
the sights and sounds of great pain and anger. A large crowd was
gathered in the entry way. Elissa and several of the other girls
were screaming. Mary and Alice were weeping. Grace had her hands on
Alice's shoulders, trying to drag her to the door, and Alice was down
on her knees clutching one of the legs of the desk to prevent this.
There was a dark mark like a burn on the side of her mouth. In the
chaos, no one noticed Rachel and Susan in the doorway.
"Stop,"
Rachel screamed, her voice cracking from the banshee-like pitch to
which she had raised it. All faces turned to her with expressions
frightened and wrathful. Only Alice looked away and would not meet
her eyes. "What is going on here?" she snarled.
"Nothing
that is any concern of yours, Rachel," Elissa replied
forcefully. "Go prepare yourself. You have an assignment
tonight." Susan put her hand on Rachel's arm and tried to lead
her through the room. Rachel slapped her away.
"I
will not
go," she challenged. "Alice shares her room with me and
her training was entrusted to my care. Therefore, what concerns her
concerns me."
"Then,
perhaps it will interest you to know how completely worthless your
training has been," yelled one of the women.
"And how
worthless was it?" retorted Rachel. "I would love to
know."
"I
will tell," said Grace, "so I can return to expelling this
stealth-unprofitable from our house. Since you weren't around,
Elissa suggested that I should test her and see how her studies were
progressing." Rachel flinched, knowing how such a demand would
have upset Alice. "She was terrible," Grace exploded.
"Everything she did was wrong. I didn’t even know it was
possible to be that bad."
"She
was afraid," Rachel cried in defense. "She can't
concentrate when she knows you're watching her and judging her."
"You
think she will feel less on the spot when she's performing for real?"
snarled Elissa.
©Amanda RR Hamlin 2025
