Your Favorite Girl (YFG Series) (15 page)

"My brothers and I don't see eye to eye on many things," Patton continued.  "Most things, really.  God, where we'd be if Dad had given me the controlling percentage."

"What would you do differently?"

He smiled.  "That's too secret for an assistant."

"Would you still peddle sex slaves?"

"No, I wouldn't.  I've always been against this.  When Dad died, he gave Mr. Shriver the controlling--"

"Why do you call him that?" I interjected.  I couldn't help it.  "He's your brother isn't he?"

"It's what he wants to be called."

"Why do you listen?"

"As I said, he has the controlling percentage.  On top of that, my ownership, along with Sean's and Brian's, is tied to a list of stipulations and rules.  Mr. Shriver can essentially kick us out anytime he likes."

"Why doesn't he?"

Patton sat back in his chair and spun from side to side.  "He values family, I think.  The power of familial collaboration.  He believes in capital gain and nothing else, but he knows he has to trust some operations to others.  Sean, Brian, and I are his family.  The rest of his world is populated by strangers, which brings me back to what I was saying about my role in the company.  There were three positions Sean, Brian, and I had to fill.  Sean got first pick, and of course he wanted Management.  That left me with two choices: Production or Quality Assurance.  Level B, Brain's floor, is a factory, and here, Level D?  This is the warehouse.  I knew I couldn't stop it from happening, so I chose to make sure these girls at least got good childhoods."

"Good childhoods?  Without their families?"

"They have no families.  They're created in the lab."

"Test tube babies."

"More than that.  They never enter a womb.  They're grown in what's basically a fish tank, in a soup of synthetic placenta."

"That's horrible."

"No, it's progress, don't you see?  The alternative would be enslaving women to carry the new girls to term."  He stood and came around the desk, saying, "There is no moral code here at Your Favorite Girl, Incorporated.  Some of the worst things you can possibly imagine occur here routinely--systematically, you could say.  You'll want to brace yourself for that, Melissa Reed."  He cocked his head at the door.  "Let me show you around."

I stood and followed him out into the hall, where the laughter I'd heard was gone.

"Are these classrooms?"

"Yes," Patton said.  "Class is in session.  We may stop in later.  For now, this way."

He showed me around the floor, starting with the cafeteria, which was more like a lounge and cafe.  Oriental music played softly behind the trickle of decorative fountains and the kitchen staff moved about silently behind the glass displays at various stations: deli, bakery, salad bar, grill.  We made a lap around the room and Patton told me a brief history of the company, starting with his grandfather's upscale brothel, which earned Patton's father a substantial inheritance.  "Dad hired a mafia hit man to travel around the country kidnapping girls who matched one of several specific descriptions.  He lobotomized the girls, dressed them up, and sold them to wealthy men.  Mr. Shriver took the concept and improved upon it by generating a uniform product.  And the key to it all was Brian's innovation.  Brian changed the game completely."

"The drug."

He nodded.

We stopped at a window where a sushi chef
stared ahead, motionless, as though awaiting instruction.

"How's the sushi?"
I asked.

"Are you hungry?"

"No, just curious."

"I've never tried it," he admitted.

"You don't like sushi?"

"I've never tried
any
sushi."

"Why not?"

"I don't know.  Just haven't."

"You're insane.  If I had a sushi chef at my disposal, I'd never eat anything else."

"Eh, seaweed?"

I frowned at him and crossed my arms like an angry teenager. 
"That's it," I said.  "We're having lunch together, and you're gonna try some sushi."  At "sushi," I poked his chest hard with my finger.  It felt like stone and now my whole hand ached.

"We'll see," he said, leading me towards the entrance.

Next we came to the gym, a state-of-the-art facility with a pool, spa, private showers, rooms allocated to specific disciplines like yoga and
Tae Kwon Do,
and all manner of workout equipment wrapping around a basketball court.  It was unlike any school gym I'd ever seen.

"You should see the Frog Girls swim," Patton said
.  We stood at the pool, no one about.  "They get picked on the most.  The surgeries begin at birth, so by the time they reach school age, the deformities have completely formed.  In sport, though, they find retribution.  Definitely the most athletic of the seven classes."

"
Seven classes?"

"Flora, Frog, Diamond, Doll,
Giggle, Glow, Vampire."

"Vampire.  You have vampire girls."

He nodded.  "They tend to pick on the Frog Girls the most.  They've been conditioned for aggression and emotional instability.  In preparation for the Showcase Hall, they're given porcelain veneer fangs.  Razor sharp.  And in Vampire Girl, the device secrets adrenaline on top of the Libido Drug."

"Wait, what device?"

"The one planted in their bodies to maintain levels of the Libido Drug in the blood.  That's what keeps them sexualized.  The procedure is done in infancy so the girl won't remember, but the device isn't activated for the first time until Showcase prep."

"That's not what Kate said.  She said their bodies produce the chemical."

Patton giggled half-heartedly.  "Kate has a short attention span.  She listens sometimes and then fills in the blanks later with whatever lies occur to her."

Next he showed me the infirmary.  Several patient rooms, an operating room, a small maternity ward.  We stood at the window looking in as a nurse held a bottle to a baby's mouth.

"Can we go in?"

"Restricted."

"Oh."

The infirmary proved uninteresting.  We quickly headed back the way we came, returning to the hallway where beyond Patton's office were a number of classrooms.  Seven, I guessed correctly.
  Each door was labeled with the same cruel product names: Frog, Vampire, Glow, Flora . . .

"We have time to stop by one classroom," Patton said.  "Then we have rounds to make."

"Okay."

"You can pick."

"Should we disrupt class, though?"

"Come on, you were a kid not long ago.  Kids love it when class gets disrupted."

I hesitated, but I knew my pick.  The door we stood at, the knob Patton was reaching for before I said it.

"Flora."

"Great choice," Patton said.  "They're a hospitable bunch."

He opened the door, and I saw their faces turn.

Dozens of them.  Exact duplicates of the Flora I'd watched die alongside the deliveryman.  They ranged in age, from teenagers down to small children, but they wore the same white sundress, the same cut of flower over the right ear, the same sandals.  Blonde hair with light brown tones parted in the middle.  Eyes bright and colorful, as if entire ecosystems thrived in their irises.  And on each of them a smile so warm and genuine I could almost feel the ugliness of the world flaking off of me like old paint.

"Hi girls," Patton said as he stepped inside.

I walked into a chorus of response: "Hi Mr. Patton!"

Legs were kicking out from every desk now, except those of the oldest girls, whose smiles were biggest and gazes most focused.  They all loved him.

"What a surprise, Mr. Patton," said the teacher.  I hadn't noticed her there at the blackboard.

"
Ms. Lane, I'd like you to meet Melissa Reed," Patton said, gesturing to me.  "Melissa, this is Ms. Lane."

Ms. Lane
extended her bony hand and I took it gently.  "Nice to meet you, young lady."  She looked like one of the old ladies you see working in plant nurseries: thin and healthy but with wrinkled, leathery skin from decades of direct sun exposure.

"Melissa is my new personal assistant
," Patton said.  Then he turned to the classroom.  "Say hi to Melissa, girls."

"Hi Melissa!"

I was so embarrassed I couldn't look at them.  They were so happy, and the truth about their fates thrashed around inside me like a caged animal.  If I did anything but cry and scream, I would be lying to them.

I had to get out of here, and the only excuse I could think of was, "I have to pee."

A timid wave of giggles rose and fell quickly, followed by a voice, even more timid, chiming, "Me too."

"Who said that?"
Ms. Lane asked.

A small hand rose from the crowd.  A girl maybe six years old.

"Melissa, would you mind taking young Flora to the restroom?  Just take a left and it's around the corner."

I looked to Patton, but he just smiled.

"Sure," I said.

Two small feet hit the tile floor.  I turned and
watched the little Flora find her way to the front of the room.  She reached for my hand and I took it, leading her quickly away.

"Than
k you," she whispered as we stepped out the door.  "I really gotta go."

─Off
the Clock─

WE SPENT the whole morning touring the building--all except for Level E, Mr. Shriver's floor, though we did run into him in the hallway on Level B.  I thought he was going to pass us by without a word, but he stopped and asked, "Did you pick one yet?"

"I'd like to wait for the new Flora, if that's all right," I said nervously.

Mr. Shriver groaned words I couldn't make out.  "How long?" he asked Patton.

"Two weeks," Patton replied.

"When she's ready, you'll be billed retroactively.  You were supposed to pick today."

"That sounds fair," I said.

He glanced at me quickly, as though surprised by something.  Then he groaned again and walked on.

The tour started in the jewelry store on Level A.  We browsed the store and Patton whispered when he spoke of the company.

"These employees don't know who they work for," he said.

The Chinese girl had to know something.  After all, it was her to whom I'd delivered the secret pass phrase:
I want to fuck you, right here, right now.
  I noticed her watching us from the register, curious, even a little upset.  Maybe she knew a little and wanted to be hired in like Kate.  Rumors of the luxuries, the salary . . . likely nothing about the enslavement of both product and employee.

Patton tapped on the glass display case.  "What do you think of that necklace?"

He pointed out a white gold chain with a flower pendant made of diamonds, rubies, and emeralds.  The price tag said six-thousand dollars.

"It's beautiful," I said.

"Liu!"

The Chinese girl came over and he asked
her to pull it out.  He put it around my neck and then spun me to face him.

"It brings out your eyes," Liu said.

"Looks great," Patton said, pulling out a credit card.

"You don't have to," I said in spite of myself.  In three years with Ted, I'd never once received jewelry as a gift.  A waste of money, according to him.  Like many girls,
I grew up believing the weight and splendor of jewels denoted magic.  That changes in adulthood, becomes just an appreciation of monetary value.  A sense of power does come with wearing more than the price of a divorce around your neck.

Liu was humping Patton with her eyes.  The compliment aside, she didn't acknowledge me once, except to curl her brow at me as we left

Next came the worst part of the tour, the remainder of Level A, where Clifton worked, but thankfully Patton kept it brief.

Mostly a utility floor
, Level A consisted of boilers, air units, water heaters, electrical boxes, storage rooms, cleaning supply rooms, a maintenance closet, and a shipping area with a single loading dock.  The air reeked of chemicals, dead rats, and, oddly enough, bacon.  I could imagine Clifton gnawing on hunks of pork in some back room of this dingy floor, laughing hysterically at a fuzzy TV screen and scratching himself.

I was relieved to move on to Level B, where we encountered Mr. Shriver and then walked through the various laboratories, computer rooms, and employee lounge areas.
  I shook hands with all the scientists and lab techs and they told me their names, but the only names that stuck were the two I already knew, Judy and Murphy, who, when we came upon them, were hunched over the counter studying some kind of report and arguing at low volume.

Judy looked up first and her eyes filled with alarm.  She elbowed Murph
y and pushed her glasses back on her nose.  It became immediately clear that her surprise came not from the appearance of a supervisory figure but from the appearance of Patton in general.  Every girl in this place must be in love with him, which, strangely enough, was beginning to repel me.