Your Favorite Girl (YFG Series) (22 page)

"I'm Melissa," I said.

He had big almond-shaped eyes and he looked eager to meet and greet with anyone.  I extended a hand and he took it delicately, giving it a single gentle shake.

"A
pleasure
to meet you, Melissa.  Quite a pleasure.  Patton," he said, extending his arms around me like a game show girl showing off the brand new car someone might win.  "You're a lucky man to be in such company.  She is a de
light
, no?"

"She is," Patton said, smiling at me.

"And what's your name, sir?" I asked the man, who looked to Patton for an introduction.

"This is Yakov Ivanovich," Patton said quickly.
  "CEO of Ivan Arms.  We've been friends for several years now."

"
Several
," Yakov repeated, nodding emphatically.

"Ivan Arms," I said.  "Is that weapons or prosthetics?"

A brief moment of silence passed and I thought I'd screwed up, but when Yakov burst out laughing, I realized he was having trouble processing the joke.

"Prosthetics!" he shouted, slapping his hip and guffawing.  "How have I never heard that
before?  That's too funny! 
You
, my dear, are quite the comedian!"

Patton chuckled politely.  "She's sharp-witted, I must say."

"
Charming
is the word.  Utterly charming.  If you weren't spoken for, young lady, I'd take you back home to Russia with me.  I certainly would."

I shrugged and smiled.  "Who knows?  Maybe Patton will piss me off tonight.  I've never been to
Russia."

"Oh dear," he said, turning to Patton.  "My friend, treat this one like she's one of a kind, because I do believe she is."

Yakov put a hand on Patton's shoulder and spoke in a whisper.  They turned and stepped away, leaving me by myself.  The bartender was eyeballing me.

"Give me a shot."

"What kind?"

"I don't care."

I climbed into a stool and watched him pour expensive bourbon into a shot glass.  The taste wasn't bad but the potency of it made me grimace and cough.

"Again," I said.

"Are you sure?"

"Is that your job?" I asked.  "To make people repeat themselves?"

The bartender ducked his head.  "Sorry, ma'am."

I felt bad.  Being around all this testosterone was making me nervous.  What kind of dis
play was Patton talking about? 
Act unaffected
, he'd told me.  That included not bitching at bartenders.

"
I shouldn't have snapped at you," I said.  "I'm sorry."

I took the next shot.

The bartender pointed the neck of the bourbon bottle and I waved my hand over the shot glass.  "How about a beer?"

"What kind?"

"Any.  And let me ask you something."  He fished a beer out of a cooler and popped the cap for me.  I took a swig to wash down the aftertaste of the bourbon.  "How long have you worked for this company?"

"Six years," he said.

"Do you always bartend for these parties?"

"Yes.  Sweetest gig I've ever had."

"You like your job."

"Oh definitely, ma'am.  Definitely."

I smiled deliberately, even though I felt like taking back my apology.  "You excited for the show tonight?" I asked.

"Of course, that's the whole point.  I look forward to these nights for months and months.
  Have you seen them?"

"The Favorite Girls?"

"Yes."

"I've seen Flora, Frog, Diamond, and Doll."

"No
kidding
?  I've only seen Floras.  That's all Mr. Shriver ever brings out.  How did you see the others?  What did they look like?"

Too many questions, and I didn't care enough to answer them for him.  Instead, I slid off the stool and walked away.

I spotted Mr. Shriver at the circular formation of chairs where I'd watched Sean kill Flora and Mr. Moses.  This was the first time I'd seen him out of his robe.  In his suit, he looked quite a bit younger.  Almost sexy, for an older man.  I couldn't make out the conversation, but Mr. Shriver was definitely doing all the talking.  The men seated around him laughed heartily, slaves to whatever crude humor he offered, each of them stilted and uncomfortable as they dealt with their rock-hard erections in anticipation of the main event.

I said hello to a few people, but they mostly ignored me.
  This was a crowd who preferred their women bound, gagged, and eager to receive.  Every time I made eye contact with someone, I prayed he didn't have a wife.

Before long I found myself at the banquet table, stuffing my face with cheese, crackers, and cake.
  I walked around with a plate, shamelessly chewing with an open mouth and studying the room in depth.  It was like a ball room with a library theme, the shelves and books more of a prop than anything.  Mr. Shriver wanted to present himself as intelligent and worldly, though from what I'd observed, his younger brothers were doing all the work: Clifton for maintenance and custodial duties, Brian for the research and development responsible for this entire enterprise, Patton for the health, wellness, and education of the girls, and Sean for security and employee management.  What was left for Mr. Shriver besides negotiating and self-appreciation?

As I browsed the bookshelves, I took notice of the piano music growing louder.  Someone was playing right around the corner, just as beautifully as Flora had played right before Sean slit her throat.

Just as beautifully as Flora.

When I stepped around the corner, I
was taken aback.  Another Flora, of course, but I'd expected a decommissioned one, a girl with bags under her eyes and slumped shoulders, having been through the wringer, having suffered the humiliation and sexual confusion that begins with the Showcase Hall.

But this Flora was fresh, crisp,
happy
looking.

And she was smiling at me.

"Melissa!" she said without missing a note.

Behind her stood a group of men holding drinks and gazing at her.  Something told me they weren't music aficionados.

I approached slowly, terrified that she'd been brought here for more than just a concert.  She wore the same white, quilted dress she'd worn in the classroom.  A good sign, at least.  When Mr. Moses had delivered my Flora, they'd dressed her in a see-through gown.

"What are you doing here?" I asked with enough belligerence to scare her.

"It's extra credit," she said.  "Mr. Patton told me it would be good for my college applications."

I was amazed at her ability to talk and play at the same time.  The music lost none of its intimacy.  She was truly astounding.

I glared at the men, most of whom didn't seem to notice me.  They were transfixed.  Most of them had probably seen Floras before, and they probably knew this one was underage.  Fucking creeps.

I moved around Flora and positioned myself between her and them, ignoring the dissatisfied mumbling it generated behind me.

"Are you excited for graduation?"  I didn't know what else to say.  All I wanted to do was snatch her up and bolt for the elevator.

"Yeah," she said, "but I'm going to miss the others."

I sat on the bench next to her and watched her fingers caress the keys.  Being this close to her was like lying in a meadow, bathed in warm sunlight, watching butterflies and bumblebees dance atop the wildflowers with the trickling sound of a creek nearby.  A peaceful place.

Ironically the kind of place Flora would likely never see, if she even knew such places existed.

It made me wonder how she perceived things.  If she'd lived her entire life in this building, what did she know about the outside world?  Anything?

"You're amazing," I said.

"Thank you."

"I don't have any talent."

"I'm sure that's not true.  You just have to find something you love and commit to it."

"That's always been my problem."

"Committing?"

"Fin
ding love."

She turned and pecked me on the cheek with a kiss, then whipped her head back around quickly, smiling.

"Nice," someone said.

Without looking back, I shot a middle finger in the air, arousing laughter.

"If you can love yourself, it spreads fast," Flora said.

"That's easier said than done."

She hit the last note in her song and in her hiatus wrapped her arms around my waist.

"You'll figure it out," she whispered.  "I promise."
  Then she pulled away. "I have to play now.  Mr. Patton said I'm only allowed thirty second breaks between songs, and then once an hour I get fifteen minutes, but I'm not allowed to talk to anyone except him and you."

"When's your next break?"

"In half an hour."

"I'll come back and wait for you."

Her eyes lit up.  "Okay!"

I left her to start her next song and
quickly sought out Patton, ready to punch him in the nose.  He could tell, too, because as I approached he took a few steps back, throwing up his hands in defense.

Instead
of punching, I pushed him, generating a round of laughter from Yakov and a few other men.  Apparently I was a fucking riot.

"Can I talk to you?"

"Sure.  Gentlemen, a moment, please?"

One of them raised his glass and said, "Good luck, buddy."

When they were gone, I unloaded on him.  "Are you fucking crazy?  What the fuck is she doing here, Patton?"

"Calm down, and lower your voice.  It's okay.  These events always have music accompaniment."

"Don't tell me to calm down.  You want me to make a scene, because I will.  I want her out of here. 
Now.
"

"Mr. Shriver made the call.  He doesn't like his plans changed."

"I don't give a fuck!"

Several heads turned.  Patton smiled and waved around the room like a politician trying to recover from a misinformed statement.

Then he gave me a stern but warm look.  "No one's going to hurt her.  I'll escort her back to her dorm before things get weird.  I swear, Melissa.  This is how it always works.  She's not in any danger."

I nodded, pretending to assent but really just taking a moment to choose my words.

"If I'm being charged retroactively after she graduates, then technically she's mine, so it's my decision.  I don't want her here.  I don't want her exposed to these filthy men."

"Technically, yes, she's yours," Patton said.

"So get her out of here."

"I can't.  He won't have it.  He'll lock you up in the dungeon before he lets Flora stop playing that piano."

"Dungeon?"

"Yes."

"What dungeon?"

"That's what I intend to show you, but
I can't if you get yourself kicked out."

"I'm not leaving her sight.  Not until you take her away."

"Well then we have a dilemma.  By the time I take her back, the show will begin.  I have to be here for that.  We all do.  Mr. Shriver made a point of it this time.  I think he has something special lined up."

"Special?  Do you fucking
enjoy
this shit?"

"Of course not."

"Then don't call it special."

"Different, then.  Unusual.  Can you just be a little patient?"

"I'm done being patient."

I turned and headed straight for Mr. Shriver, despite whispered protest from Patton.  When Mr. Shriver saw me coming, he stood and said something to the other men, who quickly filed out of the circle.

He was grinning when I reached him.  "You don't look like you're enjoying yourself, my dear."

"
I'm not," I said.  "Not in the slightest."

"What's troubling you?"

I pointed at Flora.  The crowd of men surrounding her had grown larger.

"I want her out of here," I said.

He studied her for a moment, nodding.  "Why exactly?"

"
That shouldn't matter.  She's mine."

"Not yet."

"But she will be next week."

"Until then she belongs to me."

"Okay, then I'm asking."

He pondered for a moment.  "I suppose I do owe you a favor.  You inspired me this morning.  Changed my outlook completely.  I really needed that."

"Glad to help," I said dryly.

"Okay."

"Okay what?"

"Tell Patton to take her back."

"Seriously?"

He nodded, patted me on the arm, and walked away.  Patton had been watching us the whole time, and Mr. Shriver pointed at Flora and then the elevator, nodding.