-Vanessa
-Valentine's Day
-Vestibule, veranda, New Vada
-Vest, voluminous, vagrant, villain, victory, vaudeville, velvet, violet, Victorian, vintage, version, various, vacillation, vindicate, vehicle, voice, vehemently, vitriol, volatile, vampire, vicious, valedictorian
The Result:
"The Valentine’s Day Vigil"
As Tricia entered the Valley wing, she gave vent to a small
sigh. The main floor of The Vestibule, Peres’ exclusive boutique, verily
crawled with android attendants. Various stations around the store held
everything necessary for every stage of the beautifying process.
“Good morning, Tricia! Welcome to The Vestibule,” cried a
vivacious blond-haired Android with a voluminous perm and a wide, toothy smile.
“My name is Sondra, I’ll be getting you ready for your hot date with President
Parisian!”
The pretty young recruit gave a slight smile as Sondra
projected a life-size digital version of herself in the air before her.
“First things first!” she declared, “We’ll decide the look
you want, and each vendor will receive the instructions for their specific
part. All you have to do is visit the various stylists and you’ll come out
looking exactly the way you should!” Sondra smiled. “Before we get started, do
you have a style programming card?”
Tricia obediently slid the small wafer-drive out of her
wallet. Xavier had arranged for its delivery a month ago, and she had to wait
until now to find out what would be on it. He hadn’t said much about it, but
the gossip among the escorts informed her that he had always been very
particular about the outfits his assistants wore, and whatever he had chosen
for Valentine’s Day would be spectacular indeed.
Sondra slipped the card into a socket over her hip, and the
“base model” of Tricia briefly flickered out of existence. When the image
returned, Tricia half expected it to be something scant, like the frilly
vaudeville-style outfits favored by other escort clients. Instead, the model
remained the same, except a bright, flashing message displayed in front of it:
“NO PREPROGRAM DETECTED; PLEASE SELECT A CATEGORY FROM THE MENU TO BEGIN.”
“Well!” Sondra sighed, “What else could one expect for the
Valedictorian of all the Escort Recruits!”
Tricia felt all sensation drain from her over-pinned head to
her stilting stilettos. Xavier Parisian, the man who demanded perfection in
absolutely every area, was letting her choose the outfit tonight! What did it
mean? She wasn’t used to such favor; she knew the rumors flying from between
vicious lips: how she had secretly seduced him, how she pretended not to have
money, but she was rich enough to pay off absolutely everyone involved with the
competition to ensure her spot at the front, or how she might even be
blackmailing Mr. Parisian with some scandal from his past to influence his
favor. She heard them all, and yet she set them aside as easily as they came
into her hearing, concentrating on maintaining her virtue wherever she could.
Tricia selected the “DRESS” category, and scrolled down
through the “Vintage” styles until she found the one she wanted.
“Wonderful!” Sondra gushed, “May I suggest a few hairstyles
to go along with the dress you have selected?”
[...]
Tricia sat in the vehicle, trying to relax amid the mounds
of velvet and hoopskirts. A vague, unsettled feeling nagged at the back of her
psyche. She closed her eyes and concentrated on taking slow, measured breaths,
bringing to mind all the self-affirmation techniques OPHELIA had taught her:
“Visualize your best self; state your goal directly and clearly; vaunt your
strongest qualities to the forefront, as these will propel you toward your
goals…”
“YOU HAVE ARRIVED,” the deep bass voice of the self-driving
vehicle announced. The door hissed open on hidden hydraulics, and Tricia spied
the location Xavier had picked for their dinner: The New Vada Lounge, also
known among the escorts as “Vada-Voom” because of its exclusivity, which in
turn made it a prime location for a high-profile evening.
President Xavier himself stood upon the veranda, wearing a
tuxedo with a vest the same color as Tricia’s dress: a deep, regal violet. His
blue eyes looked deeper than ever as he descended the steps to meet her. Tricia
blushed under his stare, and curtseyed before him.
“Victorian!” He cried, gazing over the spreading skirts and
the round, off-shoulder sleeves. His touch lingered along her bare shoulder,
headed toward the delicate crystal riviere around her neck. He murmured softly,
“I like it. Nobody’s worn that for centuries.”
I know, Tricia
thought to herself. That’s why I chose it for this occasion.
Xavier nodded his approval. “I knew you would choose wisely;
that’s why I let you. Out of all the other girls, Tricia, you have this air
about you--I wish I knew what it was!”
How much easier it would be if she could tell him! But no;
she remained silent for now. She could speak when the time was right.
He led her around the corner to a separate dining area with
tall windows, a single table, and a wide dance floor. Tricia felt her scalp
prickle under the sleek updo studded with tiny amethysts when she saw the
figure standing anxiously at attention near the door: Herman Haggerty, the Vice
President of the whole Peres Corporation. He appeared vastly less confident
today than he had before, but she didn’t see any cause to assume that his
vendetta had lost any momentum. The investigations and the trials were still
well underway. This would be her last chance to save whatever innocent souls
she could before the axe fell.
For now, Xavier led her to the table. “I thought we’d have
something to eat first,” he said, “and then a bit of dancing before dessert. I
hear you’re quite the vivacious little pixie when there’s music playing, my
dear little Trixie!”
[...]
Tricia maintained her silence through the whole meal.
Inside, she wailed at the top of her voice, begging God for mercy and forgiveness,
asking Him for the words to speak before this volatile man. It seemed only a
few moments had passed before the sweet lilt of the violins drew her from her
musings. Xavier stood and took her hand, leading the way as they meandered out
to the dance floor. Even Herman joined them, as he had enlisted the services of
one of Tricia’s fellow escorts, by the name of Heather. They swept around the
space as the hidden music played at a measured pace.
Xavier leaned in close, his voice traveling right into her
ear as his breath tickled her neck.
“So why don’t you tell me what this is about, eh, Trixie?
Three months, three dates, just like you wanted, right? Now will you tell me
what is bothering you? That promotion is still yours for the taking. Tell me
you want it!”
Tricia still held her lips closed. It wasn’t time--why
wasn’t it time?
Xavier stopped dancing. The music ceased as soon as he did.
“Tricia.” His voice was low, with a dangerous edge to it.
“You cannot violate the one place in the vicinity where I can truly be
myself—and simply not say why. What was so important? Tell me.”
She looked into his eyes.
Now; ah, now she had his attention.
Carefully, she leaned forward and whispered in his ear,
“Vindicate me.”
He stepped back from her, but did not release her hand.
“What?”
She licked her lips and plunged ahead. “I’ve just received a
court summons to appear on trial for acts I did not commit, based on the
testimonies of people I do not know, supposedly under the orders of supervisors
I never worked for—“
“Stop!” Xavier raised his hand with a frown. “When did this
happen? Recently? Are you sure it is not some kind of misunderstanding?”
Tricia held her ground. “Oh, I assure you, my accuser stands
upon a mountain of blackmail, fraud, slander, and deceit that he has built for
himself. There is no vacillation of malicious intent on his part.”
Xavier’s face flushed to a bright vermillion as his anger
flared. “Does your accuser not know that accusing you is equivalent to
disparaging me, because I chose you, Tricia Carson?”
By now even Herman stood rooted to the spot, staring in
abject horror at the scene unfolding before him.
“There is something else, Xavier,” she went on, licking her
lips and sending up a quick prayer. “My name isn’t Tricia Carson. It’s Vanessa;
Vanessa Decker. I used a cover identity to fit in with this culture better,
because I was vulnerable as the daughter of a former Integra employee.”
Silence engulfed them like a vacuum at the declaration.
Vanessa (my, but it felt good to use her own name again!) heard a strangled
choke from behind her, and knew that victory over the villain was not far off.
She reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out a
portable video projector.
“If you don’t believe me,” she said, “I have proof.” She
opened the display and activated the clip, a news blurb that had already aired
on screens and surfaces all around the corporate city. There, they saw the long
file of employees in prison-issued jumpsuits, fed one at a time through the
doors to the courtroom, where they faced the vitriol of people conditioned to
despise Integra and everything it stood for, since not a one of them actually
knew anything about the company. The vigilant reporter went on to inform the
audience that the one responsible was none other than recently-promoted Vice
President Of Human Resources, Herman Haggerty, a man vehemently opposed to what
he called “dead weight in the company.” It was his vigorous efforts, said she,
that resulted in the suspension and accusation of hundreds of Peres employees, all
in the name of President Parisian. The reporter affirmed that all Integra
employees and their families were affected by this vendetta, as they were all
slated for imprisonment in an administrative prison facility in Florence,
Colorado.
Vanessa looked up from the visceral footage when she heard
the door close. Xavier headed down the verdant garden path—did he believe her?
Would he act and save these people for her sake? Or were her efforts in vain?
“Madam!” Whimpered a voice behind her.
Vanessa turned as Herman slumped to his knees on the vinyl
wood flooring. He clasped his quivering hands.
“Please forgive me! Don’t let him be too harsh on me! I—I
had no idea you were one of them! I would never have been so broad in my
verbiage if I had known—“
She couldn’t even look at his face anymore. Her father was
awaiting his turn to be sentenced to one of the most violent and hellish
prisons in the country. She turned away without a word, to hide her tears.
“No, wait! Please!”
A tug on her skirt stopped her, and she turned around.
Herman had his vile grasp on her hem, and he stood, keeping
a hold on it. “Please don’t—“
“Let go of me!” Vanessa cried, trying to pull away, but he
had caught her off balance, and she didn’t have the traction to gain momentum.
Her heel slipped on the smooth vinyl, and she toppled to her knees amid a
cushion of velvet.
Immediately, the door burst open and Xavier rushed in,
tuxedo disheveled and eyes full of fire. He made straight for Herman, his hands
closing around the man’s neck as he shoved him back against the windows.
“YOU DARE!” He roared. “YOU DARE TOUCH THIS GIRL I HAVE
CHOSEN, AFTER THREATENING HER LIFE AND BESMIRCHING MY NAME FOR THE SAKE OF YOUR
OWN EGO?”
Herman struggled and strained for breath, but Xavier’s grip
was too strong.
“Men like you are nothing but vicious, insatiable vampires,”
growled the President. “Sucking dry those around them in a vain attempt at
slaking your own desires, but never finding the satisfaction.” His grip
released slightly, but only enough for the traitor to take one thin gasp. “It’s
you who are the dead weight in my company, taking funds, time, and energy and
wasting it on yourselves.” Xavier shoved Herman down to the floor again,
signaling his guards forward as the villain lay retching for breath.
“Call up the embassy in Thailand and arrange for transport,”
Xavier grunted. “I hear they have a prison vicious enough to hold this viper.”
Herman let out a strangled whimper; he knew from his
extensive research (or rather, the research he had Heather do) exactly where he
was headed.
Once the guards departed, Xavier summoned another android.
“Tell me, is there a prison transport caravan headed for
Colorado?” He asked.
“There is, Sir,” she replied.
“Cancel it immediately,” he declared. “No one from Peres
Corp is headed that way. As for the trials...” he pressed his lips in thought.
“Let the Legal Department know that as of this moment, they have all been
reassigned to the defendants’ cases. Also, if they would like to retain their
current employment and maintain their impeccable reputation, they had better
win.”
The android blinked her eyes. “Understood, Sir.”
Vanessa felt all the tension in her body evaporate. They
were saved! Xavier turned and helped her to her feet.
“Well, I would say that this night has been the most
productive Valentine’s evening I have had in a long time!” He declared. “I feel
like this deserves some kind of victory celebration.” He smiled at her, his
vibrant eyes twinkling. “And it looks like the office of Vice President Of
Human Resources has an unexpected vacancy. You wouldn’t happen to know anyone
you could recommend, hey, Tri—I mean, Vanessa?”
She returned his smile and slipped her hands behind his neck
as he placed his about her waist. “I do know a man who would make a venerable
Vice President.”
They swayed together as the violins resumed their music.
>>>>>>>>>>
This story is a scene from an as-yet-unfinished project, based on the story of Esther, called "Focal Point." It is planned as part of a series called "The ReBible" series, adaptations of Biblical accounts, written in a modern storytelling style as either historical fiction or sci-fi cyberpunk (such as this one.) Click the hyperlinked text, or choose "The ReBible Series" from the menu bar across the top of this blog to read more excerpts from this and other books in the series.
Also in the A-to-Z Challenge Series: ( * Continuations of Suggestion Box installments)
-Letter I* ] [-Letter S*
No comments:
Post a Comment