Page 98 of Wanted
Things ran smoothly. There were ten actresses, all of which I knew by first name. I’d seen their previous shows. The ticket to sit at one of these tables cost around a thousand US dollars. Only the top percent could afford attendance; in Katantian currency, this meant five thousand Katantian crowns. That was rent for some people downtown. Live entertainment like this was expensive because the production included massive LED screens and naughty holograms fucking each other on the stage. These actresses and the staff in the back were part of the crème de la crème of sex work. People were satisfied to pay up even if they weren’t allowed to touch these women, and on Katantia, that meant something.
The costumes were decorated in lace and diamonds. Their corsets were handcrafted by international designers who remained anonymous, and their shoes were imported from Italy.
At some point, the show’s star singer performed a powerful ballad. She was accompanied by two female holograms performing a contemporary dance that ended in them eating each other out. The singer belted out whistle notes that sounded ethereal.
All in white, the ensemble joined the lead songstress on the stage. They performed a routine where some actresses were lifted up in the air held by almost invisible strings. They twirled around, elegance and seduction radiating from their bodies.
Fylox wasn’t impressed at all. He kept gawking at the watch on his hand, and his foot tapped against the floor, making me nervous for what treat he’d serve me later for forcing him to watch a show like this.
When the show was over, and the cast came forward for their standing ovation, they shouted me out. In typical princess fashion, I had to stand up and greet the crowd from my table. More cheers erupted. I sat back down, and I felt like crying.
I had left my people behind. For almost five months, I hid behind four walls while they were out here, worrying about my whereabouts and whether I was still breathing.
Before we left the venue, one of the backstage staff came up to us, inviting the group to join the cast in their post-show dinner at a nearby Greek restaurant called Aphrodite’s Fountain. Since we didn’t have a national religion, people believed in whatever they wanted to believe as long as they paid their taxes to Daddy Dearest.
We joined the cast, and we were welcomed with hugs and kisses. Aris, Valentina, and I were accustomed to being treated as though everyone knew us personally. Fylox and Alex were weirded out by the crass language we used with each other. The Greek restaurant joined a bunch of tables, and we all sat down, hunched together. My men sat on my sides, and I didn’t overlook all the actresses eying them. Alex saw my slight discomfort, and he kissed my cheek, whispering words about his gorgeous wife and her tight pussy. Meanwhile, Fylox nonchalantly stared down anyone who dared to look at him twice.
At the end of dinner, which Fylox didn’t touch one bit off, the cast was in the mood for clubbing. Aris wanted to go home because he had an early morning the next day, but Valentina wanted Fraises Au Chocolat from the infamous Fuck Me French store on the East Side of Katantia.
“I don’t want to leave you alone. It’s not really safe,” Aris urged his wife, caressing the sides of her arms.
“But Kamila has Alex, Fylox, and her bodyguards. I’ll be much safer here than with you pushing the speed limit to get home in time,” Valentina responded, pouting.
“We’ve got her,” Alex assured Aris. “We’ll bring her back to you before midnight.”
“Babe?” Aris addressed his wife. “Behave, yeah? Don’t be late. I love you.”
After using the L-word, which made me pinch myself to see whether I was dreaming, my brother kissed Valentina on the mouth in the usual disgusting fashion. I calmed down. They were still the same. They hadn’t been cloned. Aris grabbed her ass, which was juicier now than ever before; I was back to my usual self and paid additional attention to people’s body parts. Alex and Fylox turned away, giving them privacy. I chuckled before doing the same.
We watched Aris speed away in his black Ford Mustang GT as we settled into my own cute BMW.
“I’m dying for these strawberries,” Valentina blurted out as she reapplied her lipstick.
“Why didn’t you go with him?” I asked, not buying the strawberry charade. I’d typed in the Fuck Me French spot in Alex’s phone, and he was giving Fylox directions while I grilled Valentina.
She put her lipstick back in her tiny bag, and she glanced at me. “I rarely spend time with anyone other than my husband these days. Dad and mom are busy in the palace, doing God knows what. So you guys are a small escape.”
“I’m sorry that I left so abruptly,” I told her, feeling ashamed of her mother having to take over after my exit.
“You did what you had to do,” Valentina responded, the amusement drifting away from her face. “I’m mad that my mother’s now more involved, but I can also understand why you needed out.”
“I want your family to visit me where I play,” Alex threw in, having overheard that our conversation was taking sour ends. “I’d love to show my aunt around. Dad misses her a lot. He hates that he can’t be a part of your life.”
“Once that baby is out, I’m going to do all sorts of things that I haven’t done before,” Valentina announced. “Aris promised that we’d go on a cruise across the Mediterranean sea to see Spain, France, Italy, and Greece. I’m going to be so fat by the end of it, but I can’t resist all that food. Perhaps we can come to America afterward and see you play.”
“I’d love that,” Alex said, gifting us his mesmerizing smile. Even Valentina melted at it, and she was my brother’s wife, who was basically a caveman.
We arrived at the Fuck Me French spot fifteen minutes later as they were about to close up shop for the night. They took our order, and they processed it in record time, handing us three square boxes of strawberries dipped in all sorts of chocolate, white, bitter, or sweet. Fuck Me French was known for its delicacies all over Katantia. People came here when they needed a gift for a house invitation.
On our drive back to the palace, through the city, because the peripheric highway was shut down for some reason, Valentina devoured an entire box.
“What names are you thinking of for her?” I asked her, gazing out of the car’s window and at the modern bank district buildings.
Valentina chewed down her strawberry dipped in white chocolate. Then she revealed, “We’re thinking of calling her Penelope Jade, after her grandma and my father’s mom.”
I bit back the sadness that threatened to overcome me, and I tilted my head in her direction, showing her how happy that decision made me. “My mom would have liked you.”
“You think so?” she asked, stuffing herself with another strawberry. Her eyes were wide.
