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“Good advice,” she agrees. She steps around my chair and places her hand on a panel next to the door handle. “Want some more?”
“More… advice?” I question.
She nods and punches in a few numbers until the panel turns green.
“Yes, I’ll take some,” I tell her.
“You’ll only get one shot with the Eminent,” she says, walking back around my chair to push us inside. “And he’s waiting to meet you before he decides if your family lives or dies. Make yourself more interesting than a public hanging. Make the moment count.”
Make it count.
What the fuck does that mean? I’m seething in a chair, waiting for someone in this unusual medical spa to wheel me to a shower. No one meets the Eminent looking like total garbage is all I can gather.
This place is a holding cell until they grace us with the glory of entering his chambers, and everyone is prepping to look their best. I listen to other men and women talk about how lucky they are to have an audience with him, and then there are the few with expressions similar to mine. They’re quieter, letting the ones that glorify him speak the loudest, taking up all the air in the room.
Not all are true fans of the Assembly’s great mission, or they’re in some kind of trouble. I fall into the trouble category, but I still want a shower.
My legs tingle to life and I stretch and massage them in the chair while I wait.
“A. Rowan Lawson Rivera?” someone calls out. I raise my hand and notice the hush of whispers and everyone who stares in my direction. I’m new, and that doesn’t bode well when you’ve been underground with the same people for over two years.
Their eyes cast over me when a woman takes me by the hand, walking me over to a tiled room lined with stalled showers. “Take your time in there,” she says. “You need to be pristine.” The words aren’t mean, but honest, warning me I’m requested to look a certain way for this meeting.
By the time my shower is hot, I can stand for a few minutes before sitting down on the bench inside. I’m getting stronger, but I don’t know what lies ahead, and I need to reserve my strength.
When the water cascades down my face, I allow myself to enjoy my first wash in… a month. Time wasn’t something I kept the best track of when I was on a hunger strike and then there was the coma. I think it’s been sponge baths for weeks, and I don’t dare look down to see the dirty water.
Most of the sticky patches from IVs and other tubes come off with my washcloth, but my skin is raw and red when I’m done. I wrap a large robe over myself and walk with one hand on the wall for balance until reaching a row of vanity tables. Each seat has a hairdryer and pots full of oils and lotions.
Other women scatter around the area, getting themselves ready for the lineup. There’s the defiant side of me that wants to sit and sulk, resist dolling myself up for some narcissistic murderer, but then I remember the nurse’s words.
He decides if your family lives or dies.
I don’t have a choice but to go along with the expectations. My family isn’t as safe as I had hoped, and I’m the deciding factor.
Two women gush to each other further down the table, slathering themselves with oil and enjoying their reflection in the mirror. “I’ve heard he has a ten-inch dick,” one says.
I resist the urge to vomit.
“And that he knows how to use it,” the other adds.
The first woman grunts in satisfaction. “You think I’ll get the chance? I mean, I’m not asking for anything big, just a change in cabins, but I’m willing.”
“Well,” the other woman leans toward her. She’s so loud I’m not sure why she’s pretending to be discreet. Women like that want you to listen, and they thrive on the attention. “He could ask you to be one of the concubines. Their living quarters are sacred, which means they’re the best.”
“I doubt it,” the first woman scoffs. “I’m too old.”
I try not to react. Both of the women are maybe thirty and gorgeous. In a few short minutes sitting here, I’ve learned more than I need to know about this Eminent. From what Alexander told me about the leader where Sam and Cecilia lived, they were all cut from the same cloth.
Turning on a hair dryer, I drown out the rest of their conversation, letting the warm air do its job. My hair and nails are longer than ever, and I need to do something about them and my overall appearance. If I see my family again, I’d like to look healthy, especially the way BeLew worry. They can’t know about the prison, but with their gifts… I don’t know if I can hide it from them.
My heart skips a beat, wondering if they’ll be there. I don’t want them anywhere near this Eminent even though being without them is physically painful.
A few hours later, I barely recognize my reflection, but it’s not a terrible thing. For a year, I’ve always been a little dirty. I braided my hair or tied it up every day. There wasn’t a chance to get the black out from underneath my fingernails or scrub every inch of my skin when we lived on the island. This person looks like the Rowan before the storms, the woman I thought was gone.
Today, I’ll be whoever I need to be so my family lives. I’ll agree to join his perverted sex nest if it keeps them safe.
I step away from the vanity, nodding at the two obnoxious women as I pass. They look me over, wondering who I am and judging me, assessing the competition in the way women sometimes do. Another AOE worker greets me when I leave the bathrooms, guiding me to a chair.
