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“Socializing,” he answered with weary patience. “You ladies will circulate among your suitors, collectively. You’ll then be asked to identify the three males who appeal most to you. Each suitor will be asked to identify the woman who appeals most to him.”
“Why are we choosing multiple males and they only choose one female?” Elodie asked.
“Because there are four of you and twelve of them,” Raquel answered. “There would have been five, but one of the women in this week’s shipment didn’t survive.” He shook his head and clucked his tongue in disappointment. “Anyway, any suitors who identify the wrong female matched to them will be dismissed from the competition.”
“Has that happened before?” Evangeline asked, hope igniting.
“Not as of yet, and we’ve been doing this every month for the last ten years. Next week’s shipment is coming from China, twenty-five girls. These big aliens here really go gaga for petite Asian women.” Raquel caught the growing ire on the woman’s face. He shrugged and said, “Sorry to burst your bubble, honey, but you’ll be married and mated in less than 30 standard galactic days.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” she growled.
“You don’t,” Phil said, his voice cool. “And even if you did, you still have no way of getting off this planet and returning to Earth.”
“There is that,” Elodie whispered. “We’re stuck here, so we have to make the best of things.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to like it or cooperate,” Evangeline insisted.
“Take advantage of the chance you’re given now, because if you don’t find yourself matched with any of your three matched suitors, then you’ll be sold to the highest bidder as a breeder,” Phil snapped, having lost patience.
Evangeline gasped, still not wanting to believe that her government would treat her like livestock.
“Girl, you won’t do better than the potential mates tonight. I’d suggest you do your best to make a good impression,” Paul advised as he delivered a final spritz of hairspray to Marisol’s elegantly coiffed hair.
A sharp knock preceded Ambassador Coquillen’s entrance by a mere second. Her chunky heels clopped on the tile floor as she walked through the room, glancing at the brides.
“Are they ready?” she asked the escorts.
“Just need to put on shoes,” Raquel said.
“Finish up and let’s go. Our suitors are getting anxious.”
A mild flurry of activity ensued as shoes were slid over feet. Evangeline wobbled on the high stiletto heels and complained, “I’m going to break an ankle in these.”
“My mom called these fucking shoes,” Elodie murmured as she admired the spiked heel of her glittering pump. She exchanged glances with Marisol and shrugged.
“There are chairs in whatever room we’re going into, right?” Louella asked.
“I hope so,” Evangeline muttered. She minced forward a step and wobbled again. “These shoes are ridiculous.”
“Chop, chop!” the ambassador called out, clapping her hands twice. “Ladies, follow me.”
Chaperones herded the brides to the door. The ambassador glanced at them and whispered, “Did they all get their shots?”
“Shots?” Evangeline echoed under her breath even as Phil replied, “All but Evie.” He glanced at a small, handheld device. “Danny notes that Evangeline didn’t recover soon enough from her journey through the wormhole. I’ve got it on my schedule to administer them tomorrow morning.”
“Very good,” the ambassador replied with a curt nod.
“What shots?” Evangeline inquired with narrowed eyes.
“Vitamin shots to ensure your continued good health,” came the ambassador’s blithe reply.
Evangeline didn’t trust that answer.
Chapter4
Sarus eyed the table loaded with untouched platters of food, tiny morsels that these strange humans apparently considered adequate sustenance at group events. A sniff informed him there was precious little meat in those morsels. The tip of his tail twitched.
“They’re called hors d’ourves,” a male named Urek murmured. “Apparently we are supposed to nibble at them throughout the introductory session and leave hungry.”
