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“Already a troublemaker in this year’s picking,” Dane says, shaking his head. “It’s going to be an interesting first year for you, Laurence.”
He rises from his seat. With The Bidding over, and the first game all set for the evening, we’re invited to the Advent Gala to meet the Players.
I move to follow him, but my eyes catch on Blue in one of the small squares of the security monitor. She’s in the hallway with her Advocate. He’s tilting her chin up toward him, her eyes looking like they’re about to swallow him whole, when those eyes unexpectedly flick to me—to the camera—and then I’m the one under threat of being devoured.
I can’t help but stare back, only freed when she looks away. She says something to her Advocate, a slight smile tugging on those full pink lips, and then she’s being led away.
Something stirs in me, a deep attraction which I didn’t expect to feel. There’s an eagerness to meet her, and I make my way toward the ballroom for the Gala, but not before encountering Reid Jamison at the door.
“It looks like a fun group of Players this year.” Reid gives me a slimy grin. He’s not a Gamemaker, but he is the younger brother of one, and behaves likes he has the privilege of being in on the inner workings of the games that the Gamemakers strategize.
Which, technically, hedoeshave the privilege of being present simply because his father, Vaughn Jamison, the most experienced of the Gamemakers, doesn’t mind that Reid hangs around. But my guess is that only lasts as long as Vaughn isn’t caused any inconvenience by him.
Speaking of Vaughn, he’s disappeared somewhere. I’m sure he’s consulting with the head honcho of the island, Terrence Marlowe, on the first impressions of this year’s games.
Blocking my exit at the door, his hands grasping either side of the doorframe, Reid asks, “You betting on anyone, Vale?”
“Gamemakers aren’t allowed to bet,” I say, deadpan, already bored with his usual antics. “You know that.”
But if Iwerea betting man, I would bet on Blue.
“What a shame. Let me know if you change your mind.” Reid slips out of the doorframe and shoves his hands in his trouser pockets, heading down the hall.
Unsure of what he’s insinuating, I cast his words aside, knowing the act of betting carries with it the risk of getting me kicked out as Gamemaker—or worse.
I linger for a moment in the boardroom, making sure we’re all set for the upcoming game.
As a newly indoctrinated member of the Echelon Society, I should be disqualified from being a Gamemaker. A certain number of years and attendance as an Advocate in the games isrequired to be one. Being of new money should have made me even less of a contender, but luckily I know Vaughn Jamison personally through business dealings.
A memory comes to surface as I input the last of the details into the shared program for the game’s organization.
“I’ve got an opportunity for you,” Vaughn says, his deep, rolling voice filling the now empty conference room where we’d met with the investors for my company. “Do you have a proclivity for pleasure, Vale?”
My hands pause on the back of my chair as I stand to leave. “What do you mean?”
Vaughn rounds the long, hardwood table and approaches me, his voice lowering an octave as he speaks. “I am a member of a group called the Echelon Society.” He pauses, I suspect to gauge my reaction as his gray eyes roam my face before they narrow. “Hear of it?”
“No.” It’s not a lie. The name doesn’t bring any familiarity to mind.
“Good.” He nods. “How do you feel about games involving a… sexual nature?”
My brow creases. “I’m not sure I’m following.” But my curiosity is piqued.
“We’ve lost a member recently, a tragic falling out, really, and I’m looking for someone to take his place, to work closely beside me on the betting means of these games.”
Pleasure? Betting? All things I can’t deny I’ve partaken in, and enjoyed.
“What do you mean by ‘sexual nature’?”
I’m only met with a knowing smirk.
Scanning the security footage for Blue once again, I imagine her in the games I’ve fabricated with Vaughn and Dane. Dark urges come from deep down, from a place which I’ve left unexplored for some time.
Inhaling a deep breath through my nose, I settle the urges and focus on my task. I find it difficult to quell the jealousy I feel toward Blue’s Advocate. I didn’t even pay enough attention to who it was, only the amount he paid—one million.I would have put up two million if I had the ability to bid, but I’m not one to break rules.
Heading for the Advent Gala, I have one thing on my mind, and that’s meeting Blue. I’m itching to see her in person.
Arriving at the ballroom, I take in the flurry of people, the Player’s at their Advocate’s sides, some of them wearing collars, as is the custom for a few of the Advocates. They enjoy a physical display of ownership, some appearing to be dutifully ignored by their Advocates in conversations they have with colleagues. I’ve observed two types of Advocates: those who have a vested interest in their Players and the pleasures which they’ll gleam from The Games, and those who are in it for the money they’ve invested in their Player. The latter is more prone to ignoring, the prior has a higher proclivity toward placing collars on them.
