The Underground Part 12

"If I go on one date, then you promise to leave me alone?" Shayla said.

"I promise," the Queen said, trying to suppress the joy in her voice. "I'll arrange it."

Shayla said, "No, just send me his information and I'll arrange it."

"Whatever you prefer," the Queen said, thinking that Shayla was finally coming to her senses. Having Shayla back in Washington was wonderful. It was a big step toward getting her to return to the Palace.

"He comes from a good family and is very handsome, and went to finishing school," the Queen said.

"Oh, great. Sounds formal," Shayla said, sounding deflated.

"You're confusing formality with good manners," the Queen defended. She tried to see where Shayla was coming from, but sometimes she just plain did not understand her daughter's att.i.tude. Shayla lived an extremely privileged life. Why did she have to be so negative?

"I'll send you his contact information," the Queen said. If Shayla agreed to go on a date, it meant she was, finally, starting to get over that derelict. The Queen periodically asked Gerald if there was any more news about Nathaniel DeLuca, but apparently the trail had dried up. He was probably living in a tent in the wilderness to avoid being forced to marry that wretched fiancee. In any case, Shayla seldom mentioned him anymore. Thank G.o.d.

"And how is Steelco?" her mother asked, taking a sip of tea, from the cup that boasted her crest. Now that she had Shayla's commitment to date a suitable man, it was best to switch subjects before Shayla changed her mind.

"Not so great. I'm a little disappointed, honestly. Lorraine is back-peddling on promises she made when I signed on," Shayla said, annoyed.

"Like what?" the Queen asked. She wasn't really surprised, and figured she'd have to manage this relationship, but didn't think it would be so soon.

"I'm trying to improve working conditions. Do you know there is no overtime pay for steel workers? They often work fourteen hour days, or longer, and get the same pay as if they worked eight. They don't even get breaks. It's not right," Shayla said, shaking her head.

"Those steel workers are amongst the best paid laborers in the country. They have a steady job. Believe me, they are happy. Besides, men like to work hard," the Queen said.

The Queen watched Shayla roll her eyes and wondered if Shayla would ever grow out of her pie in the sky idealism. She was 29. It was time to get real about the world.

"Better working conditions means better productivity. As it stands, there are costly accidents at the plant from exhausted, overworked men," Shayla said with a sigh.

"Steelco's system works," the Queen said, thinking she would need to call Lorraine and insist that she throw Shayla a bone. Otherwise, she could tell Shayla was going to stir up trouble. That was the last thing the Queen needed. She hated to admit that the stress of the recent protests was bothering her, but it was true. She crossed her fingers that the protests were done. She hated keeping all those men locked up and wondered if she was making a mistake. Maybe she should have followed her instincts and killed them as soon as they were captured, but she really didn't want to. She was not a murderer.

A knock on the door interrupted their dinner.

"Come in," the Queen said. Gerald poked his head inside. "Your attention is needed," he said. His even-keeled face gave away nothing, but she knew he wouldn't have interrupted for something trivial.

"What is it?" she asked, feeling her heartbeat quicken. She detested the fear that entered her body lately.

"Maybe we should let Shayla tend to other things," he said. The Queen thought about it a minute. She could tell he was trying to protect Shayla, but the Queen needed Shayla to begin to help out and partake in the job that would one day be hers.

"Shayla will stay. There is no reason she shouldn't hear whatever you have to tell me," the Queen said. "Unless you have somewhere to be?" she said, turning to Shayla.

"I can stay," she said.

Gerald closed the door behind him before speaking.

"There's another protest; this one is much bigger."

"Become a chosen man: Come to the Parties Of Availability!" Queen Amanda said. The Webavision was larger than life, in the heart of downtown Kansas City. He stopped to watch as the video continued. An upbeat music track blared as the picture panned to a ballroom filled with smiling men and women. "Won't you try it?" the Queen's voiceover continued, with the advertis.e.m.e.nt ending in a still shot of her face. Nathaniel had to admit the Queen's photo looked like Shayla a from the generous smile to the clear olive complexion, but he knew the similarities ended at their skin.

He stared longer than he should have, as he tried to push away the unrealistic thoughts of Shayla. He had only been out of the Underground for a couple of hours, and his self-control was already being tested. Maybe he could buy a disposable phone and call her using a fake name. Who would know?

POA, The Plaza Ballroom, Every other evening from 5 to 9! was posted next to the picture of the Queen, as though she would be the host or available to date.

He noted the date and time for the party that very evening, but all he could think of was Shayla. He didn't want anyone else, but knew that seeing her was impossible.

He walked to Augustine's clothing store where he was told to shop.

"Something to wear to the POAs?" said the salesman. "Follow me."

All the clothes he tried on felt very un-Nathaniel, but they were perfect for Joe Merino.

"You're going to do great tonight. I can feel it!" the salesman said with a smile after spending an hour helping Nathaniel invest in a small wardrobe.

"You should really check out our Salon-o-Rama," the salesman said after wrapping Nathaniel's purchases. "I think a little eyebrow waxing would do you wonders. Those baby blue eyes need to be properly framed. It's right down the hall. Ask for Sammy," he whispered to Nathaniel as he handed him the packages, along with a 10 percent off coupon.

"Thanks for the tip," Nathaniel said. He timidly entered the Salon-o-Rama. A voice from behind the counter beckoned his response.

"What can we do for you today? Need a new doo? Manicure? Wax-o-rama?"

"I've never done this before. I'm getting ready to go to the POA this evening and really want to look my best. What do you suggest?"

"A facial and an eyebrow waxing. Why don't you come here and Sammy will do you over."

Nathaniel glanced at Sammy who looked a little overdone. He wore not-so-subtle eyeliner, and hair that spiked in all directions with various unnatural shades on different parts of his head. This was not the look that Nathaniel thought would get the Underground stamp of approval. His stomach knotted as Sammy put forth his hand, complete with black polished nails, for Nathaniel to shake.

"Hi, I'm Sammy. And you are?"

"I'm Joe Merino," Nathaniel said.

"Nice to meet you Joe. Facial and an eyebrow waxing?" he said, leading Nathaniel through the salon with his bulky packages in tow.

While other men in the Underground had been required to get eyebrow waxing, back waxing, laser hair removal, and even Botox, Nathaniel had been spared. Maybe I shouldn't do this, he thought, but his feet continued behind Sammy, walking ever deeper into the Salon-o-Rama. It reminded him of the maze-like hallways of the Underground.

He found the facial more pleasant that he would have imagined. With warm, lavender scented towels strewn on his face, he immediately relaxed. Cool cuc.u.mbers placed over his eyes followed, along with an incredible face ma.s.sage that felt perfect with the beautiful cla.s.sical music permeating the background. All the tension eased out of his temples and lower jaw when the fingers of Sammy-with-the-painted-nails performed their magic.

Once the facial was complete, Nathaniel felt mellow and happy.

"That felt good," Nathaniel said, smiling.

"You sound surprised. What did you think? You're in Sammy's hands and now your skin is glowing. Your pores are opened which means the waxing will go well, too," Sammy said. "It might sting a little," he said, just before ripping the hot wax from Nathaniel's brow. Nathaniel yelped like a kicked dog.

"What the?"

"It hurts to be beautiful!" Sammy sang.

Nathaniel felt new compa.s.sion for the poor men in the Underground who were forced to have their backs waxed on a regular basis.

"Oh, sorry. Guess you weren't ready," Sammy said while smoothing some sweet smelling lotion over the shocked area. "Just one more to go."

Nathaniel didn't yell when the other one was done, but it hurt just as much. He couldn't believe that men subjected themselves to this all the time.

"Just a few strays I've gotta fish out," Sammy said, leaning in close with tweezers as he pulled a goose-neck lamp close to Nathaniel's face. Nathaniel closed his eyes and sucked in his breath as he waited for the plucking to end.

"Here you go. You're perfect!" Sammy said, handing Nathaniel a mirror.

"It looks great," Nathaniel said, thinking it looked a little too clean for his taste. Maybe it was something he just needed to get used to, along with everything else. Maybe it would help him meet a decent woman who could potentially be his future spouse. He also hoped it would help steer his mind from the inevitable thoughts of Shayla that he couldn't shake.

Nathaniel stood in the short line outside the POA waiting to check in. Would they know his identification card was fake? Nathaniel held his breath as he waited for the scanned card to go through.

Peering into the party, he saw a Taser whispering to a man whose color drained from his face. Nathaniel wondered what was going on. Was the Taser threatening him for some reason? Nathaniel couldn't understand why they had to be that way, but remembered his mission and looked away.

"Your card?" the hostess said. It had gone through the computer without a problem. That meant that Joe Merino existed, according to the United States.

"Thank you," he said, as he took the coveted identification and put it back in his wallet before entering the ballroom. There had to be at least 500 people. He glanced at the men who were mingling with a carefree air. He studied their stances, their laughs, and wondered if they were graduates of the Underground with more POA experience under their belts. He tried to look relaxed. It appeared that the ratio of men to women was two to one. He tried not to look desperate. The Underground gave him the tools to beat the odds, but he needed to create the opportunities to use his new skills.

"Hi Joe. I'm Mandy," said a voice that reminded him of those ancient Betty Boop cartoons. She sounded much too young for someone at the POA. "I just checked out your resume," she said, pointing to her electronic tablet. It was hard to believe that this pet.i.te woman in a fruity printed dress was actually 18, the required age for attendance. "Is there anything else I can tell you about myself?" he asked, knowing she had the advantage of knowing all about him. His knowledge of her was limited to what he saw and she chose to tell. He was also hoping that other women might become interested, now that he was talking with someone. Mandy wasn't exactly what he or the Underground were looking for.

"Well, it says here your mom is dead. I was wondering how she died," she said. This was not the type of interview he expected. Certainly not the type of question he figured would be first.

"Both my parents died in a car crash when I was 18," he said, his eyes sincerely welling up, as he forced himself to think of losing Shayla. "I try not to dwell on it. You've got to be strong and move on," he said, hoping her sympathies would kick in, but all she did was stare at her electronic tablet, which made him feel even more awkward.

"Why do you ask?" he asked, unable to hide his curiosity.

"Do you like cats?" she asked. "I have five cats, and I just love them. Being with someone who appreciates cats is very important to me." Her eyes grew wide, eager for an answer. He wondered whether she chose not to answer his question or whether she had simply not heard. Wisely, he knew better than to ask a second time, even though her next question seemed just as strange.

"I adore cats! I grew up with them, and this is actually the first time I haven't had one. I miss them terribly. What are your cats' names?" he asked. In reality, Nathaniel was indifferent to pets. He didn't really understand people who put so much into the lives of their animals, but he suspected he could learn to tolerate them. He heard the strong voice of his motivational Master Instructor coaching him from behind: "Every opportunity must be followed through. Take an interest in whatever they talk about."

"It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Joe. I may be back for you later," she said. With that, she sauntered across the room and immediately began chatting with another man.

"How many times have you been here?" said another woman who approached a few minutes later. Her tone was almost suspicious.

"Actually, this is my first time," he said to the woman who was attractive, but looked to be 15 years his senior. She was well-dressed and amply made-up to temper her wrinkles. At least she offered a more standard ice-breaker than asking how his mother had met her ultimate fate.

"I thought I hadn't seen you before. I'm Claire Jameson," she said, holding out her hand.

"It's lovely to meet you, Claire. I'm Joe Merino," he said, thinking that her slightly husky voice was sultry. She was certainly attractive. Her long auburn locks fell perfectly to the middle of her back. She was a woman of understatement and cla.s.s, which the Underground had taught him to hone in on.

"Would you like to get out of here? I'd be happy to buy you a drink that has more of a kick than the watered-down, over-priced beverages they serve here," she said staring him squarely in the eyes.

"Yes, I'd love to, Claire," he heard himself say with a politeness that seemed straight out of the Underground cla.s.sroom.

Nathaniel was quite surprised by her forwardness, but maybe this was how the POAs worked. He wasn't sure she was the best one for him, but turning her down would seem rude, and he could suffer repercussions.

Nathaniel checked out of the party without incident and slid comfortably into the pa.s.senger seat of her BMW 7-Series, as though he had sat in one every day of his life.

"I thought we were going to get a drink somewhere?" he said when she pulled into a parking spot of the Plaza Marquis, an apartment complex synonymous with wealth. He read about it in the literature Crosby gave him before he left the Underground. This was certainly a good sign, but he still felt funny that she had been so quick to invite him out and then she was taking him to a residence rather than a bar. He was starting to have a hunch for what she had in mind.

"We are getting a drink here at my apartment. That okay?" she asked casually as she led him to the front of the building.

"Of course," he said. Her unit was beautiful with perfect city views through the large bay windows. He had never been in such an apartment. The clear gla.s.s motif offered a modern, minimalist look with gla.s.s statues delicately balanced on end tables and bookshelves. He felt like a child in a boutique where it was important not to touch anything for fear of breaking something he couldn't afford to buy.

"Have a seat," she said, motioning for him to sit on the couch, before she disappeared.

She returned with a bottle of wine and two long-stemmed gla.s.ses. They sparkled as she filled each one with a deep red wine.

"Cheers," she said, handing Nathaniel a gla.s.s and they toasted, their gla.s.ses lightly touching which set off a perfect pitch beautifully reverberating from the delicate crystal.

"Thank you," he said taking a sip. She smiled broadly as she inched a little closer to him on the snow-white leather couch. He worried about spilling, but he felt good. It had been a long time since he sat in anyone's living room to relax.

"What do you do?" he asked lightly.

"I am a senior VP over at Crown Center. I work hard, and when I'm not working hard, I like to pamper myself with fine wine and good company. Just as you see." Her compliment embarra.s.sed him. She was clearly interested in him s.e.xually, but beyond that he didn't know. Was she even open to marriage? He tried to put aside his own personal desires, remembering that finding a mate was paramount. Anyone better than Janice was a step up, but obviously he wanted someone with a big income and influence for the benefit of the Underground.

"I certainly like walks on the beach, although there aren't any near here, and I do enjoy an occasional rock concert too. Do you have any more questions?" she asked before draining her gla.s.s.

"Well, I do have one more question, actually," Nathaniel said, taking a draw on his wine gla.s.s.

"Ask me," she said before topping off his wine gla.s.s and filling her own.

"What are you looking for at the POAs?" he asked, looking her straight in the eyes. The question was loaded, and his gaze of intrusion indicated he wanted to know and understand exactly what he was getting into.

"Well, Joe, you're quite a fellow, aren't you?" she said laughing.

He was immediately uncomfortable, afraid that he might scare her off.

"I'm sorry if I seem too forward," he said apologetically. "I hope I didn't offend you. It's just that I'm looking for something long term and I hope we're on the same wavelength."

"I appreciate your honesty."

Nathaniel wondered whether this was true. He became unsure of how reliable his instincts were. This felt like a game, and she had more experience at it.

"This evening, I went to the POA looking for something, and I found you," she said. "I found Joe Merino, a lovely gentlemen who is handsome and witty and kind. She moved closer to him on the couch, until she forced her eyes onto his and she whispered.

"That's enough talking for this evening, don't you think?"

Before he knew what to do, she kissed him. He wasn't surprised, and he wasn't unhappy, but he wasn't thrilled either. For the moment, he decided to let his feelings slide by. His body wanted her.

Her kiss continued as she climbed on top of him. Nathaniel could tell that Claire was used to being in charge, and she certainly was this evening. She pulled up her dress so she could straddle him and lunge her hips into his, a preview of what she would do once they undressed. She wore thigh high stockings that brought Nathaniel's excitement up a level as his thoughts moved back and forth between Shayla and Claire. Claire pawed him aggressively, stopping slowly over his hardness to feel its shape beneath his clothes.

It felt good to be taken. Yes, he needed to find a wife, but right now he wanted nothing more than to plunge into Claire with all his might, and he could tell that's how she would like it.

"That feels so good," he said when she moved her hand on him in a rhythm that made him want to let go. Tonight, he was hers. He closed his eyes and kissed her, pretending she was Shayla, and before long he came with a powerful thrust that made her cry out.