AIYA
The drive into Kansas City is always long and tense whenever my mother is present. Our car crawls at a snail pace, stuck in some evening traffic. Mother sits stiffly beside me, looking at her Rolex watch for the umpteenth time. "How much longer is this going to take?"
The driver slightly shakes, but tries to remain calm in a stormy situation. "It should be a few more minutes. Sorry, Mrs. Andreatte for the inconvenience."
"If this were an inconvenience, it would have been solved ten minutes ago." Mother's tartly voice cuts through any further communication with the driver.
"You act like he conjured the traffic himself. You don't need to be so mean to him," I say, absently roaming through my phone, hoping to appear blasé.
Mother purses her lips. "I suppose I can look past this transgression just this once." Her cold eyes land on my phone, taking in my Khaite black dress and every strand of hair that got loose from my last-minute bun. "Aiya, stop looking at your phone and fix your hair. We can't have ourselves looking less than. We'll be among our circle tonight."
"I thought we were attending some event at BioGENEtics," I say, continuing to swipe through my phone until she snatches it out of my hand.
Her nails dig into my wrist, any harder and she'd draw blood, though it wouldn't show with that crimson nail polish. I suppress an ache to withdraw, to show any emotions of fear or pain. I must be neutral. I must be numb. I must be confident when every fiber in my body is screaming to crawl away. If I show any weaknesses, she will only press harder. An Andreatte can't be seen as weak, especially in the presence of a feeble driver, as Mother would say.
When she's satisfied with my lack of response, she withdraws her claws and looks at my phone. Random apps I've installed cover the expanse of the screen, along with a selfie of me and Wish displayed as my background. "How is Wish doing? I've heard Liliana is pushing her to dreamwalk more. I hope she isn't pushing Wish too far."
She's not really concerned with Wish's safety. Mother only wants to protect our investments. Regardless of what she thinks, Wish is my best friend. She's the only friend I have, really, if we're being quite honest. "She's fine. Her mom is trying to give her more responsibility since we're graduating soon."
"I suppose I should also be giving you more responsibility, too." Mother forces me to turn so she can fix my hair herself. She takes out a brush from a hidden compartment by her door. She isn't gentle, her fingers are rough, tugging on the tangles like no other. "You've been attending these events and a few meetings with me since December. Maybe it's time for you to be taking on a couple of investments and managing their affairs. Will you be able to jungle both work and college?"
Making sure they stay in line and don't forget who's in control, she means. "It shouldn't be too much work for me since most of my research papers are finished. I only have end of the year exams," I say, clenching my jaw when she tugs on my hair a little too tightly. "Who do you have in mind?"
"I could give you Liliana Capri. I know you and Wish are close, but you must always remember to put aside those relationships when it's necessary. Wish is a lovely girl, but she is a dreamwalker. You are a... Andreatte. You will always be above her in rank and status."
"That may be so, but friendship is always important, too. I've gained her trust. She is loyal to me as a friend, and I know she will continue to be loyal after I take over the family."
"We shall see." Mother hands me a mirror and peers in it from behind. My straight black hair hangs loose over my back; a small twist pins the front layer back by sharp barrettes. Her eyes crinkle, smiling at her masterpiece. Not so much at me. "Much better and just in time. We've finally arrived." She looks at her Rolex once again. "With only a minute to spare."
The driver's shoulders slump forward slightly as Mother's door is opened. I wait for the attendant to open mine, and once he does, I quickly step out into the cool night air. The car's windows are so dark, my reflection is clear as day. I'm a doll in this dress, with its puffy skirt and expensive velvety fabric—on a string my mother controls. Just like the cold interior of our car, the exterior is just as worst. The BioGENEtics complex is only miles of cement, lacking any character or some kind of installation piece that would give life to this concrete world.
During our trip over, I read about this place, something I do for all events we're attending. From what I quickly gathered, BioGENEtics is a privately-owned, state of the art, health facility that specializes in curing illnesses by using nature-based methods. Plants, fungi—anything our planet brings to the table. Most of society mocked them as hippie, vegan warriors, until they created a cure for Alzheimer's using a concoction of fungi and medicine already available. Now, they are one of the leading health organizations in the country.
Once we step inside the complex things finally get interesting. It's hard to reign in my emotions. The beauty of the atrium is so beyond imagination, I can barely comprehend it. For a second, I thought I stepped into Akane. It's the polar opposite to the jungle outside.
Large vines wrap around the interior structure, climbing to the skylight ceiling. Flowers and fungi of every color scatter across the vines, so vivid and mesmerizing, they bloom in all shapes and sizes. Some are even bigger than my own head. As my heels tap over the marble flooring a few follow my footsteps like they're watching my every move. They can't possibly be real. What's so bizarre is the lack of scent. I'd imagine floral and rain... but there's nothing, except for a hint of bleach.
We're guided past the security scanners and into an open room full of people mingling and drinking from their flute champagne. A circle stage is stationed in the middle, spot lights illuminating a pedestal covered in fabric and a well-tailored man, his red hair a flame among the rich and greedy. He claps his hands once and the surrounding lights dim. Mother hands me a flute wine as the laughter and chatter gradually seize into silence.
The man's smile is so bright, he's like a giddy kid unwrapping his favorite toy at Christmas. It's hard not to roll my eyes. How many times have I been to these kinds of events? How many times have I been unimpressed? Another miracle drug? Another youth serum that will be this year's trend? How many more do I have to endure until we're done?
"Thank you for coming." He snaps his fingers; screens turn on all at once, circling the room above our heads, a close up of the pedestal for his guests to get an eye-full. "I understand everyone has busy schedules, so we'll get straight to the point." Mother tsks at this, not flattered by his blunt approach. "We have been working on this project for five years. It has taken many dedicated scientists, countless hours, and your generous donations to accomplish this—"
He unveils the project. A silver canister sits there, bland of any logos or labeling, it could be sunscreen lotion for all I know. He reaches down, and when I think he's going to open it, he picks up a knife. Light gleams off the sharp blade. The man rolls up his left sleeve, and I can't help but admire the way his firm muscles flex.
Without a second thought, he cuts the knife down his arm.
Dark blood oozes out of his body and pools near his expense leather derbies, being careful to step away when it gets too close. Typical rich, more worried about their clothes and appearance, than the life-threatening wound he inflicted.
Some people gasp, there's a commotion of glass breaking and chatter it echoes in my mind. I squeeze my drink close. Mother doesn't even flinch. Her smile's tight as if she's scrutinizing this season's runway dresses. She even has the gall to take a sip of her drink. What the hell kind of demonstration did Mother bring me to? Is this guy insane!
Amongst the commotion, he takes the fabric and presses it to his wound, which is in fact not fabric, but a white cloth I suspect is sterilized in some way. He finally unclasps the jar and applies whatever cream is there onto his skin. The camera zooms in giving us a clear picture of his lethal wound and... how his skin is healing immediately right before our eyes. Now everyone's gasping for a whole entirely different reason, including myself.
"We have finally achieved the ability to heal quickly. With this medication, we can save countless lives. With this medication, we are one step closer to immortality." He picks up the jar with his previously wounded arm, blood already drying on his skin. "This has already passed human trials and is ready for production. We have placed a sample in each gift bag for everyone to enjoy and take home." The guests start applauding, most are greedily snatching the bags out of the servers' hands. "For those who are interested in furthering their investments with our company, you can speak to my father."
The lights come back on and screens switch off. This is crazy. What kind of demonstration was that? I don't care if there's a miracle cream that can heal your skin right away. They should have given some kind of warning first. Don't they know people get triggered by the sight of blood? The memory makes my skin crawl.
I flinch when a bag is handed to me by a passing server, barely registering as my mother takes it from their generous hands. She pinches the back of my neck, twisting the skin so hard it pulls me back to reality. "Focus yourself. He's coming over here to greet us."
What? I look over towards the stage. He's already walking through the crowd, shaking people's hands and accepting their congratulations, but he is clearly heading our way. I whisper under my breath, "How much money did we invest?"
She smiles wide, her red lipstick making her teeth appear even whiter. "Over ten million." One of the biggest around this room, I'm sure, and I can understand why. Mother may be stern and cruel at times, but she's always been great at finances. It's why our family has survived so long. Every head of the Andreatte Estate has a keen financial sense that sometimes I feel like I'm a black sheep because I'm a designer at heart. I've always hated math.
As the crazy man approaches, I notice his left arm is covered by his sleeve, clean I assume and hopefully far from getting cut again. His stride is so confident, one of wealth and reeking of Harvard and all the prestige one carries with a PhD. But he looks familiar. It takes me a moment to really pinpoint where I've seen this face before, but when he grins, a devilish dimple perks in the corner of his cheek. I nearly drop my cool façade all over again.
He's last year's "Sexiest Man Alive" as rated by People's Magazine. God, I can't even count on my hand how many times I've seen this man on every front-page magazine. I eventually started tuning him out. Yet, every tabloid loved to describe him as "fresh and attractive", and with him standing here in front of me, I can see why.
Mother says, "Dr. Gregori Concerto."
"Mrs. Andreatte. I want to personally thank you for your support on our project. Without your funding and connections, we wouldn't have achieved this phenomenal cure in record breaking time." He shakes her hand and clenches his teeth slightly when Mother squeezes harder.
Satisfied with her dominance, she releases him to place a hand on my shoulder. "Have you met my daughter, Aiya? She's graduating soon with her Bachelors in International Business."
"It's a pleasure to meet you." He takes my outstretched hand, and instead of shaking it, he lightly kisses the top with his pink lips. This isn't just another event.
The witch is trying to set me up. I tense for a second before forcing a smile. "It's nice to meet you as well. I've heard great things about BioGENEtics."
Gregori clears his throat. "Yes, most of those were under my father. I'm hoping with this life saving cream, I will be able to make my mark on the world now."
"I hope no animals were harmed in the making of this miracle cream." I take a sip of my champagne, trying desperately to ignore Mother's cold eyes.
He chuckles, low and husky it has me fixated on his bright blue eyes. "No, we have technology far more advanced at our facility. Testing on animals isn't necessary anymore."
"Of course, you can't predict what your competitors will do. That's why it's best to release the healing cream as soon as you can now that it's public knowledge," Mother says. "Do you have a release date planned?"
"In two weeks, we will be launching to the public. We just need to finish a few last minute... details." Gregori takes a business card out of his trousers. "Here is my number. I wrote my personal cell phone on there, if you ever want to have lunch... or grab a drink some time."
"Thank you." I quickly take it, planning to toss it in the trash later.
A man carrying a blazer walks up and hands it Gregori; he leans in, whispering into his ear. "Well, it seems I'm being summoned away." Gregori chuckles, fixing the blazer over his body. "I'm so happy you were able to make it, Mrs. Andreatte, and a pleasure to meet you, Aiya. Thank you, again, for your generous help. I will have my secretary send over the details of the launch date. For now, please enjoy the festivities."
With one last handshake, he quickly leaves and is engulfed into the crowd of people, congratulating him like the hungry vultures they are. If only I could disappear into the crowd and never be seen from again. Instead, I'm stuck standing here, next to Mother as she stares at the card in my hand. "I expect you to call him. Meet him for drinks. Get to know him."
"Marry him, you mean." I clench my glass tighter.
She smiles, silently greeting a few passersby. "He's an entrepreneur. He has money and status and resources that rivals our own. He is the star that our family needs in order to rise higher in this world," she says through clenched teeth. "Do not fuck this up."
I say nothing in response. What can I say? She expects me to marry a man I only spoke to for a few minutes, have his babies, and in her mind, those babies will become what? President some day? The idea is ridiculous, but knowing my mother, she will make it happen.
Fear crawls over my skin as my phone goes off. When a circle member distracts Mother, I take a generous sip of my drink and chance a look at my phone. It's a message from Kenna, wanting to meet up for lunch tomorrow, and Wish will be there. A smile quirks up my cheek. Wish is probably upset her spa Friday is ruined this week.
This little reprieve of friendship helps sooth my worries of a future I don't have control over. With them, I can be myself. With them, I know I am loved.