John sat in front of a computer at his local library branch, scrolling through the menu of Imperial Palace Teahouse. The porn ads refused to leave his computer screen at home this morning; the machine was now unusable. He had two days off, and he had a lot to do: Research this website, take the computer to his friendly local computer geek, and drive back to Buckroe to collect his first tapeful of recordings from the George Clay beach house. The library offered him both a working computer and the absence of Mike Little's observing gaze. John had shown his badge at the desk; the librarians weren't bothering him with any time limits.
The site seemed designed so only insiders would know how to navigate it. He clicked a link called The Okiya and found himself on a webpage filled with pictures and bios of famous courtesans of the past. He clicked out of that and went back to The Fortress—Ladies Only!
John made up a user name and joined the site. It was the only way to get permission to look at the member profiles. He and Lizzie had tried to call up the posting history for YoungQueen and found that they couldn't do it; you needed a member number. After being assigned one, John did a search for YoungQueen's postings and clicked on a thread called Introduce yourself!
Each site member had posted a few details about themselves and any characters they role-played or wrote about. John scrolled through many postings, perfect in spelling and grammar, which reported that their authors were in college or graduate school, or working in government jobs, hospitals, or law offices. "Messalina" identified herself as the website owner. She didn't say what she did for a living.
Almost all the women were single. YoungQueen's entry omitted her age and high school status; she simply said she was a model, and had posted a few portfolio pictures to prove it.
John flipped back to his original member search. YoungQueen had made the most posts under a thread called "Moonwater Perfume." John clicked that and read,
Najahal glowed though the curtains, shining down upon us. She was once the guide from the holy place of Ysonesse, our glorious and beloved homeworld of legend. In the days soon after the Deluge, the emergency intervention was attributed to her, the moon goddess, when they came to rescue our people from the floods.
This story was the thread Julie had posted on the most. If she had posted to her friends here about knowing, meeting, or working for any guy, knowing a police officer, having a boyfriend, or working as an escort, this was the most likely place he'd find it.
I was caught up in a small piece of embroidery, trying to finish off the final stitches uniting the Star with the Maiden, two obscure mythological figures from the ancient days. The Star floats out from the swaying tendrils of her hair, and is tied to the young girl by six strands of comet dust.
John paged through postings over a year old, scrolling more slowly as Palai, a courtesan raised in the Cortigiamira, and her young benefactor, Josym—a character played by the hot young actor the fan site was created for—fell in love. John made note of the story's author: Messalina.
Dear Amhrita, he was jealous. To think that a courtesan, even one he considers young, was not passed around like dessert wine is bizarre. I have not been with nearly as many aristo boys as my fellow sisters in Commitment. Lord Reunahn has been protective of me...
"Adequate is no way to describe this bond." He grabbed my hand. Josym's heart carries all the untapped virtues of brilliance and purity; anyone who captures his fancy will know those affections as her... mine ... eternal gift.
John skipped ahead to where the readers logged in to comment on the installment. Among the missives praising Messalina's writing ability and demanding another installment soon, one caught his eye. Someone named Cottingley Fairy had posted, Ooh! Ooh! It's up! I've got to tell YoungQueen when I see her today.
John bent toward the screen. Someone else had posted, So ... wait a minute. You, Sister Satsu, The Divine Sarah, and YoungQueen all know each other in RL? How did you ladies meet? Did you know each other before you came on here, or did you meet through this board?
Cottingley Fairy didn't want to disrupt the story by explaining there, so she redirected her questioner—and John—to another old message topic: RL Sucks!!
Sister Satsu had answered, Cottingley Fairy, The Divine Sarah, YoungQueen, and I were all in this bullshit treatment at the same place. It's OK that I wrote that BTW—everybody knows. We got stuck in this stupid DBT group being run out of this place north of Ashland. It was really lame & we decided to drop out.
Someone else posted, What were you ladies in treatment for? If you don't mind my asking.
Satsu had written, Behaviors our parents didn't like!
John pulled out his notepad. Place north of Ashland? he wrote—was it a hospital, a mental health clinic, or what?—and, DBT?
He glanced at his watch and hit the "back" button, returning to Josym's and Palai's declarations of forbidden love.
"Tell me you want something more than we're allowed by law." What an odd plea, in the midst of already jumbled circumstances. Yet, not really ... not shocking, since I understand the depth of his nobility, that gentle righteousness which could inspire a great wave of reforms on this world if he decides to chase down a Council seat. Should he ever reach the lofty perch of Second or First, the opportunities for change will be astounding.
"I want anything that will make you happy."
"Funny, that's what I want for us."
"What sort of union shall we undertake?"
"As I said, something that isn't legal on Deiu."
The story's readers, ecstatic that the characters' bond was finally emotional as well as physical, posted their approval as well as their suggestions for how the two could marry despite Palai's social standing and the disapproval of Josym's stern—and insane—father.
John checked his watch and was just about to end his computer session when he saw it. A post by YoungQueen: Why can't I meet a guy like this? The guys at school are just so gross. I can tell all they want is bragging rights because I look "hot" and I model. They want to score and brag. It doesn't matter who I am, just what I look like. Fuck that. I'm looking for a MAN, not a boy, and I'm saving it for him! And I hate to say it, but I don't know anybody married who really loves each other like this. And this includes MY FOLKS!
Below this Messalina had written, A lot of times relationships between escorts and clients are more like this than a lot of marriages I know. Not that people are running off and getting married, I only know of one time a client married an escort, but if you work in a high-class escort business like I do, not cheap street-level prostitution but a real classy service, the clients can become friends, and there's a love there. There really is.
John emailed himself the URL, and added as a note, 1/2 way down the page. For added insurance, he emailed it to himself at his work email.
A few comments and questions followed. Apparently it was known on the board that Messalina was a top-dollar escort, and she had dropped details of her life and the business here and there all through the story.
On the next page Cottingley Fairy had posted, I can't imagine having a life like that. All that MONEY!! OMG, if you're hot enough, you're set for life!
A blushing smiley face graphic appeared after The Divine Sarah's message: Yeah, we can fantasize about it, but I could never do that in RL. Too sleazy, even if I had the looks! And too scary.
Messalina had written, It's not scary. My boss takes every precaution to keep me safe, and around here the police don't bother you. John jotted down, "Pg. 15—around here the police don't bother you."
He went back to Julie's listed postings. The first sentence or two of each posting displayed, and John read one under the topic RL Sucks!! that drew his attention.
Well, my folks have officially decided that I CANNOT move to NYC. Even though I shot for Vogue London just through my agent here and then Ford...
John clicked on the thread and continued reading. Ford offered me a contract and I'm pretty sure IMG will, too. I don't know WHAT to do. I remember reading that Jaime Pressly got legally emancipated in order to model, but you need a lawyer, and that's expensive. I need a lawyer to have the career and make the money, but I can't have the career and make the money unless I have a lawyer. I can't believe they're doing this to me. Why are they doing this to me when NOBODY gets a chance like this? I could get into acting even like Jaime and Natalie and Charlize and Renee Russo!
Below that, Messalina had written two words: PM me!
John itched to read that private message. Only he knew who was already working on access and could even be reading it right now: Mike.
John took a screen capture and emailed it to himself.
***
He dropped his computer off at the computer geek's and set off down 64, trying to think of how to approach Mike as he drove. He'd planned it so he'd reach the paper box at the marina after dusk fell.
He parked at the marina, got out, and sauntered across the parking lot, listening to shouts from the little pool at the marina restaurant next door. A boisterous game of water volleyball was going on. He stepped up to the front door of the marina store and pretended to buy a newspaper, slipping the old cassette tape out and putting a new one in. One thing about an old car; it only had a tape deck.
He listened on the way home. Clay talking to the cat, Clay getting frisky with a girl, Clay on the phone talking about his tanning bed business. Clay threatening a dope customer who hadn't paid yet. The disadvantage of the bugs being in the wall instead of the phone was that John could only hear half of the phone conversations. But at least the tape, which was voice-activated, ran longer. Up ahead, a solid double line of brake lights brought traffic to a dead stop.
On the tape, Clay's phone rang again. Then Clay said, "Marian. Yeah, I tried her out. She's good-looking, but she's not great-looking. I don't think she's right for the exclusive list. I'm going to make her an elegance girl. I'll be up there next week, pay you then. Yeah."
Traffic inched to the top of a small hill. From the top, the double chain of red Christmas lights stretched as far as John could see, with no sign of an accident or even a "Road Work Ahead" sign.
At least he had something interesting to listen to.
***
He pulled up at the row house at one o' clock in the morning. A light in the bedroom told him Lizzie was still up. He keyed the door and pushed it open to find her hurrying to meet him, her chin-length curls relaxed into one of those meticulous windblown looks from her photo shoot.
He hugged her and gave her a kiss. "Hey, babe. How was the shoot?"
"It was great," she said. "My makeup artist couldn't believe I actually did the fan film, though. But I forgot my laptop again. I am so sorry!"
John kissed her on the forehead. "Don't worry about it," he said. "I spent part of the day poking around that website again and I already found what we were looking for."
"Whew!" Lizzie sighed. "I was so afraid you were gonna be mad. I went to use your computer and it was gone!"
John headed for the bathroom, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah, the damn porn ads froze it all up and I had to take it in."
He looked over from taking a whiz to find Lizzie hanging halfway around the door molding.
"What?"
"I've got good news and bad news," she said.
"Uh, okay." John zipped up. "I guess I'm going to ask for the good news."
"Gary put the film in the Atom Films contest—it's an online contest for fan films. It's voted on by fans, and our film is doing great! It got into the category that's judged by George Lucas! Can you believe it, George Lucas is going to see me, acting in a short film?"
John smiled, but his head swam. Not only was his butt still asleep from the two-hour traffic jam, but it was almost two a.m.
"Cool, honey, that's great!" He put an arm around her from the front and tried to pat her on the back as she danced up and down on her toes.
"It's going to get shown at ComicCon in San Diego, and Gary and I are going to go! I'm already packed. His folks are going to drop us at the airport tomorrow."
John couldn't contain his exhaustion. He let out a huge yawn.
"I'm sorry," said Lizzie. "I ought to let you get to bed. What were you doing out so late?"
"Traffic. There's a backup miles long on 64. I'm sorry, I'm really excited for you, honey. You might meet some big stars, going to San Diego ComicCon!"
"Oh, that sucks. About the backup, I mean. I hate 64 in the summertime. But you're right about the movie stars. Seems like they have bigger and bigger stars there every year!" Lizzie crunched a piece of paper in her hand.
"What's that?"
"What's what? Oh!" She looked down at her hand and flinched as if she'd forgotten she was carrying it. "This is the bad news." She smoothed out the crinkles as if they had thorns and slowly held it out to him.
John took the slip of paper. On it Lizzie had written: 1:15 PM. Johnny—Your mom called. She was hysterical. She said she got fired from her job at the gym. Call her!
***
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