Bungee jumping into a wall of clouds was not something Orpah wanted to do. She was standing on the ptform and she was literally crying with tears running down both cheeks.

  Varner was clearly embarrassed that the idea was so terrifying to her. “This isn’t that different from the bubble sailing,” he said reassuringly.

  Ornette watched while he fumbled, trying to get her to do something that was easy and natural for him, but impossible for her.

  Ornette was standing next to Varner’s father. He was an old space cowboy and he was looking at his son like Orpah was a foal and his son, who he had such high hopes for, was unable to ride her.

  There were two kinds of people who ventured to live in outer space. There was the kind like Orpah, who wanted outer space to be like living on Earth. She wanted to have normal showers, wear makeup, sleep in a bed in a room with gravity, and a million other things people who grew up on a water pnet expected. Then there was the other kind. These were people who had learned not to mind their inner ear being wildly confused. These were people who had not been raised having a bath a day. They were people who had hung upside down so many times that their bodies scarcely knew they were doing it. The two groups weren’t the same.

  “I’ll do it,” Ornette said when it became clear that they weren’t going to be able to get Orpah off the ptform.

  “You will?” the father asked in shock. “But you’re a tiny little thing.”

  Varner winced at his father pointing out Ornette’s size.

  “Yeah, well, I’m not scared.” She stepped forward and let the tech get her ready in the harness. Bungee jumping was vanil for her.

  Varner stood behind her and watched them check her straps. When the tech decred her ready, Varner whispered to her, “You’re not afraid of this, but you’re afraid of me?”

  Ornette looked him dead in the eye and then as if to push him away, she put her hands on his chest and she pushed herself off the ptform. She fell.

  It was the most natural thing in the world to her. The golden orange clouds that surrounded her were what she dreamed of every night. It was what she thought of when she needed to rex and just because it was all happening so quickly didn’t change how she felt about it. She was fine. Even if her cord snapped and she broke her braincase open on the bottom of the bubble, that was fine.

  She’d tried her best.

  The very best she had, she’d tried it. She’d tried it all and nothing Varner could do would change that.

  When they pulled her back up, Orpah had stopped crying. “How did you do that?” she wailed.

  “I’m pretty sure dying is my happy pce,” Ornette replied like it was nothing.

  “You’re allowed to kiss these girls, Son? Am I allowed to kiss these girls?” the grisly father asked, reaching for Ornette.

  His son blocked his hand. “Why does everyone think they’re allowed to kiss her?”

  Ornette looked from father to son. They weren’t reted. They were saying they were for the show, but their interaction was funny. The man asked if he could kiss Ornette, but the way Varner behaved was more like he was dealing with one of the stage grunts than someone he owed for providing some of his genetic material. The man had been hired because he was handsome and he looked enough like Varner to pass for his father.

  There was probably more to the story than that, but Ornette couldn’t make herself care. What they said to each other was none of her business whether they were lying to the world about their retionship or not.

  Ornette ignored their comments about kissing and asked instead, “Can I go again?”

  The tech nodded and Ornette pitched herself off the ptform like the eagle she was named after.

  ***

  Varner was expining to Orpah that he was choosing Ornette as the final contestant because she had won the bungee jumping competition.

  Ornette was more bored than ever. Just a few more hours. Then it would all be over. She wouldn’t even be on the show anymore. She would be auctioned off and if everything went well there, she would be sold to Desmond again, and then… all good things. Ornette couldn’t even be sure what all those good things would be. She just had such a good feeling about Desmond she couldn’t describe it.

  But Orpah was leaving and she was alone with Varner.

  When they were alone, she said dully, “You should have chosen Orpah. Tonight is going to be boring. We have no chemistry.”

  “I think we do,” he said, pouring her a gss of white wine at the bar.

  Ornette took it and pretended to sip it by becoming the queen of backwash. “What are you going to drink?” she asked in a disinterested tone.

  “Whiskey.”

  “Okay. I hope you’re good at holding your liquor. You’ve got a nice stretch of wall over there. It would be a shame if something were to happen to it.” She was thinking of all the times she’d been chucked across a room like a cheerleader chucked to the top of a pyramid… except not.

  “Why are you so against me?” he asked as he removed the stopper in the crystal whiskey bottle.

  “Varner, I’m a Sleeping Beauty Inc. model. My preferences in a partner for business and sex are the same. And they’re not a secret. They’re in my file. You are not my type. If you want me to make nice with you, I can, but I don’t want to make you think that I think something I don’t. I kid you not when I say that every single man I’ve been paired up with so far is more my style than you.”

  “Which was your favorite?” he asked, getting into the nitty-gritty.

  “Fen.”

  “He’s not that different from me.”

  “He’s shorter,” Ornette said, counting the reasons on her fingers. “He does have some pretty sweet muscles, but even though he’s shaped like that, he isn’t built to your scale. If you took pictures of him and pictures of you individually, someone might be tempted to think you’re cut from the same cloth, but side-by-side, you’re totally different. I fit under his arm. My shoulder fits in his armpit. If I’m next to you, do you know how much room there is between my shoulder and your armpit? Like a mile.”

  “Is that all?” he said, sounding bored. Obviously, he knew how different their sizes were. There was only a bar between them.

  “Fen is a wildly talented designer,” Ornette praised. “He’s brilliant. So brilliant, I can’t even. I’d make out with him for a week just for the pleasure of looking at his designs for an hour. All of us divas worship people who make beautiful clothes. I haven’t seen anything to indicate you design clothes or anything. Other than running this show, I can’t tell that you do anything. No one has told me anything about you. What do you do?”

  “Uh…” he hesitated.

  “You’re rich so you can do whatever you want?” she supplied for him.

  He nodded and took a drink. “I guess, but this show isn’t nothing.”

  “I didn’t say it was nothing,” Ornette said bluntly. “I said I like clothing designers. I’m a clothing designer myself and someday, I’m going to have some time to myself and I’m going to make something jaw-dropping.”

  “Desmond is not a clothing designer,” Varner pointed out sharply.

  Ornette shrugged. “You’re so hung up on Desmond. Give it a rest. Of the men you recruited for this thing, visually, without knowing anything much about him, I like him. He’s my style.”

  “Why?”

  “I like the shape of his neck,” she replied. She’d not thought much of his neck, but Varner had called him a pencil neck and she wanted to add lemon to their conversation. Varner was sour with or without it. She shrugged her shoulders. “I like slim men.”

  “Why?”

  “They don’t hit as hard,” she replied zily. She faked another sip of wine.

  “Do you like white wine?” he asked, perhaps noticing the pinched look on her face.

  “I do not, but you did not ask me what I like.”

  “Is that a metaphor?”

  “A metaphor for what?” Ornette asked curiously.

  “For our situation?”

  Ornette didn’t answer. “Are we drinking for the rest of the night, or did you have something else pnned?”

  “What would you like to do?”

  Ornette got a happy look in her eye. “I’d like to watch the episodes of the show that you’ve already released. Can we do that?”

  Varner looked surprised and pleased. She was finally showing interest in him. After all, it was his show. “Yeah. We can do that,” he said, enthused.

  So Varner got a bunch of snacks and drinks and set them up in his home theater and they watched the episodes. There were four of them and each of them was an hour long, so they were still watching them by two in the morning.

  Ornette found the footage of her with Fen to be kind of embarrassing, but when she came out in the eagle dress he made for her, it was completely worth it. Everything included was utterly magnificent.

  In the second episode, she was with Joel. There was a lot less footage of her as there was an interesting storyline with Summer and the salon owner who had her for the week. Ornette hardly knew Summer. It was all too interesting.

  Ornette got a lot more screen time in the third episode when she was with Hans. Everything there looked so perfectly above board that it felt criminal. No one who saw it would have guessed how weird Hans was. Again, whoever was in charge of his public retions was killing it.

  There was almost no footage of her in the fourth episode, other than Westen’s stunning review of her and her almost getting kicked off.

  Ornette really enjoyed watching the episodes, she ughed, asked Varner what he thought of various things, and gave him her attention when he responded.

  All in all, it was the best way she could have spent the night.

  When they were finished, Varner leaned back in his chair, put his hands behind his head, and questioned, “How can you say we have no chemistry? We’re getting along.”

  “Getting along is not the same as having chemistry. If we had chemistry, I would want more than a friendly conversation with you. As it is, I sincerely hope that I can have a friendly conversation with anyone.”

  His expression went weird again like it had when The Coordinator had told him that he couldn’t have what he wanted. If he felt one way for Ornette, it seemed impossible for her to have different feelings toward him.

  “And Desmond–”

  “Forget about Desmond,” she wailed noisily.

  When she finished, he said cleanly, “I know he’s your true owner. I was told about the kerfuffle with Sleeping Beauty Inc. and their contracts stating that the girls need to know who owns them. Apparently, Desmond is the only one who missed paying the fine because he told you. Are you acting the way you are because you know he’s your true owner and that’s how you honor your contract.”

  The Coordinator had probably told him that to make him feel better about her showing favor to Desmond, who Varner disliked.

  Ornette would hate to undo his hard work. She liked The Coordinator and she didn’t need to make his life harder when she was going to get auctioned off in two days.

  She avoided his eyes. “I would like it if you understood that the problem is not personal. Those weight restrictions are not my rule, but I wanted to have my contract moved to Sleeping Beauty Inc. because I needed those restrictions to protect me. I have been very hurt by men who look just like you.”

  “I would never hurt you,” he emphasized.

  “I’m not saying you would.” Then she looked at her bracelet. “I will do all I can to honor my contract. It is with Sleeping Beauty Inc., not you. I need to go to bed now. Goodnight.”

  She got up and The Coordinator was waiting for her at the door to the theater. He escorted her to the bedroom she had been staying in.

  When he went to say goodnight, he leaned in and whispered, “I’m pcing bets on who will bid on you tomorrow. Who do you think will bid more for you, Desmond or Fen?”

  “Desmond,” she replied clearly. “He can’t let me go to someone else.”

  “I’ll send you roses,” he chuckled as he checked something off on his tablet and she shut the door between them.

  _________________

  Author's Notes: Thanks for reading! I just finished a round of edits for this book and it nded at 100k words long. Can you believe that? I'm shocked too. I never write things this long. Not that I never have, but it is not my ideal. See you Monday!