Sweet Friends

Part 5

Over the course of three months Amber had taken up smoking. It helped her get through the day until she could leave the office and make her way downtown. Pavi and Luigi had forgiven her for taking over the company. It was too much work, and they were glad for her to do it, leaving them free to play.

When her secretary told her she had a visitor, she took a fresh pack out of her drawer and ripped open the cellophane. The repo man Stella was due in to report to her, but instead of the tall, butch woman a tiny waif in a schoolgirl’s dress entered the room. Shilo Wallace was as pale as ever but she had forgone her long black wig, her hair growing in a light strawberry blond. She wore a big silk bow around her head, either to detract or call attention to the soft down of her hair.

“What are you doing here?” Amber demanded, gesturing that Shilo sit in one of the chairs opposite her desk. Amber got up to walk around to the other side. She was wearing a black suit, the skirt impossibly short and the shoulder pads unnecessarily large. Instead of a top the lacy red of her bra peaked out from the jacket.

“I—I don’t have any electricity,” she said. “And my father’s accounts have been frozen. There’s no more food in the house, and I have no money. I need help.”

“I offered you help before and you cast me aside. Why should I do it now?”

“Maybe I could work for you—I know I don’t know much, but I can learn and I’m eighteen now—please. I don’t have anyone else to turn to.”

Amber looked at the girl. It had been a long time since she had gotten to play. She reached for the phone on her desk. “Kami? Could you sort out the utility problems at the Nathan Wallace residence, and rearrange his bank accounts so they are under the name of Shilo Wallace? Thank you.” She hung up the phone and turned back to the girl. “You will report to me at least three days a week. I need someone to get my coffee, run errands outside of work, that sort of thing. Talk to me and amuse me when I’m bored. You will be my personal companion.” She smiled at the words.

“I won’t have sex with you,” Shilo said.

Amber amended her sentence. “You wont have sex with me—unless you want to.”

Shilo stayed silent for a moment and then nodded. Amber sat back down at her desk. “Pull one of those chairs over to this side. Lets be friendly now.” Shilo did as she was told, and Amber handed her a copy of Plastic Surgery Weekly. “Here now. Read me the column on labioplasty—I’m thinking of having it done.” She lit up a cigarette and blew it in Shilo’s direction.

“Those things are bad for your lungs you know,” Shilo said.

Amber laughed. “When you’re the president of GeneCo, that’s hardly a problem.”

*****

When Shilo left that afternoon with Amber a new set of credit cards sat waiting for her on the secretary’s desk. “I’m taking you shopping,” Amber announced when she scooped up the cards from Kami. “No companion of mine is going to run around dressed like that. You’re eighteen years old, Shilo. You need to start looking it.”

Shilo was slightly apprehensive, but she had made a deal. Amber was a horrible person, but she was also exactly what she appeared to be. She didn’t pretend to be anything she wasn’t and she didn’t lie. Shilo had gotten enough lying from her father. First they went to a very nice restaurant where the waiters wore tuxedos and the food came in small portions in six courses. Amber was very careful to eat exactly half of each serving, but Shilo couldn’t help eating everything on her plate, even the bit of parsley.

“That’s a garnish,” Amber explained.

“I know. I’m hungry.”

“Because you ran out of food and haven’t eaten?”

“Because ever since I went off my ‘medicine’ I’ve actually wanted to eat.”

“It’s not lady-like,” Amber insisted. “And you’ll get fat.”

Shilo gave her a rueful smile. “Well, I suppose I could always have it liposuctioned away
again. First surgery and all.”

“We can get you a surgery if you want one,” Amber said. “Enough tits for someone to grab onto? Or maybe your nose reminds you too much of your father’s.”

Shilo remembered why she didn’t like Amber, but she had decided on her way to see her that afternoon that no matter what, she wasn’t going to mind anything Amber said to her. She glanced down at her chest. “What’s wrong with them?”

“First stop,” Amber said. “Lingerie.”

****

In the end it had to be one of the longest evenings in Shilo’s existence. She came out of the event wearing more underwear at once than she ever owned. The bra had been constructed to give her cleavage out of nothing, the panties at least covered—some of the underwear they had bought consisted of elastic and a tiny triangle of lace—and there was the garter belt and thigh highs. And of course it was all in black satin. Very expensive. Very adult. She wore high heeled boots that hurt her feet and a short dress made of red and black striped silk, and when she was dropped off at home that night she had four bags of clothes and shoes in each hand.

“Tomorrow is Friday,” Amber told her when she got out of the car. “That means we party.”

“Party?”

“Yes. I’ll pick you up at ten. Make sure you wear one of your new outfits.”

“Party. Right.”

*****

Part 6

Grave Robber ran a hand over the needle tracks on the inside of Blue’s thigh. He called her Blue because of the color of her hair, but at some point she must have given him a name. Not that he cared. No names, no relationships. That was the way he rolled. Blue moaned and writhed under him until he found a good spot and jammed the gun home, injecting the glow of the drugs into her leg. < Why am I doing this? > he thought, and then Blue handed him a wad of dirty bills, and he remembered. He pocketed his money and left her touching herself on a couch in the back of the club. Someone would be around to take advantage of her shortly, but that wasn’t his problem.

The club was called The Wet Spot, and it was where all of the elite youth of the city came to slum it with the dirt poor. The bar gave discounts to the gang members and whores that frequented the place, and charged the rich kids out the nose for drinks. And because they were rich, they didn’t care. Grave Robber charged everyone the same. No favorites. No exceptions.

He always knew when Amber Sweet entered the club. Before she was just the daughter of someone famous. Now she was the queen of the city and the entire club, from the lowliest gangbanger to the debutant, fawned over her. So did Grave Robber.

He fought his way through the throng of people to find Amber sitting on one of the velvet couches the club boasted, a drink already in her hand. She was smiling and nodding to a young man who couldn’t be much more than nineteen years old, listening to his lament about liver failure. Amber nodded and snapped her fingers at a small girl sitting next to her. She passed Amber her purse, and then Grave Robber noticed who she was. The Kid. He hadn’t seen her since he had helped her home one day, though he had walked past her house often enough, wondering.

And now she was here with Amber. How on earth had that happened? He knew Amber much more than he wanted to—she wasn’t good for such a sweet little thing. Amber wrote something down on a business card and handed it to the boy, who looked grateful. He wouldn’t be if he knew what the price was.

The Kid looked different next to Amber in a garish purple dress, too much makeup, and fishnet stockings. Her long black hair was gone (he always did think it was a wig) and she had a cute pixie look about her despite the Amber Sweet brand makeover.

He went over to the bar and ordered a beer for himself and something fruity for the Kid, and returned to where she was sitting with Amber. “Here,” he said, handing her the drink as he sat down next to her. “I see Amber is neglecting to take care of your properly.”

“We just got here,” Amber protested, and the Kid took a tiny sip through the stir straw, making a face as the alcohol washed over her tongue.

“What is it?” she asked, setting it down on the coffee table in front of them. He had to laugh.

“Sex on the Beach,” he told her.

She raised her eyebrows and decided to try again, taking a tentative sip and fishing the cherry out and popping it onto her mouth. “Not bad,” she said.

“So you’re hanging out with Amber now.” He wasn’t comfortable with the idea. The Kid was pure, unblemished. If anyone should be showing her the ways of the world, it was him. Grave Robber blinked. Where had that come from?

“Do you have my Zydrate?” Amber interrupted. “I’ve had a long day and I really need something.”

“Sure,” he said, reaching into his coat for the gun and moving to Amber’s side of the couch.

“You’re going to do that here?” the Kid asked, appalled. Grave Robber rather agreed.

Amber rested one heeled foot on the coffee table and hiked up her skirt, giving Grave Robber a fill view of her thigh and the fact that her underwear was so slight almost everything was revealed, waxed smooth and naked. He slid a hand across her thigh and let one finger slide under the lace edge, dipping inside of her. Amber was, as always, hot and ready. “Later,” she mouthed silently, and he nodded. “You can pay me later,” he told her.

He got out his gun, affixing a clean needle to the tip. Amber hissed as he ran the cool needle across her flesh, arching her back in anticipation and pleasure. He looked up at the Kid as the needle slid in and he pressed the trigger. She stared back, wide-eyed, and shook her head.