“You’ve been sent a gift,” The Coordinator said when Ornette answered the door to her suite half an hour later.

“What kind of gift?” she asked suspiciously.

“It’s a sandwich.”

“That’s fantastic,” she said, not changing her tone from suspicious.  “Who sent it?”

“Desmond Falstead.”

“Oh?  Then I would be delighted to take it,” she said, still sounding suspicious.  If anything, she sounded more suspicious.

The Coordinator looked at her oddly and held the sandwich back.  “You know who that is?”

“Yeah, but I also know a few other people who were in attendance tonight.  What’s the big deal?”  That was what she said, and she said it casually, effortlessly, carelessly.  She did not say that she didn’t know what he did for a living, what his role was on the show, or who he worked for.  She topped it off with a sudden question.  “Has there been some news about him while I’ve been in cryostasis?”

The Coordinator swallowed.  “I just didn’t want you to get too excited.  He has a vested interest in the show and he sent sandwiches to every model that didn’t arrive back at her room in time to order dinner.”  He held out the cylindrical meal.

Ornette took it, thanked him, and closed the door.

The sandwich was nothing fancy.  It was the kind of thing that was sold in a vending machine, so Ornette didn’t think there was anything significant about it.  More than likely, he was making sure all the girls got something to eat because he wasn’t a heartless dickwad.

As Ornette took her first bite, she decided that even if he sat with the other businessmen, he wasn’t in the pool of people who would have a chance to take home a model.  He just had an interest in the show.  Doubtless, it was a financial interest.  That made it likely that he was an investor.

She chewed.

It was going to be interesting for her to see how Varner would warp the men by their desires using the models as bait.  That was it, wasn’t it?  It wasn’t just about making good TV, making good clothes, or hooking up the right buyer with the right model.  There was more at stake, more in the background, more to win, and more to lose than what Varner had said.  There were too many men and not enough models.  

Everyone was going to be twisted around.

Some people would lose.

Ornette wandered through the suite. It was nicer than the places she usually stayed when she worked. 

She ate the rest of her sandwich, got a drink from the mini fridge (no prices on the contents), and wandered into the bathroom.

There were a lot of supplies in there.  Bubble bath, waxing strips, razors (both electric and stationary), and chemical hair removal kits.  

Ornette laughed when she saw them.  Like a model who habitually worked for Sleeping Beauty Inc. had a single hair growing on her legs or under her arms.  Ornette didn’t have any hair on her arms or even up her nose.  It was hilarious considering how hairy many of her buyers were.  

There were skylights in her bathroom and they let in a warm yellow light that was almost magical.  The sun was so much brighter on Venus than it was on Earth.  She felt warmed and renewed just standing in the bathroom.  

In the bright light, she inspected the makeup Desmond had done for her more carefully.  At first, she thought that it was supposed to make her look like a mermaid.  After seeing the woman with blue hair and blue eyes, she changed her mind.  She was supposed to look like something else, but she couldn’t decide what.

She had been about to throw the sandwich wrapper away when she saw something written on the inner part of the wrapper.

Desmond had sent her a message.  She was hoping it was a hint or a clue as to how to make it through the competition without getting sold to a horrible man… But that was always a risk when taking a contract through Sleeping Beauty Inc.  

When she thought about it that way, she calmed down completely.  The problem with the unknown master was always her fate once she’d signed the papers.  It was just that in the show, she’d see the sale process for herself.

Desmond was of no help anyway.  Well, not entirely.  He had sent her a sandwich and sandwiches were not nothing.  

Inside the paper were merely the words, ‘Hang in there.’

It was charming.  She dropped the wrapper into the garbage and forgot all about him for the second time.

***

The next day, Ornette was matched up with the clothing designer who was going to dress her for her first runway show.  But she hadn’t met the designer yet.

It was morning, breakfast time, and she was in the cafeteria standing in line with a tray.  She was told she was allowed to eat two hundred and fifty calories for breakfast, so she was choosing dishes that were preplated behind glass.  She got a banana (120 calories) and a low-calorie muffin (130 calories).  It was a breakfast meant to keep a girl slim.  She took a bottle of water and her breakfast and went to find Clandestine.

The redhead was sitting at a table by herself with an empty cup in front of her that had once contained fruit.

Ornette slid into the seat across from her.  “You started making more money since I last saw you.”  It was not a question.  It was a statement.

Clandestine smirked.  Her feelings toward Ornette had obviously cooled since Varner had made such a fuss over her at the welcome reception.

“Yeah, I’m making all the money,” the redhead said in a singsong voice.

“You make more than me.  Admit it.”  Without further ado, Ornette went ahead and told her the exact dollar amount for her last contract.

“Oh!” Clandestine exclaimed, almost hopping in her seat with surprise.  Then she relaxed and shrugged.  “You’re right.  I do make more money than you.”  She took a drink from her bottled water and did not tell Ornette how much money her last contract paid.

Ornette didn’t care if they weren’t sharing information equally just then.  If she didn’t give something, she had no hope of getting anything in the future.  “Listen, I think our numbers were assigned according to our value.  You’re number four and I’m number twelve.”

That got Clandestine’s attention.  She’d had less time to observe the models she was dropped off at her suite the night before.  “Are you saying you’re the cheapest model here?”

“Yeah,” Ornette said before she cracked the neck of her banana.

Clandestine crossed her arms.  “I don’t know why you’re sharing that with me, especially when we’re being filmed.”

The cameras were less obvious in the cafeteria than they were in the reception hall or in the theater where they were introduced to the three bears, but they were still there.

Maybe Ornette had been a little careless when she shouted out numbers.  She clucked her tongue and said, “You must know that I didn’t save you because I was trying to outdo you or anyone else.  I didn’t know this was a competition.”

“I wouldn’t have died if you hadn’t done anything.  I didn’t even know my cryochamber malfunctioned.  You didn’t tell me about it and the only thing I knew was that you woke me up.  Don’t expect a parade from me,” Clandestine said testily.

“Fine,” Ornette said plainly without a hint of snark.  She also didn’t move.  She sat and ate her banana until it was gone. Then she peeled the paper off her muffin without a word.

“You’re here because you want to be friends with me?” Clandestine asked quietly with her red eyebrows drawn together.

“Well, I thought you wanted to be friends with me when you linked arms with me and let everyone here know we were BFFs.  Have you changed your mind completely after Varner made that fuss over me at the reception ceremony?”

“It wasn’t that what you did was that annoying.  It’s that he is obviously the man to please and I don’t know if you kept eyes on him after he was whisked away from you, but he didn’t treat any of the other models with any kind of preference.  Not even me!”

“Were you expecting him to?  He thinks I’m going to be out first thing, so it’s okay if he shows me preference.  He wants to make the rest of you earn it.  He would be a fool to let his favorites be known right off the bat,” Ornette pointed out.

“Okay,” Clandestine agreed, pulling in and leaning closer to Ornette across the table.  “If you think you’re going to be out second thing (not first thing because of your immunity), do you have a plan to save yourself?”

“No.”

“No?” Clandestine was clearly surprised.  “Why not?”

“How am I supposed to make a plan?  We don’t know what they’re looking for other than that they want us to be ‘hot’.”  Ornette did the air quotes with her fingers.  “That’s not what the Goldilocks zone means.  It means that something is not too hot and not too cold, but just right.  So, they want hot.  What’s hot?  Naked?  Fashion isn’t naked.  Fashion is making a naked body look better.  But our first mission is just to allow ourselves to be dressed.  No one is being eliminated during the next episode.  They’re just introducing us to the audience and the judges.”

“Do you want to be a model or a designer?” Clandestine asked.

“Who here wants to be a model?  They don’t mean a Sleeping Beauty Inc. model, they mean a runway model.  None of us want that.  It’s meant to be a punishment if our designs aren’t good enough, don’t you think?”

“Have you been designing clothes on your contracts?” Clandestine asked, strumming her fingers on the table.

“Yes.  I won’t take anything that isn’t designing clothes.  Although, it’s not fun design work.  Most of what I’ve done since I finished working in Crois’ shop has been designing men’s clothes to work around medical augmentation.”

“Huh…” the redhead said pensively.  “So, you’re being hired by men who have tubes in their bodies that keep them alive, but they still want to look normal?”

Ornette nodded.  “Yeah.  There’s a lot of velcro in work like that.”  She showed Clandestine her blackened wrist with no makeup on it.  “They shock their servants because they can’t do anything else to command compliance.  Some of them can’t even shout.  But I decided to take those contracts because the other kinds of owners would get so angry when they were drunk that they’d chuck me across rooms.  No matter how much I got paid in those days, I didn’t think I’d live long like that.  Why?  What have your contracts been like?”

“How did you get chosen for something like this?” Clandestine wondered, a flabbergasted look on her face.  “Have you ever been your master’s primary model?”

Ornette shook her head in the negative.  “Have you?”

“My last three masters had other models that were less important than me.  I had controls that I could shock them if they didn’t obey.  You’re right.  You’re going to be booted from this competition as soon as possible.  You’re not prepared, but… Someone wanted you here and they gave you an opportunity to stay more than one round in the form of putting your cryochamber next to mine and letting mine malfunction.  Your story also explains why you thought to check my chamber out.  You’re used to doing lower-level work.”  She leaned forward.  “Who’s your backer?  Is it someone from the designer’s side or someone from business class?”

If Ornette had to bet, she’d bet on Desmond rather than Crois, but she didn’t know why she would interest him.  He had even met her aboard the Cannonball III to help her look better.  After seeing the high standard of beauty the other models rocked, she knew she would have been horrifically outclassed without his help.

“I don’t know,” she lied, keeping Desmond a secret.  She’d already shared more than enough. “I know more than just Crois from the designer’s side, but there’s probably nothing to it.  They probably just didn’t want to spend a lot of money on the girls who were going to be eliminated first.  Number eleven probably isn’t worth a whole lot either.”

“Hmph,” Clandestine thrumped.  “If we end up getting handed out according to our pay grade, I won’t get a spot with one of the three bears.”

“Surely, it won’t be that simple,” Ornette disagreed.  “Do you want to be chosen by one of the three bears?  Did you like Varner?”

Clandestine smirked.  “I didn’t get to a higher pay grade than you because I was willing to make partnerships with lesser models.  You shouldn’t talk to me anymore.”

Ornette raised her eyebrows.

“It’s nothing personal,” Clandestine said, waving her hand like she was refusing dessert.  “I just think I can play the game better if I don’t waste time talking to a contestant who is going to be eliminated in the second round.”

“Okay,” Ornette said with a laugh as she stood up to discard her trash.

“Wait,” Clandestine said before Ornette walked away.  “You’re not hurt?”

Ornette put her discolored hand up to her chin.  “You think you can hurt me with your rejection about this little competition?  I’m not sensitive and I don’t think there will be any winners.  Not even the girl who lands Varner will win.  This competition is not about giving any of us what we want.  We’re being used, but we signed agreements saying it’s fine… So, it’s fine.  I’ll stay away from you, but you can come talk to me later if I’m still around.”

Ornette didn’t stay to see the look on Clandestine’s face as she walked away.  By the time Ornette had disposed of her banana peel and her muffin wrapper, she’d already forgotten all about her.