Part 12 (1/2)
”If I go on one date, then you promise to leave me alone?” Shayla said.
”I promise,” the Queen said, trying to suppress the joy in her voice. ”I'll arrange it.”
Shayla said, ”No, just send me his information and I'll arrange it.”
”Whatever you prefer,” the Queen said, thinking that Shayla was finally coming to her senses. Having Shayla back in Was.h.i.+ngton was wonderful. It was a big step toward getting her to return to the Palace.
”He comes from a good family and is very handsome, and went to finis.h.i.+ng school,” the Queen said.
”Oh, great. Sounds formal,” Shayla said, sounding deflated.
”You're confusing formality with good manners,” the Queen defended. She tried to see where Shayla was coming from, but sometimes she just plain did not understand her daughter's att.i.tude. Shayla lived an extremely privileged life. Why did she have to be so negative?
”I'll send you his contact information,” the Queen said. If Shayla agreed to go on a date, it meant she was, finally, starting to get over that derelict. The Queen periodically asked Gerald if there was any more news about Nathaniel DeLuca, but apparently the trail had dried up. He was probably living in a tent in the wilderness to avoid being forced to marry that wretched fiancee. In any case, Shayla seldom mentioned him anymore. Thank G.o.d.
”And how is Steelco?” her mother asked, taking a sip of tea, from the cup that boasted her crest. Now that she had Shayla's commitment to date a suitable man, it was best to switch subjects before Shayla changed her mind.
”Not so great. I'm a little disappointed, honestly. Lorraine is back-peddling on promises she made when I signed on,” Shayla said, annoyed.
”Like what?” the Queen asked. She wasn't really surprised, and figured she'd have to manage this relations.h.i.+p, but didn't think it would be so soon.
”I'm trying to improve working conditions. Do you know there is no overtime pay for steel workers? They often work fourteen hour days, or longer, and get the same pay as if they worked eight. They don't even get breaks. It's not right,” Shayla said, shaking her head.
”Those steel workers are amongst the best paid laborers in the country. They have a steady job. Believe me, they are happy. Besides, men like to work hard,” the Queen said.
The Queen watched Shayla roll her eyes and wondered if Shayla would ever grow out of her pie in the sky idealism. She was 29. It was time to get real about the world.
”Better working conditions means better productivity. As it stands, there are costly accidents at the plant from exhausted, overworked men,” Shayla said with a sigh.
”Steelco's system works,” the Queen said, thinking she would need to call Lorraine and insist that she throw Shayla a bone. Otherwise, she could tell Shayla was going to stir up trouble. That was the last thing the Queen needed. She hated to admit that the stress of the recent protests was bothering her, but it was true. She crossed her fingers that the protests were done. She hated keeping all those men locked up and wondered if she was making a mistake. Maybe she should have followed her instincts and killed them as soon as they were captured, but she really didn't want to. She was not a murderer.
A knock on the door interrupted their dinner.
”Come in,” the Queen said. Gerald poked his head inside. ”Your attention is needed,” he said. His even-keeled face gave away nothing, but she knew he wouldn't have interrupted for something trivial.
”What is it?” she asked, feeling her heartbeat quicken. She detested the fear that entered her body lately.
”Maybe we should let Shayla tend to other things,” he said. The Queen thought about it a minute. She could tell he was trying to protect Shayla, but the Queen needed Shayla to begin to help out and partake in the job that would one day be hers.
”Shayla will stay. There is no reason she shouldn't hear whatever you have to tell me,” the Queen said. ”Unless you have somewhere to be?” she said, turning to Shayla.
”I can stay,” she said.
Gerald closed the door behind him before speaking.
”There's another protest; this one is much bigger.”
”Become a chosen man: Come to the Parties Of Availability!” Queen Amanda said. The Webavision was larger than life, in the heart of downtown Kansas City. He stopped to watch as the video continued. An upbeat music track blared as the picture panned to a ballroom filled with smiling men and women. ”Won't you try it?” the Queen's voiceover continued, with the advertis.e.m.e.nt ending in a still shot of her face. Nathaniel had to admit the Queen's photo looked like Shayla a from the generous smile to the clear olive complexion, but he knew the similarities ended at their skin.
He stared longer than he should have, as he tried to push away the unrealistic thoughts of Shayla. He had only been out of the Underground for a couple of hours, and his self-control was already being tested. Maybe he could buy a disposable phone and call her using a fake name. Who would know?
POA, The Plaza Ballroom, Every other evening from 5 to 9! was posted next to the picture of the Queen, as though she would be the host or available to date.
He noted the date and time for the party that very evening, but all he could think of was Shayla. He didn't want anyone else, but knew that seeing her was impossible.
He walked to Augustine's clothing store where he was told to shop.
”Something to wear to the POAs?” said the salesman. ”Follow me.”
All the clothes he tried on felt very un-Nathaniel, but they were perfect for Joe Merino.
”You're going to do great tonight. I can feel it!” the salesman said with a smile after spending an hour helping Nathaniel invest in a small wardrobe.
”You should really check out our Salon-o-Rama,” the salesman said after wrapping Nathaniel's purchases. ”I think a little eyebrow waxing would do you wonders. Those baby blue eyes need to be properly framed. It's right down the hall. Ask for Sammy,” he whispered to Nathaniel as he handed him the packages, along with a 10 percent off coupon.
”Thanks for the tip,” Nathaniel said. He timidly entered the Salon-o-Rama. A voice from behind the counter beckoned his response.
”What can we do for you today? Need a new doo? Manicure? Wax-o-rama?”
”I've never done this before. I'm getting ready to go to the POA this evening and really want to look my best. What do you suggest?”
”A facial and an eyebrow waxing. Why don't you come here and Sammy will do you over.”
Nathaniel glanced at Sammy who looked a little overdone. He wore not-so-subtle eyeliner, and hair that spiked in all directions with various unnatural shades on different parts of his head. This was not the look that Nathaniel thought would get the Underground stamp of approval. His stomach knotted as Sammy put forth his hand, complete with black polished nails, for Nathaniel to shake.
”Hi, I'm Sammy. And you are?”
”I'm Joe Merino,” Nathaniel said.
”Nice to meet you Joe. Facial and an eyebrow waxing?” he said, leading Nathaniel through the salon with his bulky packages in tow.
While other men in the Underground had been required to get eyebrow waxing, back waxing, laser hair removal, and even Botox, Nathaniel had been spared. Maybe I shouldn't do this, he thought, but his feet continued behind Sammy, walking ever deeper into the Salon-o-Rama. It reminded him of the maze-like hallways of the Underground.
He found the facial more pleasant that he would have imagined. With warm, lavender scented towels strewn on his face, he immediately relaxed. Cool cuc.u.mbers placed over his eyes followed, along with an incredible face ma.s.sage that felt perfect with the beautiful cla.s.sical music permeating the background. All the tension eased out of his temples and lower jaw when the fingers of Sammy-with-the-painted-nails performed their magic.
Once the facial was complete, Nathaniel felt mellow and happy.
”That felt good,” Nathaniel said, smiling.
”You sound surprised. What did you think? You're in Sammy's hands and now your skin is glowing. Your pores are opened which means the waxing will go well, too,” Sammy said. ”It might sting a little,” he said, just before ripping the hot wax from Nathaniel's brow. Nathaniel yelped like a kicked dog.
”What the?”
”It hurts to be beautiful!” Sammy sang.
Nathaniel felt new compa.s.sion for the poor men in the Underground who were forced to have their backs waxed on a regular basis.