But I kept reading the flyer, curiosity always got the cat.
Join our research pool by giving a noninvasive scent sample. Pay is a hundred dollars, or more depending on sample quality, and a voucher of your choice.
A hundred dollars. And it sounded like easy money.
There was tiny script below the money offer. I could only make out ‘sponsored by The Eros Institute’. The end of the flyer was cut into rectangular strips, each one printed with an address.
“Next in line!” A sister, more severe looking than Sister Margaret, yelled.
The first two Omegas, looking fresh as daisies, exited the washrooms and the next two entered.
Almost my turn. I could barely stand being dirty for a single second longer.
As I waited, my eyes kept going to the flyer. It was magnetic, calling to me. It was the most desperate thing I’d done in all of these months homeless—to consider donating a part of myself for a little money—but I reasoned that it was just a scent sample. It wasn’t a kidney or a liver. It wasn’t like I’d finally given into the local Beta pimp who grown rich on lost Omegas.
I popped off the floor and pulled one of the contact strips of paper off the bottom.
What’s the worst that could happen?
8
TESSA
4 DAYS AGO... OUTSIDE THE EROS INSTITUTE
It had takenme the better part of three days to work up the courage to come to the address on the little sliver of paper. I stared up at the ominous building now. It reached up into the sky impossibly high. My neck hurt trying to see the top. Something about it made my stomach hurt, the way it used to when I was a kid, and a scary movie was too intense.
Hesitation locked my joints. This giant of a building seemed fully at odds with the cheery flyer for the Cupid Company. Yet, I remembered that small print. The Eros Institute. That name was slapped across the midsection of this monstrous skyscraper. Giant, black, gleaming letters.I was in the right place, but did I want to be here? Should I turn around now and never look back?
My stomach rumbled, reminding me of why I’d searched out this address in the first place. Money. Food. Survival. Josie shifted in my messenger bag, she pushed her head against the side of the bag, creating a lump before she resettled. She meowed, probably because I was no longer walking, so the bag was no longer rocking her to sleep. My belly growled a second time, as if sensing my indecision and prodding me. Still, I stood there doubting. A soft breeze kicked up, kissing my body. Thefading scent of the shelter’s powdery, industrial soap which still ghosted along my skin despite several days of dumpster diving and box sleeping floated up to my nose.
Except for my busted shoes, I was in a new to me outfit thanks to the shelter. And, God help me, I’d scored a long, oversized coat off an unfortunate homeless man who’d passed two nights ago. It was long, khaki, floating around me with each wind gust. I fidgeted, rubbing the bottom of my right shoe against the concrete. It scratched and scuffed, the thick tape holding the sole on creating friction.
I fished the rectangle of paper out of my pocket and stared at it.Are you a mistake?I mentally asked. It couldn’t make the decision for me though, so I crumpled it up in my sweaty palm before stuffing it back into my pants. The city churned behind me. This was a corporate area. I stuck out like a sore thumb, even with the decent outfit.
Closing my eyes, I tried to center myself. This wasn’t a big deal. I wasn’t doing anything illegal. I wasn’t betraying myself to earn a few bucks. I’d had those opportunities over the last, oh, twenty months or so. A drunk Beta had offered me two hundred for a night. Just one night. I’d refused. Not because I had some superior moral high ground, but because… I’d never been with anyone in that way before. I didn’t want my first time to be on a pile of boxes in the middle of a dark alley. I found myself turning around, eyes still tightly closed, until I faced the city beyond the domineering institute. I could leave. I could just leave right now.
“This isn’t the same as that time,” I whispered to myself, so quietly that only I could hear the words. “It’s no different than a Beta giving plasma at one of their blood drive centers.”
Josie shifted in the satchel. The day was warming up, and she was probably too hot inside.
I turned back, away from the teeming suited Alphas and skirted Omegas and the click, click, click of heels against sidewalk.
Josie meowed with impatience.
“I know. We’re going in. I just… I just needed a minute.”
One step forward and I froze again.This isn’t the same. It’s just a littlesample. And it’s for a good cause, probably. They’re researching love. I’m going to be part of that.I convinced myself fully this time and I quickly pushed into the building’s revolving entrance. I wasn’t fast enough, and the spinning door hit me from behind, stumbling me onward. I kept upright somehow, though I tripped over the threshold and scuffed my worn sneakers over a metal ridge separating the arched entrance from painfully gleaming tiles. My brain registered regular double doors to the right and left of the spinning one, and I mentally kicked myself for not taking the simpler route.
The foyer was modern, clean lines and crisp furniture. A few manicured green plants were expertly arranged throughout the space, obviously placed there to try and balance the sterility of the design. They did a poor job. It was like popping a cute Band-Aid over a gaping scar. The scar was still there, and no number of tiny kittens on a too-small bandage would help. Then there were the black and white posters. Blissful couples grinning as they hugged one another. They wore various attire, in various affluent settings. Aboard a yacht. On a Parisian terrace. At a vineyard. I moved forward slowly, as if the perfectly pictured mated pairs might jump from their photos and attack me for existing inside this curated space.
I passed beneath a vent and the air wafting out was laced with the most dizzying aroma. It changed smells the way a mood ring changes colors, shifting from honeyed lavender and espresso-laced chocolate. I breathed it in deeply despite myself, coughing as the heady smells landed on my tongue and left behind a bitter, chemically aftertaste. I was so caught up in my surroundings, that I completely missed the impatient Beta standing behind a large, half-moon reception desk. When she cleared her throat to get my attention, it surprised me so badly that I furtively moved towards the wall as if I was seeking cover on the streets. My gaze flicked to her and my heart raced. She’d arched an eyebrow. Her name tag simply read Ms. Strayer, Head Beta Receptionist.
“Can I help you?” The Beta surveyed me curiously. Her words were pre-packaged, delivered with professional indifference. She wore a simple, striped, gray suit and white button-down. Her jewelry was mattegray, not shiny at all. If you zapped the color from her skin, she’d look like a living, breathing model from one of the posters.
“Oh. Yes. I guess.” I forced myself away from the wall, patting the bag to comfort Josie who would have reacted to my anxiety. She always did. “I’m here… well, there was a flyer for the Cupid Company? I’m not sure if I’m even in the right place, actually. I can just go.” I half-expected her to laugh in my face. Maybe call security to escort me and my scent far, far away. The flyer was probably some stupid joke I’d fallen for.
Automatically, I took a step backward, raising my hands in defeat. “I’m sorry to bother?—”
