“He’s impossible to please,” Talia groaned to Rosamund at a client meet-and-greet party at the Anders Tower Penthouse, two days later.
There was music pumping through the speakers in the background, but not loud enough to drown out the conversation, and the air was fogged with hairspray and perfume. “Every task that he gives me, I get done before deadline, and he can barely grunt a thank you. He’s always having me deliver things to his office, and he asks for me specifically, but he hardly even looks at me. This morning I gave him the latest batch of clients, and he just growled. I mean literally growled, like a wolf. Seriously, he’s a real beast.”
“Maybe he’s a dragon. He’s big enough to be one.” Rosamund giggled. “Does he smell like sulfur?” Rosamund was a dragon freak. She had dragon sculptures and pictures on her desk, and tonight she was wearing green dragon earrings.
Talia snorted. “Do dragons smell like sulfur?”
“Pretty sure.” Rosamund took a bite of cheesecake. Rosamund, like Talia, was a healthy, full-figured girl who liked to eat. Talia had overheard Alexandra telling their accountant that the reason she’d hired “a bunch of fatties” (her phrasing) to work at the agency was so that none of her clients would end up running off with the help.
Talia raised an eyebrow. “And you know this how? Given that they aren’t real?”
“I read it in a book.”
“Nerd.” Talia grabbed Rosamund’s plate and stabbed her fork into the cheesecake. She took a bite and let out a low moan of satisfaction. Sweet, mildly tart, perfect. Ahh, heaven on her tongue.
Rosamund slapped at her with mock outrage. “Bitch.”
“Maybe, but I’m the bitch that’s got your cheesecake.”
Rosamund made a grab for the plate, but Talia held it out of her reach.
“Get your own cheesecake!” Rosamund said indignantly.
Talia flashed a wicked grin. “I could. But then I’d have to walk through the forest of swizzle-sticks all the way over to the dessert bar.” ‘Swizzle-sticks’ was their code name for the female clientele.
These parties were a mixed bag. Part fun, part drudgery.
Talia was expected to mingle with the guests and help start conversations and introduce people to each other. She normally loved to mix and mingle. She was a natural born chatterbox; her mother claimed she’d been born talking.
Unfortunately, most of the women there were basically carbon copies of Alexandra – models or former models, thin, hungry, and unfriendly. Their only assets were their stunning good looks. And the male clientele were wealthy, frequently older businessmen who were rude and expected their every whim to be catered to instantly, or they’d pout like big babies. On the bright side, because Talia didn’t look like they thought a woman should look, they ignored her completely, which was nice.
And even better, there was a huge buffet there, which was completely ignored by the all the skinny female clients, Dessert bar, sushi bar, tables and tables of appetizers. Talia had spent the last of her paycheck on her family’s electric bill and medication for her father, and she’d skipped lunch today, so now she was diving into the buffet like there was no tomorrow.
Talia had dragged Rosamund to the party supposedly to help her, but actually just so she’d have someone to talk to who knew words other than “I want” and “give me”.
Rosamund looked over at the crowd of models. “I bet they’d like to eat dessert.”
“Did I hear someone say cheesecake?” asked a mechanical voice, and Mar-ee glided up to them, holding a tray loaded with appetizers and little squares of cheesecake with toothpicks in them.
Mar-ee was a totally cool retro-bot. She was one of the pieces of tech that Lukan’s other company was developing.
She was a metallic-looking female bot with a flared metal French maid’s apron. She had metal curls artfully arranged in a 1950s hairdo, and a metal cap trimmed with metal lace. Lukan had several other retro-bots like her, but Mar-ee was the one who had the most personality, and Talia adored her.
“Hello, Mar-ee, how are you today?” she asked the bot.
“I am fine, thank you for asking,” Mar-ee said. “May I offer you a delicious salmon canapé?”
“You may offer me two,” Talia said, and took them.
“The models do not like my canapés,” Mar-ee said, sounding sad. Whoever had programmed Mar-ee had done a marvelous job with her. Her metal skin moved like human skin. She could frown, laugh, raise an eyebrow, and look upset or happy. She could laugh and she could grumble. Talia couldn’t imagine why Lukan’s other company hadn’t started producing these creations.
Rosamund squealed in delight. “You actually cooked these?”
Marie’s metal lips flexed in a smile. “Yes, I have many functions.”
“They don’t know what they’re missing. You’ve done a marvelous job with them,” Talia assured her.
“Thank you. You are my favorite human,” Mar-ee said, with that tinny tone to her voice. It was true – Mar-ee seemed to have a special affinity for Talia. “And you are my second favorite human,” she added to Rosamund.
