The next day, Ornette was in the cafeteria grateful that she had spat out every drop of alcohol that had been handed to her at the party.  Quite a few of the other contestants were nursing hangovers.  

Ornette peeled her banana and knew exactly why the other girls drank.  They didn’t care if they were eliminated at the end of the first episode.  That was especially true for the group of four contestants in the middle group.  That was Mikayla, Ivanka, Starling, and Summer.  They all sat at the same table.  

“Did you ladies have a drinking contest last night?” Tania asked them caustically as she walked by.

Mikayla stood up with a bob of her dark hair. “Hi.  I’m Mikayla Harvardson and I’m an alcoholic.  I fell off the wagon last night.”

Starling, the woman who belonged to the church of Voynich, kicked the back of her knees in.  “Shut up.  You’re not at an AA meeting.  You’re here with us on the Goldilocks Zone and you hardly fell off the wagon.  You only weigh 80 pounds and so every single drink you have knocks you into the gutter.  Look at Ivanka.  She’s made of meat, so she can handle her drink.”

“Please don’t talk to me like that,” Ivanka said from behind her dark glasses.  “I have a normal body.  It’s the rest of you that are freaks.  You’ve all been butchered by plastic surgeons… Except her.”  She pointed at Ornette.

“And why hasn’t she been butchered by a plastic surgeon?” Summer wanted to know.  She was the model who looked like the human equivalent of a ripe peach.

“If she was getting stuff fixed, she would have got her hand fixed, instead of dousing it in makeup and risking getting foundation all over the place.  Isn’t that right?” Ivanka said to Ornette.

“It’s true,” she agreed loudly.  “I haven’t had any work done, but that’s because if I had any money to spare I wouldn’t reinvest it in myself as a Sleeping Beauty Inc. model.  Not only that, but soon I’ll be too old to bother with any of this stuff.”

“You’re old?” Mikayla asked, still so hungover that she couldn’t see what was obvious.

“Yeah.  I’m over 30 in model years and over 40 in real years.”

“Is that why you’re the cheapest?” Mikayla asked.  “Because you’re the oldest?  So our prices can only go down from here?”

In her drunken state, she’d hit the nail on the head.  Most models didn’t go up in value after they were 30.  Most declined slowly until they hit 40 and then declined faster until working as a model was no longer worth it.  At that point, if a model had put away enough money, she could retire.  If she hadn’t, it was time to get a real job.

The real job was waiting for Ornette, but she was happy about it.  She was really tired of rich men and what they wanted.  If her debts were paid, she was going to get a job doing something quiet that only had to pay for her life, not her debt.

She thought about the money Desmond told her would be awarded to contestants who lasted in the competition.

Then she stuffed the rest of the banana in her mouth.

***

Things were quiet in the helocarrier on the way out to the designers.  None of the women were feeling very chatty.  Chances were that everything would be less tense once the first contestant was eliminated and everyone saw what happened to her.  

Again, Ornette was dropped off last.  She was always last, but in this case, it seemed like a blessing to the other women.  Tania was dropped off at a studio that looked very much like a warehouse.  

It probably was a warehouse.

They got a lot closer as they landed.

It was a warehouse.

Jane was dropped off at a metal refinery.  It was less horrifying, but it was still horrifying.  

Yilin was dropped off at an air dock where another helocarrier was picking her up.  When Ornette saw it, it reminded her of the saying that when you were being kidnapped, you needed to stop your kidnapper from taking you to a second location.  More than anything, it seemed like a sign that her designer had fallen on hard times and he didn’t want the cameras to film where they would be doing their work.

Ornette didn’t think there was much worry over that.  Most places where designers did their work were not glamorous, but maybe it was a lot worse than she imagined.

However, Ornette was taken to Hans’ most famous storefront.  The place was like a fairytale for clockmakers and steampunk chicks.  

Hans did not meet her at the door.  Instead, he sent a spry 76-year-old woman to lead her around their showroom.

Ornette did not feel even the tiniest need to fuss as the woman led her around.  Actually, she was so bored by the whole thing that she didn’t catch whether the woman’s name was Laura, Lara, Lauren, or Laurel.  It was one of those, but Ornette didn’t care.  Everything in the shop was perfect.  It was silver, gold, black, red, shining, sparkling, polished, cared for, brilliant, and fecking stupid.  

The shop was also within spitting distance of where Ornette grew up.  She had passed the building (as it had been there 35 years before) when she went down the street to buy iced pops when she was a child.  Hans’ store was boring because it hadn’t changed in 35 years.  That was tradition.  Ornette had already seen everything.  She used to look up at the beautiful cogs and wheels in the sign and think that Venus was such a magical place.  

Well, it wasn’t.

It had only seemed like that then because she hadn’t understood how Venus worked.

She tried to look at the things Lau-whatever showed her, but she couldn’t manage more than a polite nod no matter what she was shown.

When she was finally taken up to Hans’ office, she was starving.  It was past three o’clock and she had not been offered lunch.

His office was as sterile as an operating room if not as terrifying.  

Ornette sat in the chair she was offered with her back straight and the corners of her mouth pointed down.  Enthusiasm would not impress Hans.  He had probably been watching her with surveillance software since she arrived.  

“Do you have any interest in watches?” he asked Ornette once they were alone.  His voice was like someone crushing aluminum foil in their hand—crinkling.

Ornette spoke like a person in a trance.  “Your work is very beautiful.”

He was bored.

She was bored.  

She turned her greenish eyes on his grayish eyes.  “We’re not allowed to create a watch together, and actually, I don’t think we should.  I don’t think we should make anything that competes with your current product lines.”

Hans moved his hand slightly to show his agreement.  “What kind of piece would you like to create?”

“I’d like to take your garbage and make something out of that,” she said, unintentionally making her voice like his.

“My garbage?” he queried softly.

“Yes.  Things that can’t be used because they’re damaged.”

“Most metal is recycled,” he offered, “but I suppose I see where you’re going.  There is no need to reinvent the wheel.”

“Were you planning on making something marvelous to spur sales and make people more interested in your shops?” Ornette replied.

He blinked at her slowly.  “I was not.”

She was somewhat surprised by his answer.

He continued, “I actually tried to enter the contest as a businessman, but there were more than enough in that category because everyone needs a spokeswoman who can get attention.  I was refused, but I was told that I could enter if I agreed to enter as a designer.”

That explained why he didn’t have a grubby studio and why he had her brought directly to the store.  He had no need for her to help him design anything.

“I believe there are some watch bands that might make stunning bracelets if they’re modified.  Why don’t we start there?” he asked, rising from his desk like a vampire rising from his coffin.

Ornette nodded and stood also.

He moved fluidly as he came around to join her.  “I must also thank you for the approach you’ve taken to our meeting.  I feared greatly that you would remain the ball of enthusiasm Mr. Fitness credited you as being.”

Then he offered Ornette his elbow and together, they made their way to the design floor.