New Reality 2: Justice (11 page)

Marie's eyes found a particularly beautiful waitress walking the floor, and she was reminded of a deer; the woman was both timid and elegant. They made eye contact for the briefest moment and, in that short flash, Marie saw the girl's anxiety. It was hardly surprising; there was zero tolerance for estate workers. Just one complaint, no matter whether they did anything wrong or not, and they were done for.

It was Kitty's squeaky voice that dragged Marie from her reverie; more specifically, it was what she was saying to Frankie while draped over him.
 

"We were
so
good together."

The muscles in Marie's back tensed and she clenched her fists as she looked at Kitty.
Was she really going to do this now?
 

The look clearly wasn't lost on Kitty, who flashed Marie a brilliant white smile. "Don't you think we would make a
fantabulous
couple again, Maggie?"

"Marie. And no, I think you'd want him to be a higher earner because you worship money." The sentence was punctuated by another hard glare.
Just fucking try me, bitch.

"Obviously," Kitty said with a scoff. "But if he had a
good
woman to provide for, I'm sure it would motivate him to get off his arse and get a decent job." The sentence was delivered with a playful punch to Frankie's arm.

Whilst grinding her jaw, Marie continued to stare at the woman. Would he earn more for someone like Kitty? Would he try harder if
she
were pregnant with his child?
 

The look on Frankie's face told Marie everything;
pull your fucking neck in!
And he was right. Before they came to dinner, Marie knew that whatever happened, they needed to remain on Kitty's good side.

"Besides, Marcie, don't you want him out of your hair?" Her piercing blue eyes lost focus as she stroked his face. "It must be a nightmare sharing a house with such a beautiful man. I mean, what guy wouldn't feel intimidated if you brought him home and he saw you were living with this hunk of meat?"

Marie raised an eyebrow at Frankie that asked if he was really going to stay silent. Seeing Marie’s anger, Frankie then turned to Kitty. "We broke up for a reason, Kitty. I don't think going back could ever work."

Think? Think? Shouldn't he be saying he knows it wouldn't work?
 

A lingering glare hung between Kitty and Frankie before Kitty shrugged and tapped her glass.
Ching! Ching!
The table fell silent and Kitty stood up. "Okay, I want a show of hands."

Everyone, except Frankie and Marie, put their hands up.

"Not yet," Kitty said.

Frankie pulled on her sleeve, his face flushed red. "Sit down, Kitty; you're making a fool of yourself."

It was Kitty's way to do what she wanted, when she wanted. Instead of respecting Frankie's wishes, she flashed him yet another empty smile. "Who here thinks Frankie and I made a great partnership and would make a
fantabulous
couple if we were to get back together?"

Again, every arm—except for Frankie and Marie's—went up.

When Kitty looked at Marie, she laughed. "So it's just
you
who thinks we shouldn't get back together. Do I detect a little crush?"

Some of the guests smirked, but most of them squirmed in their seats. Kitty's cruelty was even too much for them.
 

Heat spread through Marie's cheeks as she sat there in silence. What she would give to knock the bitch out. But when she looked at Frankie and saw the slightest shake running through him, she dropped her focus to the table instead.
 

She had to shut the fuck up. Kitty knew too much about him for her to go shooting her mouth off.

Chapter Nineteen

Every credit counted towards their marriage certificate, so Marie picked the cheapest meal on the menu. However, when her tomato salad arrived, all she could do was just stare at it. Apparently, a tomato salad in this restaurant comprised of just one ingredient. At any other time she would have sent it back, but the last thing she wanted to do today was cause a scene.
 

Despite her disappointment, Marie tucked in. The same bland, watery taste that she associated with every piece of fruit or vegetable filled her mouth. Genetic modification had left them all tasting the same. Sure, they never ran out of their five a day, but the choice of what to eat was based more on texture than taste.

When she looked up to see Kitty hanging on Frankie's every word, touching him and laughing every time he made the slightest hint of a joke, she chewed harder.
What the fuck was she doing here?
 

After slipping another baby tomato into her mouth, the fruit bursting in an explosion of watery neutrality, Marie looked at the shining prongs of her fork.
How much force it would take to drive the spikes through Kitty's skull?

All of the other dinner guests seemed to know one another well, and no less than six different conversations flowed around Marie. They were mostly about people Marie had never heard of. The content was mostly unkind; or if it wasn't, it was steered in that direction very quickly.

No one had tried to talk to Marie. That was just fine. It made the meal pass quicker.

A loud and obnoxious man at the other end of the table called out over the noise. "Kitty, how many have you had now?"

Kitty broke away from Frankie and looked up. "Huh?"

"Abortions, my sweet; how many abortions have you had now?"

"Three in two years. It's getting expensive, but what else can I do? I wasn't going to
marry
any of those men, let alone have their babies."
 

It took a few seconds for Marie to realise her jaw was hanging loose. After closing it, she watched Kitty. Three abortions! Of course, Marie had considered it, but to actually go through with it and to find the right person to do it… sometimes it was cheaper and easier to just get married.

Kitty removed a cocktail stick, with a cherry on the end, from her luminous drink and ran her tongue around it as she looked down at Frankie's lap. "Besides, I'm saving myself for someone special."

The man at the end of the table scoffed as he said, "And who wants to have a bastard child anyway? That's a one-way ticket to the estate."

The other guests laughed, but anxiety tore a jagged trail through Marie's heart and she exchanged a quick glance with Frankie. It seemed like every waking moment was a reminder of their fate.
 

"Although, I'm not sure what that last doctor did to me," Kitty said. "Things haven't felt right since."

"Alright,
love
," the guy at the end of the table replied. "Spare us the details, yeah? I want to keep my appetite."

As the rest of the group laughed again, Marie watched Kitty.
What would it be like to have a back alley abortion?
Regardless of how much you paid, none of them was legal. This society was set up to punish those who made mistakes. If you got pregnant but couldn't afford to get married or have a decent abortion, you were sent to the estates. Either that or some crazed backstreet butcher rendered you infertile. It was a fucking tightrope for people like Marie and Frankie. The only people who could make mistakes in this society were the wealthy—and the wealthy could do whatever they liked.

While flashing a fake smile, Kitty flipped the bird at the guy at the end of the table. The slightest sheen glazed her sad eyes.

When Kitty caught Marie looking at her, she wiped her tears away and screwed her face up. "Were you drunk when you put your make up on, Margie?"

The attack was just to make Kitty feel better; the conversation about abortions had exposed her, and Marie had witnessed it. Kitty clearly felt vulnerable and was coming out swinging.

But it didn't stop there. Kitty pulled a business card from her bag and flicked it in Marie's direction. It landed in Marie's food.
 

"My make-up artist, Juan Gonzalez, will whip you into shape in no time. I
suggest
you call him."

Kitty was the only one smiling at this. The rest of the table watched as she giggled to herself.
 

And to think, Marie actually felt sorry for her. The stuck up bitch deserved all the heartache she got. In fact, maybe Marie should point that out to her; someone needed to put the horrible cow in her place.

It was only when she felt a hand grab hers under the table that she relaxed. She looked at Frankie and squeezed back. She needed to keep herself under control for his sake.
 

Marie continued to watch Kitty as she put another tomato into her mouth and bit down.

***

A sharp pain jabbed Marie's bicep. When she looked at the short woman with the beehive hairdo next to her who had elbowed her, she shrugged. "
What?
"

Red-faced and clearly not finding Marie's response as amusing as some of the other guests, the woman tutted then said, "
Finally!
Jesus, I've asked you
three
times already."

"Asked me what?"

The woman's face twisted, her lips shrivelling when she asked, "
What
do you do?"

Most of the table had fallen silent as they watched on.
 

"I work in the control room for Rixon."

There was a collective drawing of breath; even Kitty paid attention.
 

The man that had asked Kitty about her abortions leaned forward and called down the table. "So what's it like?"

Marie shrugged. "I'm not allowed to say. It's top secret."

Nods of approval passed around the table like a Mexican wave. They came to an abrupt halt when they reached Kitty, who sat pouting with her arms folded.
 

Marie couldn't have asked for a better reaction and she beamed a smile at Kitty.
Any excuse to wind the bitch up.
But before she could say anything else, Kitty shrieked, "You
didn't
just do that!"

What the hell?
Looking at the indignant woman, Marie then saw the wide-eyed waiter she was addressing.
Was this just because Marie was getting more attention than she was?

"Are you deaf or something, Dopey? I said; you did
not
just do that."

Always the pacifier, Frankie spoke in a soft tone, "Maybe you should lower your voice, Kitty. Tell me what's wrong. You're making a scene."

"I
won't
lower my voice." One of her bony fingers sprung from her hand and she jabbed it in the direction of the waiter. "He was just staring at my
tits!
"

But you don't have any
seemed like the obvious response. Despite the glaring invitation, no one accepted it. It was difficult to hold the words back, but that's what Marie did as she watched on.

"I was sitting here, minding my own business, and then I notice that pervert standing over there staring at my tits. I want the manager. Now!"

The waiter was going to end up jobless if this went any farther. "Is that really necessary, Kitty?" Marie asked.

Aggression gripped Kitty's features to the point where she looked like a hideous gargoyle. But before she could blast Marie, the manager appeared at the table and rushed over to Kitty's side. "How can I help you, madam?"

Kitty pointed at the waiter again. "He was staring at my tits, the filthy pervert."

Every time she referred to her breasts, the other diners in the restaurant turned around. Even with the poor lighting, it was obvious everyone was watching the spoiled cow go off on a pointless tangent.

The manager's eyebrows pinched in the middle. "Please lower your voice, madam."

"No! I will not lower my voice." Tears stood in her eyes. "I came here for a birthday meal, not to be harassed by waiters."

Even Kitty's obnoxious friends sat in slack-jawed silence; her dramatics were on a whole different level.

When Marie looked at the waiter, she saw he was shaking and his eyes were watering.
Why was Kitty so damn cruel?

As the manager looked around the restaurant, a nervous smile spread across his face. He then returned to Kitty and lowered his tone. "Please accept my apologies, miss. I'll issue a ten percent refund to your bill."

Just before Kitty could kick off again, the vidscreen in the corner of the restaurant came to life. Silence fell over the room and everyone turned to look at the fake-tanned face of the news anchor.
 

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, Hank Manifesto here,
Nirvana TV
. Tonight we're bringing you breaking news of another job well done by Nirvana's police force."

Behind Hank was the footage of the four men Marie and Frankie saw earlier being dragged from the alleyway. The report didn't show how the officers had outnumbered them. In fact, the officers were barely in the shot.

The sixty-inch widescreen grin of Hank Manifesto filled the screen. The man was maniacal in his celebration of everything controversial. "Parents, please be warned, what I'm about to say isn't safe for children." A warning image of a child covering their ears flashed up on the screen.

After thirty seconds or so, Hank leaned forwards as if he was sharing a secret. "These four men were found engaged in
homosexual activities
earlier on today. As a result, the police have taken them away and locked them up. That kind of behaviour shouldn't be happening behind closed doors, let alone on the streets of Nirvana."

The police beatings had been edited out, and all that was left was footage of the police slamming the door of the meat wagon closed. Another job well done. Another gang of miscreants pulled off the city streets—the truth hidden, yet again.
 

A tall, skinny woman, who sat on the other side of Kitty, straightened her back. "John and I saw it all, didn't we dear?"

John nodded.

"Disgusting,
filthy
perverts. It's a good thing we have our force to take care of these kinds of things. They should get paid extra for having to deal with
that
rubbish."

The words came out before Marie had thought about them. "That wasn't what happened."