The Girl They Sold to the Moon by Chris Stevenson Read Free Book Online Page A

If not…” She cackled. “Well, too damn bad then! We have ourselves a headliner here, doncha know!”

Chapter 4
    Tilly didn’t know what to expect when she sat across from the President of Entertainment and Leisure for United Western Mining. Abigail Rogers wore old fashion eyeglasses, a gray suit with bow tie, and had her silver hair up in a tight bun. The woman was so ancient she looked skeletal and ready to shed dust. Her green eyes popped goiter-like behind the thick lenses. Judging from her office, she fared well when it came to home comforts, like air sofas, potted plants and sculptures. A large colored schematic map of Tranquility Harbor took up most of the wall behind her, showing all of the blocks, lounges, and businesses run by the Entertainment division. Service plaques and trophies adorned one long shelf high up on a sidewall.
    Fia and Sue Lin had come along. They were there to answer any questions about the incident at the Amazon Lounge. Because of the disturbance, the lounge had lost an hour’s revenue and suffered some structural damage, in addition to 14 hospitalizations and four arrests.
    Abigail bit her lower lip and looked at the three women, but her gaze settled on the main player. “Fortunately,” said the president, “the tip pool surpassed the damages incurred by a factor of ten to one. Over $125, 000 was taken in for one 15-minute dance segment, by you, Tilly Breedlove, AKA Sunshine.”
    Tilly nodded.
    Abigail looked at her coach. “Sue Lin, did you suggest and-or choreograph this routine?”
    â€œI did not, Ms. Rogers. Due to time constraints, I did not witness a preview. The young woman came prepared before I met her and began the instruction. I only assisted with the wardrobe and makeup.”
    Abigail nodded. “Miss Bluestone, did you witness this dance number while you were on the main floor?”
    â€œI did, snatches of it from the kitchen entrance.”
    â€œDid either of you see Tilly, taunt, tempt, tease, rile, or in any other way insult any of the audience members through words, signs or gestures?”
    Fia shook her head. “I didn’t see behavior like that. Just a normal dance routine that, I thought, was done really well. I think the Dogs stepped over their own balls…pardon, and caused the disturbance by becoming overly excited.”
    Abigail grunted. “I’ve seen the replay tape—a stunning performance, actually. It was an unusual concept, using the ragamuffin look until the end, where you burst out of your coverings to reveal your true form. Since I’ve been informed that you favor the genre of this music, and the artist, Tilly, I would suggest that you tone down your energy level to a more tolerable and less-energetic routine.”
    Sue Lin leaned forward, a gleam in her eyes. “You have to admit she’s a draw. She boosted the lounge income 28 percent in one 15-minute session. We had to shut down. She’s blameless. You know the Prairie Dogs. Anything can and has set them off, including over-exuberance.”
    â€œWhat do you suggest?” asked Abigail.
    â€œHer popularity can only increase now that she’s put a foot on the stage,” said Sue Lin. “Why not put forth some extra security measures whenever she appears? Station more bar police down by the rail. Water the drinks. Use some lighting tricks to diminish her profile.” Sue Lin leaned back into her chair. “Christ, Abigail, let’s not pull any punches here. Run her numbers. She has the index and hallmarks of a headliner. We haven’t had such a high-ticket flame since Jo Jo-goddess Arnold, three years ago. She might even draw Earth-side vacationers—whales. I say cut her loose and beef up our end of it.”
    Fia cleared her throat. “It’s either that or take her off the Amazon stage and schedule her at one of the smaller lounge acts.”
    Sue Lin gave Fia a harsh look.