I
How she ended up with two lesbian neighbors, Amber couldn't begin to guess. Two apartments faced two apartments across a cement walkway painted pastel pink. Her apartment was on the second floor of a three story complex, and the walkway was covered.
Usually she could get through the walkway and go down the stairs without bumping into her dyke neighbors, but that afternoon her luck didn't hold.
Oh, she didn't hate them.
That's too harsh.
She just.
You know, she just.
And anyway, not around her, you know? Somewhere else, yeah, fine. But not around her.
But Sally leapt from the top step right into the walkway, her neighbor one door down, a cute enough girl in her own way, friendly and bright, cheerful. Just, well, a tomboy, a queer girl. Short blonde pixie cut, usually covered by a red or black ball cap, faded jeans and black boots or heavy shoes. The inevitable black tee shirt, usually with something rude scrawled on it like, Cope With It, Bitch or Try Me, I'm a Dyke.
Thankfully, the girl was never rude herself.
"Hey Amber, what's up?"
"Um. You know. The usual, nothing."
Then she checked the door, made sure she locked it, and scampered off. No sense it getting to know her. No sense in leading her on.
Not that she didn't love her apartment.
Her neighbors were never loud, everything was kept clean and tidy, no bottles, beer cans, cigarette butts, or food trash left out in the open. Management kept up the gym room, and the pool area was covered against too much or too little sun.
Yeah, sure.
It cost her an arm and a leg, and she'd been worried about income ever since her dad's last warning about a job.
"I'm a student, Dad. I shouldn't have to work."
"You can work part time. Surely your college has student workers?"
Amber's stomach sank at that. The very idea.
But she was able to buy some time, proclaiming vociferously and vehemently that studies just filled up all her time.
"I have to keep my grades up, Dad. And I'm just slammed this year. Eighteen hours."
A minor fib.
She carried fifteen. A lot of course work, not undoable, but she couldn't possibly find time to work in all that studying.
Partying and clubbing, sure.
But work?
Um. No.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she turned right and walked past the community bulletin board set inside a partially enclosed kiosk. Out of curiosity she browsed the offerings until her eyes met a call for participants in a new vitamin program offered by Essenza-Craft.
It seemed they paid a couple of hundred bucks a week for a 6-week vitamin intake study. Details were a little vague, a little sketchy, but it couldn't hurt to look them up, could it? Essenza-Craft?
She wasn't familiar with the name, but she pulled a tab containing a phone number off the poster. She'd look the group up later.
Two hundred bucks a week just for taking vitamins was nothing to look down on.
Free money was, after all, free.
II
They were out west, Essenza-Craft. From some place called Edge City. She thought maybe she'd heard of it, but geology wasn't really her thing. It was a small group, and its origins were a little vague. Apparently they were an offshoot of The Diana Group before they got swallowed up T.E.I. The Entertainment Industry.
She kept reading the website.
They had new leadership. The Entertainment Industry, or T.E.I or EI for short, had bought them out, and their new CEO, Iris Light, promised a new era of enlightened entertainment fueled by digital pharmacology, whatever that was.
She couldn't find out anything about the vitamin trials though. Calling the number she pulled off proved to be her only option.
So she called.
Talked, asked questions, listened, and made an appointment.
For the very next day.
III
Whatever misgivings Amber harbored were quickly allayed by the clean, modern architecture of the small pentagonal building set in the middle of its own parking lot. Trees grew throughout the paved space, providing plenty of shade, and well-trimmed hedges concealed the building from street view.
Everything green was trimmed and, well, green. Vibrant. Alive. Birds chirped loudly as Amber walked to the entrance, and squirrels darted right across her feet, secure in the harmlessness of humanity.
Amber opened one of the double glass doors framed in black enameled luminium
The welcome lobby was big, cleanly tiled, and tastefully decorated with original artwork evidently bought by a corporate purchaser who knew her business. But Amber didn't know anything about that. Nor did she really care or notice, which was the point.
Huge paintings of pink abstracts, all vaguely feminine, swirling with female forms and faces, peered down from the high walls of the lobby as Amber walked to the front desk to check-in for her appointment.
Four or five short rows of cushioned chairs were arrayed to Amber's right, facing the front desk. Three other girls were sitting down, filling out forms or checking messages on their phones. Amber wondered whether they were here for the same treatment, and whether she'd have to wait long.
The receptionist welcomed Amber with a huge, friendly grin, and her eyes twinkled with mirth and cheerfulness.
"Amber? Amber Gray? It's so nice to have you here. The other girls are checking in right now, but don't worry. We're right on time, and there's no wait. You won't be receiving the same treatment together. But Dr. Essenza can explain all that to you."
Amber smiled inwardly with relief.
She didn't want to be part of a group treatment, all that chitchat and getting to know people, women, you'd never see again. Exchanging numbers you'd never call, making plans you'd never keep. Amber hated all that.
Oh, not that she was reclusive. By no means, she could chat and shmooze with the best of them, but this morning, this morning saw her in no mood for any of that.
Pink.
And yellow.
Amber realized that the reception was done up almost entirely in pink and yellow, magenta lipstick, yellow stripes on a bright pink blouse, blond hair with even blonder highlights in a bob style with bangs cut straight above her eyebrows, a glittery yellow eyeshadow above her eyes lined with yellow and white flower shapes, and pink mascara. It really was kind of.
Well. It suited her well, the pink and yellow blouse, unbuttoned to show off a very impressive breast cupped by the pink lace of her brassier.
The receptionist licked her glossy lips with the pink tip of her tongue, nudging Amber from her reverie.
"So just have a seat and fill out this form. Don't worry. It's long. Just basic information that we'll keep totally private."
The receptionist winked at her, and Amber read her name tag.
Laci.
Amber avoided meeting Laci's eyes, recognizing the flirtation.
She sat down in the nearest seat.
She caught Laci staring at her from behind her monitor. Amber crossed her legs, regretting her decision to wear such a short skirt.
Amber sighed at the length of the questionnaire, wondering why she couldn't have just typed this all in beforehand. Surely this place had a secure website, a health portal for checking in? But no, no web portal, just a think paper pad on a clipboard, asking for the usual information. Name, address, email, phone. Gender. Marital status.
Blah, blah, blah.
Bloody type.
Tuberculosis history, vaccinations, allergies.
Blah, blah, blah.
Surgical history, gastroenterology history.
My god.
