The Girl They Sold to the Moon (7 page)

“…that dad had forged a bill of sale and sold Mom's business, lock, stock and barrel to a petroleum consortium. I can tell you Mom hit the roof like a NASA launch. She had to hire a bank of lawyers to dig her out of the mess and prove ownership. The trial proceedings went on for months. She kicked dad out of the house, but one of the lawyers put him up and worked for him pro bono. I couldn't let Mom go…”

The tram stopped at the rotunda entrance. A huge lighted marquis, featuring the “Astounding Candy Cane Evans”, who was headlining at the Amazon main lounge, drew Tilly's attention. The marquis listed her measurements, muscular index and fat percentage. Bold block letters proclaimed she was a “Perfect 10.” A window opened up to show a running video of one of her most memorable performances. Her breasts were prominently displayed, nipples covered by two plastic thimbles. Her bikini bottom was designed from a single strand of rope, tied off strategically.

“The advertisement doesn't do her justice,” said Tilly. “They should have zoomed in on her eyes, her best feature. But what do you expect with a meat market like this?” The others grunted.

“Her ID code number probably reads 38-24-36,” said Fia.

“Yeah,” agreed Sue Lin. “The first number is her intelligence quotient.”

“…I couldn't let Mom go out like that,” Buddy continued, “so I came up with the idea of getting loaned out for a little while so she could fight off those crooks. She got her advance, all right. And last I heard, they'd set a trial date, which is coming up in a couple months. She writes that we have a 90 percent chance of reclaiming ownership. Shit, I don't mind. Dad was a freeloading, pill-popping, son of a horse's ass, anyway. And I don't say that because he didn't like my magic, either.”

Tilly had never seen so many mini-shops in all her life. Some were 40-feet long and just as wide. She saw handcrafted gifts and keepsakes in some of the smaller shops, barely ten-feet long and wide. All the shops were cordoned off with plastic walls, sans roofs, giving them an open-air carnival look. A few people fast-walked on the pavement, obviously using the street as a sports track. Electric carts and scooters whizzed by them.

“Well, it's been really nice talking to you guys,” said Buddy to Tilly's back. “I've got a bunch of stuff to do, so I'll be getting my knees in the breeze.”

Tilly didn't have to turn around to know that Buddy had left. Fia bumped shoulders with her and said, “He's not such a bad sort. He means well. Just lonely.”

“I know that,” said Tilly. “He just tries too hard. I did hear
everything
he said. Can you imagine? Kind of noble to give up everything to help his mom out.” She really meant that. Buddy had sacrificed for his mother when he could have looked the other way or moved out and ignored her problems. She and Buddy did have something in common—they'd both ended up in a place like this to keep someone else out of trouble.

Fia bumped shoulders with her again. “Yeah, could you imagine those hands, used for manipulating all kinds of things, working you over?”

Tilly laughed and bumped her back.
He does have nice hands
, she thought. But she wished he would go to the company dentist and have that tooth capped. She felt responsible for it.

Sue Lin led them to a stall a hundred yards down the street and pointed at shelves that held herbal supplements, energy bars, vitamins and health drinks. “You have to pay a hell of lot more for the real stuff, but it's worth it in the long run,” said Sue Lin. “The crap they have at the commissary is generic, mixed with synthetic ingredients. It would be wise to make some purchases here after you get your tip share.”

Tilly would remember the place: Ward's Power Station. The prices were astronomical. Then again, United Western Mining catered to the rich. The nearest business competitors were 240,000 miles away.
A captive consumer group with no options
, she thought. Not only were they profiting off the wards but they were gouging the tourists and residents.

They stepped out into the street again. Tilly heard a loud electric whine. Her instincts told her to turn around. When she did, she had enough time to hop in the air as high as she could. The slope-nosed electric cart drove under her, slamming into her hip, sending her in a somersault over the Plexiglas canopy. She landed on her shoulder and ribcage with a sickening thud. The cart sped down the street, weaving between pedestrians, nearly running a few of them down. Tilly's lungs hitched as she gagged for breath.

Sue Lin ran to her and knelt by her side. She set her lips over Tilly's and blew, inflating her lungs. Tilly gasped and sucked for precious air.

“I'll get a med team!” cried Fia, and ran to a nearby booth.

“Can you move your limbs?” asked Sue Lin.

Tilly wasn't sure she could move anything. She felt the most pain in her shoulder and chest, fearing that if anything had been broken, that was the area. Then her arm began to numb. She did manage to move all four limbs and her neck, but it took effort. No paralysis.

“I'll be all right with some rest,” said Tilly, shakily. “Just…wind knocked out.”

“You're still going to get checked out,” said Sue Lin. “That was no accident. That cart was breaking the speed limit, and you were singled out.”

Fia rushed back to her side. “Medics are on the way,” she said. “I called the harbor police. That cart had no I.D. plate and the canopy was tinted. The overhead security cameras probably caught it. Somebody is going to pay for this!”

“Somebody doesn't want you to go on stage,” said Sue Lin as the women left the infirmary, “and I have a good idea who.”

“We don't have any proof,” said Tilly, stepping out into the corridor with her friends, her arm in a sling and ribs taped. “Let the authorities take care of it. It's not going to stop me from performing tomorrow night.”

Sue Lin turned. “I think you did hit your head. Are you whacko? The swelling hasn't even gone down yet. You'll feel like a piece of cardboard out there, hardly able to move. You won't have any breath. Doc probably gave you sick leave off. Use it to recover.”

“And that's just it, isn't it,” said Tilly. “They want me to take time off. They want to ruin my act. They want to discourage me, scare me off. If I give in they win.” She shook her head. “The show goes on.”

The other girls stared at Tilly. Sue Lin shook her head. “Damn your foolish pride. Your body is a beautiful engine and you want to ruin it. If you were 12 years younger I'd haul you over my lap and paddle you good.”

“I wouldn't cry no matter how hard you paddled.”

“I suppose you wouldn't. Then let's go to my private suite and see what we can do about a therapy session. I have some herbal lotions and medicines that will help. And, a few tricks that I stole from the masters.”

Instead of lessening Tilly's popularity, the incident had the reverse effect. Not only was she billed for a performance that night which loaded the theater with a fan base of admirers, but a new batch of sympathizers had bought tickets to see the girl who had survived the accident. The Harbor News, a small news website, had written the account of Tilly's amazing recovery, citing her for courage above and beyond the call of duty. Of course, that's exactly what the Prairie Dogs wanted to hear, that one of their own entertainers had as much guts and pluck as they did.

Tilly went on that night, using up her first act by dancing to the full-length productions of “Bad”, “Beat it”, and “Black and White”, making three separate costume changes. She changed out with amazing speed, hardly giving Buddy any fill-in time between dances. Her first act garnered a standing ovation. The coins flew on stage, along with other paraphernalia. The bar police were out in force and a rail extension had been added to discourage the audience from hopping over the barrier. But as she exited through the curtains when her first act was over, she heard feet stomping and the cries for an encore. Which was an unusual request, since her next act wasn't due for another three hours.

When she reached the basement level, Sue Lin helped her out of her costume. “How do you feel, girl?”

“Numb in spots, and I'm having a little trouble breathing. But I'm still strong.”

“Good, because the director might want a turnaround act right now—the Dogs are stompin.' Do you have everything ready to go?”

“It's all racked.”

Just then Sue Lin got a call on her wrist com. After a brief discussion with the caller, Sue Lin said, “That was the director. You're on again. Can you do it?”

Tilly arched her back to loosen up. “Try and stop me.”

Five minutes later Tilly was changed and onstage again, bowing before the audience. The lights dimmed. The music started. In quick succession, she hammered out the extended versions of “Dirty Diana”, “Smooth Criminal”, and “Billy Jean.” Her last sequence in “Billy Jean”, near exhaustion and with a searing pain in her ribs, she gathered up every bit of adrenalin she had and moon-walked the entire breadth of the stage and back again. All she could think of was pushing through the routine, nailing every step and hitting every move. The only time she felt off was during the fastest turns or dips, since her body had slowed. Yet, she felt certain that the small time lags hadn't been picked up by the audience. She only had a little more to go, and it drove her on with finishing as the end goal. Her biggest fear was fainting from lack of breath.

The audience had never seen anything like it. It was pure magic, and Tilly had clobbered them again with her exceptional moves. But after reality set in, she realized that her vision was blurring just as she bowed after the end note and the dimmed lights. She'd just made it to the curtain before she fell into Buddy's arms. He helped her down the lift and then went up to do his act.

Sue Lin and an assistant helped Tilly to a small office that had a cot. The two women stretched her out. Sue Lin dabbed Tilly's forehead with a cold rag, while the assistant brought in a portable fan to cool her down.

“I've never seen anything like it,” said Sue Lin. “You never missed a beat, stumbled or fell out of step.”

Tilly grinned and winked. “You can give the credit to those pain pills you gave me. The acupuncture did some wonders too.”

Sue Lin nodded. “Technically, you don't have to go on anymore tonight, since you finished both acts.”

Tilly swallowed, beginning to feel some of the pain return. “Sue Lin, why do they like me so much? I'm nothing special and I really didn't expect to like being here.”

Sue Lin sat on the edge of the cot and stroked Tilly's hair. “I don't think the Dogs have ever seen so much clothes on a girl before. I mean, you have your moments when you break away and flash some skin, but you play on their curiosity. With you, it's all about the dance and how much you love to move. You're a first of a kind for them.”

Tilly laughed and it hurt. “What kind is that?”

“Something they haven't seen for a long time.” Sue Lin pinched Tilly's cheek. “A little lady.”

After three weeks into her stay at Tranquility Harbor, Tilly received her first marriage proposals. They came in the form of notes on stage, letters left at the Block 41 mail slot, and cyber messages, when she was allowed to use a wrist-held Omnicomp for the purpose of writing and receiving messages from home. She didn't answer such mail, and had started the process of deleting all of that material from her inbox. She had received her first letter from her father. All incoming and out-going messages were censored, but she had a feeling that her father's message had been left in its original form. She read it aloud, for the benefit of Dorothy who sat above her on her bunk.

“Dear Tilly,

I hope you are doing well at your temporary home. It was a damn shock when they told me your location was confidential, for security reasons. What do they think I'm going to do, steal you back? So, wherever you are, I hope you're holding up well and enjoying yourself. I can't tell you not to work hard, that would go against my principles. But I know that you'll put a wax and shine on everything you do. I'm so proud of you!

I finalized my first business ventures with the lone-out advance and signed a few contracts, since the total was not near enough to take care of my tax situation. But I believe I've found a lucrative venture that will start showing profit. I won't tell you what it is yet because I don't want the censor's eyes discovering this windfall opportunity. Can't be too careful with confidentiality and matters like this. This is a ground floor shaker and moneymaker, guaranteed.

Well, it's back to matters at hand. Keep well, keep fit and keep working. We'll have you back home at the agreed upon time, I'm sure. Unless I can pick up your contract early. And that just might happen. Write soon.

Love and kisses,

Dad”

“What a wonderful letter,” said Dorothy. “He's cares a lot about you. You're going to get picked up.”

Tilly didn't share Dorothy's optimism. As upbeat and positive as it was, her father often wrote such letters filled with bloated promises. Even when things were falling to pieces. Tilly believed Dorothy didn't have very high expectations, and that any and all news was good news. She hadn't seen Dorothy receive any mail, either in-house or from Earth-side, since she'd bunked with her.

“Dorothy,” began Tilly, “I never asked you, or you didn't tell me what your ‘special circumstances' meant. It's none of my business, but the only other way you could get in this program is if you committed a felony. We're you really loaned out?”

Dorothy moaned. “I got a little too close to the safe at the last restaurant I worked. I lifted about 5,000 Imperial notes and stuffed them in my uniform bag. They discovered the theft the next morning. I forgot about the surveillance cameras. My public defender cut a deal with the judge. Four years servitude with FTALC in place of the state prison sentence. Some deal, eh? I had a few days before sentence was imposed. I took the time to ask around about FTALC. I almost changed my mind. But you know what? I finally got away from my parents—a long ways. I have two older brothers, but they've got businesses and lives of their own. I suppose they know I'm serving out time at FTALC.”