Beth wasn’t good around rich people. She never knew how to act or what to say, or not say. Not that she’d been around very many rich people in her life. Celeste was the closest thing to a rich person she had, and Beth just stole her food. So she guessed that was her default setting. But if TJ—he’d insisted Beth call him TJ—was going to give her a $1000 just to sleep and play his stupid game, she could get on board.
They waited for the other three candidates to wake up, before TJ said they’d head to the airport. Beth thought they’d go somewhere snazzy for breakfast before leaving Poky, but TJ said they’d be better fed on the jet where his chef could take care of them.
Within the next fifteen minutes, all three of the other candidates came out of their rooms. Carrie was among them. Beth squealed when she saw her, which felt totally uncharacteristic for her, but she couldn’t help it. She was excited not to be the only girl. “We’re going to New York!”
“When?” Carrie asked.
“Now!”
Carrie looked around. “I need to pack a suitcase, and call my work.”
Shit. Beth should probably call Tasty Treat. They’d need to know she wasn’t going to be in for the foreseeable future. And she should probably email her mama, too. Nah, she’d just ask for more money.
The ride to the airport was fairly uneventful, and Beth borrowed Carrie’s phone to call into work. They were told their cars would be fine at the warehouse lot for long-term parking.
Carrie and Beth linked arms on the tarmac to climb into the private jet. As they entered, Carrie laughed incredulously, and Beth joined in.
“I’ve never seen anything this luxurious before,” Carrie whispered.
The space was all creams and whites, with sleek wood accents and lush leather seats. Beth sat at a table for two across from Carrie, and TJ sat across the aisle from them.
“Champagne?” he asked.
“I’d love some,” Carrie said, but Beth hesitated, not wanting to impair her judgment.
A flight attendant came over and poured drinks for them, and Maverick, Joseph, and Warren, the three guys who were also “very compatible.”
Maverick refused to tell Beth his real name, but his friend, who went by Goose, wasn’t compatible with the game.
After a toast, where Beth didn’t drink anything, just put the glass to her lips, TJ stood. “Beth, can I have a moment of your time?” He offered her his arm and she took it.
They walked past Maverick, who eyed TJ suspiciously, and went through a partition into a back room. There was a table and more leather chairs. “Please, sit.”
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He took a seat across from Beth and placed his hands on the table between them. “So, according to the data, you are perfectly compatible with Hundred Day Horde, and we’d like to pay you two-thousand dollars a week to help us figure out how to replicate the compatibility for other users. This will require a small implant at the base of your skull, and you’ll be upgraded into one of our micro-bot tanks. The tanks will actually help you relax, and be a more immersive part of your experience.”
He lost her after the word implant. “Come again? What about an implant at the base of my skull?”
“It’s non-invasive. A needle will inject an implant, a micro-bot that will then fuse to certain receptors. It won’t be like a game, it’ll be like actually being there, inside a zombie apocalypse.” His eyes danced with excitement, but Beth wasn’t feeling that at all.
Nerves jumbled in her stomach and she shook her head. “Nope. That sounds like more than I can commit to. I don’t really like zombies all that much, either.”
“I’ll give you $10,000 for the procedure.”
Beth stared at him. She’d had plenty of practice with her RBF, in fact, her childhood friend told her that she has the best resting bitch face in the world.
“Twenty five thousand.”
If he was desperate enough to up his offer by that much, she would wait him out. Silence always made people uncomfortable, but not Beth. She’d had plenty of practice with silence. It was the dark she hated. Every few months growing up Mama would spend the power bill on something or another, and their power would get cut off. She didn’t mind the lack of soap operas playing in the house, but nighttime was like her own living hell. Her imagination would run wild, and she’d end up huddled under her bed silently praying for someone to rescue her.
“Fifty thousand. Final offer.” TJ crossed his arms over his chest, and Beth mimicked him. “Say something. You’re making me anxious.”
Beth leaned forward and held his gaze. “The way I see it, you need me.”
His adam’s apple bobbed, which was enough indication Beth needed to confirm her suspicions.
“If not, I wouldn’t be in the back room with you here while we left everyone else in the front of the plane.”
He tried to play her game. She could tell he was just going to sit quietly and use her own tactic against her. What he hadn’t counted on though, was that she was willing to walk away. He’d probably had his lackeys doing a background check on her. He probably knew she was in a bad situation. But she’d been in worse. She didn’t need him as much as he needed her.
Beth stood and walked back to the front of the plane. He owed her $1000. She’d get it and buy a ticket home, use the rest to pay her back rent, then start her classes again. She didn’t need to be rich, she just needed to be content. That $1000 would go a long way toward getting her there.
“Miss Davis?” TJ said from the door she’d just exited.
She looked back, unconcerned, and sat in the seat across from Carrie again. “Yes?”
“Might I have one more moment of your time?”
Carrie kicked her under the table and shot her a wide-eyed look full of innuendo.
“I’m afraid I don’t have much more to say on the matter.” That sounded smart, right? She could do this. Pretend to be as high and mighty as he was.
“I’ll double my offer.”
She raised a brow. “Which one?”
“Both.”
So, $4,000 a week for her participation, and $100,000 for the implant. That was a life changing amount of money, especially for her.
“I’ll think about it.”