Folsom (End of Men, #1)(16)
“I can take you home if you’d rather not go to the party,” he says.
“No, I’ve changed my mind. I want to go to the party,” I tell him.
He looks irritated and I don’t care. It’s been a long time since I’ve stayed out late anywhere other than the lab. I’ll go and enjoy myself just to spite him.
We’re getting closer and closer to the oceanfront, and the sun takes one last dip into the water. The hotels and high-rise buildings that used to line the sand are few and far between. Most have been torn down and sleek glass, dome-shaped buildings take their place. We turn in the parking lot for the Council of Affairs and are driven all the way to the entrance.
“I don’t want to walk in with you. Can you have her just drop me off and I’ll walk in somewhere other than the red carpet?”
The car stops and he shoots an annoyed glance my way. “We’re here already.”
Are all men this infuriating?
Sera lifts the divider and turns to face me. “It’d probably be best if I take Miss—”
“Gwen,” I respond.
“Thank you, Miss Gwen, I’ll take you around to the side entrance after Mr. Donahue exits. I didn’t want him to be late; otherwise, I would’ve dropped you off first.”
I gloat while he steps out of the car. And then watch as not one but two women grab his face and kiss the hell out of him.
NINE
FOLSOM
Different night, same party. I’m pushed and prodded down the red carpet, dozens of hands reaching toward me. They call my name—“Folsom, a picture!” “Folsom, we love you!” I stop to take selfies and sign the printed photos of myself that they shove into my hands, each one more ridiculous than the last. A woman grabs my dick as I pose with her, and I let her because that’s what I’m told to do. I am the property of the Regions; I belong to these women. I smile and move down the line, stopping in front of a girl who holds up a sign. Give me a baby, Folsom! It’s my birthday! I give her a kiss instead.
Gwen was taken around back and I wonder if she’s made her way inside and is watching the shitshow unfold. When all of this started years ago—the End Men commissioned to save the dwindling population—it had been flattering to attend events like this. I was young and saw the lifestyle as a game. Any party I attended would turn into an orgy with me at its center. And then when I reached the age of twenty-nine, something changed. The sex became contrived, and the women desperate. I longed for a familiar face to wake up to every morning; I missed being known. Unhappiness settled over me like a stifling blanket. Where once I found freedom in my ability to have any woman I wanted, I now saw the truth of our situation. We were property, and they would milk us until we were dead while fooling us into thinking we were enjoying ourselves. I would never know my children, never see them walk, or laugh, or play. I was sent yearly updates on them, all lined up on a spreadsheet in order of their ages.
Jaoxin, ten years old. Location: Blue Region. Mothers: Adeline and Garva Lutin. Health: Excellent. Excels in Math and Science. There would be a small photo of the child as well, something grainy I could barely see. My sons were not yet old enough to enter the End Men program. When I thought about the life that awaited them, it made me sick.
I turn around to face the crowd when I reach the end of the red carpet and wave once before going inside. The crowd screams their goodbyes, and then suddenly the noise is cut off, and a new, more sophisticated crowd greets me. The upper crust of the Red Region stands there, clapping politely. I spot Gwen in the back of the crowd talking to someone and then a familiar face is right in front of me saying something.
“Sophia,” I say, once I remember her name. It takes me a minute to recall the woman I fucked not even five hours ago.
“Let me introduce you around,” she says, taking me by the arm. I notice that her dress is less revealing than the one she wore this morning, the hemline reaching her knees. She really shouldn’t cover up; her body is the only thing she has going for her. She guides me through a throng of people all with drinks in their hands; they watch us curiously as she stops in front of Governor Little…no, what was it…Petite! Goddamn, I’m bad with names.
“Folsom! Welcome, welcome,” she says jovially. “Get this man a drink,” she calls over her shoulder.
Gwen’s mother stands off to the side smiling at Petite, and I wonder what the nature of their relationship is. I am introduced to a dozen women, all who work in various branches of government. I’m still buzzed from the bar, which makes all the introductions bleed together. Name after insipid name, broad smiles and blindingly white teeth. They’re leading me off somewhere else, Sophia still clinging to my arm like a monkey, when I spot Gwen a few feet away.
“Gwen!” I call. Her head jerks up, her eyes large. She looks around like she’s embarrassed at having her name called out so publicly. “Are you still drinking bourbon or have you switched to something else?” I wink at her just as she turns a deep red.
“Gwen and I had a few drinks earlier,” I say to Sophia. “At that underwater bar.”
“The Fish Tank?” Sophia looks stricken. She recovers quickly. “I didn’t know my sister was such a lush.”
“Sophia, stop hogging our End Man.” A group of girls saunters up to us and I feel Sophia’s grip tighten on my arm.