Folsom (End of Men, #1)(49)

Gwen, you are so brave to speak out for the rights of the End Men!

The End Men fan club would like to extend an invitation for you to speak at our next meeting…please say yes.

You should totally run for governor next election…or better yet, President of the Statehouse! I’d vote for you.

Shut your mouth, you little whiny motherfucker. You forget you’re one of the fuckers who is impregnated by this so-called slave. Guess that makes you the pimp, according to your logic.

Ignore that person, Gwen. People who swear that much lack education. I think you’re right.

For thousands of years, men kept women in social and economical enslavement. It was about time they were endangered. Fuck them. They owe us this.

Girl, preach. I been sayin this for years now and can’t get nobody to listen. Finally! I hear you.

I let out a long puff of air and look down to see how many comments have been left and my mouth drops. It says (526) COMMENTS in the lower-right corner. I keep scrolling down and the majority of them are supportive, a lot of them women who have been around the End Men and have had interactions with them. I’m still shocked people have latched onto this so quickly. When I hear the door open, I shove my Silverbook underneath a pillow and turn to face Folsom, a ready smile on my lips. But it’s not Folsom who walks through the door.

Sera walks in nonchalantly, like she’s been here many times. It makes me wonder who all has full access to Folsom’s space. It’s no surprise his room of boots is overflowing if it’s his only escape.

“Hey,” she says, holding up an envelope with my name across the front. “I’ll wait outside while you get ready.”

I point at my pajamas and double top-knots. “Do I look like I’m going anywhere?”

She waves the envelope. “I think you might want to after you read this,” she says.

I open the note and admire Folsom’s straight block letters before I start reading.

GWEN—DO YOU HAVE A MIDDLE NAME? JUST ONE OF THE MANY THINGS I DON’T KNOW ABOUT YOU. I WANT TO KNOW. I’VE NEVER WANTED TO KNOW BEFORE YOU…

YOUR WEEK OF IMPRISONMENT IS UP. GIVE ME TONIGHT. PLEASE.

NO SOCIETY. NO WOMEN. NO LABS OR PILLS OR ANYTHING ELSE BUT ME AND YOU.

FOLSOM

I smile and hold the note close. Stop swooning, I admonish myself. Enjoy the moment and don’t dare dream. I hop up and rush to the bedroom, frustrated that I’m so excited and giddy with wanting to see what he has planned.

“You’re ridiculous,” I say to the mirror.

I put on a fitted blue dress and study myself to see if I’m showing at all. Still flat as a pancake. Bummer. I take my hair out of the knots and finger the waves then spritz on a pheromone spray. I grin, apply red lipstick, and rush out of the bedroom door.

Sera is blank-faced as she opens my door and I wonder if she could get in trouble for this. I climb in, half-expecting Folsom to be waiting for me inside.

She notices me looking. “We have to pick him up.”

The drive to the Council of Affairs is brief and when Sera pulls around the side, my nerves build. I watch the women coming and going, and I wonder how many of them have had him inside of them. It’s a dangerous road to go down. I avert my eyes.

The door opens and Folsom gets in.

“Are you wooing me?” I ask, waving the note and holding my lips together.

He laughs and looks away. “Is that what it feels like?”

I nod.

“Good,” he says quietly then clears his throat.

“Am I embarrassing you, Folsom Donahue?”

“Maybe.” He laughs again and I decide it’s the best sound I’ve ever heard. Folsom laughing is my new favorite thing in life.

We’re quiet the rest of the drive. He laces his fingers through mine and my heart does a little flutter. I’m midway through trying to shut down my excitement and decide to just go with it. It’s one night. I want to enjoy it and go all in.

We drive out of the city, past the wealthier divisions. I watch in fascination as the scenery slowly changes, the buildings losing their slim lines and hard metals and morphing into something squat and colorful. They paint their walls! The artwork is so detailed and stunning that they’d be at home in any museum. I let go of Folsom’s hand to turn sideways, my nose pressed against the glass. A girl’s face fills an entire wall adjacent to a pharmacy. The colors used to fill her face and hair are jewel-toned. We don’t have this color and emotion where I’m from, more’s the pity. Sera parks outside the building with the sad girl and we get out.

Folsom holds my hand out and looks me over, smiling at what he sees. “I never know which Gwen I’m going to get,” he says. “Each one is more interesting than the last.”

“I think you’re warming up to me, Folsom Donahue. And it’s just Gwen Allison,” I say. “No middle name.”

I feel his ears lift with his smile and he whispers back: “Folsom Chase…after my dad and uncle.”

I nod. “Very distinguished.” I back up and laugh at Folsom’s expression. “Where are we? You look excited. I didn’t know you were capable of it.”

He pulls me closer, almost playful. I like this carefree Folsom.

“You’ve never been?” He motions behind him and it’s then I notice the word “SIMS” over a door hidden in the painting. From farther back the door looked like the girl’s shirt. How do I tell him I’ve never been anywhere but my small, privileged corner of the Region?