Folsom (End of Men, #1)(50)

“I’ve heard about this place!” I say excitedly. “I didn’t know where it was.”

“They don’t put them where you are,” he says, sadly. “Invented for the poor, by the poor.”

“So how did a man with his own private jet discover them?”

“When you spend all of your time with the same type of people, seeing the same things, you venture out.”

It couldn’t be farther from the truth when it comes to me, but I don’t say that. I follow him inside, my heart pounding with excitement.

Simulations were started a decade ago, usually in the rougher neighborhoods of larger cities. It’s the way the ones who can’t afford it live out their dreams. I’ve always wanted to see what it’s like for myself, but I’ve also wondered if I’d ever want to go back to reality once I started a simulation.

A girl dressed in black nods when we enter and waves a scanner over us. She then hands Folsom a smaller scanner.

“Room four,” she says, slipping her earbuds back into place.

We walk through the narrow corridor, the neon graffiti covering the walls lighting the way. It’s beautiful and too much at the same time. My eyes hurt with all the color.

When we reach our room, Folsom holds up the scanner and a door slides up from the ground. We step inside and are enveloped in white. It’s like the color was sucked dry. In the middle of the room sits a screen. Folsom places his handprint on it and a voice reverberates. “Hello, Folsom. Welcome back.”

Folsom types “stupidwoman” on the keyboard and smirks, showing where I should put my hand. I act like I’m going to punch him in the gut and he swerves.

“You’re in the system now,” he says. “You should go first. Either type what you want and it will show its interpretation of what you write, or put the band on and it’ll show exactly what you envision. Go crazy.” He grins. “How would your life look if you could have exactly what you wanted? Are you brave enough to show me the truth?”

I don’t hesitate. I put on the band and the entire room fills with me driving up to the Governor’s Mansion. I walk inside and my mother lovingly greets me at the door.

“Hello, darling,” she says and it sounds exactly like her.

I look at Folsom. “This is amazing.”

He nods, eyes bright. We both turn and watch the simulated version of me walking down the hallway to the governor’s office. The door opens and two large women drag Petite out of the room, bopping her on the head when she starts whining. They escort her off of the premises with her whimpering like a child.

Folsom’s shoulders start shaking next to me, his fist going to his mouth to stay quiet. When I walk into the office, Sophia is in a maid’s uniform and she curtsies when she sees me, a full tea service tray in her hands.

“Tea, beautiful one?” she asks timidly.

Folsom’s roar bounces off the bare walls. I start laughing too, and when I glance at him, he’s wiping his eyes.

“Sorry, keep going,” he says, still laughing.

A man walks into the office and Folsom goes still. I decide to give him a dose of what it feels like and have the man kiss me on the cheek. Folsom’s not laughing now.

“You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen,” the man tells me.

“Do you really have to do this while I’m here?” he asks, teeth gritted and his jaw clenching.

I giggle. “Just kidding…now you know how I feel.”

He scowls and I make the man disappear. I adjust the picture on the wall that says I’m the governor of the Red Region. And then I’m standing in front of a yellow Victorian with white trim and a wraparound porch that has a swing and rocking chairs by the front door.

“I thought your house would be white,” he says. I shoot him a look over my shoulder. “I’ll stay out of it now,” he adds.

I step inside and the sound of laughter fills the room. A little boy and girl around the same size run into the room and yell over their shoulders, “Hi, Mama! Bye, Mama!” when Folsom comes chasing after them. He catches the boy and throws him over his shoulder, tickling him mercilessly. An older boy comes into the room then with earbuds in and hair hanging over one eye. He smirks at the chaos and gives me a quick hug before getting out of there.

I sigh and realize then that there are tears dripping off my chin.

In the simulation, Folsom puts down the boy when he sees me come into the door and gives me a kiss so scorching, my heart pounds. The real Folsom positions himself behind me, putting his arms around my waist. I can feel his warm breath against my hair and I shiver.

“That’s more like it,” he says.

“Your turn,” I tell him, wiping my face and sniffling.

“Yours is not so different than mine,” he says softly. “Watch.” He types in “Foley97” and the view changes.

The scene I created melts away and now we’re in his. We see a large log cabin in a field of lavender; it looks to be in the country somewhere. When we go inside it’s sparse but beautiful, the walls roughly hewn from the logs. The sound of a woman laughing fills the house and Folsom walks right past us. This Folsom is different than the one standing behind me. His hair is long, touching the base of his neck in black waves, and his clothes are casual…untucked. I realize that the woman I heard laughing is me, and I feel such relief that it scares me. I look away from the picture to look at him and see the small smile playing on his lips. He’s making this up as he goes along, adding me to his fantasy. I wonder if he’s ever done this with another woman and my insides spark like a lightning storm. I grow stiff in his arms, afraid of knowing the truth. But then the scene changes and I’m lying on a bed naked, purple silk tied around my wrists and ankles and attached to the bedpost, spread-eagle. He has me bare, which makes me smile. He zooms in and I’m staring at my own waxed pussy. I turn my face away, embarrassed, and Folsom laughs in my ear.