Page 76 of Outfoxed

Somewhere in the room were at least two incredibly insane people. Worse, they were incredibly insane people I would need to put up with for a long damned time. I made so little I hadn’t paid taxes since the day I’d stepped foot in the Alley. I understood enough about how it worked to understand if I had to pay taxes on eight hundred thousand, I would faint or die from shock.

Even at a hundred thousand, I could understand how someone might go along with the whole damned uncontested courtesan scheme. A smart woman or man would find a way to make the situation tolerable.

Poverty sucked, going hungry tested my patience and ability to cope, and the type of money the weird crazy rich people tossed around would make certain I never faced poverty or starvation again. When I boiled the situation down to that, I understood.

My recognition of the problem only made everything worse.

The rich preyed upon what should have been basic human rights. To have food. To have shelter. To survive.

I’d worked hard to survive, and I resented how my life had become something to bid on by those who had no understanding of the value of having coped with poverty and struggled to survive.

“There are no ties,” the auctioneer announced. According to his tone, if he became even more bored, he might pass out where he stood. “The leading bid is a million and a half dollars. Please place and submit your bids. You have two minutes.”

There were medications for insanity, and as soon as I had an opportunity, I would be informing the bidder they needed to see a doctor immediately. As I liked the woman, I would recommend Dr. Dorothy. She could find someone qualified to handle that level of crazy.

The seconds ticked away, and I spent all of them debating how best to inform the bidder they were out of their right mind.

“No additional bids have been placed. The bidding is now closed, and the winner has been flagged in the system. Please go to the main office to arrange for all required payments. Miss Tamrin will be prepared and brought to you within the next few hours. Please input any special requests through the bidding system. The contract will be notarized before you leave.”

While the auction was over, everyone left in silence, leaving me to wonder who had purchased me and why.

I’d find out soon enough.

Sixteen

Is that because foxes are destructive?

Saturday, May 23, 2043.

Albany, New York.

The East.

My buyer had a list of special requests a mile long, and in a way, I appreciated it. At the top of the list was a requirement for pajamas, as she was not taking me home while dressed like some business hussy out for a contract. The auctioneer, who introduced himself as Dick, not to be mistaken for being a dick, chuckled at my expression when he read the request to me.

He showed me the screen to prove it. With no other clues to work with, I decided to play along and be appropriately grateful I wouldn’t be going to some woman’s house while dressed as a business hussy out for a contract.

I assumed the auction house received special requests like that all of the time, as they had a huge assortment of men’s and women’s clothing available, including pajamas.

“She’ll be billed for everything on the list and any extras you’re given,” Dick informed me. “Her specifications are for you to be comfortable, so take several pairs. Most families want to give their courtesans a chance to settle before subjecting them to any shopping and other mandatory outings.”

I could work with that, and as I was far more into flannel than satin or silk, I grabbed three sets of flannel, one set pale, one in shades of gray with some black tossed in for good measure, and one set in red and white. After a moment of second thought, and an embarrassing amount of cloth fondling, I grabbed a silk pair in red.

The silk wasn’t the glossy kind, sinful in its softness rather than slick and shiny.

“Do I change out of the business hussy outfit now?”

“Yes. There is a bathroom over there. I’ll leave a pair of slippers out for you.”

I changed into the darker pajamas, taking a few minutes to check my bandages, which seemed okay. I didn’t want to think about how the next few days would look, as they needed to be changed daily while a witch checked for signs of infection. With my track record, I expected a multi-week battle. On the other hand, I bet the woman who’d bought me would be extra careful with her investment.

A pair of dark, fuzzy slippers waited for me right outside the bathroom door, and I wasted no time stuffing my feet into them. Dick set several boxes onto one of the tables, one of them covered in pictures of a rather expensive laptop. “The auction house keeps random laptops around?”

In the Alley, a laptop still in its box begged to be stolen, and those with them guarded them. Some, like my poor landlord, had ancient desktop computers. They did little good beyond tracking the weather, alleviating boredom, and dealing with the damned government.

Few bothered to import technology into a dying city with unreliable electricity.

Damn it, I’d only met him once, but I regretted I wouldn’t be able to have those coffee dates with Carl.