Grey

refrigerate! Someone will be with you.”

The room was five-foot-square. In the middle, an inflatable orange chair sat before a navy stand where I saw a multitude of hair products, makeup, and various face and neck stretchers. On top of the stand was a large square mirror with red, blue, and violet vanity lights all around.

For a minute, I stood looking down at my nitrocellulose suit. Like I had done before, I ran my hands over the material and watched it fluoresce, like instantly rusting and unrusting metal.

Sitting, I closed my eyes and thought of Nora, her dark eyes and her full lips. I imagined her in her dressing room getting ready. She would be watching the show on a small screen while her coiffeur, makeup artist, and fashion consultants helped her dress. They probably assumed she was going out. Maybe she told them she was having a cream coffee at the SunEcho, or attending a silence concert of Love Emitting Diode.

No, I decided, she was not watching. She would be keeping an eye on the clock and at maybe two in the morning, she would ask her people to go. Sitting alone before her black and white iMirror, she would take a tiny sip of poison from a black goblet. She’d only have to wait for a few beats before the chemicals stopped her heart, and like a powerless space capsule, she would drift forever into the cold and black.

Taking the vial from my pocket, I held it to my chest. Please, Nora, I thought, reconsider. Go on and forget about me. Live another life.

A shiver of recognition shook me. Father’s voice was nearby and his tone was urgent and pleading. Standing, I pushed open the door and peeked out. Five feet away, he stood before green-face Jun, the aluminum-shirted LETTT brothers, the Om Om president of iip-2, and the aneurysm CEO of SLT.

“Come on!” he said to them, as he combed his awful stringy, marshmallow-filled wig from his face. “We’re about to announce the secret secret! And I know it’s what you all really want!”

Putting his hands on his hips, Jun asked, “What is it?”

“Go on back to your seats,” coaxed Father. “You’re gonna be shocked.”

“Just tell us,” said Jun, his tone as bored as his expression.

“It’s a surprise, but you’ll like it. I promise.”

“I have no patience,” said Aneurysm.

“If I just tell you, that’ll ruin the secret!” He paused as if sure they would change their minds. “Fucker cakes!” he said. “Fine! I’ll spoil it for you—Xavid is going to be the next RiverGroup CEO.”

Xavid? That creepy idiot? I couldn’t believe Father was making him CEO. Besides that, Xavid was a fake, he didn’t have anything to do with the family.

“Your hairdresser?” asked one of the LETTT brothers, stunned.

“He’s a damn good hairdresser!” said father, with a laugh. “And he’s been our COO and CFO for the last couple of days. Yeah, I know he’s not a Rivers, but the guy can work the code! Besides, my son can’t do it. He’s useless.”

While the clients eyed one another, as if not sure what to think, I felt stung. Father had said as much to my face, but it felt worse that he had told all of them.

“I don’t like it,” said the Om Om lady.

“Why not?” asked Father. “Xavid’s lard. He’s Ultra. He loves all the great bands and everything.”

“I was hoping for real news,” said Jun.

“We got that, too! We’re going to demo the Ribo-Kool stuff.”

“From what I’ve seen, they’re garbage,” said one of the LETTT brothers as he folded his arms over his aluminum chest. “I’m not interested.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” said Father, wiping his temple with one of his sleeves. “Ribo-Kool is lard! I checked them out. Their stuff is amazing.”

“Hiro,” said the Om Om lady, shaking her head slowly, “don’t patronize me.”

“I’m not! Not at all!” His tone was pinched and uncomfortable. After he managed to swallow, he laughed. “See! You do hate me. That’s why I’m making Xavid CEO. You can still hate me, but I’m not RiverGroup.” His eyes darted at their unhappy faces. “Don’t you guys get it? It’s like a switch-a-roo!” As he mimed some fast-handed magic trick, he got his big sleeves tangled.

“We don’t hate you,” said the Om Om woman, primping her too-tight brown suit.

“You keep promising,” complained the other LETTT brother, “but you never deliver.” The brothers turned to go.

Father jumped in their way. “Wait! Guys! We’re in the middle of the big show. Go on back to your seats. Enjoy yourselves. There’s lots of lard surprises.”

“The freeboot shooting was too much,” said the first brother.

“That old news?” asked Father with a laugh. “We’re way beyond that.”

“You have never explained how the freeboot got a certified RiverGroup identity. Forget the other crazy shit. It got the one thing in the world it shouldn’t have.”

“It was those MKG puds!” he fired back. “They shot Michael. Everyone knows it!”

“No one knows it!” corrected Jun.

“Do you have proof?” asked the Om Om lady.

“Almost,” he said, his voice small.

“We need proof,” she said.

“Prove it, Hiro,” echoed one of the LETTT brothers.

Pointing his fat index finger he said, “Believe me. I’ll prove it.” Then his hand fell to his side. “I just need more time. A couple of weeks. Maybe a month…”

The LETTT brothers glared at him as if they’d had it. After they eyed each other, they stepped around him and walked away.

“You butt bombs!” he said after them. “Go on! Get out of here. And those shirts are like so last year! Guess you bombastic butter creams didn’t notice, but Anus doesn’t wear them anymore!”

The Om Om CEO wiped her bloody lips. She looked annoyed and frustrated. “When you have proof, talk to me.” With a frown, she added, “I’m sorry,” and followed the brothers.

Father tightened his lips like he was holding in a convoy of profanities.

Jun said, “MKG’s new product is quite compelling.”

I was stunned to hear Jun mention Nora’s company. It felt like he was cutting Father’s heart in two with a scalpel.

Father’s face turned pink. “And after all I did for you… you plastic pussy! You rotten brain cake!” he said, regurgitating Erik Heimlick’s curses. Flinging his arms he added, “Go on! Go kiss Gonzalez-Matsu’s stinking ass!”

“Hiro,” shot back Jun, “I kept telling you to explain what happened. Give me a plausible answer! Give me anything! You never gave me bug fuck!”

I thought Father was going to up the screaming ante, but then a small, sickly smile appeared on his face. Dropping to his knees, he said, “Please, you have to stay with us! I’m begging you here.”

“Hiro!” said Jun, grimacing as though his face underneath might be the same green as his makeup. “Get up! You’re being disgusting.”

“Listen,” he continued from the floor, “we’re gonna rage all night! Aluminum Anus is staying. And dj Furious Molester is back! Remember him from the old days? He’s got a new ass!” Father’s laugh was like the squeak from a balloon. “I’m telling you, the guy’s undomesticated! He’s shitting everywhere!”

I felt ashamed. And as Jun and Aneurysm eyed each other, then bid Father good luck and headed off, I, too, had to turn away. Only minutes before I had thought him happier than I had seen him in years; now, when I heard a dozen fleshy thuds, I knew he was beating the floor with his fists.

For a minute, he lay there, berating the clients, their companies, their favorite bands, and Ultra songs. Finally, he got up and aimed his remaining wrath at his documentary cameraman who had been filming the whole time. “Turn that off!” he screamed. “Get out! I never want to see you or that film of my fucking life again!”

The silver-hair director stepped before him. “Hiro,” he said, “get it together. The show is still going! Pound is about to finish, and you’re on for the crowning ceremony.”

“Go away!”