Page 8 of Semblance

Common sense should have told me to leave the vehicle, head back up to my apartment, and find a less shady way to make some cash. But I was a desperate girl and the potential to make ten thousand dollars for one night’s work was way too good of an opportunity to pass up. I was flat broke once more after paying my tuition with the tips from China White and still needed to cover rent. Common sense had gone fishing tonight. I’d listen to it when I wasn’t down to my last nickel.

“Can I trust that you won’t kidnap me and sell me to some European sex-slave ring Abraham?”

“On the soul of my daughter, our organization will not harm you in any way, shape, or form,” Abraham said without hesitation.

“Well then, let’s get this party started,” I said.

“Excellent. I do believe that tonight’s event should open many doors for you in the near future.”

The limo began to move as I held my breath and prayed that I was making a good decision. Over the past four years, I had a tendency to make poor ones, and it was only in hindsight that I realized what an idiot I was at times. I wondered if this was going to be one of those instances.

The quietness of the car ride made me nervous so I decided to start some conversation.

“You have a daughter?” I asked. I had read up about Abraham after the gig last Saturday and there was never any mention in old news articles about his family.

“Ihada daughter,” Abraham replied. I could hear the sadness in his voice and immediately felt bad for asking. I decided to change the subject.

“There are some wild stories about you on the internet. Are there any truths to them?”

Abraham chuckled. “Like all competitive business owners, I became a victim of slander,” he replied. “When the China White first opened, it was considered one of the premier dining establishments in the city. My chefs, flown from all parts of Asia, were instructed not only to create food but also to create art. My restaurant was the talk of the town and I worked very hard to maintain that sense of grandeur for the China White. Of course, success has its price and I soon discovered the mean spirit of competitive business. I was accused of many things: participating in wild male orgies in the back of my kitchen while patrons feasted on their suckling pig. Apparently I also practiced pagan voodoo and sacrificed virgin blood to demon gods, and probably much worse.”

“That’s so juvenile. Is everyone still in high school?” I remarked.

“Sadly in life, progress in money and power leads to regression in common sense and decency,” Abraham sighed. “It’s a flaw in this little thing that we do. I was hit with these ridiculous accusations, which I took great offense to—not because I was accused of being a homosexual Satanist—but because I took immense pride running a spotless, sanitary kitchen. I would never allow a single drop of body fluid to defile the sanctity of my restaurant’s cooking space.

“So I went to war, fighting against the issue that offended me the most—having a dirty kitchen. As for beinga gay Satanist, I couldn’t care less. Call me a homosexual demon worshipper if you want, just don’t insult my spotless kitchen.”

“A truegay and religious activist,” I laughed.

“There are much worse things people can read about me,” Abraham said, in almost a whisper.

I decided not to press him on it.

“It seems like you folks love your stories,” I said. “Calisto created one about me, being some virtuous girl who uses her Golden Virgin powers to create beautiful music.”

“Storytelling is a very powerful skill,” Abraham said. “Empires are built and destroyed from the simplest of tales that seep through people’s ears and entrench themselves inside a person’s heart.”

“What’s the difference between stories and lies?” I asked.

There was a long pause. “Stories serve a higher purpose,” he finally replied.

“Are you sure about that one?” I asked.

There was another long pause. “No.”

Well this topic wore out its course; onto another one.

“Tell me about the guests at this exclusive event,” I said.

“It’s a secret,” Abraham replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Well when I get there, I’ll see the guests anyways. What’s the harm in giving me a little spoiler?”

“Did Calisto not share with you the details of tonight’s events?”

“Nothing much, except for that it was top secret.”

“Perhaps that’s for the best. I wouldn’t want to spoil anything for you either. It makes things more exciting that way.”

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