A Consultant, a Chemist, & Two Biologists

Hundreds of miles away, in an exorbitantly spacious Brooklyn brownstone, Etta Edwards critically eyed her reflection in the large, ornately framed mirror of her bedroom vanity. In the world of consulting, connections were everything – and that meant appearances were everything. Doubly so when you owned your own firm. Unfortunately, triply so when you were black. Shaking her curly chin length hair and pursing her plush, walnut lips, she tried out a few different faces in the mirror. The bags under her eyes she could hide with makeup, but the weight gain was becoming increasingly obvious. Sighing, Etta turned away, pulling her fuzzy white bathrobe tighter over her large bust and re-cinching the belt. Sitting down on her bed, she checked her emails one last time for the night, and reviewed her busy calendar for the day ahead.

Truthfully, although Etta did lament her busy schedule, and the emotional toll that came with the constant stream of high pressure social interaction that her position as CEO of Edwards Strategic Partners demanded, she couldn’t really imagine any other life. She loved the hustle. She loved being respected, loved beating the competition, loved the money.

“Six weeks,” thought Etta, lying back, alone, on her king sized bed, “And then maybe I can finally get a little vacation in…”

But Etta’s vacation came earlier than she expected. An Etta-shaped impression slowly disappeared from the memory foam mattress as she was spirited away.

“OH JeSUS OW!”

Etta was typically not an especially religious woman, but certain unexpected events, such as suddenly toppling backwards onto an unfamiliar stage in front of four unfamiliar women while wearing nothing but a bathrobe, did make for temporary exceptions.

She landed heavily on her back, her robe bunching up to expose a single wide, dark areola atop a heavy breast.

Atop her throne, Fiona, once again, made a point of averting her eyes. The two students simply looked on in curiosity.

“Hmm, well, it’s not as clear a view as we usually like to see, but I’ll count it.” Esther clapped appreciatively. “Welcome, Etta Edwards, to Harem Hotel! Congratulations on being the second contestant to acquire victory points before the game officially begins!”

“I’m sorry,” Etta huffed, carefully standing and adjusting her robe, “Just what is going on here? Where… Is this Cedarwood? And what is this game? Harem Hotel?”

“Don’t worry! I’ll explain as soon as everyone arrives. Why don’t you grab a seat, it won’t be much longer, I promise. Five more contestants, but,” Esther smiled broadly, “these ones come in batches.”

Etta frowned, carefully examining the scene before her. Three seated women, one of them nude, expressions ranging from grim to terrified. She looked back at Esther. Etta was very confident in her eye for people, and something about the diminutive host chilled her to her core.

She began a step backwards towards the exit, but a sharp head shake from Fiona gave her pause.

“I tried, Etta,” Fiona whispered, “Best sit for now.”

After an achingly long consideration, Etta eventually sighed. “OK,” she nodded slowly, making her way to the ring of folding chairs, “I guess I can see when I’m outmatched. But I expect a good explanation. None of this makes sense. Have I been ****?”

“Absolutely nothing so crude!” Esther favored her with a grin and an exaggerated waggle of the eyebrows which was surely intended to be encouraging, but instead came across as somewhere between taunting and threatening.

“Observe: Magic!”

***

“UNO!” Exclaimed Brooke, the tall, muscled blonde slamming a crinkled red six on the stack in the middle of the rickety blue folding table, set rather unsteadily in the pockmarked yard of the massive ranch house.

“Hey, you can’t… you can’t do that. That’s a nine. You can’t… hic… put a nine on a six,” Complained the utterly soused lab tech two seats down, the fringes of his ripped-off t-shirt sleeves fluttering in the gentle breeze.

“It’s a six, Thomas. Those are both sixes. Would you like a glass of water?” Countered Bianca, from the seat next to Brooke. Reaching a skinny arm around her girlfriend, the pale graduate student, sporting a newly dyed platinum buzz cut, contrasting her black lipstick and nail polish, leaned over to nestle her head into the crook of Brooke’s neck.

“Nah, man, I got my beer,” responded the heckler.

Bianca sighed, closing her eyes and inhaling the autumn air. The smoky fragrance of the nearby grill mingled with the sharp scent of ****, but did not fully obscure the subtle notes of the dusty road, the tall grass, the wildflowers, the miles of hilly plains that surrounded the lonely property. It was a comfortable scent, deeply familiar after four years of undergrad and two of graduate school thereafter.

The party was hosted semiannually by professor Christina Chapman, Cedarwood’s best up and coming chemist, and Bianca’s co-advisor… technically. Officially a member of the biology department, Bianca’s work was at the fuzzy intersection between biology and chemistry, and she had worked very hard to make sure she could be co-advised by a member of each department. Unfortunately, Christina was not nearly as attentive a graduate advisor as she was a chemist. Still, the advice Bianca did manage to wrestle out of her was routinely invaluable, so she didn’t mind… too much. On most days. And the semiannual rager nearly made up for it.

Bianca passed her cards to Brooke, standing to stretch. “Play my hand, I want to see if I can track down Christina. And get another hot dog.”

“My victory is assured!” Grinned Brooke, “Bring me one too!”

“Hey, you can’t do that either!” Complained Thomas.

“Shut up, Thomas,” Called Bianca over her shoulder, striding back towards the house.

***

Inside the house, Christina fixed a smile on her face as she saw Bianca approach. The chemist was a short, slim woman in her early thirties with straight black hair and southeast Asian ethnicity – a San Francisco native who had abandoned the city life in favor of what she would say was “enough room to breathe.” Hence the ranch house in the sticks. She wore a faded red t-shirt, khaki cargo shorts, and a pair of Birkenstock sandals.

She didn’t really mind talking to her student. She would enjoy it a lot more if their conversations didn’t always come with a request.

“Hello Bianca. How’s your game of Uno?”

“It’s great, thanks for having us, Christina. I think Brooke was about to win, but its Uno, so you never know.”

Christina nodded in response.

Bianca sighed. Time to pull some teeth.

“So, uh, did you happen to see the email I sent on Thursday? About my lit review. I had a question about the Smith paper, the methods section - ”

“Oh, yeah, I’ll get to it. Sorry. I’ll send you something next week.”

Bianca grimaced. There was no way she was getting that response by next week.

“Can we meet about it? I’d love to talk through it with you. If that’s OK.”

“Of course! Of course. Just come stop by my office.”

Trying to catch Christina in her office was like playing whack-a-mole, but Bianca knew it was the best she was going to get.

“Thanks, Christina. Looking forward to it,” Bianca smiled, “Thanks again for hosting. I think I’ll grab another couple hot dogs for the table.”

***

Bianca returned, hot dog plates balanced on each hand, to find that Uno had ended, and Brooke had now resorted to her favorite pastime – regaling the crowd (preferably, containing as many drunk undergraduates as possible) with highly unrealistic stories about her fieldwork.

“- was the biggest I’d ever seen. It musta been twelve feet tall. And it’s antlers – I’ve never seen such antlers. Like a dozen spears sticking right out of its head. And furious! Oh, I looked into its beady eyes and I saw the gaze of **** itself. But let it never be said that Brooke Braun is a cowardly woman. I took my rope - ”

Bianca leaned down to plant a kiss on Brooke’s head. “Hey, sweetie, want your hot dog?”

“Hey, Bianca,” Thomas interjected, “She’s not… hic... telling the truth, is she? Tell them… hic… tell them that story’s not real.”

“It’s a totally real story, Thomas,” Countered Bianca, “I went out hiking afterwards and saw the tracks.”

Bianca moved to take her seat, but found herself falling. Her surroundings had changed – the clean and open sky had become the shadowy balconies of the Cedarwood College auditorium. She hit the stage with a thump. Beside her, the bewildered figures of Christina and Brooke rose to their feet.

***

Brooke reached a protective arm around her girlfriend. “What the hell? I was barely drinking. Where are we? Christina, we were just at your party. What the hell happened? Did someone spike my shit?”

“Welcome, welcome, welcome!” Esther clapped. “Bianca Boswell, Brooke Braun, and Christina Chapman! No need to be afraid! You are the lucky, lucky next three contestants on Harem Hotel: Catastrophe at Cedarwood College! And no, you have not been ****.”

“Contestants?” Queried Christina.

“Harem?” Asked Bianca, “Look, I know Brooke and I definitely did not sign up for this, and I can’t imagine Christina did, either.”

“Its OK!” Smiled Esther, “No invitation needed, totally free of charge! Now just go ahead and take a seat please, I promise I’ll explain. Only two more contestants to bring!”

“Like hell!” Swore Brooke, “Let’s go, Bianca, we’re getting out of here.” Grabbing Bianca’s hand, she began marching towards the exit. Christina looked on cautiously.

“It doesn’t work…” Called Fiona.

“Oh, we were doing so well.” Esther let a scowl slip briefly across her face as she watched Brooke, Bianca in tow, rush to try the backstage exits on both sides of the stage, only for the pair to be teleported back each time.

“Hey, we are on a timetable here, cameras are rolling! Nobody wants to watch you try the exits all day. Come sit, you’ll be fine, I promise!”

Brooke stared back at Esther, locking eyes with the host. From across the stage, Esther’s gaze tore through her like a rail gun, her fixed smile, teeth bared, an unmistakable threat.

“Brooke, stop. Brooke, I think we should -” Bianca began.

But Brooke Braun was not a cowardly woman.

Deftly retrieving the folding knife from her pocket, Brooke charged, wrenching open the blade, her powerful legs pounding the floorboards -

Esther snapped her fingers. The lump on her pendant wriggled intensely under her shirt. A jagged black beam shot from her fingertips with an overpowering shriek, a putrid, sulfurous stench permeating the air. Brooke, and the back half of the stage along with her, was enshrouded in a fine, black mist.

When the dust cleared, Brooke was floating in the air, upside down, nude, spreadeagled, and frozen completely still. Her blonde hair, now stiff, hung down like icicles. Her muscles trembled beneath her skin.

Bianca was the first to scream. “What did you do? What did you do? Is she dead? Let her down! Please, she was just scared. We’ll do whatever you want! I promise, just let her down!”

“Oh my God. Oh my God!” Carolyn crushed Ms. Bungis in her arms.

“JeSUS!” Etta looked ill, exchanging a glance with Fiona, who looked equally miserable.

Christina, collecting herself, hurried over to the chairs, leaving Bianca with her frozen lover.

Maisie merely looked on with a worried expression.

Esther took several deep breaths, placing one hand carefully over her pendant. “Now, now, she’s just fine, I did promise you’d be fine, and I meant it. But we can’t be having any ****, it’s not that kind of show.” She let a smile reclaim her face. “Now Bianca, if you’ll just pull her over here, we can get on with things. I’m afraid she’ll suffer just a little penalty on her first transformation, but it’s really nothing to worry about.”

Gently pulling Brooke by the hand like a human balloon, Bianca nervously made her way to the ring of chairs. “A penalty? Can you please unfreeze her? She’ll be good, she’s not stupid. Please.”

“No, I think she needs a little time out, to consider her actions. Don’t worry, she can still see and hear just fine, she won’t miss a thing!”

The crowd uneasily settled, Esther raised her arms for the final summoning.