ALICE Ch 287

Sasha Orlova spins around the pole in a skimpy white costume. Sweat gleams on her skin. It’s her third time going through the routine back-to-back. She slides down and comes off, spinning around and going through the dance moves.

Irina isn’t paying attention. She’s looking at her phone on the sofa nearby. This house that they’ve rented in Belgium is barely adequate. She looks up long enough to scowl. Irina snaps her fingers. “The curve of the back, Sasha. Keep the curve in your back. It should not be straight.”

“Yes, mother.”

Cosette sits beside Irina on the sofa.

“You know Riley Jameson and Adella Salazar, correct?” Cosette asks, pointing at the photos posted by FUTA today.

“I know of Adella Salazar. This one is the woman she married. What about this one? The little one?” Irina taps the screen.

“She is a French national. She works for Sezane and has risen quickly. Suspiciously quickly. Her family is comfortable but not rich. No husband, but there is an older woman who she sees sometimes in Paris. She has two children, and this other woman looks after them.”

Irina snorts. “Blondes. And her?”

“From Sweden. Married, three children,” Cosette says.

“Children are expensive,” Irina muses, lifting her gaze to Sasha. “Sasha! Again!”

“Yes, mother.”

“And the one hiding in the back?” Irina asks.

“She is not hiding,” Cosette says. “Korean, but raised American. She is an exhibitionist. Unpredictable. She has a… modest career as a model, of a kind.”

“I don’t like the look of her. The other blonde?” Irina asks, zooming in on her. “She is a beauty.”

“This one is Dutch. Unmarried. No children,” Cosette says.

“Work?”

“Before this, she was working in a fitness center.”

“As a trainer?”

Cosette shakes her head. “Just an employee. She has no money. This work for FUTA will be the most she has been paid since she was with FUTA ten years ago.”

“Then she has potential. I want more on the wives and husbands.”

“Of course.”

Irina scrolls on, landing on a post from Autosport. It features a photo of Valeria Flores wearing her Freedom cap. She gazes at Flores, then looks up at her daughter. Her expression turns thoughtful.

“That would be bold,” Cosette remarks. Her hesitance is obvious.

“She has performed well.”

“She has.”

“If she does so tomorrow, there will be a celebration,” Irina muses.

“There will.”

“Find my daughter something to wear. Sezane, perhaps. For me as well. Nothing too conservative.”

Cossette puts her phone aside. “Is it wise to take such an interest in the American teams?”

“It would be unwise not to. And Patty Dunham?” Irina asks, looking into Cossette’s eyes.

Cossette laughs. “If I call, she will answer.”