• So, where’s the table? It’s lunch o’clock on our – Leilani snapped, her tone pure diva – nothing like polite, mellow Manu.


  

  Flora froze. She had told Vanna and Manu to pass on the plan: fun stuff first to win the agents over, then the food and business talk. But clearly Leilani decided to freestyle it – which, honestly, was exactly what you’d expect from a stuck- up employee of a giant brand, Flora grudgingly admitted.

  Still, she whined internally:

  

  
• You're breaking my script! Why?!


  

  Luckily, the camerawoman stepped in without missing a beat:

  

  
• Of course, right this Everything’s ready – we can sit down and talk.


  

  On the table, covered in a plain white lace- trimmed cloth, sat crystal punch bowls with fluted edges, already filled to the brim. Alongside were plates with classic Greek salad. And that was it. All of this had been borrowed (with permission) from the yacht owner. Now Flora started regretting how bare- bones it looked – but she really didn’t want to ask Evelyn for more cash. Again.

  And now she was paying for that choice, as Leilani scoffed at the offering, pushing it away with a sneer:

  

  
• This is it?! Honestly, I’m starting to think you don’t even want this contract. If this is how you prep for your - big- meetings… – Leilani’s bangs covered half her face, barely held back by a massive silver Her beige satin dress clung perfectly to her lean, athletic body, and her feet – nails flawlessly manicured – were decked in high- end abaraxa sandals. She looked absolutely stunning.


  

  

  
• Damn, she’s gorgeous, - Flora admitted, despite the sting of embarrassment and a twinge of dislike toward the bossy She tried to push down her gloom by imagining sheep jumping over a funicular.


  

  

  
• Too bad Manu and Vanna can’t swing by to loosen things .. and help me deal with this beast.


  

  Suddenly, the subwoofers cracked and spat out a piercing ultrasonic squeal. Flavius jumped from his seat and shrieked:

  

  
• Who’s there?! Is it for me? First, you try to poison me with this food, and now you torture me with sound?! Me?! What did I do?! I won’t go down! – Dropping the bag he’d been clutching, he bolted


  

  toward the ramp, snatching up a slipping ginger wig and leaving behind a couple buttons from his soft shirt.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Before anyone could recover, before Flora could even react, a voice blared from the speakers:

  

  
• One- two! Mic check! We’re ready – and you’re about to feel how ready! Let the fiesta begin! – Lorenzo shouted cheerfully, signaling Camillo to launch the backing track on the laptop.


  

  The well- known melody kicked in — but in a funky reinterpretation — and the two singers started moving slowly near the mic stands. They were miming doves flying out of their hands, and then sliding their palms along the floor, as if making ripples on water. Usually loud and boisterous, Lorenzo sang softly for once — but with a confident bass not normally his own — while the massive, burly Camillo blasted the yacht with his falsetto:

  If it hadn't been for Cotton- Eye Joe, I'd been married long time ago!

  They performed it in a jazz style. Unfamiliar. Beautiful. But Leilani still wasn’t impressed.

  — Excuse me, but are folk songs really the way you greet influential guests?

  Flora ignored her. She had bigger things to worry about — like whether the creators of that song were gonna sue her for using it in the film. Once again, she regretted deciding to upload this whole film — which by the looks of the runtime was turning into a full- blown series — almost without editing.

  Still, the cocky girl’s remark didn’t go unnoticed.

  Leilani was annoying more than just Flora now. Evelyn had had enough — she jerked the camera up and down like she was smashing it on the girl’s head — then, collecting herself, snapped:

  — You lost your mind, sweetie? Want me to give you a tour of the yacht to clear your head a little? Huh, beauty queen?!

  That cold steel tone sobered the assistant up quick. Leilani visibly deflated. Flora braced for a catfight, but the girl just quietly stood up and started pulling something out of the iconic package.

  What emerged was a bottle of Krug Clos d'Ambon…, wrapped in its signature black foil. Flora bit her tongue in sheer awe.

  Damn! Where’d she get the cash for that kinda luxury bubbly? Holy crap!

  Okay, that was the kind of thought someone obsessed with money might have… but Flora was currently fangirling just as hard.

  Evelyn’s surprise wasn’t because of the price tag or the fancy label — she had no idea this was luxury- grade stuff (though Flora made a mental note to maybe hit the brand up about the product placement — might get a bit of cash outta that). What stunned the aunt was the artwork.

  

  
• What the hell did you do to the bottle?!


  

  There was a tiny, neat little nose drawn on it. Below — a big bushy mustache. Then buttons, suggesting it was wearing a jacket. Right under the neck — a thick monobrow.

  

  
• Who is this?! And why the hell ain’t he got pants?! — Evelyn fired off, full speed as


  

  

  
• What do you mean? — Leilani snapped — This was your idea!


  

  Flora and Evelyn just looked at each other, flabbergasted, and then threw up their hands.

  

  
• What do you mean - no- ? After one of your employees contacted me about the meeting (read: Manu showed up and explained who I was supposed to play), I got another call an hour later. There was this terrifying hissing sound, like a cobra, overlaid with a human I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. I was so shaken I actually remembered the exact words:


  
• She is from the ones who recruited you and seeks to feed on the innocence of your soul. Find the most expensive wine or other consciousness- draining drink in the tavern and give it the appearance of a living being, then bring it to the Ball of the Forsaken. We have spoken.-


  

  Then they just hung up. I was pretty freaked out, but figured it must be from your crew. You’re all creative types — dramatic behavior comes with the territory. — She paused, catching herself speaking way too proper, and corrected in a sharper tone: — and all this crazy crap of yours gets monetized well enough, so let’s move it. The business world awaits. So does Kumys.

  

  
• WHO?! — Evelyn