“Ah, so good to see all the wonderful musicians here! Thank you, thank you! For Friendship! For Friendship!” Mr. Tso said in English.
The musicians reacted as best they could, since this was the benefactor and head judge. Mr. Tso was affable and seemingly enthusiastic, but Katrina could not shake the impression that they were being appraised. And, judging by how long they were spending with each musician and where Mr. Tso was putting his hands, she could guess what they were being appraised for.
Then Katrina noticed something else. It was becoming obvious that she was to be the last one spoken to. And, throughout this whole period, Mr. Tso had been stealing glances at her.
And then they approached.
“This is the one I was telling you about,” Mr. Philippe said.
“Yes, yes, very nice. You are very beautiful,” Mr. Tso said. He touched her arm. Katrina did not flinch; she was used to this.
“Thank you,” she said, without making eye contact.
Mr. Tso nodded. “Good, good.” As he faced her, he let his hand brush across her legs. Then he grabbed her penis through her dress. Katrina inhaled sharply, and looked up at the other musicians, but they had all discreetly turned away.
“Mr. Tso, we should let them get ready now,” Mr. Philippe said gently. “You’ll be seeing more of this one in the future.”
Then both of them left the room. A short time later, one of the staff tapped Katrina’s shoulder and gave her an envelope. Inside was a suite number and card key.
Katrina smirked. You can give him all the money and power in the world, but a cocksucker was still a cocksucker.
And then the competition began.
Unlike whatever was happening out front, the area in the back remained subdued. In fact, the only indications the competition was underway were the muffled noises from the crowd and the two large-screen, closed-circuit monitors in the corner that no one was watching.
Other than that, people fidgeted, texted, paced back and forth, went to the viewing or practice area, or complained, to anyone who would listen, how no real competition would be run this way.
Katrina shrugged, then glanced at Mr. Tso’s envelope.
What was real, anyway?
One by one, a musician’s name was called to get ready. One by one, someone came in to take them away. One by one, they disappeared.
And then it was her turn.
Katrina was led to an area just offstage. She picked up Aubergine and kissed her. “In all of this, you’ve been innocent. I’m sorry.”
Katrina reached for the dogwood bow. She wasn’t afraid of it. She didn’t hate it. In a way, it was just as helpless as she was. And besides, it was with this bow that she would set Miss Satomi free.
The announcer began her introduction.
“You may have seen our next musician’s videos—if you are into that sort of thing. Performing a medley of gaming music, please welcome transgender activist and violinist, Katrina Nguyen.”
With Aubergine and the dogwood bow, Katrina Nguyen walked onto the stage.
Crass. Tasteless.
This had been like no competition Shizuka had been part of. Why even mention her being transgender? The girl was here to be a musician—why couldn’t they have just said her name and let her perform? The audience was already beginning to snicker.
And then, Shizuka Satomi noticed that Katrina held a dogwood bow.
WHAT?
She’s made her choice, Shizuka. There’s nothing you can do, except enjoy the performance, the voice of Tremon said in her head.
As if to underscore Shizuka’s helplessness, the announcer kept going.
“Before you start,” the announcer said, “you look great. I mean there’s no way that I would ever have the guts to come onstage in a dress like that.”
The audience laughed as if this were the funniest thing in the world.
Katrina shrugged and smiled innocently. “It’s really not so different from sex work.”
The laughter stopped. There was muttering and uncomfortable shifting as Katrina turned to the crowd.
What had Miss Satomi said?
There are a lot of different ways to fuck on camera. Or onstage.
The stage lights were far brighter than they were in the park. There was no way her eyes would adjust; she’d be facing a wall of darkness the entire time.
Whatever. She didn’t need to see their faces to know what they wanted. The crowd wanted to be entertained. Mr. Tso wanted her body. And Tremon Philippe wanted her soul. And what did she want?
A glass of tangerine juice from Miss Astrid.
And with that, Katrina looked into the darkness and began.
* * *