Starter Villain by Scalzi John

Author:Scalzi, John
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tor Publishing Group
Published: 2023-09-19T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 16

The startup dude approached the microphone on the stage. He paused dramatically. And then he said, “I want you to consider your testicles … as a service.”

I smacked my face, dragged my hand down it, and then turned to Morrison, who, along with Hera, was sitting at my table with me at the hotel pavilion, facing the lake. “Are they all like this?” I asked her.

“No,” she said. “Some are worse.”

We were watching the Pitch and Pitch, which had begun as the sun was setting and the attendees of the Bellagio Gathering had gathered for a combination cocktail hour, networking event, and startup idea pitchfest. The attendees, to be clear, were not pitching ideas to the other attendees. They were pitching them to the dozen members of the Lombardy Convocation, who sat, separate, at tables like mine, each with one or two associates or minions, and each one, like me, with a cat.

When I had arrived, wearing a bespoke suit that I had not been aware had been made for me and for which I was not sure how they got my measurements, Hera padding after me obediently, I was met at the entrance to the pavilion by hotel restaurant waitstaff, who kept me from mingling with the bro rabble and instead guided me to a table on a higher patio level, where my chair was held out for me. Hera was offered a step stool to her own chair, which had a booster seat designed for a cat. I thought that was exceedingly odd until I looked at the other tables on my patio level and saw the other cats sitting serenely, some with tiny crystal goblets in front of them.

I wondered what was in the goblets until one was deposited in front of Hera: raw tuna, minced. As I watched her daintily dig into her treat, I was deeply and uncomfortably aware that for all the time I had known her I had been feeding a creature with a refined palate dry cat food for every meal. I wondered why she had not murdered me in the night during that time. Before I could think too much about it I was presented with my own goblet of wine and a small appetizer plate, which included tuna sashimi. I was now eating as well as my cat.

A shadow loomed over me; it was Morrison, in a dress that was the least conservative thing I had seen her wear to this point. “You look nice,” I said, as she was seated by the waitstaff and her own plate of sashimi and other treats were placed in front of her.

“Thank you,” she said.

I motioned to the crowd of attendees in the pavilion, many of whom were looking in our direction, I presumed at Morrison, who was, literally, the only cis woman present except for waitstaff. “You’re getting looks,” I said.

Morrison barely glanced up before spearing some food. “They’re not looking at me, they’re looking at you.”

“I don’t think I’m the usual bro type,” I said.

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