riot of glass and light. They hesitated in front of the
marble threshold.
"I bet they're wearing shoes made of real cow." Lily
tucked her purse under her arm as if she expected some
rampaging doorman to snatch it from her.
"Don't worry." Marja touched Lily's hand. "You look
fine." She had lent Lily a crepe off the shoulder dress
her grandmother had left her. It was too 90's for Lily's
taste, but Marja was the specialist when it came to this
sort of thing.
"You too," said Lily, "but that's not what I mean. Look
where we are. We can't afford this -- unless you don't
mind eating Cheerios for supper until finals."
"Come on. How much could it cost?"
"What's the gross national product of Portugal?"
"I'll ask, okay? I'll just poke my head in the door and
find out."
"No, I'm coming." Lily rammed her purse deeper into her
armpit and clamped it.
Lily had expected flocked wallpaper and leather couches.
Instead there were lots of bright plastic surfaces and a
rug with all the ambiance of sandpaper. The lobby of the
Hothouse was emphatically air-conditioned and
illuminated almost to the point of discomfort. Only two
of the five ticket booths were open. Beyond them was a
bank of sliding doors, textured to look like the trunks
of trees.
"Hi." The cashier was a young woman in an extravagant
foliage print dress. She had jade highlights in her
black hair and an expression as guileless as a pansy.
"Are you together?" The button on her collar said Ju.
"Yes," said Marja.
"No." Lily nudged her. "We came together, but we're not
together together."
Ju smiled. "Whatever."
"We're interested," Marja said, "but we're not really
sure this place is for us. Can you tell us about it?"
"As in, what does it cost?" Lily said.
Ju slid a brochure across the counter toward them; her
fingernails were polished the same green as her hair.
"Your basic attraction enhancement is $39.95." She
opened it; inside was a map. "Includes admission to all
public areas on the third and fifth floors, all gardens,
three dance floors, both pools, complimentary swimsuits
and towels in the dressing booths. On the fourth floor
are stores and services you'll pay extra for. Sit down
and take-out restaurants, bars, gift shops, lingerie
boutiques, contraception kiosks, simulators and personal
fx galleries."
It's nothing but a mall, Lily thought. I'm twenty-five
