The Price of Popularity

Sarah was sure it was lost for good. She’d had it in the pharmacy, where she used it to to answer a text, but it was nowhere to be found when she got back to her car. Not a big loss; she could go back to using her finger, after all. She felt a pang when she thought that.

The stylus was one of those little things that got lost often, but always turned up later, where least expected. Sarah had picked it up from the display at the checkout line in the grocery store. She didn’t need a stylus for her phone, but she’d been compelled to buy it. She blamed the advertising display that made her pick one up, despite its girlish purple with pink hearts and swirling script that said Popular.

As she unloaded the last of her groceries into the refrigerator, Sarah noticed something out of place on the bottom shelf. It was the stylus. How it got there she didn’t know. She conjured up several hypotheses involving it falling into her sleeve, or carelessly shoved in a pocket, or even tossed into a grocery bag without thinking.

She took the cold implement from the fridge and sat at the table with her phone. Her social media scroll was taking longer every day. Somehow, she’d amassed a huge following on every platform she used. It just felt easier to be pithy and relevant when typing with the stylus. After finishing with social media, she decided she’d try to meet someone for the night. Stylus in hand, she scrolled through her dating app, swiping left on almost everyone.

“Cringe… egotistical… needy… phony… creepy… wait, no.” She’d accidentally swiped right on the last. The profile was strange, and not in an ironic, fun way. About to “undo” her accident, she got a message.

“Hey, I see we’re matched. If you’re up for it we should get dinner at the Argentinian place, my treat. They never disappoint. My name’s Pari, by the way.”

“I think I made a mistake. I was about to undo that swipe.”

“No problem. I understand my sense of humor isn’t for everyone. But you like wine, I like cheese: we complement each other. Or you like cats, I like dogs: opposites attract. Or you like to ski, I like to read in front of the fire: both are winter activities where there’s no talking.”

“To be honest, your profile kind of creeped me out. That whole bit about looking deep in my eyes so you can drink my soul and make me your pet was a little much.”

“Maybe I was on a goth binge when I wrote that.”

“If you want more matches, you should probably change it.”

“Let’s see how dinner goes first? Maybe it’s working for me.”

Sarah was about to close the chat and delete the match, but something compelled her to do otherwise. “Okay,” she tapped out with the stylus, “see you there at 7:00?”

“See you then.”

Sarah closed the app and locked her phone. What did I just get myself into? she wondered. Rather than worry about it, she prepared for a night out. At least it’s dinner taken care of.

Not wanting to be seen by her date with the silly girly stylus she left it on her nightstand. One final check in the full-length mirror and she was ready to go. Her slacks and blazer were dressy, but not too dressy, and comfortable heels and a messy bun completed the look.

Pari was waiting for her as her rideshare pulled up and held the door for her. “Good evening, Sarah. Welcome to my world.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing really,” Pari said, “I’m sure.”

Sarah stepped out of the car and realized she was a head taller than Pari. The shorter woman wore brown oxfords, dark jeans, and a button-down shirt with the collar popped. Her blonde hair was cropped on the sides and brushed up in the middle.

“Um, Pari?”

“Yes?”

“What are your preferred pronouns?”

“Oh, tonight I’m all she/her,” she said. “But that may change, depending on the weather.”

“So, you’re more fluid?”

“We’re all more fluid,” Pari said. “We’re like, seventy percent water after all!” She laughed at her own joke and Sarah groaned inwardly.

Once seated, Sarah looked over the wine menu. She could feel Pari looking at her but didn’t know how to kick off a conversation with the strange woman. “The syrah looks good.”

Pari motioned for a waiter who dropped the menus he was carrying, changed his course, and walked straight to her. “The lady will have a merlot, and I’ll have a Quilmes.”

“Merlot and a Quilmes, yes ma’am.”

“Oh, but I wanted a—”

“Merlot, trust me.” Pari leaned forward, her elbows on the table. “Just leave it to me, and you’ll have the most unforgettable dinner experience of your life tonight.”

That’s what I’m afraid of, she thought, but I’m bigger than you and will kick your ass if you go full creep. “So, what do you do for a living?”

“A little of this, a little of that. I do favors for people, and they pay me.” Pari leaned back. “I’m kind of a jill of all trades, except when I’m a jack of all trades. Depends on the weather.”

Sarah looked at the wine list again. The merlot was twice the cost of the syrah. “Which pays better? Being a jack or a jill?”

Pari laughed. “See, I knew you had a sense of humor. What about you? What do you do?”

“I’m vocal coach, but lately I’ve been making more as a social media influencer.”

“I’m sure there’s good money in that,” Pari said. “I mean, come on, you look like a million dollars.”

“It wasn’t like I planned it, but I just seem to always find the right thing to say.” She didn’t want to add that it only worked that way when she used the stylus. She was sure it was a placebo effect, but saying it out loud would sound weird, and possibly jinx it. “I’ve had tons of posts go viral, so I figured I should make a little money before my wit dries up or everyone moves on to the next big thing. Play the hand I’m dealt, you know.”

“As long as you’re mine, I’ll make sure you always know what to say,” Pari said, “even when your hand’s empty.”

Sarah was pondering how to respond to that when their drinks arrived. She was eyeing the glass of merlot in front of her when she heard the waiter ask if they were ready to order.

Pari didn’t give her a moment to speak. “We’d like to start with mollejas, provoleta, bread and chimichurri. For mains we’ll have the hanger steak, and for dessert, well, we’ll just see what we feel like then.”

The waiter nodded and left, and Sarah noticed that other tables in their area were not being served. “He seems like a shitty waiter, except for us. You think he’s trying to get somewhere with us?”

“Oh, not at all,” Pari said. “My pets just don’t want to disappoint me because I drank their souls.”

She said it so matter-of-factly that it stunned Sarah for a moment, then she laughed. “Okay, good call-back to the earlier conversation.”

“Hm?” Pari took a sip of her beer, then smiled. “Right! You’re a quick one.”

The conversation faltered and Sarah sipped at her wine. She had to admit to herself that the merlot might have been the better choice. It was not what she was expecting at all, probably because all the merlot she’d had in the past came in a can from the convenience store. For her part, Pari seemed content to sip her beer and watch Sarah.

When the appetizers arrived, Pari perked up. “You have to try this,” she said, holding up a fork of mollejas.

Sarah accepted the bite and was surprised by the creamy texture and mild flavor. “Oh man! What is that?”

“Sweetbreads.” Pari took a bite herself. “Thymus gland of a cow.”

Sarah instinctively grabbed her wine and took a great gulp. “It’s what?”

“Thymus gland. We call ‘em sweetbreads, in Spanish it’s mollejas.”

She thought about the way she was acting. It was good when she didn’t know what it was, so her reaction made no sense. “I’m sorry, it just kind of… surprised me. It’s good.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Pari said, “that one is cheese, and that’s bread. The chimichurri is a sauce that they put on everything.”

The conversation finally got off the ground, comparing foreign cuisines. Sarah finished her second glass of merlot and was started on her third, while Pari was working on her second beer.

The appetizer dishes were picked up as soon as they had finished, and the mains came out at the same time. Sarah looked around and realized that the other tables in the area were now empty. In fact, they were the only two customers in the restaurant.

“Is it always this dead in here?”

“Dead? No.” Pari smiled. “There’s nothing dead here, except the cow,” she said, pointing at her steak. “I like it this way, though.”

“You like it empty?”

“I do. I’m not a fan of people in general,” Pari said, “unless they’re my pets.”

Sarah pushed away from the table. “I’m sorry, Pari, but I think I’m done. It’s too much. You’re nice enough, I’m sure, but just not my type. A little too strange for me. I think I’ll go home now.”

“No,” she said, “you won’t.” She snapped her fingers and the waiter and busser stepped to either side of Sarah. “I wish you’d finish your steak, but if you don’t want it you don’t want it. You know why you’re here.”

“Because I swiped right instead of left,” Sarah said, “on accident.”

“No, because of that,” Pari said, pointing at Sarah’s pocket.

Sarah looked down to see the stylus sticking up from her pocket. “But I left that on the nightstand.”

“You can’t leave it,” Pari said. “You sealed the deal when you used it the first time.”

“What deal?”

“It made you popular, like it says. One year, now it’s time to pay the price. You’re now property of Paribanou, but you can still call me Pari; all my pets do.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Instead of asking what you wish for, I’ve found it more honest to let your subconscious pick for you. You chose popularity, and I gave it to you.” Pari smiled. “You didn’t read the Terms and Conditions on the back of the Warranty card, did you? They’re very short, and easy to read. Caveat emptor and all that.” Pari’s eyes turned black.

Sarah tried to flee but was unable to move.

Pari walked around the table to her. She took the stylus and waved it in front of her face. The original packaging reappeared around it, leaving it looking brand new. Leaning close to Sarah she said, “Now I’m going to look deep in your eyes, drink your soul, and make you my pet.”

Sarah staggered into her apartment, unsure how she’d gotten there, and closed the door heavily behind her. She didn’t feel drunk; she didn’t feel anything at all apart from a longing to be near Pari. Her phone rang and she answered.

Pari’s voice filled her consciousness. “Take the stylus to the store, put it back in the bin, don’t get caught. Then bring me a six-pack of beer, any import. Don’t disappoint me, pet.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“The clouds are rolling in, I’ll be sir by the time you get here, but don’t worry about that.”

“I won’t worry about that, sir.”

Sarah stuffed her phone in her pocket and left the house. If she hurried, she could get to the store before they closed. She didn’t want to disappoint Pari.