The Gender Game by Bella Forrest (historical books to read txt) 📗

could better understand the lure of Patrus for even a Matrian woman now that I was here. If you could ignore everything else that went on in this place—the lack of rights, and the fact that you were basically a prisoner of your husband—the land was beautiful. Vibrant, verdant, closer to nature than Matrus was, and maybe ever would be. There was little to no feeling of shortage on this side of Veil River. The population being smaller than that of Matrus probably helped. There was more wealth and resources to go around in general. The quality of life in a purely material sense was superior even for a woman. I had yet to witness real Patrian society for myself, but so far, I wasn't feeling as daunted as I'd expected.

"Okay," Lee said as he descended the stairs and entered the kitchen. I turned to see him holding a brown wallet, which he slipped into the side pocket of his pants.

"Let's go."

Samuel followed us to the door before Lee shut and locked it. His motorcycle was where we had left it, in the center of the driveway and the gravel crunched beneath our feet as we approached it. Lee handed me a helmet and then the engine roared. We headed out of the driveway, slipping onto the winding road that led down to the city.

It was quite surreal how different everything looked in the daytime. Seeing everything in color, I gained a whole different perspective of the mountain road and the triangular villas that lined it.

We soon began to pass vehicles rolling up the mountain, and as the slope lessened and we arrived on flatter ground, we joined a highway that hummed with many more—at least half of them motorcycles.

I found myself peering into the windows, curious to glimpse the passengers. I spotted some families—wife and husband in the front, kids in the back—but mostly, the vehicles were occupied by lone men. On the way to work, I guessed.

The sky was almost cloudless overhead as we neared the city. Lee branched off the main highway onto a narrower street filled with restaurants before we arrived in a communal parking area.

I got off, steadying myself as I gazed around. The parking lot was practically empty.

"Now is the best time to go shopping," Lee said. "While most men are at work. Early morning and evening are when it gets most crowded."

"So how come you're not at work?" I asked as we drew away from his motorcycle.

"My hours are more flexible than most," he said with a half-smile. "Besides, I have a day off today — I'm getting married, remember."

His hand closed around mine as he led me out of the parking lot and onto the street of restaurants. His leading me like I was a child felt weird, but I understood that Lee had to behave differently while we were out. All of the restaurants were closed at this time, except for a couple of cafeterias.

The streets were immaculately clean, and I had to say that this aspect of Patrus reminded me very much of Matrus—their attention to hygiene. Even the exteriors of the buildings were well-maintained, many of them appeared recently repainted.

He led me down a narrow alley and we emerged onto another road that was populated with shops that catered specifically to women. Clothes boutiques, hairdressers, and salons surrounded us.

Lee's brows furrowed as he glanced over my hair and nails. "We'll pay a visit to Ciantro's first." He pointed to a storefront that appeared to be a beauty and hair salon combined.

My hair was the same as it had always been: long, dry, and unstyled. And my nails… well, they were what they were. Given the environment that I had been living in for the past several years of my life, there had hardly been any point in putting effort into them.

We crossed the road and entered Ciantro's, catching the attention of a tall, skinny man with a perfect coif of blond hair.

He smiled as he looked from me to Lee.

"Morning," he said jovially, moving to the reception desk. "And what can I do for you today?"

Although he was inspecting me, he was clearly asking the question of Lee.

"Just a wash and style for the hair," Lee said. "And"—he gestured to my hands—"a… whatever you call a hand treatment."

"Manicure," the man replied with a grin.

"Yeah," Lee said. I glanced around the pristine white salon. We were the only ones here.

Lee offered me an encouraging smile before nodding toward the man, indicating that I follow him.

The man led me to a chair in front of a sink and after telling me his name—Tyler—began washing my hair. He didn't talk as he worked—just the odd question about my usual "hair routine", which warranted a very short answer. After cleansing my hair, he dried and styled it.

Staring at the finished result in the mirror, I was glad that Lee hadn't told him to do anything drastic. I still looked like myself… just shinier.

Then he took me to the opposite end of the salon where he worked on my nails for the next forty-five minutes—a process that I found tedious. I was relieved when he finally was done, and allowed me to return to Lee, whose head had been buried in a newspaper most of the time.

Lee smiled warmly, his eyes lighting up as he looked over the finished result. He pulled out a platinum card from his wallet and swiped it against the machine on the counter. Then we said thanks and goodbye, and left the salon.

Next, we headed to a clothes store a few doors along. When Lee asked me what sort of thing I liked, I admitted I wasn't really sure. I'd grown up on mostly hand-me-down pants and shirts in the orphanage, and detention facilities didn't exactly provide the opportunity to develop a sense of style. The attendant—another perfectly groomed and extremely knowledgeable man—ended up helping us out. After trying on dozens of outfits, we ended up with two bags