Assumptions Read Online Free

and took a deep breath, the tops of her breasts
spilling over the top of her corseted gown of ruby taffeta. She
repeated the refrain. Her chestnut hair fell in soft waves over her
shoulders.
    She marched slowly to the piano and slid onto
the bench. Her slender fingers moved over the instrument
gracefully. The melody rose and fell as she attacked then caressed
the keys in confidence and woe, fury and hope. Her song circled
back, ending where it began, on a single mournful note, leaving the
crowd still and uneasy.
    She pounded out a few notes. Three men
dressed in black jeans and scuffed leather jackets raced onto the
stage and pumped out the first grinding chords of a goth-pop
anthem. The crowd bobbed like a manic whack-a-mole. Half-an-hour
later, the music dissolved as the singer’s band mates left her at
center stage to finish the last defiant refrain, quieting the crowd
once again. She held the moment.
    “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Mr.
M.L. Quig.” she announced coyly. The crowd exploded in applause,
taking up a low-toned chant, "M. L., M. L., M. L."
    A wiry man with head of thick, strawberry
blond hair filled the media façade. The camera followed him closely
as he bounced up the steps. Bulgari sunglasses flapped casually at
the breast pocket of his dark, custom tailored suit.
    He met the singer at center stage. She pushed
the microphone bud away from her Cherries in the Snow lips
and whispered in his ear. Quig grinned. She lingered at his cheek,
brushing her mouth across his skin as if no one were watching then
walked off stage. Quig ogled the elegant line of her back and the
luscious swish of her skirt as she descended the stairs and
disappeared into the executive entrance of his new building.
    He adjusted the tiny microphone at his chin
and turned his attention to his crowd.
    “Wow, this is amazing. You’re amazing!” Quig
waved, working both ends of the stage. The din rose. He applauded
his fans who responded with more volume.
    “I know some of you have been waiting a very
long time for this. Well, so have I!” He raised his arms, clapping
his hands above his head, whipping the crowd's enthusiasm to near
frenzy, sustaining the ovation for several minutes before
continuing.
    “About fifteen years ago now, in a cramped
apartment on the north side of this very city . . .” The crowd
howled in raucous approval. “ . . . Serendipity was released from
the Underworld, unwittingly born into our world with consequences
none of us, not even those of us on the working side of the screen,
could have imagined. In what seemed like an instant, she captured
the imagination of gamers, like all of you, the world over.”
    Quig continued with a thoughtful tone, “I
hope you have enjoyed her journey as much as I have. Today, we mark
a new era as we celebrate the return of my company, Serendipity
Smiles, with our new headquarters and research and development
center right here in my hometown, sweet home, Chicago.”
    Quig stepped back, allowing the wave of
admiration to swell.
    “My friends . . ,” he attempted to break
in.
    “My friends,” he repeated, “as you know, we
held an online competition to select a gamer worthy of welcoming
Serendipity home and of being the first to join her on a new
adventure, a gamer worthy of unveiling Serendipity Returns .
Allow me to introduce ConstanZa.” Quig hopped off the side of the
stage.
    A petite girl with dishwater hair tied up in
a loose ponytail at the back of her head stood timidly near the
gleaming doors. She wore skinny jeans and a pink t-shirt beneath a
brighter pink jacket. The camera on his heels, Quig walked over and
shook the girl's hand. She giggled, her loose hand rising to
conceal rosy cheeks and a mouth full of braces.
    Quig handed ConstanZa a pair of cartoonish
scissors and shuttled her toward the ribbon on the door. A handler
positioned her so as not to block the company name etched into the
glass. She opened the scissors wide then closed the blades with