“I assume you are here to escort me to my seat.”

Backstage in the green room, Katrina felt eyes upon her, but not from the other musicians. The probing eyes were from the contest staff themselves. They pointed. They whispered. But Katrina did what her teacher said. She stretched. She nibbled an energy bar. She visualized.

Suddenly, everyone stopped talking, for Mr. Daniel Kar-Ching Tso and Mr. Tremon Philippe walked into the room. From the looks of the other musicians, this must have been unexpected; Katrina noticed some of them instinctively search for their teachers or coaches, while others fidgeted into a corner or pulled out their cell phones.

One of their assistants cleared his throat, then spoke. “We don’t mean to disturb you, but Mr. Tso could not wait to meet everyone. There’s no need for formalities—please be as you were. Mr. Tso just wants to chat with each of you, and then we’ll be on our way.”

“Ah, so good to see all the wonderful musicians here! Thank you, thank you! For Friendship! For Friendship!” Mr. Tso said in English.

The musicians reacted as best they could, since this was the benefactor and head judge. Mr. Tso was affable and seemingly enthusiastic, but Katrina could not shake the impression that they were being appraised. And, judging by how long they were spending with each musician and where Mr. Tso was putting his hands, she could guess what they were being appraised for.

Then Katrina noticed something else. It was becoming obvious that she was to be the last one spoken to. And, throughout this whole period, Mr. Tso had been stealing glances at her.

And then they approached.

“This is the one I was telling you about,” Mr. Philippe said.

“Yes, yes, very nice. You are very beautiful,” Mr. Tso said. He touched her arm. Katrina did not flinch; she was used to this.

“Thank you,” she said, without making eye contact.

Mr. Tso nodded. “Good, good.” As he faced her, he let his hand brush across her legs. Then he grabbed her penis through her dress. Katrina inhaled sharply, and looked up at the other musicians, but they had all discreetly turned away.

“Mr. Tso, we should let them get ready now,” Mr. Philippe said gently. “You’ll be seeing more of this one in the future.”

Then both of them left the room. A short time later, one of the staff tapped Katrina’s shoulder and gave her an envelope. Inside was a suite number and card key.

Katrina smirked. You can give him all the money and power in the world, but a cocksucker was still a cocksucker.

And then the competition began.

Unlike whatever was happening out front, the area in the back remained subdued. In fact, the only indications the competition was underway were the muffled noises from the crowd and the two large-screen, closed-circuit monitors in the corner that no one was watching.