“Saturday night?”
Quinn nodded.
Chapter 18
After Jones left, Quinn sat in the comfy cool darkness of Hole, sipping what was left of her diablo and beginning to feel like the Borelli job just might have a chance of working.
Her phone rang. When she saw who was calling, she blinked a few times.
Noah. And only a few days had passed this time.
Before she could ask herself all the questions—why he was calling when he’d gotten what he wanted, why a Midtown guy would bother with a Downtown girl, and what the hell his agenda was—she gave in to the urge to hear his voice and answered.
“Hey, Midtown,” she quipped.
“Hey, beautiful,” he responded. “Have you seen a Blue Banner yet?”
Quinn felt a flutter in her stomach at him calling her beautiful.
“No Blue Banner, or any butterfly,” she said, surprised that he even remembered. “Does that mean I win?”
“Nope. I feel pretty confident that you’ll see one.”
Quinn laughed, shaking her head. “What, you found some Midtown art gallery with a painting of one?”
“Nope. The bet was that you’d see a real one. And you know I don’t like to lose.”
“Okay, Midtown. You have science and the ugly realities of climate change working against you, but stay confident if you must.”
Noah laughed at that. “So, what’s happening? No new bruises, I hope…”
Quinn hesitated, surprised that Noah would bring up such a risky topic, one they’d have to skirt around. “No, unfortunately. You?”
“Bruise free. Boring few days, I’m afraid.” He paused. “Got plans for Saturday night?”
Quinn’s stomach fluttered again, and she wished it would knock it the fuck off. Then she realized she did have plans. With Jones. And Linden. “Saturday isn’t good.”
“How about Friday? Or is that too soon?”
“I could do Friday. What did you have in mind?”
“It’s a surprise.”
Quinn hopped off the subway, skirting around the street dwellers and emerging into the early evening heat. It was near sunset but still plenty hot out, although the winds had died down. She rounded the corner, passing several nice cafes and clothing boutiques, the kinds of places she longed to go but couldn’t afford.
Noah had told her to meet him in the Broadway neighborhood, where the theater district was. The neighborhood had many decent restaurants, along with lots of theaters showing everything from family-oriented musicals to classical ballet. She had no idea what kind of surprise he had in mind. Probably a musical, which was fine with Quinn.
When she arrived at the corner of Broadway and 61st Street, there was a little brick plaza with a statue of two dancers. It had been a fountain at one time, but now the circular basin was filled with sparkly glass rock to give it the appearance of water. She spotted Noah, sitting on one of the benches and watching people. There was something about the way he held himself, like he was important, similar to the successful financiers but without the suit or the arrogance. He spotted her just a moment later, and a rush of heat ran through her at the sight of him, at his confidence and total comfort in that Midtown environment… at the very things that made him out of her league.
Suddenly, Quinn regretted letting herself get sucked into Noah’s charming offer. What the hell was she doing here? Having a drink was one thing. Getting together once in a while for company or to shake the sheets was one thing. But wine? Dinner? Surprises?
Noah’s expression changed as she drew closer. “You okay? You look upset.”
Shit. He’d seen right through her. Again.
She forced a smile. “I’m fine. I was… just worrying about stupid stuff.”
Noah took her hand and pulled her closer, giving her a kiss. Quinn closed her eyes, inhaling his clean scent. Then he grinned. “Whatever it is, tonight will get your mind off it. Are you ready?”
No.
“I think so,” she said nervously.
“Don’t worry. I’m not taking you to that musical with all the singing puppets.”
Quinn laughed at that. Little did he know that singing puppets was the least of her worries.
He led her across the street, past more restaurants and a couple of theaters with popular musicals. Up ahead, Quinn spotted the opera house. Noah didn’t seem like the opera type, but he’d already surprised her so many times that maybe opera wasn’t so strange. But Noah led her right past the opera house, too.
They turned the corner, and Quinn spotted the familiar glass dome of the botanic gardens. Now they were heading away from the theater district, to an area that had a few quiet and elegant restaurants. What else was up here? Quinn couldn’t think of what it could be. But when they approached the entrance to the botanic gardens, Noah stopped. Quinn stopped too, looking up at him. He was smiling.
For just a moment, Quinn stopped breathing. “You’re not serious.”
Noah gave no reply, and opened the door for her. She walked into the cool building, already smelling it: moisture, plants, soil. And sounds. Trickling water. Bird songs. The hum of some noisy insect that she’d forgotten existed. Soon, they were past the ticket scanners, through the lobby filled with plant sculptures, and standing under the giant glass dome. They were surrounded by greenery.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, staring in awe at all of it.
Giant cacti, as big as a building in some cases. Spiny desert plans. Mesquite and palo verde trees. Little lizards and other creatures darting in and out of the rocky soil. It was so beautiful to see it all, the foliage that used to dot the hills outside El Diablo, before the drought came.
Quinn stood there, taking in everything. Every plant, every flower, every sound. It was like being there again, back in the desert when it was still lush and beautiful, and not a dehydrated, dusty beige landscape. She stared at all of it, along with the rest of the crowd, kids reading the signs aloud, the ones with the plant and animal names and the descriptions of the ecosystem that had once existed there.
“Once climate change went beyond the point of no return, what many scientists had predicted came true: wet climates got wetter, and dry climates got hotter and drier.”
Finally, the path led her, Noah, and the rest of the crowd through a door and into the next set of gardens. Immediately, Quinn felt the increase in humidity. The birds sounded different, too. Here, there were tall grasses, real trees with broad green leaves, and all kinds of shrubs. And delphiniums, their tall spiky stems sprouted with purple blooms. Quinn loved delphiniums. Then something darted in the corner of her eye… a brown creature with a fluffy tail.
“A squirrel!” a child cried out, pointing. “Daddy, I saw a squirrel!”
“He’s cute, huh?” Dad said.
Quinn looked at Noah, who was looking around as well, his brown eyes taking in everything, wonder in them.
More doors led them to new ecosystems, each more foreign to her than the next, dense jungle-like plants with bright green foliage and huge red flowers, and strange insects and frogs with crazy colors. The humidity was almost stifling, and her skin was slick with a layer of sweat, but she didn’t mind. It was all too amazing to care about any discomfort.
In a room with only dim filtered light and green ferns underneath tall pine trees, they passed a small brook, water trickling through it, the sound soothing to Quinn’s ears. She knew there were places with streams filled with water, but she’d never seen one. But they too had their own environmental problems to contend with—torrential rains, flooding, other problems.
“What do you think?” Noah finally said, watching the water burble by them, his hand on the small of her back.
She wanted to ask him how the hell he could afford to come here, and how he’d scored tickets with a six-month-long waiting list. She wanted to ask him why he would bring her, when he could have brought anyone. She wanted to ask him what the catch was, when the other shoe was going to drop. But she
didn’t. She only looked at him and said, “I love it.”
Noah smiled. And he leaned over and kissed her, and once again those nagging thoughts disappeared. Then he grabbed her hand. “There’s more.”
More? They’d covered every section of garden. But Noah took her to the corner and through another door, a door no one else seemed to notice. On the other side, there was a quiet and dimly lit hallway. Two big men, both armed, stood there, their eyes shifting to her and their hands going to their weapons.
Quinn froze, fear coursing through her. It was a trap.
But then Noah flashed the men something, something she couldn’t see. Both men relaxed, one giving Noah a nod as he motioned to another door. Noah opened it and through it they went, Quinn’s heart still racing a little. And once she reached the other side of that door, her jaw dropped.
It was another room, one filled with plants and trees and light… and something flitting around them. Butterflies. Everywhere. Black ones with spots. Orange ones. Little white ones and big multicolored ones.
Quinn stepped into the butterfly room, her wonder so consuming that she forgot about the armed men and everything else. Then, she saw it. The butterfly that stood out among the other beauties, big and bright blue with iridescent spots. A Blue Banner.
Quinn’s breath caught in her throat as she slowly approached the creature sitting on a tree branch, almost terrified to even breathe for fear she might scare it away. It stayed put, and Quinn gazed at it. Suddenly, inexplicably, her eyes filled with tears.
Fuck.
Don’t you dare. Don’t you cry now. Never, ever let them see you cry.
She stepped just a hair closer, studying the beautiful creature, remembering its vulnerability in their hard world, relieved to see it find safety here, in this place. She felt Noah’s warm hand on her back again, reassured by his presence but glad he couldn’t see her face. She prayed he wouldn’t make her face him, that he wouldn’t see the lump in her throat or the tears that were just moments from spilling down her cheeks. But he remained behind her, letting her take it all in.
Then she remembered. The bet. That she would see a Blue Banner again, a real one. She smiled, the lump in her throat dissolving.
“I guess you win again,” she said.
Noah gave no reply, other than a small squeeze of his hand. The Blue Banner flew away.
When she finally turned to face him, he wasn’t looking at the butterflies. He was looking at her. He was smiling, but his eyes said something else. Something she didn’t understand. Whatever it was, she felt it too.
He finally spoke. “Want to see everything again?”
Quinn nodded.
Later, after a late dinner, Quinn lay in Noah’s soft sheets, his AC cooling the light layer of sweat on her. Part of her wished she could just stay there for a while. That she could forget Jones and Linden and Borelli and the job, and just lie in Noah’s bed and play back all those memories of green plants and bird sounds and, most of all, that Blue Banner.
Noah lay there too, spent. Soon, he rolled onto his side and brushed her hair from her moist face.
“When I was a kid,” she began, “my friend Daria and I used to take the train to Midtown and hover outside the botanic garden windows, back when the building was much smaller and still had windows you could look into. We’d sit out there late at night, when it was quiet, listening for bird sounds. Not realizing that most birds were quiet at night.”
“You were out that late at night?” Noah said, looking surprised. “That far from home?”
She shrugged. “Not a lot of parental supervision for us. My Mom died when I was ten, and my dad… he was drunk half the time, depressed the other half, so I was on my own.” She paused, seeing Noah’s eyes watching her. “Do you think less of me now?”
He made a face. “Why? Because you grew up broke?”
“Yeah.” She smiled. “I’m Downtown trash.”
He shook his head. “There are two kinds of Downtownies. Those who get crushed by the realities of life down there, and those who get tougher because of them. I’ve known plenty of both, and I can tell you’re the second kind. I could tell from the moment I laid eyes on you.”
“What about you? Intact family, I assume…”
Noah nodded. “I’m lucky. We’re lucky. Mom’s a nurse at Midtown General, and Dad’s done pretty well for himself. He started out with nothing and became successful. He’s got that thing… that killer instinct you need to rise beyond a tough upbringing.” His face clouded over. “Unfortunately, his work made him a target for mindjacking.”
A pit formed in her stomach. Was Noah’s father a Protectorate target? One of her targets? “He wasn’t one of those on the news, was he?”
A wrinkle formed Noah’s forehead, and his eyes flashed with anger. “No, his case was one of many, but he lived through it.”
“What happened?”
“He saw them coming and alerted the police. Unfortunately, by the time the police got there, they’d jacked him and were in the middle of trying to kill his memory of the jacking. The fucking pigs took too much…” He looked away for a moment. “It took over a year of rehab and retraining just so he could work again.”
Dread fell over Quinn. “How is he now?”
“Better. Working. But not the same.”
Noah’s father hadn’t been a Protectorate target. He’d fallen victim to mind thieves. “I’m so sorry, Noah.”
Noah shook his head. “He’ll be alright. It could’ve been a lot worse.”
It was true. Other mind thief victims had suffered worse fates, especially lately, with this recent spate of beatings and murders. The news had reported yet another brutal beating just yesterday. Yet, she could tell that Noah’s optimistic words reflected what he wanted to feel, not what he actually felt.
He leaned over and kissed her. But Quinn could barely concentrate on the kiss. She needed to leave.
She sat up and planted her feet on the rug. But before she could get up, an arm encircled her and Noah pulled her close again.
“Stay over.” It wasn’t a polite offer this time. It was a request.
She turned to face him, his brown eyes watching her. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
What could she say?
“Just for a while,” he murmured into her ear, his hand caressing her.
Quinn lay there for a moment, and then she curled up against Noah, pushing aside her mixed feelings.
She knew she should leave. And she would, soon.
A loud beep rang out. Quinn woke up, startled. Where was she? It was too cool and comfortable to be her place.
Noah’s. She was at Noah’s.
Noah jumped up from bed, grabbing his phone and taking it into the other room. Quinn sat up and checked the time. It was almost 4:30 in the morning. She could hear Noah talking, but couldn’t make out anything specific.
When he returned a minute later, he looked like a completely different Noah. A fire in his eyes, all business. He looked at her, hesitating for a moment, as if trying to figure out what to say to her.
“You need to go,” she said, climbing out of bed. She began looking for her clothes.
“I’m sorry.”
She shook her head, dressing herself quickly. “Don’t worry about it. I can find my way home.”
“I called you a taxi. He’ll be here in a minute.”
Whatever it was, he needed her gone. Right now.
Which was fine. She should’ve been gone hours ago. She finished dressing and Noah gave her a quick kiss goodbye. And a minute later, she was sitting in the back of a taxi, headed south.
Chapter 19
Quinn reached back to zip up her white cotton sundress, less posh than the red sheath dress but still respectable, especially with a jacket over it. She checked her hair and makeup one last time. Not bad for a low-class girl, she thought. She stuffed her equipment and weapons into her jacket pockets.
It was Saturday night. Game time.
When she arrived at Voila, it was bustling with Midtowners. She checked the bar, looking for Jones, but didn’t see him. She cursed under her breath. He’d better not be late again. But then she saw someone wave. She looked closer, realizing it was Jones, his tattooed arms and neck covered by a neatly-pressed dark button-down and tie, and his tattooed scalp covered with a shock of thick blond hair. He’d grown it for the job. How he’d afforded that was beyond her, although there was always a way to score certain luxuries through underground means.
Not bad, Hammond Jones.
As she approached, he eyed her like he was thinking the same about her, but more so.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she muttered to him.
“Play along. We’re a couple, remember?” he said, his tone making it clear he derived no more pleasure from their pretend coupledom than she did. He slipped his arm around her. At least he smelled nice.
Linden appeared and approached an older couple at one of his tables. He looked preoccupied but had a pleasant smile on his face. When he turned around, Quinn waved, catching his eye. He waved back with a smile.
“Ready?” she muttered.
Jones nodded. They scooted out of the busy place and headed back into the alley. Jones reached behind a dumpster they had scouted earlier that week and pulled out a couple of black garbage bags filled with necessities for the job.
In the depths of the alley, a dumpster mostly hiding them, they quickly changed into chef’s whites, another underground score. Jones took out a burner phone and put in the call while Quinn kept watch.
“Good evening, Mr. Linden,” Jones said. “My name is Matthew. I’m an operations manager with the Protectorate and we had a couple of questions for you. Do you have a few minutes?”
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