Served With a Twist

by Jet Lupin

  Had Samson just…? Cut didn’t think he’d heard the man swear before tonight. Filth coming out of his mouth was unnatural and deserving of a punishment at a time when Cut wasn’t preparing to run for his life.

  “Do you have a plan?” Samson was supposed to be looking for a place for them, the last Cut had heard, but there’d been no more news.

  “Give me a sec.”

  Samson sat on the foot of the bed and typed furiously on his pod. “I was waiting for some money to free up from a private account. It’s just cleared, so we should be OK.” He got up, threw on a coat and shouldered his bag. “You think your bike can handle this extra weight?” I can call Gray, but I’d rather not get them involved yet.”

  “It can handle it.” The max weight was around 500lbs. Even taking Cut’s belongings into account, they were well under that. “Just tell me where to go. I’ll get us there.” He wasn’t sure where they could go that was out of Ramzan’s reach after both Samson and Rami had built him up so, but he was willing to try it.

  They got on Cut’s bike and rode very carefully through the streets. They shut off their pods before they left in case Ramzan was using the devices to track them. They relied solely on the bike’s built in GPS and map like savages. Cut pitied their forbearers having to navigate anything manually. It was so inefficient.

  This was another area Cut had never been to before. The GPS said they were well into the Hosta District, towards the center of the dome on the outermost border of the heights and the Burrow. New districts popped up all the time. As the dome continued to expand, they found new ways to divvy up the map.

  Cut kept the bike’s emissions low, which cost them more time, but so far, it kept the Green Stripes off their backs. Samson hadn’t said a word since they’d embarked. Cut hadn’t asked for his silence, but it didn’t hurt.

  Nearly an hour in, they were around the corner from their destination. Cut was fantasizing about getting back into a plush bed when something darted across their path several hundred feet up ahead. There was only a flash of navy and green, but it was enough to identify the threat. Samson’s arms tightened around him. He’d seen it too.

  Cut killed the engine and aimed for a shuttered store front on the right side of the street as they coasted. Already, the bulky security vehicle was reversing. They got off the bike and walked it out of sight around the corner of the shop. He hated what they’d have to do next, but he didn’t trust anyone right now. They might get a ticket for breaking curfew, or they might end up separated, with him waiting for Ramzan to give them orders. There was no telling who was on his payroll.

  They had no time to waste, but he couldn’t say it. He paced a bit. Samson watched him quietly. “We’ve got to lie down here and pretend to sleep.” Cut went first, lowering himself to the cement. There was no question. Samson slid his bag off and did the same. They used it to pillow their heads and keep them of the floor. They faced the door, the road at their backs with Cut on the outside, curling around Samson. The ground was hard and cold, but hopefully they wouldn’t be here long.

  The stripes vehicle lumbered down the street. It was essentially a mini tank and it sounded like one, heavy and loud. The sounds grew closer until it was right behind them, the churning of the engine like the growl of a giant beast.

  Cut held his breath as the stripes shined their spotlight on them, casting their shadows on the stores dark windows. A radio chirped as one of the officers snuffed out the light. “Vagrants. Do we take them in?” A brash male voice said. He sounded bored, like he was looking for action.

  “Negative,” an older voice called back. This one was feminine, speaking with quiet authority. “Never seen that pair before. They probably didn’t make it to the housing in time. Curfew’s almost over. We see them tomorrow, we bring them in.”

  “Roger that.”

  The male voice barked codes into the radio and they rumbled on. Cut waited until he no longer heard their vehicle before he raised his head. The taillights were faint at the far end of the corridor. Time to move.

  Samson stood, brushing dirt from his side. He hefted his bag onto his back. “How’d you know that would work?”

  Cut swallowed the uncomfortable knot rising in his throat. “Experience.”

  Cut and Mikela had always been in touch, but they were seldom in the same location at the same time. When he first left Earth, he’d spent weeks on the street waiting for the water hauling job to come through, showering and eating at the shelter when he could manage. Sometimes there were beds, other times it was better to take your chances elsewhere.

  They arrived shortly at a squat, low occupancy building. It blended in with the other structures around it, nondescript and drab. Samson fumbled at the door, trying to get his pod to sync with the lock. “This wasn’t how I pictured doing this. I wanted to go around with you, find something that suited both our needs. Maybe another time. But I warn you, there isn’t much here.”

  “Is there something comfortable to sleep on?”

  “Yeah, there’s a bed. I haven’t laid on it yet, so I can’t say it’s comfortable.”

  “As long as you’re there, it’s good enough.”

  Samson flushed. “See if you still feel that way once we’re inside.”

  The door finally opened, and the lights came on. He stood aside so Cut could enter first. Samson hadn’t been exaggerating when he said there was nothing. A brief tour revealed a bed with some plain sheets sitting on the floor in one of the rooms; a cheap couch in what would be the living room; a small dining table with a few chairs; some pots and pans in the kitchen. The rest of the rooms were empty, waiting to be filled.

  “I found it a few days ago and was thinking of looking for something better, but I figured it’s better to have a place in case this very situation arose. It’s shielded so we can use our pods here without being tracked. We’re OK for now. We can always look for another place once things settle down. I can order more things as we need them. Samson walked to the middle of the living room, where a coffee table was conspicuously absent. “What do you think?”

  What did Cut think?

  For several tense beats, all he could think of was the expense in time and money this must have cost. Finding a new place wasn’t cheap for the average person. They had to undergo income checks, and then they had to deal with limited availability. Once Cut had made enough money to move out of Mik’s place, they’d had to share a bed for another 2.5 months while he waited for something to open up. Samson had accomplished this in days.

  Moving money from secret bank accounts, producing places to live as if by magic, running a multimillion dollar company, potential arranged marriage participant.

  And Cut had asked him to lie in the street to dodge the stripes.

  Who was Cut to associate with someone like him? What did he have to offer someone like Samson? It was only a matter of time before he realized he could do better, deserved better, than Cut.

  This was all some sort of joke.

  A place like this would take Cut years at his current job to afford it—at his bartending gig, he’d never be able to afford a down payment. How could he feel anything but inadequate when faced with that? Samson had propped him up in a position that had the illusion of power. And if Cut was unhappy here would they really pick up and move somewhere else?

  “Why are you doing this? I don’t get it. Is this part of your kink? Getting dominated by someone who’s so far beneath you? Financial domination as well as physical and emotional?”

  Samson’s mouth gaped, utterly crestfallen. “No, I… Sous—”

  “You can’t sous vide your way out of this. This isn’t a scene. If you can’t tell me, then... I don’t know if I can stay here.” Mikela might be able to keep him under the radar for a while. Cut would happily share a bed with them again if it meant he didn’t have to live, feeling like he was some charity case.

  Samson gathered his wits and moved to the couch. When he looked to C
ut, his eyes were full of sadness and longing. “You won’t believe me.”

  “Try me.”

  “Since I’ve met you, I’ve been in love with you.”

  Samson loved him?

  Did he know what that meant? How did he know he wasn’t just saying words because he felt like he was supposed to? He had to help Cut get there. “But why?”

  “When we spoke for the first time, do you know what you said to me?”

  It had been so long ago, Cut had no idea. “If I had to venture a guess, probably the same thing I say to everyone else.” A little flirting, a wink. Something to make him feel welcome.

  “Exactly. You didn’t know who I was. You probably guessed I was an exec of some kind, but you didn’t know where, from what family. You didn’t poke or prod me for it. You just let me be. You never treated me differently. That’s why I kept coming back. For you.” He grew quiet, folding his hands in front of him. “I didn’t mean for you to find me that night, but when you did, I only felt relief. You saw me, the whole me. You chastised me, but you didn’t look away in disgust. Right then, that’s when I knew that I’d do anything to keep you with me, to make you happy”.”

  That… none of it made sense, which meant it was likely the truth. All of that had been in Samson’s head? Driving his every move, because Cut had treated him like every other human being?

  Because Samson was not like every other human being.

  He’d gone through his entire life with those around him emphasizing his otherness. His wealth kept him apart from his peers. His family made the details of his conception a divisive issue. Cut hadn’t known any of that then and knowing it now didn’t change anything.

  Cut didn’t know what to say, so he stood here, feeling like a complete asshole.

  Samson went on despite Cut’s silence.

  “I decided to give you all of me, because you accepted me. Even if you can’t, I’ll love you as best I can. I’m yours until you send me away.”

  Samson said it so surely, with the same conviction that he used in his meetings with the same passion he had when he discussed his future plans. But how did he know this was love? How could Cut know what if what he felt might be…?

  He wasn’t ready to say it back, not without being sure. But he could apologize.

  He sighed. “I’m sorry. You’re doing so much to help and I’m… being a shit head. I don’t have an excuse other than I am one. It’s gotta be the stress.”

  Samson’s smile returned, tender, and thoughtful as always. “It’ll do that to you.” He got up from the couch, put his hands on his hips and stretched. “It’s almost morning. I’m not making it in to work today. We can go back to sleep for a while before I get up and make us breakfast. I’ll have Gray bring us some groceries once the stores open. I don’t think my dad is tracking them, but we I’ll make sure they get a new pod. But before all that, I’m going to take shower.”

  He moved into the bedroom, unbothered by the glaring omission of Cut’s declaration. It’s not that Cut didn’t want to say it. He wasn’t going to parrot Samson for the sake of making him feel better. When he said those words, there would be no doubt that he meant them.

  Cut showered after him, grateful that Samson had made stocking the bathroom a priority. It wasn’t as big or lavish as the nine shower heads at the old place, but it did the trick. He needed to be alone with his thoughts. When he emerged Samson was sitting on the bed, his pod’s gentle chime muffled by the sheets. He let it ring, staring at it as if he expected it to bite him.

  That reminded Cut to turn his back on as well. He had a message waiting, but it seemed inconsequential compared to the incessant ring of Samson’s.

  “Is it him?”

  Samson nodded and continued to watch his pod’s screen flash.

  Cut strode over to the bed and tossed the sheets until he found the damn thing. He took it up and glanced at the screen. Dad was calling.

  Cut turned it off and left it on the floor beside the bed next to his own pod. Answering now wouldn’t make Ramzan less angry. He’d wait until they’d gotten some sleep.

  Chapter 20

  V

  ideo call me immediately.

  From the frequent buzz of Samson’s pod, Cut expected to see more than just the one message. It was so understated, so direct. Cut wanted him to be full of impotent rage, leaving screens and screens devoted to a rant, not a solitary message.

  He hadn’t slept much despite his best efforts, and instead had lain there, listening to the neighborhood as it woke up. Samson didn’t sleep much either, rolling all over the bed—all over Cut! Around 0715, they both gave up and cuddled. Together, they skimmed their messages. Cuts were just as succinct.

  U OK?

  Cut responded to his first.

  What’s up?

  He’d been ready to bring Mikela in on all this earlier, but with a cooler head, he realized how bad an idea that was. He’d hoped to keep this as far from them as possible.

  Two heavies came to my door with your picture asking if I knew where you were.

  What did you say?

  I told them the truth: I had no idea. I asked if you were in trouble, but they left without answering me. They weren’t stripes. Probably someone’s hired help.

  What time did they come over?

  0500 or thereabouts.

  If they’d ignored Rami’s messages, they would have been caught.

  Who did you piss off? Sleep with someone’s spouse again?

  That was an accident, and you know it. I didn’t know she was partnered. But…

  Cut stopped typing, acutely aware of the eyes reading over his shoulder. Was the NDA still in effect? “If I don’t mention your name, I can’t get sued, right?”

  “I was going to dissolve that soon,” Samson said. “Trying to keep news about us quiet after all this is a waste of time. I’ll text my lawyer right now if you promise to answer some questions I have when you’re done.”

  Cut braced himself for what was to come, but he went ahead and answered Mikela.

  All that research I was doing was for someone. He’s from a pretty affluent family and his dad is a HUGE dick. He found out I’m not just a play thing and he’s not thrilled about the idea.

  That was enough of the truth that Cut barely felt the omission.

  Pissed enough to make you disappear?

  Unfortunately.

  The little notification that Mik was writing lit up the screen for several seconds before the message came through.

  How do you get into these situations?

  I wish I knew.

  When can I meet him? I’m assuming you’re together now?

  Yeah.

  I can’t force a tracking request on you which is good. You guys are taking steps. Send me the address. I’ll come over and beef up your system. But I’m sure I can do better than whatever overpriced set up you’ve got.

  “You can tell them,” Samson said.

  Cut sent off the address.

  Mikela was too talented to refuse their help. He got the sense they were going to need it.

  Make sure you’ve got your pants on by the time I get there.

  You were always a romantic.

  About other people’s affairs, not my own.

  He took his pod and read the message again. “I need to respond to my father. He’ll start messaging again if I don’t.”

  “Know what you’re going to say to him?”

  Samson got up and pulled a shirt from his bag. “Nothing, if I can help it. I’m sure he just wants to yell at me for a bit.” This was about the time he’d be getting ready to go to work. Normally, Cut would be joining him. “I’ll try to make this quick.”

  Samson disappeared into the bathroom, but he left the door ajar. Cut watched as he started the call. The musical ring filled the air until, eventually, Ramzan picked up.

  “Where is he?” Ramzan’s voice reverberated off the tiled walls.


  Samson turned on the water as he prepared to brush his teeth, going through his morning routine. “Who, Father?”

  “Don’t Father me. That boy you found in the gutter and have taken up with.”

  Samson abruptly stopped brushing his teeth. From the sound of it, his mouth was full of foam. “Don’t say that about him.”

  “I’ll say whatever I like. He’s trash. Should I respect him more because you were foolish enough to let him into your bed? Or because your brother has too?” Ramzan sighed. “I’m not indifferent to the demands of the flesh, but you must be smarter about it. At least see a professional. Someone who will keep their mouth shut.”

  “What’s the big deal? I’ve seen people before and you didn’t interfere.”

  “They were never around as long as this one. Don’t tell me you think he’s actually interested in you?” There was mirth in his voice, as if some part of this was funny. “Oh, Samson, my heart, can’t you see he’s going to use you like everyone else? He even tried to sell you out to me, of all people. I tested him, told him I’d pay him handsomely for your company’s secrets, and he was only too eager to trade.”

  Samson didn’t respond, but doing so would have done no good. Ramzan piled on with all the reasons no one truly wanted Samson. He was too big, too odd, too well connected. He threw in an apology for good measure for the way Samson had turned out, blaming himself. Cut stayed by the bed, clenching his jaw until it ached. He had to wait for the call to end to speak, but he wanted so badly to tear into Ramzan, tell him how wrong he was. There wasn’t an opportunity today, but soon.

  “I’m only looking out for you, as I always do. Let me help you now. Tell me where he is, so I can clean up this mess you’ve made and we can see about righting the ship.”

  “I’m not going to do that.” Samson’s voice wavered as he dropped his tooth brush. It clattered in the sink before he picked it up. “You aren’t getting anything more from me. You’ll never see Cut again; you won’t so much as hear his voice on a call again.”