by Kitty Cox
"Yep," he agreed, sounding less than amused. "They warned me all about it. No alcohol, long-term use is discouraged, and all that, but after the accident, Tylenol just isn't cutting it."
The woman nodded. "Ok. It's going to be about thirty minutes."
"Can do. C'mon, kid. Let's get some shopping done. Just hang onto that cart."
Dez said nothing until they were well away. "Covering for me?"
"Just watching your back, but it comes at a price. Why does a punk like you not have on ten layers of eyeliner?"
"Broke."
He smiled deviously. "Turn right." She did and found herself in the middle of the cosmetics section. Chance reached over and grabbed a tube of lipstick, pulling off the top to spin the color up. "So, you'd better start picking, or I'm gonna buy a lovely selection of pink, and then make you wear it."
"Shit's not cheap."
He tossed the tube back in the rack. "And I'm not paying you. Take it while I've still got it."
That was all the encouragement she needed. Leaving the cart behind, Dez moved through the two aisles, choosing everything in black. Except the lipstick. That was the only color she tossed in – red, deep purple, and of course a little black. Chance had been paying attention, though. Choosing the same brands she had, he found a selection of colors, from eyeliner to eyeshadow, and added them.
"What?" he asked. "I don't get to buy this shit normally. Think of it as formalwear for the release."
"Six months away?"
He shrugged a little too innocently. "Or for the first day the devs come to the office. Or whatever. Who knows, maybe you'll go out on a date?"
"Fuck that," she muttered.
"I didn't say you'd touch him."
Dez rolled her eyes. "Right. Can it be a date without touching? Chance, the only person that seems ok with my little issue is you."
He leaned closer. "You get real pissy when you're coming down."
"I'm tired. Remember, one of us worked all night."
He lifted an eyebrow. "I know they're in your pocket. Take a pair."
She looked up into his face and realized that he'd positioned himself perfectly to block her from the people around them. Their eyes met in understanding, and he bowed his head, waiting. It was the last excuse she needed. Fumbling in her pocket, she extracted two pills from the bottle without pulling it out and somehow managed to get the top back on. When she slipped them into her mouth, his eyes followed her fingers.
"When we pick up your prescription, just act like you hurt all over. Don't say anything, and I'll take care of the rest."
She licked her lips, refusing to back away. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because whatever happened to you hurt really bad. Just making sure you get the meds to ease the pain."
"Hey." She let her eyes drop, unable to hold his gaze. "Thanks."
He nodded, leaning away from her. "It's cool, Dez. You're not the only person in the world that's flawed."
"Pretty sure they call your problems 'successful.'"
He checked his watch. "They do when they're over eighteen. Fucked up once, but the bimbo thought I was just some dick from tech support."
"You like them younger?"
He shrugged. "I don't give a shit. You got a problem with touching. I got one with not. Same shit, just backwards."
She thought about that for a moment. He was right. His goal was to convince someone to let him touch. Hers was to convince them not to. Slowly she raised her eyes back to his and smiled.
"Flawed. I like it. Makes it sound almost normal."
"You're probably the most normal person I've ever met," he said softly, turning the cart. "And when we get Game of the Year, we'll start work on the next." He stepped back and let her claim the handle, then leaned toward her shoulder. "We'll call it Flawed, and if you're not around to help, I'm putting your name in the credits."
Chapter 6
Chance had left hours ago. Outside the windows was only darkness and the building was perfectly peaceful. She shoved a sucker in her mouth. It said strawberry but tasted more like corn syrup. Not like it mattered. Her eyes were locked on the monitor, scanning the lines of broken English and symbols. Looking for the flaw, she opened the bottle on the desk and pulled out a pair of pills without thinking. On autopilot, she pulled the white stick from her lips, sucked back the Vicodin, one after the other, then replaced the knot of hard candy.
That's when she found it. His developers were trying to run the game with two competing lines of code, almost as if it had two game engines. They were fighting for control and both losing, resulting in nothing but loading errors. It was an easy enough fix, but it would be a little time-consuming. Spinning the lollipop across her tongue, she tracked down every occurrence of the problem.
With a groan, she marked the location of the first issue and pushed away. The drugs were making her mouth dry, but she didn't want any alcohol. It blurred her eyes and made the code hard to read. She was pretty sure Chance kept soda in the fridge, though.
While she headed upstairs to retrieve one, her mind contemplated why his developers would have programmed the game like that. Either he had two guys working on the two systems, or the person responsible was an idiot. If it was the first, she'd need to talk to him about it. If it was the second, he needed to fire the bastard.
With her mind numbed by the Vicodin, she could focus on the code, her memories held far enough away that she could avoid them. Line by line, she worked through it all systematically. It didn't feel. It didn't care. Losing herself in the program was the one thing she felt completely comfortable with. Technology was the only friend she could still trust.
Eventually, the hard candy was gone, leaving only a stick. She found another, washing away the taste of cardboard with the Pepsi at her elbow, but her eyes were glued. By morning, Silk would not only load but be playable. She didn't even need to ask to know what had happened. The various departments had finally combined their work, and the whole thing had crashed hard. That's why he wanted the developers in a single room. That's why he was so driven to make all of this happen. That's why he was so terrified that his game would fail.
Well, his network was basically up and running, she just needed to run a handful of tests on it. While she waited, she might as well be productive. Considering that Chance hadn't even asked how things were going, she didn't think he'd mind her fucking around with the game. He also didn't really need to know.
Dez was wallowing in the warm embrace of her opiates when the lock clicked. She quickly saved her work and opened another window. Reaching beside her, she powered on the next computer in the row. They had to talk. No, they had to sing. In order for this to work right, the entire network needed to operate like each machine was just a cell in a massive organism. Lag would not be tolerated.
The woman's giggle drifted up the hall, punctuated by the sound of her shoes. The muffled rhythm of their voices followed. When they staggered into the warehouse, their bodies were pressed together, Chance's mouth kissing a line down the woman's throat, his hands sliding along her curves, guiding her to the stairs that led toward his loft. Dez lifted her head, not even trying to pretend that she wasn't watching, and spun the sucker in her mouth.
Tall, blonde, and dressed to impress, she was pretty. Maybe a few years older than Chance, she was the kind of woman that shopped at expensive stores, had expensive tastes, and couldn't give a shit about a damned video game. She probably had her wedding ring in the console of her car or had just gotten the payout on her divorce. Dez wondered what story Chance had given to seduce her.
His attention was focused on his latest conquest, and he moved like he knew exactly what he was doing. Halfway across the large warehouse, he pressed her against the wall, his whole body caressing hers. The blonde gasped, tilting her head back as her leg wrapped around his thigh, urging him on. Then she opened her eyes. Dez popped the sucker from her lips and smiled as the blonde pulled away, pushing her dress back into place.
"Who the fuck are you?"
Chance turned, following her gaze, but Dez giggled, shaking her head. He looked back at the blonde, then to Dez one more time. "We good?"
"LAN's humming along nicely," Dez assured him. "Contractors got my place mostly finished, just waiting on furniture, but I moved my stuff in."
"Robert, who the hell is she?" the woman whispered, not realizing that the room had excellent acoustics.
"Network administrator. I live downstairs, he lives upstairs. Robert and I have a pretty good agreement to ignore each other's personal lives." Dez looked at Chance. "Gonna be at this for a while, so you might want to take the party upstairs."
He smiled. "Nice eyeliner." Then he laced his fingers into the blonde's and guided her into his apartment.
What he didn't do was close the curtains. His loft had once been an office, complete with a large window that looked over the floor below. His decorator had installed very fashionable wood blinds, but he typically left them open so he could look out on the contractors as they worked. Dez's back was to it, but the darkened monitor beside her worked just like a mirror, the angle of it giving her a perfect view of his liaison in the living room.
He'd already caught his prey, and he knew it. All that was left was the kill. In the reflection, she watched Chance kiss the woman more passionately than she'd ever seen before. She minimized the screen and reopened Silk, picking up where she left off. While Chance slowly peeled the woman's dress away, Dez repaired the damage. When he pinned her to the wall, Dez convinced the targeting system to cooperate. When the woman pulled his shirt off, Dez paused, admiring the view.
He seduced her slowly, deliberately, teasing her beyond patience. Line by line, Dez wallowed in code while in the corner of her eye, Chance's monochromatic reflection pressed the blonde against the wall and slid slowly against her, claiming his own victory. The cries of passion made Dez jump in place, the sound too primal, too close to her own screams every night.
She cracked open the bottle of soda and took a long gulp, then extracted the last sucker from her back pocket. He wasn't hurting her. Oh no, that much was clear. She just wished the bitch didn't feel the need to call more attention to herself. No longer interested in the show, Dez lost herself in the system, determined to prove that just because she didn't touch didn't mean she was worthless. She could do something that none of these floozies could. She could give Chance what he really wanted, and she didn't need to brag about it. With a click of her mouse, she proved herself right.
But operating in the background, her network check flashed at the bottom of the screen, indicating a problem. Computer four wasn't playing as nicely as the others. Unwilling to risk her work, she saved her code one more time, closed it, and peeled herself from the chair. As she stood, her head swam, either from not eating enough or she'd gotten a little too high. Maybe both.
She had her head shoved into the case, hoping it was just a loose connection, when the door opened. Her heels in hand, her hair a mess, her dress rumpled, the woman descended the stairs. Alone. Dez didn't say a word. She was willing to bet that she had nothing in common with this bitch.
"Well, that was fun," the blonde said pointedly. "Which way to get out?"
Dez gestured toward the door with the screwdriver in her hand, not even bothering to make eye contact.
"Jealous?" the bitch sneered. "That boy's hung like a racehorse. You have no idea what you're missing."
With a deep breath, Dez looked up, bracing herself against the table. "Yay, you got fucked. Now go home. Your husband's probably wondering where you went."
The woman couldn't take a hint. Not even a blatant one. "Gotta suck to have something like that living just upstairs, knowing he's got no interest."
Dez sucked at her teeth, tapping the little metal ball in her tongue against the enamel. "Yeah, just horrid. Look, I got a machine here that's refusing to hold a connection. Do you mind? I need to get this done before dawn. The door is still that way."
With an unimpressed shrug, the woman finally gave up, swinging her hips a little too much as she left. When Dez heard the metal door swing closed, she followed in her tracks and twisted the deadbolt. No wonder he kicked them out early. She couldn't imagine a single thing he would have to talk to that idiot about.
Eventually, she got computer number four singing like all the rest. She only had six online but, so far, the network was not only stable but happy. The rest of the machines were already set up. All she needed was the cable. She couldn't wait to tell him.
Dez returned to the computer she'd claimed as her own and fired up a game. Chance hadn't skimped at all on the internet connection, and her ping was the lowest she'd ever had. She was pretty sure he wouldn't care if she installed games on the work system – since it was a gaming company. Besides, it gave her something to do while he entertained his guests.
Her eyes were locked on the crosshairs, picking off bad guys from a distance, when she heard the door. She didn't dare look up. The fight was too intense, and there were only five minutes left in the round. Strafing, she took a hit, but downed her attacker, licking her lips to keep them from going dry. Her high was starting to fade, her nerves screaming across her skin in protest, but she wanted to finish the round. Just three more kills.
She found the first one, taking him out easily enough, then stalked the second. Just as she tore him apart, her screen flashed, and her character let out a pathetic moan. The last guy had been a step ahead.
A heavy glass hit the table near her elbow. Then the smell of soap and shampoo wafted to her nose. "How long since you've played?"
Dez looked over her shoulder to see Chance standing in a pair of pajama bottoms, half a glass of whiskey in his hands. "Three years."
"You still got it. I could take you, though." He glanced to the other drink he'd brought.
A full glass of whiskey waited, just the way she liked it - neat. "This your way of convincing me to hold off on the pills?" She gestured to the chair beside her, inviting him to sit.
"Maybe," he admitted, taking it. "You go away when you're high. You get closer when you're drunk. When you're both? I dunno, just kinda feels like you're empty."
She took a long drink, enjoying the way it burned as it slid down her throat. "I like empty."
"I fucking hate it. Guess that's why I keep bringing home the idiots." He sighed. "We good?"
"We're good. You know she's married, right?"
The corner of his lip curled. "Oh yeah. Means she won't be coming back either."
"And if she does, no one will have a clue who Robert is."
Chance smiled, then held up a sucker, slowly unwrapping it. "Exactly." He slid it into his mouth, sucked gently, then withdrew it. Tilting his head slightly, he offered it to her. "Looks like you ran out."
She looked at the stick, well aware that her fingers would never fit over it without touching his. "I'm not taking that off the table."
He bobbed the end, drawing her eye to it. "Didn't say you had to. Slap those purple lips around it, and I'll let go."
Slowly, Dez leaned over and closed her teeth on the white stick, lifting it from his hand. She felt his fingers trail away before settling her own on the cheap cardboard. Chance smiled and reached for his glass, taking a sip, but his eyes never left hers. It was the most intimate thing she'd done in the last three years, and he knew it. He also knew better than to make light of it.
"Don't get any ideas," she mumbled around the sucker.
He shook his head, the movement subtle, showing she was on the wrong train of thought. "No." His voice was gentle, careful. "I just realized that sometimes not touching can be just as intense as touching." He tried to smile, but it was just a flicker. "I'm sorry, Dez. I shouldn't have said that."
She pulled the candy from her mouth and twirled it in her fingers, watching it. "Guess that's kinda like the first kiss I've had in a while. Trading spit, and all, you know?"
"Doesn't bother you?"
Slowly, she ran her tongue a
cross her lips. "It should."
"Does it?" he asked again, barely more than a whisper.
"No."
He crooked his finger, begging her to lift the candy higher. She did, but her eyes were on his. His mouth slid over the cherry end, gently sucking it through his lips, and the feeling traveled through her hand. Dez inhaled, the air flowing over parted lips, as Chance let his eyes close, gently pulling the stick from her fingers. When he lifted his lids, he tilted his head, impressed.
"Damn," he breathed, talking around the tiny white stick. "I've found a way to kiss you."
"I didn't know you wanted to. Or do you just want to kiss every woman in the world?"
He pulled the sucker from his mouth and leaned toward her. "Relax. I'm not going to touch you, Destiny." He slid the candy over his tongue one more time, then pressed it to her lips. "You taste like whiskey," he whispered as her mouth took it. When her teeth bit down on the stick, he moaned in the back of his throat.
"Thought you just got laid," she teased, trying to ignore the way her pulse was moving a little too fast.
Chance claimed his glass again, this time taking a long deep swallow. "Yeah, but she sucked. All show, no passion. Tell me something to take my mind off that damned lollipop?"
Dez gasped, knowing the perfect thing. "Put your hands in your lap," she ordered, standing up to lean over his shoulder.
He obeyed, not even asking why. When she reached for the mouse, her cheek was just beside his. She knew if he turned, their skin would meet. She also knew he wouldn't do that to her. Biting her lip, she clicked on a small icon at the bottom corner of the desktop.
"It won't load," he warned her.
She turned to look at him, listening to the processor spool up. "Chance?"
He turned, and she grabbed the stick in her mouth, moving it in one fluid motion from her lips to his, hanging onto the end. "When I'm high, I can actually think. You wanna know where my mind goes?" She let him have the candy, then looked at the screen and moved back. "It will load."