by Dan Ackerman
“Yes, Your—”
“Wait.” Arden touched Oggie’s hair. “Oggie. Wake up.”
“Hmm.”
“Officer—”
“Officer!” Oggie sat right up.
“Julissa,” the officer provided.
“Officer Julissa is going to bring you to the Security Office.”
Oggie’s eyes widened. He started to stand up. “Sugar, I can’t.”
“You’re not in trouble.”
“Sugar.”
“You’re not in trouble,” Arden reminded gently.
Oggie shook his head. “No, I just, you know, sugar, they don’t like me very much down there!” His voice jittered and got higher as he spoke. He backed away from the couch.
Arden followed. He put his hands on Oggie’s shoulders. “You aren’t in trouble.”
“Can’t I stay here? Can’t I just stay inside? I won’t go out, I promise, I…” He looked about ready to shake into pieces.
Arden glanced at Julissa. “Call for back up.”
“Sugar, please!” Oggie shrunk away.
Arden didn’t let him go. “Shh, stop. I won’t make you go, I won’t, I promise.”
“Promise,” he insisted.
“I promise. But someone has to come to keep you safe.”
Oggie swallowed.
“You can stay here.” He smoothed his hands over Oggie’s arms, a gesture he hoped would soothe him.
“Maybe…”
“What?”
“Maybe Mara could come over.”
“Yeah,” Arden agreed. “You need to sleep off whatever this is.”
Oggie nodded. “Nerves, I think.”
Arden raised an eyebrow.
“And maybe a, a, uh, they make this drink at Vortex, it’s scuff and Six and…” He glanced at Julissa. “I’ll tell you about it later, sugar.”
Arden maneuvered him toward his bedroom. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”
“Sugar, will you…? Will you indulge me terribly for tonight? I know I haven’t got any right to ask…!”
“Ask.”
“Could you stay for a bit? Just, just until I get back to sleep.”
“Of course,” Arden assured. He turned back the covers for Oggie, got him into bed, and made a reminder to thank every friend who’d ever gotten him through a night like this.
“Usually it takes the edge off but there’s no taking the edge off your uncle.”
“Morris,” Arden corrected.
“I hate saying his name. I hate…” Oggie buried his face in the pillow.
Arden tucked him in and sat beside him until he fell asleep. He stayed long after that, actually, and conducted a hushed and uncomfortable conversation with the safety officer from the bed.
Julissa sent someone back with the bottle of wish and elected to stay with another officer as added security for Oggie and Arden himself. He hadn’t seen why he’d needed protection until Julissa had kindly pointed out that he had a would-be assassin curled up next to him.
The most unfortunate officer of them all received the assignment to retrieve Mara.
She arrived, shoved several people out of her way, and grabbed Arden by the arm. She dragged him into the bathroom, which he intensely disliked, and poked him in the chest. “What did you do to him?”
He had the urge to climb into the tub and draw the curtain closed. “Nothing.”
“Then why would he try to murder you!” she hissed. She had a practiced whispered shout, like she’d engaged in many clandestine fights.
“He didn’t try to murder me. My uncle is blackmailing him to murder me.”
Her pale eyes sliced into him. “That old man on deck two?”
He frowned. “How do you know Winnie?”
“He lives next to our mother.”
Arden’s frowned deepened. “Is your mother Eula Bowers?”
“No, shit, she’s practically dust. Other side.”
“Nolie Brownstone,” he said.
“Doesn’t fucking matter. That old guy wants to kill you?”
“No. My other uncle. Morris.”
Her face contorted. “Oh. Him.” She didn’t ask why Morris wanted him dead. She did squint at him.
“What?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Your family try to murder you a lot?”
“No.”
“You’re taking it pretty well.”
“Oh, well, Oggie was so worked up.” He hadn’t thought about it. He hadn’t expected Morris to graduate to assassination, but it didn’t shock him either. Maybe it should have. Maybe he’d think about it too much and cry in the shower later.
“Yeah.” She glanced toward the bedroom. “Was he at Vortex?”
“Yeah. What is that, anyway?”
“If you needed to know, you’d know.”
“Super fucking hate that answer.”
She walked away and plopped herself on Oggie’s bed. “I’ll keep an eye on him. Go figure out your shit.”
Figuring out his shit would have to wait until the morning. As soon as he lay down, he fell asleep.
Oggie refused to be alone with safety officers. He made Mara stay with him whenever he could and made the officers wait outside the door until Arden got home. Even with Arden at home, he became nearly hysterical if an officer got too close or looked at him too long.
He’d stayed inside for about a week straight now.
He’d tried working a shift at Crystal but between rumors about an actual assassination attempt, Morris’s acquaintances, and the safety officers, he’d come home crying.
Arden had agreed to cover his and Mara’s wages for any work missed between now and the trial.
“In a hurry?” Rhys asked.
Arden slowed his pace. “Oggie’s been worked up.”
Quietly, Rhys noted, “It’s interesting he’s still staying with you.”
“Sorry?”
Rhys shrugged.
“Fucking don’t. I’m sick of this insinuation shit. After everything you could at least be upfront,” Arden said.
Rhys’s face darkened. He cleared his throat. “Most people don’t keep someone who tried to kill them as a roommate.”
“He didn’t try.”
Rhys tilted his head and pulled in a breath. “Just, you know. Some of the evidence is…it’s not favorable.”
Safety officers had found the seal of the bottle pierced and a needle in the pocket of Oggie’s coat. Arden didn’t think that amounted to much in the way of murder charges. Maybe he’d sold a little on the side.
Oggie hadn’t been exactly forthcoming. He’d only insisted, “I wasn’t going to kill him,” whenever questioned.
His answer satisfied Arden, even if it satisfied no one else.
He told Rhys, “I’m not worried about it.”
“You’re just…”
“I’m what?”
“You’re…” Rhys sighed. “Arden, you’re naïve.”
Arden couldn’t help but scowl at him. “Because I believed that people might like me?”
“Because you don’t understand the economic and societal pressures that workers face to pretend to enjoy the company of a peer.”
“I understand, and Oggie might too, that being my pet is a lot better than being my uncle’s hired assassin.”
“He understands a lot about being a pet,” Rhys grumbled.
Arden stopped walking. They had neared his rooms and he didn’t want to argue in front of the officers waiting outside his door. He didn’t want to be in earshot of Oggie, either. “What the actual fuck does it matter to you?”
“Sorry?”
“You didn’t want to be with me, so I know this isn’t envy, so you better tell me what your actual problem with him is.”
“Other than attempted murder.”
“Absolutely other than that, since he never attempted to murder me.”
Rhys pursed his lips. “And other than his ongoing criminal activities? And your formula use—”
; “I’m not using.”
Rhys met his eyes.
“I’m not! Not unless I really need something.”
“Addicts always think they need something.”
Arden swallowed. He’d really let Rhys get away with a lot if he was calling him an addict, too. “Is that all you think I am? What happened to I’m proud of you? Or, what? Is that as much bullshit as the rest of it?”
“If I didn’t care about you, I wouldn’t be worried that you’ve shacked up with a drug dealer who’s using you and working for your nefarious uncle.”
“Did you seriously just use the word nefarious?” Arden demanded.
“It doesn’t feel like an understatement. I’m worried about you,” Rhys insisted severely.
Arden crossed his arms and looked over Rhys. “You care about me?”
“Obviously.”
Arden half-smiled. “Maybe not as obvious as you think. Maybe…”
“What?”
“Maybe I’m worried that…that you know, the game between classes, it’s not much of a game at all for workers is it? Or, at least, it’s one peers have made really hard to win. I know you said sorry for using me but…I mean. Should that go both ways? Was I using you?” Arden asked. He’d thought about it a lot.
Rhys pressed his lips together and blinked a few times. He let out a breath, all through his nose.
“I never wanted to hurt you,” Arden said, hoping Rhys would say he hadn’t but unable to shake the feeling that he had.
“You didn’t hurt me.”
“No?”
“No,” Rhys assured. “I care about you. Even if…if things didn’t fit for us as lovers, I care. And I’m worried.”
Arden grinned. “Well, you don’t have to be worried.”
“I’m not the only one who thinks Nielsen’s a bad influence. Cole thinks—”
“Cole doesn’t know him. Neither do you.”
“He’s not exactly the kind of the person I hang around with.”
Arden blew a raspberry. “Times are changing, Mr. Malek. Come in and stay for a while.”
Rhys rolled his eyes.
“Well?” Arden urged.
“I guess,” Rhys agreed lifelessly.
Arden linked arms with him and dragged him inside.
The officers remained outside. Sometimes Arden sent one of them to take a walk out of nothing more than pity.
“Oggie!” he called.
Oggie practically burst out of the bedroom, mostly naked. He had a thin, slippery robe hanging off him, caught on his elbows and untied. “Sugar! Thank fuck, you’re home, I was dying of boredom.”
“You are allowed to leave.”
“My nerves can’t handle it.” He gave Rhys a dirty look, then came over and kissed Arden on the cheek. “Did you bring work home?” he pouted.
“No.”
“Oh.” Oggie outright glared at Rhys.
“Stop it. You two need to play nice.” He wrapped himself around Oggie. “Pretty please.”
Oggie snuggled a little closer. “I’ll get dressed.” He headed toward the bedroom.
“You sure you two don’t have other things you’d rather be doing?” Rhys asked.
Arden walked away.
Oggie had gotten a little…tense during his self-imposed seclusion. He’d always flirted but it had gotten a little less playful lately. Only his sister visited him, and Arden assumed Oggie craved something a sister couldn’t give.
Oggie emerged in a pajama set that he had liberated from Arden’s wardrobe. He draped himself on the couch. “So…what are we doing?”
“We could watch a movie,” Arden suggested.
“What, all cuddle up in bed?” Rhys asked.
“I do have an actual screen.”
“Oh, no, not a movie. Let’s do something,” Oggie insisted.
“I’ve got games.”
Rhys said, “Get cards. We can play jack-a-darry.”
“What’s that?” Arden asked.
“You don’t know jack-a-darry!” Oggie cried. He gave Arden a push. “Find some cards, we have to play. How don’t you know?”
“It’s a Quarters game,” Rhys reminded him, somewhat sourly.
Oggie stroked Arden’s cheek. “And here he is with two Quarters boys. We can teach him to play.”
Arden stood to find a deck of cards and to escape the strange energy vibrating between the other two men.
“You aren’t really from the Quarters, though,” Rhys said. “That’s what I’ve heard anyway.”
Oggie scoffed. “From the Quarters. Fucking lived there for more than half my life, but I guess that’s not really from somewhere.”
Arden scrounged through the bar.
“I meant—” Rhys began.
“Yeah, yeah, you meant what everyone means. I grew up with new toys and clothes instead of hand-me-downs, fresh food instead of rations. We ended up in the same shithole, huh? Sucking back scuff and off the same guy.”
Arden pretended he didn’t hear that.
“Or, you know. Pretending to,” Oggie added.
Arden returned with the deck of cards. He handed it over to Rhys. “How do we play?”
Rhys took some time shuffling the deck.
Arden tapped his fingers against his thigh, uncomfortable. This had been stupid.
Oggie twisted a bit of Arden’s hair between his fingers. “At least one of us was honest about it.”
“The last thing you are is honest,” Rhys huffed.
“Let’s not—” Arden started.
“Honest! Coming from you, fucking…that’s amazing, you call yourself honest,” Oggie said.
Arden gripped Oggie’s forearm. “Let’s not, boys,” he managed.
Oggie stood. “I’m. Sugar, I’m sorry, I’m going to bed. Have fun.” He went to his room.
Arden glanced at Rhys, still shuffling the cards, then followed Oggie. He closed the door behind them. “Hey.”
“No, sugar, I don’t…” Oggie shook his head. He paced away from, and then back towards Arden. “You know they all hate me.”
Arden put a hand on his shoulder. “That’s because they don’t understand. They don’t know it was pretend.”
Oggie stepped back. “It wasn’t pretend, Arden. This was real, a real…an actual attempt on your life, over drug charges and…bad choices,” Oggie admitted. He didn’t cry or even sniffle. He’d probably done enough of that. Instead, his words came out flat, his face unmoved.
“You wouldn’t have—”
“The whole time. It was the plan from the first minute. I’ve had that shit in my pocket for months. Do you know how many times I stuck that fucking needle in that bottle?” Oggie asked.
“Seven.”
“What?”
“Just a guess. I know there were a couple punctures in the lid. I figured you were just selling on the side. You really carried it around with you?”
“I mean. Not all the time. That’s not the point!”
“The point is, under duress, you agreed to do something, and then never went through with it.”
Oggie gritted his teeth and let out a frustrated groan. “Why won’t you be angry with me!”
“I can’t.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
Arden licked his lips. He took Oggie’s hand. “It means I want you to come play cards.”
“What’s the point?”
“You should get to know my friends.”
“Why? I’m…once this is done—”
“What? The trial?” Arden asked. “You’ll be cleared. Morris will go away.”
“And I just keep pretending? I stay in your guestroom forever?”
“Do you want to stay?”
“I…” Oggie looked around the room. “Of course, I want to stay. It’s really nice here. I’d be an idiot to give this up. But what happens to me when you meet someone? When it’s time to turn the guestroom into a nursery?”
“That’s a while off, Og.”
“You never
know. Sometimes things happen without any warning.”
“Well,” Arden said carefully, “I haven’t been seeing anyone, and I generally don’t sleep with the kind of people who can get pregnant, so I don’t think any surprises will be on their way anytime soon.”
“Still, you’re the Autarch. You won’t be single forever.”
Arden didn’t want to have this conversation. It could go in circles forever. He took Oggie’s other hand and brought them both up to his mouth. He kissed his knuckles. “Will you come play cards and we can have this conversation when you haven’t been day-drinking for a week straight?”
Oggie blushed. “Is it that obvious, sugar?”
“Super obvious.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Another week, you’ll be cleared, free to roam Eden and go to whatever secret, illegal parties your heart desires. Come play cards.”
Oggie nodded.
They returned to the couch.
Arden asked, “So how do I play this game?”
Rhys and Oggie bickered over the rules. Mara showed up a while later and threw a wrench into the whole thing. The three of them played and picked at each other, noting flaws in gameplay and rule violations so obscure Arden never actually picked up the basic rules.
He floundered through several games, though the other three focused so much on tearing each other apart that they left him alone.
He didn’t know who won any of the rounds since none of them could agree.
He’d never seen Rhys get so vicious before. From Mara and Oggie he expected this kind of behavior, but Rhys gave back as good as he got, and even instigated sometimes.
Arden must have stumbled on some rift between factions in the Quarters.
After nearly an hour, Arden gathered up all the cards and said, “This game is stupid. Let’s play kings.”
The other three agreed.
A few rounds of kings lightened the mood. It was a silly game, meant more for children, though sometimes used as a drinking game.
Arden had considered asking Oggie to make a pitcher of something but actively feared what would happen with these three drunk together.
Before Arden could propose dinner, Oggie said, “I’m going to go lay down for a little while.”
He ambled into his room.