by Julia Karr
In a flash, he had the door opened, his hand extended to help me out. “Have a wonderful evening, miss.”
“Thank you.” I wondered if I should tip him, with my nonexistent tip cards, but he was back in the stretch and gone before that thought was fully formed. I was left with no choice but to go inside. The man at the door inspected me. Apparently, I passed his approval. “Name, please?”
“Nina Oberon.”
“First elport on the left, penthouse suite.”
“Thank you.” At least my voice was steady, even if I wasn’t.
Tucked into a corner of the elport with a mass of partygoers, I closed my eyes, wishing the night was already over.
Nothing could’ve prepared me for the spectacle on the other side of the elport doors. Sure, Wei was top tier, but her house was comfortable, real, a place where I felt easy. Granted, Paulette’s penthouse was decorated for a gala New Year’s Eve party, but even without the decorations, I would’ve felt like I’d stepped into a vid. Everything was sleek, shiny, and oozed ultrachic—just like Paulette.
Like sale shoppers at Mega World, the people in the elport pushed past me, melting into the other revelers. Before the doors closed, I stepped into the swarm. As I inched my way through the crowd searching for Martin and Percy, a familiar voice said, “You’re the last person I expected to see tonight.”
“Paulette.” I wasn’t sure what to expect. She’d been almost friendly the last couple of times I’d seen her. Tonight, however, she was anything but. Her icy scrutiny left me feeling for all the universe like a protozoa under a microscope.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
All the apprehension I’d felt about coming, and all the concerns about what a bunch of top-tiers would think of me, was pushed aside by her attitude. “I’m with Martin Long and Percy Bunton. And if you don’t mind, I’m looking for them right now.” I tried to push past her, but she snatched my arm.
“I saw your name as their guest, but I didn’t think you’d actually show. Nina, you should’ve told me you were coming,” she said. “Be careful. You are so out of your league.”
I wrenched out of her grasp. “That’s your opinion.” I stalked off, sure that my face was as red as the baubles Mrs. Jenkins had woven into my hair.
I’d turned down three drinks and a plate of hors d’oeuvres before I finally heard a welcome voice.
“Nina, over here.” I spotted Percy, waving frantically.
Somehow I managed to weave through the other partiers. “I didn’t think I’d ever find you. I am so relieved to see a friendly face. Where’s Martin?”
“Marty’s there—somewhere.” He swept his arm out across the expanse of people. “Oh, see?” He pointed with his drink. “Those are the Golds. Like an Adonis, isn’t he?”
I raised my eyebrow.
“Oh, all right, she is, too. And look at my Marty, working them for all the credits they’re worth. All for the Institute. Ever the fund-raiser.” He gazed admiringly at his partner, before setting his cocktail down and placing his hands on my shoulders. “Let’s have a look at you.” Twirling me around, he nodded appreciatively. “So retro-ultra-Asian. Jade did the hair, didn’t she?” He slapped his hand to his chest and looked skyward. “She is the hair goddess. And you, my dear, you are the god-dess.”
My neck warmed. “Can we not talk about me?”
“Oh, my sweet Nina. Everyone is already talking about you.” He leaned close. “Look at the way they’re sneaking peeks at you over their drinks or over their companions�� shoulders. You’re putting these ultrachic snobbitches to shame.” With a gesture, he summoned a waiter. “I’m sure you haven’t eaten a thing, have you?”
“I’m not hungry.” And I certainly wasn’t enjoying the thought of being the topic of everyone’s conversation. Percy was right: people were looking at me, and commenting—and creeping me out. “Maybe we should join Martin?”
“First, I want to introduce you to someone who’s been dying to meet you.” Percy secured my elbow and guided me through the masses.
I saw Paulette watching us. She’s probably thinking I’ll ruin her party. Percy threaded us through the crowd, and we ended up in front of a massive crystalline fireplace, where, surprisingly, there was lots of uninhabited space and two men, deep in conversation. I recognized one immediately: Kasimir Lessig.
Percy cleared his throat. “Kasimir? May I introduce Miss Nina Oberon?” he said.
“Miss Oberon.” Lessig took my hand. His was warm and his demeanor so charming it took me completely off guard. I’d expected the same fake persona that came through in Media broadcasts and Alerts. He gestured to the man he was talking with. “This is my assistant, Angelo Fassbinder.”
“Ah. The daughter of the late Alan Oberon. What a delight to make your acquaintance.” Fassbinder shook my hand, and I immediately wanted to pull it away.
Percy gave my arm a reassuring squeeze. “When Mr. Lessig found out you were coming, he asked particularly if I’d introduce you.”
“Really?”
“Yes, my dear. Your father and I knew each other,” Lessig said. “He was such a skillful, talented speaker. But I’m sure you know that.”
“I’ve never heard any of his speeches,” I lied carefully. “They’re contraband.” I certainly wasn’t going to tell the head of Media, possibly the most powerful man in the country, that I’d listened to illegal speeches.
“Oh, yes. That’s true, isn’t it?” He shook his head. “The Governing Council worries about the most ridiculous things. It doesn’t matter to me or Media. I’ll arrange for you to hear his most famous speech. Angelo?” He whispered in Fassbinder’s ear.
“Of course, sir. Miss Oberon.” Fassbinder noted whatever it was Lessig had said to him, then turned to leave. I can’t say that I was sorry to see him go. Something about him rubbed me the wrong way.
Lessig said, “My secretary will be in contact with you soon, my dear.” His eyes softened. “I was very sorry to learn of your mother’s recent demise. I had the pleasure of meeting her only once. At her wedding.”
“You were at my parents’ wedding?” His smooth way of talking bothered me—it was like watching a snake smiling at me, full of danger and slick charm. I had never imagined my parents were acquainted with him. Ginnie couldn’t stand to watch him on the PAV, but she’d never let on that she knew him.
“Oh, yes. Your father and I were old school friends. Well . . .” He shook his head and smiled. “To tell the truth, we were rivals. As good as I was in public speaking, I was no match for Alan Oberon. I suppose if he had lived, he’d have my job and I’d be doing local broadcasts in the middle of nowhere. He was, by far, the superior orator.”
I couldn’t do more than nod in amazement. His words were so friendly, could I possibly have been wrong about him? No, Ginnie and the Jenkinses didn’t trust him. I knew I shouldn’t either.
“I must say, Nina . . . May I call you Nina?” Lessig continued, assuming I’d consented, which . . . well, why would I refuse? “You are stunning. Not at all like most sixteens I’ve met, decked out in their ultra-chic. And, oh . . . a new tattoo?” He touched my wrist. “Well, you’re a Creative. I should’ve guessed.”
“Yes.” I didn’t like the feel of his hand on my tattoo—no wonder, since it proclaimed the truth.
“I shouldn’t be surprised, what with your father’s gifts, surely they’d be passed down to his only child.” He turned my hand over, studying both the wrist and front design. “Emphasis on truth, I see.” His finger drew a circle above the three cursive words surrounding the XVI. “As Pilate said, ‘What is truth?’”
“Who’s Pilate?”
“Pilate was a man who did what was necessary, while staying above the fray.” He met my eyes, then inspected my wrist again, before letting go. “You designed this yourself?”
“Yes. My grandfather says that we should always look for the truth, and that it can’t stay hidden.”
“How interesting.” He flas
hed what passed for a nice, fatherly type smile. “Your grandfather is a wise man. You are living with your grandparents now?”
“Not exactly.” I wasn’t sure how much to tell him. But then I realized, he could probably find out whatever he wanted. “I’m staying with friends. My grandmother’s in the hospital.”
His secretary, who was standing off to the side, was obviously trying to get Mr. Lessig’s attention.
“Excuse me a moment, Nina.” After a hushed conversation, he returned. “Angelo informs me that your grandfather was recently arrested. How awful. Is he still in custody?”
“He is.” I dropped my gaze.
“Oh, dear. It’s not your fault. Let’s take this into a quieter place, where you and I might discuss the further particulars of your grandfather’s case. I do have a bit of sway with the powers that be. Perhaps I can be of some assistance in procuring his release.” My heart stopped—could he actually help Pops? Or was this some kind of trick? He glanced around the room. Catching a serving girl’s eye, he beckoned her over to us. “A quiet place where Miss Oberon and I can have a discussion?”
“This way, please.”
I wasn’t sure it was a good idea to go anywhere alone with him. But if he could somehow help Pops . . . As I turned and took a step forward, I caught a glimpse of Paulette out of the corner of my eye. But it was too late. She stumbled right in front of me. I tried to grab her, but she lurched forward, splashing her drink all over Mr. Lessig.
His bodyguards, which I hadn’t noticed until that very moment, were on top of us in a nanosec. Lessig waved them off. “An accident. A simple accident.”
“I am so sorry.” Paulette dabbed at the rapidly spreading stain with a napkin. “Cory! Over here. Right away!”
The same serving girl hurried over with more napkins and took over cleaning up.
“You clumsy cow,” Paulette hissed quietly at me.
It was not my fault; Paulette had cut in front of me. But what would be the sense in accusing her? No one would believe me. I remained silent.
“Cory, take Mr. Lessig to Daddy’s room.”
“Certainly, miss.”
“My father’s valet will see to your clothes,” Paulette said to Lessig, who looked as if he would’ve rather stayed behind. But Paulette, pure solicitousness and condescension, was not to be denied the role of saving his suit and his dignity.
As soon as they were gone, I spun her around. “What were you doing? He was going to help Pops! You ran into me. I did not—”
She shook me off. “Get out of here, before they get back.” Paulette summoned one of the waiters. “Gene, take Miss Oberon downstairs. Have Reggie drive her home. Immediately.”
“Excuse me. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here with my boss and his partner. I have to find them––”
Paulette grabbed my arm. “What you have to do is leave. Right now.” Her jaw was set, and there was fire in her eyes.
“You do not get to boss me around, Paulette! For your information, Mr. Lessig and I were discussing my grandfather. He offered to help me get him out of detainment.”
She threw her hands up. “Nina, are you really that naive? Go. Now. Before I call security to remove you.”
I didn’t protest. I turned and went, of my own accord. I’d message Martin and Percy later and make my apologies. Huddled in the backseat of the trannie, I consoled myself as best I could. So much for parties. So much for trying to be someone I wasn’t.
XXXIII
When I got home, it was fifteen minutes to midnight. Reggie dropped me off without so much as a Happy New Year. The minute I got in the front door, I stepped out of the heels. “Aaahhh.” At least part of me could feel good.
I padded into what I expected to be an empty room. Instead, Chris was on the floor, leaning back against the couch, where Dee was sound asleep. He leaped up, his finger to his lips. I followed him into the kitchen.
“She zonked out half an hour ago. You know, I haven’t watched Arianna Lightfoot since Wei was Dee’s age. It was kind of . . . wait a sec.” He checked out the cook center timer. “What are you doing back so soon? It’s not even midnight. Was the party that bad?”
Without any warning, I burst into tears. Chris moved closer, intending to comfort me, but I held up my hand. As soon as I gained control of my emotions, I told him about my whole evening, concluding with, “Kasimir Lessig was going to help Pops, but Paulette spilled wine all over him. She claimed it was my fault and threw me out.” I sounded like a sulky Pre. I looked away, catching my breath. “I should never have gone. I don’t belong with people like that. They wouldn’t stop looking at me. It was awful.”
“Wow.” He ran his hands through his hair. “It sounds awful. You want me to make you some tea or something?”
“Tea’s fine.” I sat down at the table while he bustled about the kitchen. In ten minutes, the steaming liquid was evaporating the edges of my disgrace.
“You know, I’ll bet people were looking at you because you look beautiful.”
I managed a half smile. “I’m not used to that kind of attention.”
“Well, you’d better get used to it.” He reached over, lifting the hair out of my eyes. “You’re a very pretty girl.”
“In someone else’s clothes,” I said, swirling the tea in my cup. “It’s exactly like playing dress-up.”
“It doesn’t have anything to do with the clothes, or the hair, or makeup, or anything external. You know, you can’t judge a vid by its promo.”
My mom’s admonition to take a compliment with a simple “thank you” popped into my head, and the words came out of my mouth. “Thanks. But what do I do about the fact that Mr. Lessig was going to help me with Pops? Paulette ruined everything. It’s almost like she did it on purpose because he was talking to me, not her.”
Chris scratched his head. “Doesn’t make sense for her to do something like that. And, Nina, you shouldn’t put too much stock in what Lessig says. Remember the Alerts? He twists the truth around all the time.”
“But even if there’s a chance to help Pops, I have to take it. Otherwise, what’s going to happen to him?”
“Well, you said that Lessig told you his secretary would be in touch.”
“He doesn’t know where I live.”
“Think about it, Nina. If anyone can find you, Lessig can.”
“True.”
“Look.” He pointed to the clock. “It’s midnight.”
We clinked our teacups together.
“Happy New Year.” He leaned across the table and kissed me.
Without thinking, I kissed back.
Shocked at what I’d done, I mumbled, “Happy New Year,” into my teacup, letting the steam moisten my burning cheeks.
Another moment’s thought made me realize it was just a traditional New Year’s kiss. It must’ve been. Chris’s warm smile was sweet, and he was so easy to talk to, but I was in love with Sal. Damn. This night was not at all how I’d wanted to spend New Year’s Eve.
I wanted to be with Sal, or at the very least talk to him. But I wasn’t going to message him again. He still hadn’t called or messaged back. And I’d reached out three days ago. Maybe I’d ruined things for good. Maybe I’d never hear from him again. I needed to turn off my brain.
Chris’s voice brought me back to the planet. “Making resolutions?”
“Nuh-uh. I’m exhausted.”
“I should go. You want me to carry Dee to her room?”
“No. Let her sleep. I’ll get a blanket for her. And thanks for spending the evening with her.”
“Are you kidding? She kept me from feeling sorry for myself. No date for New Year’s Eve. What a loser I am.”
I smiled. “You might be a lot of things, but you are definitely not a loser.”
“Neither are you.” He put his arm around me and kissed my cheek. “Happy New Year, Nina. You deserve it.”
***
One glance in the mirror brought back the whole night’s events. I carefully
removed the Kanzashi sticks from my hair and shook it out. There. That was more like me. My fingertips brushed the embroidered crane as I slipped off the dress. It was so beautiful. And I’d felt beautiful in it—even if for just a few hours. I wished Sal had seen me. Without warning, Chris’s compliment rang in my ears, and I remembered his lips on mine. My cheeks burned again. Crazy.
I needed sleep.
That was the cure for crazy.
XXXIV
Sleep turned out to be a cure for nothing. My shame at Paulette’s throwing me out and my confusion at Chris’s kiss were as strong as they’d been the night before.
While I waited for Dee to get ready for our visit with Gran, I called Sal. My hands trembled. One beep . . . two . . . three . . . voice pickup. I really, really needed to talk to him, to hear his voice, to be sure that we could work things out. Why’d I let myself get so mad at him?
Because he doesn’t think you’re capable, the voice in my head replied.
The whole conversation with Sal played through my brain, again. Followed by the same resultant anger and frustration. I sighed. The Sisterhood would have to show him, and all the NonCons, that girls are able to hold their own and to contribute to the Resistance beyond gathering intelligence and providing technical know-how.
***
“Dr. Silverman says February first.” Gran huffed. “I told him I was fine, but he won’t budge. Says he needs time to assess my recovery. ‘Assess what?’ I asked. I’m an old woman. I’m still breathing. And I feel better than I did when I was seventy. He only wants more time to show off his handiwork. He’s had his colleagues tromping in and out, practically nonstop, since I got here. I’m starting to feel like a sideshow freak. Oh, well . . .” She sighed. “Any more news about your grandfather? They won’t tell me anything here. Mustn’t upset the patient, you know.”
I told her about meeting Kasimir Lessig at Paulette’s party. I wasn’t sure whether or not to mention his offer of help. If it turned out not to be true, I didn’t want to cause Gran more stress. But I saw the desperate look in her eyes, and thought of Pops.