“Brain aneurysm,” I respond automatically. He rolls his eyes and a tiny smile involuntarily grows on me. I dig through my small side bag until I find my rad-level unit. I haven’t used it in forever, since the Corp opted to just keep everyone in anti-rad gear all the time. Sure enough, when the reading comes through, the levels are scarce; the air is breathable. I pull the mask from my face, allowing the air to caress my face.
“Isn’t that better?” he says. He gestures toward the open end of the couch, “You might as well sit down. I’ve learned that the best thing to do when you can’t sleep is to keep yourself busy until you’re tired again.”
Immediately I hesitate. There’s always the chance that there could be an attack on the city while I’m in here. Then again, I’m not entirely excited to spend another few hours letting pervasive thoughts of doom run my mind or running into Grier, so I take a seat on the couch, marveling at the situation. Am I actually enjoying this?
“So, what’s with the hair?” Asher asks.
I turn to glare at him forebodingly. “What about it?” I ask.
He shrugs. “It’s a bit bright, isn’t it? Are you looking for attention or something?”
“No,” I retort immediately, annoyed, “I happen to like it like this, actually. Why, do you have an issue with it?”
“Even if I did, would you care?” he replies.
“Probably not. Definitely not,” I say truthfully.
“Good,” he says, “Because I like it.”
I smile self-consciously, pulling a loose strand behind my ear.
“So tell me, Piper Madden, what do you like?” he asks.
I look at him pointedly and laugh. “What do I like? I don’t know. Long walks on the beach?”
“No, I mean really, what do you like? What do you do? Whatever, tell me about yourself.”
I pause for a moment. “I don’t know what to say. It’s not a very entertaining story. I’m from Central, I’m good at math, I like to dye my hair,” I say.
I like the crisp morning air of winter. I wish I was stronger. I hate when people keep secrets from me, but keep enough secrets from others. I miss David more than anything in the world. I blame myself.
“Mysterious, and yet bland for a Ten dealer,” he replies, raising his eyebrows.
I scoff at his sarcasm. “Alright then, you do it. Tell me about yourself,” I challenge.
His eyes roll upwards as he ponders momentarily. “I’m too handsome for my own good. I legitimately care about others. I like thunderstorms. I hate liars. I dream of a house by the sea away from it all. I think you’re very pretty,” he says.
I can’t stop the blush rising on my cheeks. “A house by the sea sounds nice,” I reply. I shut my eyes and I can nearly taste the fresh ocean air. I’ve only been to the sea once, but it’s a memory too vague and distant for me to tap into. All I can recall is the tender kiss of the sun on my skin and the soothing roll of white-peaked waves. A smile involuntarily curls on my lips.
“It’ll be a simple life. Trips to fresh markets, relaxation, swimming every day,” he continues. His eyes change as he envisions his dream, a sort of dreary calmness taking him over.
“You should come with me. I have a small bungalow in a fresh air zone. We could fix it up together, make it our own. Take those long walks on the beach you mentioned,” he says.
It takes me a minute to decide whether or not he’s joking. I let out a stifled giggle.
“What?” he asks, a perplexed look on his face.
I compose myself before continuing. “It’s just, Asher, we barely know each other. We can’t just run off and live some nomad life. We have lives and friends and jobs,” I reply as calmly as I can. Not to mention I have Harpies to hunt and a corporation to figure out.
He shrugs and that raw, crooked grin returns to his lips. “A guy’s gotta try, I guess. What’s so wrong with being a little impulsive? Who knows what might happen?”
I sigh deeply. “Exactly. That’s why it’s better to plan things out, make a living. You know, the way things are supposed to be,” I say.
“You need to live a little, Red. Take some chances. Sometimes life doesn’t always go according to plan,” he says, wisdom oozing.
I think of David and frown, knowing that he’s right, but I can’t help but feel that without structure and control there would be chaos. Shaking my head, I know I need to change the subject. Why can’t I just have a real conversation without shutting down completely?
“So what are you reading?” I ask, gesturing toward the battered paperback open in his hands. He flips the cover over so I can see it, a beat-up science fiction novel.
“Have you read it?” he asks.
“Ah, a classic,” I reply, sinking further into the couch. I’ve never read it.
“Definitely before its time,” he agrees, dog-earing the page he’s on and setting it on a table beside him. “Who would have known that not too long after the guy wrote it, the world would settle into some of the same routines he speculated about?”
“I still don’t think people realize that we’re in the future now. The technology is here, just waiting for us to exploit it,” I answer. I don’t know how I come up with this, but it seems right. Maybe a line from one of Sandy’s diatribes about techy stuff.
“People will always be ignorant, I guess. Then you’ve got people who over-do it, resulting in the shitty, air polluted world we live in,” he says.
“Does your family live up here?” I ask him, looking for any way to change the subject.
He shakes his head. “We’ve got an estate a bit farther north. The air’s still clean though.”
“Estate. Sounds swanky,” I reply.
He laughs. “I’m not too sure that’s a good thing. There are a lot of expectations,” he says.
“You’re lucky though. Where I’m from there aren’t as many opportunities, and forget going outside without anti-red gear,” I say.
“I guess so. I’ve never been to Central, so I don’t know what it’s like. All we hear over here are horror stories.”
“Tell me about it. Everyone here stares at me like I’ve got two heads or I’m contagious or something,” I reply.
Asher lets out a quick laugh, blue eyes shining. “Or, maybe that’s because your head looks like it’s on fire,” he points out.
“Jerk,” I grumble.
“Hey, I’m just kidding. It’s pretty, like the sunrise,” he says. He reaches toward me to stroke a strand of my hair and I immediately recoil, sighing in frustration at his confused expression. Good move, Piper.
“Sorry. I’ve got a thing,” I say, but I’m not really sure what it is. Something in me seemed to scream danger when he came near me. My heart is still beating wildly.
“It’s cool,” he says quietly, “things are—”
I hold up my hand to silence him when I hear footsteps coming up the stairs. My eyes open wide, unsure of who it could be.
“Hide,” I whisper. He gathers himself up and makes his way toward the window.
“Not outside!” I say, but within moments he’s out the window, leaving a cold breeze floating toward me. Shit. If he falls, it’s all my fault. I cringe as the door swings open and Grier pops her head into the room, a fierce glare in her eyes.
“What are you doing in here?” she asks sternly, hands on her hips.
“Just making sure I know all of the routes in the city,” I try, keeping an eye on the window in case I suddenly see a falling body.
Grier scoffs loudly. “The rules apply to you, too. You can’t just do whatever you want, you know,” she huffs impatiently.
“I’m not doing whatever I want. It’s important to know everything when scouting out an area, including hiding places and possible escape routes,” I retort.
“Just like little miss top of the world, acting like you own the place. I don’t care if you get in shit for this, we don’t need someone like you here poking through our business,” she spits.
“You
think I want to be here? I’m completely useless at a place where you barely need talent to be stationed at,” I growl back. For a moment I think she’s going to attack me, her stance immediately turning aggressive. I stand up, eyeing her, ready to take her on and at the same time scolding myself. Why can’t I just keep my mouth shut?
“You know what? I don’t have time for this,” she mutters. She spins around, hair flying behind her and stomps back down the stairs, leaving me alone in the room.
“All clear?” Asher asks as he ducks back into the room.
“I think I’m in shit,” I reply, slumping back down on the couch. Asher shrugs as he pulls himself through the window, his pale cheeks flushed from the cold air.
“You should have come out with me,” he replies nonchalantly.
“Yeah right,” I mutter. “You’re completely insane for going out there.”
“Maybe. Come out with me,” he says, raising his eyebrows suggestively and holding out his hand.
“That’s crazy,” I say, eyeing him wearily as he stands by the ominous window of doom.
“A little afraid of heights, are we?” he taunts.
“When it leads to certain death, I have every right to be afraid,” I reply.
“You need to live a little,” he says, “come out here with me.”
I look from the window to the door. One opening leads to safety, a warm bed and a crappy morning tomorrow. The other leads to adventure, release and the possibility of a fifty foot fall and a broken neck.
I stand up, biting my lip nervously as I turn in my direction of choice.
“I can’t,” I say quietly before I turn and leave.
Chapter Nine
When I get home the Holo-sky is just beginning to shoot the bright rays of morning. Not for the first time I wish that it would rain, that the sky would be overcome with grey and spill out hot acid tears. The air is stifling and stale after being above ground, and even the blast of purified air that hits me when I enter my apartment building just doesn’t compare. I feel like a sailor without a ship, like a part of me’s missing, even though I’m not quite sure what that part is. The memory of Asher’s gaze defies me to find out, to look deeper. How is it that someone can seem to know more about me than myself, when I can’t tell a thing about him?
Shelley’s perched on a stool in the kitchen when I wander through the door, quietly munching some soggy cereal. She raises her eyebrows to signal “good morning.”
“Tell me about Asher,” I blurt out. My eyes widen almost as wide as hers as I sit across from her. She hurriedly chews and swallows.
“Why do you want to know?” she replies coyly. I roll my eyes, wishing I hadn’t brought it up. This has happened time and time again, her almost desperate attempts to set me up with her love interests’ friends. I’ve always wondered whether she truly wanted to be able to go on double dates, or if she’s given up on finding the right guy for her. I’ve given up trying to delve into her psyche; as much as she likes to fiddle with other people’s minds, she’s surprisingly abrasive to the reverse.
“Just curious,” I reply with a casual shrug. Her eyes narrow as her mind tinkers.
“I don’t know what he does beyond playing in Craig’s band, but I know his family’s supposed to be pretty wealthy, and that as long as Craig’s known him, he’s barely looked twice at a girl except for you,” she says decidedly. If I was eating I’d probably spit out my food in response.
“Me?”
“Apparently he’s been asking a lot about you, and don’t tell me you didn’t notice the way he looked at you. Wait, I forgot that I’m talking to a robot, so yes, when he looked at you, something changed. I can’t really describe it, it was like he forgot about the rest of the world,” she says. Normally I’d cough and make some kind of sarcastic statement, but this time it leaves me speechless.
“I saw him last night,” I say finally.
“And?” Shelley urges.
“And nothing. We talked for a bit, I guess. I don’t really know what to think,” I reply. She gives me that frustratingly annoying look of knowing.
“You like him, that’s obvious,” she says, head nodding.
“I’m curious,” I correct. Shelley throws up her hands in defeat.
“That’s it. I’m sitting this one out until you figure out what you want,” she says.
I breathe a sigh of relief. “But Shells, I really wanted to talk in circles until one of our brains fried!” I mock-protest.
She shoots a glare at me. “Screw off. Anyway you have bigger fish to fry right now. Darcy was by looking for some merchandise. She didn’t seem happy, said she’d come back in half an hour, which is in like five minutes so I’m going to the Corp to work on some designs, okay?” she says.
“Shit,” I mumble in reply as Shelley hoists her bag onto her shoulder and retreats down the stairwell. Shelley is, to put it straight, petrified of Darcy. I don’t blame her.
I cringe a few minutes later as the door sounds with knocking and Darcy lets herself in. As usual she’s dressed in tight leather pants and a variety of different accessories. Her hair is pulled into a tight ponytail and her mouth is already turned down in a grimace.
“Good morning,” I say brightly, saluting her with a coffee mug. She doesn’t smile back, just seats herself across from me, eyes boring into mine.
“I’ve been looking for you,” she says.
“I don’t have anything on me today, Darcy,” I state firmly. This girl’s a wildcard; as much as I’ve made sure she knows who’s top dog in our relationship, there’s always the chanceshe’ll snap. That’s the thing with users; you never really know what might happen next.
“Spare me,” she replies, “I’m not here about the Ten, though I’ll be back later tonight and expect you to have some. I’m here because you’ve talked to my brother. What the hell are you thinking?” she spits.
My mind does a double-take. “I don’t know, we were at the same place at the same time?” I reply.
I swear she growls at me. “Stay away from Asher, Piper. I’m not joking. He’s not someone you want to get involved with, and I will personally be offended if you let this move any further,” she says.
“Calm down, Darcy. There’s nothing there to move further. Don’t you think I know better than to have some little tryst with a user?” I reply.
Her eyes widen, and to my complete surprise she starts to chuckle softly. I have my hand ready at my boot-knife, sure she’s finally cracked.
“You poor, poor thing,” she says, “you don’t even have a clue what you’re talking about.”
I raise an eyebrow in question, but she spins on the stool and slides out. “Get me some Ten, and stay away from my brother. Trust me, it’s just better this way,” she finishes, then saunters silently back out the door.
I wait in silence for a few minutes before I retreat to my bed, wishing away the growing, throbbing pain in my head. Either everyone’s insane, or I am. There’s too much to think about: my file, Asher, Darcy, Grier, the Corp—so I don’t. I simply pull the covers over my head and go to sleep, pushing it all as far away as I can.
Before reporting I steal off to Sandy’s place, thankful when he groggily answers his door.
“Piper?” he says.
“Thank God you’re home. Listen, I know you’re off tonight, but I need a favor, if you know what I mean,” I say. He looks back into his apartment as if checking to see if the coast’s clear.
“How much?” he asks quietly.
“Thirty,” I reply. He groans, and instead of inviting me in, he closes the door in my face. At first I think he’s just tired, but he returns a few moments later and deftly slips the baggie into my bag. I’m about to hand him some cash and thank him but he waves me off.
“It’s cool, get me back later,” he says.
I eye him, concerned. “Is everything alright, Sandy?” I ask. To this he shoots me a smile, but it’s forced, secretive.
“Just really, really tired. I’l
l see you at work later, okay?” he says. I don’t even have the chance to reply before the door’s in my face again.
When I reach the Corp building the thought of cramming myself into an elevator stifles my breathing, so I decide to take the stairs. Eight floors up is a hefty jog, and my lungs burn as I push through the entrance door. My skin is flushed and sweaty when I hand my I.D. tag over to the front desk clerk. He’s middle-aged and refreshingly human, and smiles at me as I pass through the security gates.
“Good morning,” I call out to him.
“‘Morning Miss Madden,” he replies with a slight bow of his head. He sends my pass back to me on a small conveyor just as Grier steps out of the elevator. She ignores the security guard and huffs impatiently when he asks for her I.D. and to send the small wristlet she wears through the scanner. She eyes me wearily, eyes fixated on the pack I have wrapped around my thigh. She turns to the guard.
“You forgot to send her bag through,” she states. The guard’s face burns red, and he looks at me apologetically. Hesitantly I toss my bag over, knowing full-well that it’s got a heavy amount of narcotics stuffed within it. He sends it through the scanner, and without fail the alarm buzzes. Grier gives me a satisfied smirk as the guard opens my bag and pulls out the baggie, a frown immediately lining his face. I try to think of something to say, but come up short of the clichéd sayings of youth; holding it for a friend, and the like.
“I’ll have to talk to the Director about this,” he says, suddenly staunch and serious. Grier grabs her wristlet and sails past me with a smirk.
“Guess no one’s perfect,” she says. My stomach drops as I wait for Myra to decide what exactly she’s going to do to me.
When David and I were little, we used to play a game every time we got into trouble. If Mom was angry with us, we’d run to a small crook we’d found underneath her bed, just large enough for us both to fit into. We’d pretend we were hiding from evil genetic experiments or power-hungry soldiers. By the time we were finished with our game, Mom would usually be over whatever made her angry with us in the first place and we’d move on with our day. This time, I don’t have David to help me avoid reality.
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