Two Can Play (Entangled Ignite)

by Atkins, Dawn

“Nothing after midnight?” Cassie’s eviction had been at 2:00 a.m. “I’m kind of a night owl.”

  “Those are special assignments. Not a regular shift.” He glanced away, so Gage knew he was getting somewhere.

  “That’s to transport Lost Lives, right?” he guessed.

  “Yeah.” He seemed relieved that Gage knew. “It’s a stink-o assignment, so you get double points. Sometimes they carry on, crying and screaming and shit. It’s pitiful.”

  “Is it far? Where they take them?”

  “To the shelter? Nah. Used to be out to Mesa, but lately, it’s the new one down on Van Buren and Nineteenth Ave.”

  They’d taken Cassie to a shelter? So much for the rehab Maya had promised Rena. He doubted that was the first lie the shrink had told the true believer who hung on her every word.

  “How often do the special assignments come in? For the double points?” He pretended interest in the money, but he wanted a better picture of the eviction system. How big were the crimes that got a Lifer kicked out?

  “Hard to say.” The pissed-off mechanic walked up, wiping grease from his hands with a grimy red rag. Eric turned to him, “How often do we get SAs?”

  The mechanic shrugged. “Sometimes five or six at a time, then nothing for a while.” He scrubbed absently at his forearm, drawing Gage’s eye to a tattoo across the tan muscle. It was the troll avatar from EverLife in brick-red ink just like the ones from Beth’s mural. “Nice tattoo,” Gage said, trying to sound casual.

  “Got it when I got my new status tat.”

  “A friend of mine uses that color ink. L.E.? She do it for you?”

  “Don’t recall the name. About yay tall.” He motioned to about Beth’s height. “Blue stripes in blond hair.”

  “Maybe…” The guy had been inches away from Beth’s face while she tattooed him, so maybe he’d have noticed her details. “She have a spot here?” He touched the place on his cheek where Beth’s mole was.

  “Don’t remember. But a big ole dimple when she laughed.”

  “That’s her,” Gage said, triumph spearing his chest. So Beth had worked at the place where Lifers got their tattoos—Body Artist. “So where’s the shop?”

  “Down south. Broadway around Central.”

  “Maybe they’ll know where she went.”

  He shrugged. “So, you lookin’ to drive special assignments?”

  “Once I get Quarters, sure.”

  “Good, ’cause we hate those runs.” He turned back to his engine. Gage wanted to kiss the guy for giving him a vital clue and a direction to head.

  He started with the homeless shelter, since it was closer. The receptionist recognized Cassie from her photo. “Sure, I know that one. Done nothing but whine—ooh, the noise, ick, the smells, the food, the creeps. She’s in the dayroom. Don’t rile her up, please. She’ll throw a fit about not having cable.”

  Gage found Cassie staring blankly at a cartoon on an ancient TV. The room contained several weary-looking women, also watching TV, some men playing cards, and three kids napping on a love seat. The room smelled like dusty plastic, Lysol, and cafeteria food. When he called Cassie’s name, she looked over, eyes dull, face pale. “What are you doing here?”

  He sat on the scuffed Naugahyde sofa. “Checking on you. Rena wanted to be sure you were okay.”

  “Oh, yeah? Well, fuck Rena. Tell her it’s hell here and I don’t forgive her.” Her bloodshot eyes flashed fear as well as anger. Gage waited, not speaking.

  “That it? All you got to say?” she demanded.

  “Maya told her they’d send you to rehab.”

  “I don’t need rehab. Maya can kiss my ass. She comes on all caring, but she wants to pick your bones clean, like you’re some bug squished between two slides.”

  He could believe that. “How about I take you for something to eat?”

  “Make it something to drink and I’ll consider it.” She pushed to her feet, assuming he’d agree, but wobbled until Gage caught her arm.

  “Are you sick?” he asked.

  She shook him off. “Nothing a shot of vodka won’t fix. Unless you’ve got some E? E would do it.” Her eyes lit with hope.

  “Sorry. No.”

  “Figures.”

  Outside, he gave her his jacket to cut the breeze, they mounted the bike, and he drove to the closest restaurant, where he let her order a double vodka with cranberry juice. Faking a john visit, he caught the waitress and made the drink juice only.

  When he returned, Cassie said, “How did you find me?” She looked small and frail in his leather jacket and she was trembling. He hoped food would help.

  “I talked to the van office and found out where they drove you.”

  “Yeah. Final stop for Lost Lives. I’ve asked after the ones I knew, but they’re gone. Shelters boot you pretty fast I guess.”

  The waitress arrived with Cassie’s cranberry juice in a martini glass. All it needed was a blue lightning stem to look like the V-Triques they served at Blood Electric.

  Cassie claimed not to be hungry, but Gage ordered her potato soup in a bread bowl because it would be easy on her booze-ravaged stomach. He ordered a burger and fries, figuring he’d feed her the fries at least, maybe some beef if she could tolerate it.

  Cassie picked up her drink in two shaking hands and drank it in one go. Setting down the empty glass, she seemed to be waiting for relief. A few seconds later, she said, “No vodka. You’re an asshole.” She turned to call the waitress.

  But he stopped her arm. “Eat some food and I’ll consider something stronger.”

  “You think I’m a drunk, but I’m not. Booze is not my problem.”

  He didn’t say a word. He’d sat through his mother’s denials enough to know that arguing did no good.

  “I was sick before I left, you know. I got fevers. I woke up a couple times on the floor with a bloody tongue and bruises. Like I’d had a seizure. Now it feels like broken glass in my veins. The only thing that helps is booze. Booze and E. E helps a lot.”

  “Sounds like you need a doctor.”

  “You think?” She snorted. “I went to the NiGo Health Center, right? They took blood. I sat there for an hour while they blabbed in the office, then they sent me home. Said they’d call with the results. No call. No nothing.”

  “So go to county hospital now.”

  “With what? I have no insurance or cash to burn.”

  He took a hundred from his wallet and slid it toward her.

  She eyed it, then him. “What do you want from me? It’s not sex. I know that. I wasn’t that drunk last night.”

  “Maybe you could tell me more about the Life.” He pushed the bill closer. “Like why you really got kicked out.”

  She frowned, lifting angry eyes to him. “I’ll tell you one thing.” She jabbed a grimy, nail-bitten finger at him. “I told secrets to no one. And I am not Angel.”

  “I believe you.”

  “Why would you?” But she couldn’t hide her relief. “What are you after? And don’t tell me it’s your artist friend L.E.”

  “It is about her, I swear.” But Cassie wouldn’t buy that alone. “She took some money. Thirty grand.”

  “Ah.” Her eyes sparked. This she believed. “She ripped you off. If she gave the cash to NiGo, it’s spent. Count on that.”

  “You remember a deposit that big coming in?”

  “Thirty K’s a lot of green for a Lifer. The managers have to cough up donations every month, but Lifers mostly come in dead broke.”

  “So, if you saw that much money…?”

  “I wouldn’t have. I did books for the bar and café.”

  “So, who would?”

  “My boss—Leland Thomas. He’s not a Lifer.”

  “Think he’d tell me?”

  She looked at him askance. “How old are you anyway?”

  “Twenty-seven.”

  “Old. I thought so. You’re different. You don’t need the Life, do you?”

  “The Life makes sense,” he
said, wanting to keep her talking.

  She softened suddenly. “It does. The bitch of it is that I want back in. When the Life works, it works. No one can hurt you. All the decisions are made. You’re safe.”

  “Until they kick you out.”

  “Yeah, well, nothing’s perfect.” Her eyes were clouded over and sad. “Supposedly I’m a Lost Life now, but I was lost before they found me.”

  That seemed true for lots of Lifers. Not Beth. Beth had had him, dammit. Why hadn’t she known that? Why hadn’t she come to him?

  “You go in empty and they fill you up with the Family,” Cassie continued, “like a big happy balloon. Then they let go of the string and you swirl away and it’s worse than being lost. What’s more lost than lost?”

  “You got a raw deal, getting forced out. Maybe I can help you prove you’re not Angel.”

  “You don’t even have Quarters, asshole. How could you do anything?”

  “I could talk to that reporter. I found a photo of you and Rena in your Quarters. I could show it to him, get a signed statement that you’re not Angel.”

  “If they want me out of the Life, I’m out.”

  The waitress brought the food and he was relieved to see Cassie dig into her soup. He pushed his fries closer and she took a few of them. It troubled him that the food didn’t seem to give her more color or stop her trembling. He had to convince her to see a doctor—a real one, not whatever quacks NiGo sent their people to.

  “So why did they want you out?” he asked her. “Last night you said something about some accounts. Did you see something they didn’t want you to?”

  She studied him for a long moment. “If I tell you, you have to do something for me. Bring me some E. The one decent thing Rena did was smuggle me out some.”

  “How’d she get it out of the Lounge with the scanners?”

  “They turn them off at midnight.”

  “Ah.” Without Quarters, he couldn’t be in the residence past then. Nardo owed him a favor. Maybe he’d buy some bootlegged cans from the guy. “I’ll get you some. Tell me what happened.”

  She leaned forward, planting her palms on the table. “A week ago, I needed some figures, right? To save a trip to my desk, I dropped into Leland’s chair to use his system and I see this ledger with hundreds of dollars coming in every month from a bunch of credit card accounts, which is no big deal, except I recognize one name—BoyLuv—the screen ID of a total perv. He got banished—no kinks allowed in EverLife—but why’s money still coming in?”

  “Good question.”

  “I wrote down a few of the other names and looked them up. All banished. So why are we still collecting their cash?” She ate a fry. He pushed his untouched burger closer to her. She picked it up and took a bite, made a face and spit the bite into a napkin.

  “So did you find out?” he asked her.

  “Before I got a chance to ask, I got kicked out.”

  “You think he reported you? Leland?”

  “No. If he saw my search trail, he’d have talked to me. Leland likes me. If he weren’t married, we’d have a dealio. But he’s the only one who could have known what I did. That can’t be why.” She shook her head.

  “Would Leland talk to me about this? Can he be trusted?”

  “You’re asking me? I just got fucked over by my best friend and maybe my boss. What do I know about who to trust?”

  “Who else would know about the accounts?”

  “The CFO, Mason Rockingham. Probably Rick Bondurant, the GM. He’s all about the revenue stream. What a prick.”

  “I’ve heard that about him.”

  “The Game Masters know who got banished, but they, like, don’t talk. Some secret agent code of silence BS. So lame.”

  “They must talk to someone.”

  “They love Rena. She’s always picking up on griefers for them.”

  Griefers were players who got off on hanging at the spawn spot to kill off new players and steal their goods. “You think Rena would help us?”

  “Rena’s all about the Life. If you had proof the Lounge was being hurt by what’s going on, or NiGo, or the Blackstones, she’d be all over it.”

  What if NiGo was doing the hurting? When cherished beliefs were challenged, the faithful could get irrational. He’d seen that investigating sex abuse at a preschool. The parents refused to accept the evidence that beloved teachers had fondled their kids. He didn’t get that. The truth counted. You honored truth above all. Considering how Rena bristled over his questions about the Life, it was too soon to tip her to what he was up to.

  “Anyone else might know about the money?” he asked.

  “Deanne. A secretary in the department and a slut, but I doubt she knows much. Only managers have major access. Leland gave me unlimited time codes because he trusted me.” She grabbed her stomach.

  “You’re not well.” Gage took the hundred from the table and put it in her palm. “I’ll bring you the E, but you should see a doctor.”

  She grabbed the bill, shoving it into her bra. “Don’t feel sorry for me, asshole.”

  “I don’t,” he lied. “What will you do, Cassie?”

  “Stay at the shelter ’til they kick me out. Sleep in the park. Weather’s good. Rain’s over. March is okay at night.” She shrugged, life draining from her eyes. “I’ve done it before.”

  “What about going home?”

  “Never.”

  Rena and Cassie’s mother had been right about that.

  “Look, if you’re not going to buy me a real drink, let’s get out of here.”

  He left money on the table and they walked out.

  On the bike, she shivered in his jacket, even at the stoplights. Most of the way, she flopped so loosely across his back he kept reaching behind to hold on to her. At the shelter he helped her off the bike. She handed him his jacket, blinking hard, as if the mild sun hurt her eyes.

  “Can I help you inside?”

  “Just get me the E. Soon.”

  “I will. If Maya does contact you, don’t tell her I came. I don’t trust her any more than you do.”

  She nodded. “Deal.” She hugged herself, hunched over and ill. She looked like a refugee from a rainstorm in the middle of a gorgeous day—soft sun, a light breeze, the smell of flowers and new growth everywhere.

  “You sure I can’t take you to a hospital? Or home? You’d have a bed.”

  “Some things mean more than a bed.” She looked him dead on, serious and stubborn, reminding him of Rena.

  “Rena really is worried about you, Cassie.”

  “Yeah?” She hesitated. “You got that photo of her and me?” He handed it over. She studied it, a wisp of a smile on her lips, before giving it back. “Tell Rena I don’t blame her. I stepped in shit. That’s not on her.”

  “Those sound like last words.”

  “Nah. I’m like a cockroach. I’ll live forever.” But she looked deathly pale. Then she drilled him with eyes on fire. “Something’s wrong with the Life, Gage. Figure it out in time, would you?”

  “I’ll do what I can, Cassie.”

  “I’ll hold you to that. And to the E.”

  He watched her head into the shelter. Cassie deserved better than being abandoned, sick and scared, by the people who’d sworn to take care of her.

  His mission was to rescue Beth, but if he could help Cassie and Rena and the other Lifers he would do it.

  Chapter Seven

  Even knowing Nigel had good news, Rena jittered while she waited for the Asian woman to open the red dragon door, her brochure sticking to her sweaty palm. At the last second, she pulled out her phone and set it on silent. It had been holding up pretty well, she realized. Maybe she’d wait a while to replace it. When the woman appeared, Rena took a deep breath before returning her bow and entering the Quarters.

  It was familiar now—the airy openness, the flashing game screens, the chimes, the bubbling Buddha, the sandalwood smell, which filled her nose and almost made her sneeze. The table held
the delicate teapot and cups as before, but this time there also was a black enamel tray of two spring rolls. Closer, she smelled chamomile—the tea—and garlic and sesame oil from the food. Yum.

  She wondered if the Asian woman had made it. She must be their cook and housekeeper. She wasn’t a Lifer, but she must be close to the Blackstones. She was lucky to be in their presence so often, right in their home.

  Also on the table was a shiny black folder with the NiGo lightning-brain logo and a photo of NiGo Charter School students working on computers. A tiny noise made her look up in time to see Nigel step through a door that opened invisibly from the wall—no knob, no hinge—like a secret entrance. He came to her, squeezed her hand in both of his, and bowed low. “Honor to you on the completion of your Quest. Sit and enjoy.”

  She sat on a cushion—ruby like Naomi’s tunic in Rena’s photo—and placed her damp Girl Power brochure on the table.

  Nigel poured the tea with the grace of tai chi master. Again, he watched as Rena sipped. Though not peach-flavored, the tea tingled as the first cup had all the way down her throat.

  “Good, good,” he said. “Now eat.”

  She nibbled at one roll, too nervous to enjoy it. Nigel ate, too, touching the corners of his mouth with a napkin after each delicate bite, smiling at her each time. When he’d finished, Rena placed her napkin on the table, signifying she’d had enough, too. She started to pick up the brochure, but decided to wait. She was more nervous than she thought. Her mind had slowed and her tongue seemed too big for her mouth.

  “As to your Quest,” Nigel said, “you demonstrated your loyalty, your wisdom, and your willingness to rise above personal feelings to act for the greater good.” He refilled her teacup, setting down the pot without a sound. Again, his cup was empty.

  “It was difficult, Nigel. Cassie is my friend. I’m worried about her.”

  “Villains are the heroes of their own stories. They always have their reasons.” He leaned across the table, giving off an earthy smell of sweat and cigar smoke. Nigel smoked? She shook away that idea.

  “You know that Naomi and I love every member of our Family, even those who fall from grace?”

  She nodded.

  “You are a loyal friend. Be assured that Cassie is where she belongs.” He looked down at her teacup, urging her to enjoy more of the tea. She sipped. “Mercy is the enemy of growth. Always remember that.”