by Atkins, Dawn
“I’ll grab my duffel.”
The walls held carved masks, Indian baskets, and paintings, and there was a plump cactus on the kitchen ledge. Rena leaned over a sofa covered in a bright Mexican blanket to study a cartoon-style painting of a terrified hound clinging to the back of a horse on the run, eyes wild, ears flapping. She laughed, then noticed the signature. Beth.
Gage’s steps behind her made the trailer shiver. He had a green duffel over one shoulder, a backpack on his back.
“This is by your friend,” she said of the painting. “The one who goes by L.E. in the Lounge, right?”
Gage colored. “Yeah.”
Oh, he’d definitely slept with the girl, no question. She had a sudden thought. “You think she’s in Seattle?”
“She might be. Let’s roll.” He did not want to talk about the girl, which gave Rena a funny jolt. She felt…left out. So stupid. She stepped outside to be sure he didn’t notice her reaction.
Gage poked at the soil of an aloe plant on a ledge, filled a glass with water, and poured it into the pot. At the door, he looked around, as if he were saying good-bye. She wondered again why he wanted the Life. The trailer looked settled and cozy. Every object had been carefully chosen. He’d made the trailer a home. He locked up, then bungee-tied his duffel to the Commando.
“You’ll miss this place,” she said.
“It’s where I sleep.” He shrugged, not looking up.
She didn’t quite buy it, but she let it alone, climbing onto the bike. She drove, winding around the hills until they left the dirt path for the asphalt, then the highway, eager to fly, Gage at her back.
…
Taking a deep, secret sniff of Rena’s coconut hair, Gage settled in to enjoy the ride. He’d liked the sight of her in his trailer. He could picture her curled up with a stack of his books…chopping chilies for his famous omelets…making love in his comfortable bed.
No points for repeat sex, he reminded himself. He was crazy to think about Rena in a post-Lounge world. He had important things to deal with before such mindless fantasies had any place in his head. He had finally reached the last leg of his bizarre journey to find his sister. If he were lucky, he’d see Beth tomorrow night, talk to her, and be headed back the next morning with her instead of Rena on the bike.
His reporter curiosity roused, he’d done some research into the Blackstones and NiGo. LexisNexis searches netted two stories he didn’t think would help his case—though there was no mention of Ji Jin, their adopted son and genius programmer, or the other Koreans on whose indentured servitude they’d built their empire.
Recent articles in gaming magazines and e-zines complained of the delays in the release of EverLife II. The stakes were high, since the subscription rate would double. The message was clear: EverLife II better be worth it or NiGo would crash and burn.
Another piece caught his eyes from the Seattle Times, this one intriguing. The reporter mentioned the Seattle Lounge in a story about neighborhood crime. Evidently, NiGo was considering selling the place to D&G Enterprises out of Detroit, an alleged cover business for drug interests. His research dead-ended there. He’d follow up when he had more time.
The Blackstones were selling a Lounge to a drug lord? If that rumor was true, it sounded like a sure sign of money trouble. Gage had put a call in to the reporter, leaving the URL of the News Day News article to intrigue the guy, and suggested getting together when Gage hit the city. Learning more wouldn’t hurt.
For now, he was on the road. By five they’d reached Vegas, where they grabbed greasy burgers at a diner where the din of slot machines filled the air.
Over a cherry shake, Rena talked through the Dome report she would give at the managers meeting and how best to pitch Girl Power, nervous after she’d been shot down in the Phoenix meeting. She was so animated, her eyes bright, her cheeks pink, strands of wind-blown hair making her look fresh from bed. He hoped she’d get what she wanted with those clowns.
He liked her better out in the world. No longer the fierce Dome warrior or fervent cultist, she was warmer, more relaxed, more real—just a woman on a road trip having a good time. That would only last until she hit the Seattle Lounge, of course, when she’d revert to her warrior cultist self again.
He was putting away his wallet, ready to leave, when she said, “So, this Beth girl broke your heart? Is that what happened?”
“It’s…complicated,” he finally said, not wanting to get into this with her.
“That’s your first mistake—letting it get complicated. You have to keep it simple.”
“You mean sex for points? That kind of simple?” He smiled.
“Absolutely,” she said, completely serious. “Lifers are friends and family both. Sex is fun and all, but you can’t get exclusive and possessive and jealous. That’s not the Lifer way.”
“Right.” He had no grounds to argue with her, now that he thought about it. Take away the points idea and he’d been having sex like a Lifer since he hit puberty—kept it light, never sticking around long enough for anyone to get hurt. For family he had Beth. His friends were reporters, though they talked work, not personal stuff. He was basically a loner. He’d been closest to Beth, though clearly she hadn’t felt the same.
Right now, looking into Rena’s pool-blue eyes and earnest face, he wasn’t sure he wanted Lifer sex any more—in or out of the Lounge. He was tired of the down-deep gnawing feeling he carried with him all the time. He was lonely. He’d seen the same thing in Rena’s eyes. She’d fought it by joining Lounge Life. He’d just been living with it.
Gage jabbed his straw into the ice at the bottom of his soda glass. “What about hooking up with one person for good? Don’t you think that’s valid?”
She looked him dead on. “That’s not how the Life works.” No, the Blackstones wanted their minions completely dependent on them, with no divided loyalties. If Lifers paired off, they might not be so easy to manipulate.
“Not now, but the Life can change, right? You’re pushing for equal rights for girls. Maybe couples need rights, too.”
She stared at him, then grinned. “You’re jerking my chain, right?”
He didn’t say anything.
“Of course you are. Very funny. You are weird, you know that?” She moved uneasily on her bench, her pretty mouth tense, so he knew what he’d said bothered her. At some level, she knew the Life didn’t match the rhetoric. She was a smart girl. What would she be like with a clear head and a decent life outside the Lounge?
“Weird is okay as long as it won’t get me kicked out,” he said.
“Who knows? Maybe the Life needs weird people.”
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
She burst out laughing, a big, open laugh, the first he’d heard from her, and it made him want to make her do it again.
Noticing his stare, Rena stopped laughing. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s nice to see you laugh. You’re wound pretty tight in the Lounge.”
“Yeah?” She considered that. “Maybe this trip was a good idea then.”
“I think it was.” They just looked at each other for a few seconds. She was working it out, wondering what to make of him and her reaction to him. He liked how busy she got behind her eyes, how she went still and deep to think things through.
The rattle of melting ice collapsing in his glass startled them both. Gage realized they’d been staring for a while in a moony eye-lock. “We’d better roll.”
“Sure.” She flushed. Pink was a good color on her. She still didn’t trust him, but she seemed easier with him. Instead of bristling over every wrong word, she listened to him. Instead of mentally shoving him away, she went still, let the feeling settle in. She had a great smile. And that laugh. He wanted more of that.
He took over driving, speeding on the curves, showing off the bike’s grip on the road, grinning when Rena whooped in delight. The bike seemed to speak to her soul as it did his and that made him happy
. The sun was setting when they reached the marker he’d aimed to reach before dark.
“There’s a motel this way?” Rena asked.
“Hang on.” He grinned, glad she couldn’t see his face. She was in for a surprise. At a flat, sandy area near the creek, he found a fire pit beneath some pines and stopped the bike.
“What are you doing?” She looked around. “We’re camping?” She sounded horrified.
“You don’t like sleeping under the stars?”
“I’ve never, um, done it.” Her eyes flicked everywhere, panicked, though she kept her voice calm.
“You’ll love it,” he said, pleased that he’d thrown her a little. From his duffel, he pulled out the sleeping bags and tossed her one.
She caught it and stood there, stunned.
“You’re not scared, are you?”
“Of course not,” she scoffed. “Why would I be scared?”
“Good. Lay out your bag and we’ll light a fire.” Mostly for atmosphere. The spring night would have a bite to it, but nothing the polar-warm bags couldn’t take. He spread his out and watched her do the same a few feet away.
Before long, the fire crackled in the pit, flames bright and high, ash drifting upward like snowflakes in reverse. Rena sat on a boulder, her face dramatic in the golden firelight.
“This is nice, huh?” he said, welcoming the quiet moment, the brief break from his furious push to find Beth. “Too bad I didn’t bring marshmallows.”
Rena managed a flick of a smile, looking uneasily out into the darkness. Wind whistled through pines and she rubbed her arms.
“You cold?”
She shook her head. She was nervous, not cold.
“Wishing you’d gone in the van?” He grinned, teasing her a little.
“Why would you say that?” she practically yelped. “I’m fine.”
“You always are fine, Rena,” he said. “Even when you’re about to pass out from a tattoo.” He poked a log deeper into the fire. “Being off the Lounge grid like this…is it against the rules—I mean guidelines?”
“I thought you stopped picking at the Life.”
“I’m just asking.”
“Alternate transport is no big deal. They need temps in Seattle.” She shrugged. She hadn’t jumped down his throat about the question. More progress. She took an Electrique from her backpack.
“You brought E? Can’t skip it for a day?”
“Why would I want to?” She cracked the can and drank.
“You can quit any time, yeah.”
“This is no different than people hooked on coffee.”
“Try to quit,” he said. “See how it goes. I dare you.”
“You just can’t stop looking for a fight, can you?” She shifted uneasily on the rock, distracted by the night around them. Her knees bounced and her eyes were glued to the darkness beyond the fire.
“Got any ghost stories you want to tell?” He hoped to lighten her mood.
Her eyes flickered to him and away. “Not really, no.”
She’s really scared. He didn’t want that. He joined her on the rock and put his arm around her. “We can find a motel up the road if you want, Rena.”
“No way. This is great.” She shrugged him off, warrior woman look firmly in place. She was something else. He would miss her when this was over.
“Then let’s hit the sack. I’d like to get an early start.” He banked the fire and climbed into his bag. Rena slid tentatively into hers, as if afraid something at the bottom might bite.
Looking up at the wide-open sky, Gage let out a breath. He’d missed camping. As kids, Beth and he slept outdoors a lot to avoid their mother and her boyfriends. Now, he let himself relax, let go, began to drift…except Rena was wiggling around, huffing in irritation, turning one way, then the other.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“There’s a bunch of rocks and sticks and shit under here.” She climbed out and dragged her bag a distance, then climbed in and wriggled and rolled and huffed some more.
“Want me to round up some deadfall for padding?”
“Forget it. I’ll be fine,” she grumbled, shifting around. It looked like she was kickboxing with something in there.
Meanwhile, the wind whistled through the pines and he could hear frogs at the creek. The shriek of a small animal was cut short.
“What was that?” Rena jerked up.
“Somebody’s dinner. A rabbit nabbed by a fox or a mountain lion.”
“A mountain lion? Will it come here? Attack us?”
“Don’t tell me Astra’s scared of a few woodland creatures?”
“Oh, shut up,” she said. “I don’t know how anyone sleeps with all this rustling and hooting and death rattling going on. Plus, I’m freezing.”
“It’s toasty in here.” He lifted the corner of his bag. “Safer, too.”
“Forget it,” she said, rolling over. She was prickly and full of pride, and he found himself grinning.
An owl hooted and Rena gasped, then burst out of her bag, coming over to crouch beside him. “Move over,” she said, wriggling in with him, her jeans-clad legs tangling with his own. She smelled so good.
They’d have more room if he zipped their bags together—she had to feel his hard-on against her belly—but he just pulled her onto his chest and smiled up at the spread of stars over her shoulder, millions of diamonds on miles of black velvet.
Beth might be watching the same sky. He hoped she was safe and not afraid. Rena, meanwhile, was a knot of nerves. “Look at the stars,” he said. “Astra’s sisters and brothers in the sky.”
…
To appease Gage, Rena rolled onto her back. It was better than lying there shivering like a baby, but it didn’t help. The sky went on forever. The stars were sharp chips of broken glass in the cold, endless black. No mercy there. No hope.
“Do you know the constellations?” he asked, sounding sleepy. God, she hoped he’d stay awake until she dropped off. If she even could sleep out here in the middle of all this animal life and death.
“Not really, no.” Who gave a shit about a dot-to-dot in the sky? She was already afraid of the dark, but being out here in the wild, open to attack, scared the piss out of her. Animals rustled everywhere. She hated feeling like a coward. Worse, she didn’t like that Gage knew.
He was being kind, trying to help, and he had a massive erection. If only she could relax enough to feel sexual. “See Orion the hunter?” He pointed over the trees. “That diagonal of stars is his sword. Above it is his belt. See it?”
“I guess.” She squinted. Yeah. She could see that. So?
“You know the story?” When she shook her head, he explained how Orion had been Artemis’s lover, how she shot him, after which he was stung by a scorpion, then flung into the sky. Gage named more streaks of stars—Taurus the bull, Cetus the fish. Andromeda—Cassie’s avatar—and the mother of earth.
Gage’s words painted pictures in her mind. The flecks of glass chips shaped themselves into people fighting, loving, weeping, winning, and losing. “What about Astra? Where is she?” she asked.
“Maybe that’s her. Straight up from the far pine tree.” He pointed.
She nodded, liking the rumble of Gage’s voice, the human smell of him. She realized she didn’t usually lie around in a guy’s arms. It was sex and then go. She felt warm and pleasant…relaxed…and… Gage’s thigh rested between her legs, so she moved against him, just as an experiment.
Mmm. That felt good. She felt a charge that seemed to override her nervousness. That was a relief. Gage stilled, waiting for her next move. There was no good reason to have repeat sex and she was Gage’s Mentor, but she needed to escape the wild dark, the lurking predators, and the hopelessly huge sky above.
She’d been through so many changes in the last few days that at times she could hardly think or breathe. There was pressure to get money, to do good with the Dome, to be worthy of Naomi and Nigel’s faith in her, to be the vanguard of Girl Power, to ma
ke progress with her project—task after task balling up in her mind.
Meanwhile, here was this warm and ready man in this cozy bag. Blocking all doubts, she rolled on top of Gage and pressed her lips to his.
He stilled, then gently pushed her up to look at her face. “You sure?” His rough voice and the tension in his arms made her think that if she said no, he’d have trouble stopping. When she nodded, he pushed under her top to cup her breasts, groaning with relief and need.
Yes. Good. Oh. Partly it was the buildup, the sexual sludge that had accumulated since their first go. Same thing happened with a stale Dorito after twelve straight hours in the lab. It tasted like caviar.
Now there were too many clothes between her and that caviar. She stretched up her arms so he could take off her shirt, then went after his zipper. They shoved off the rest, elbows and knees colliding in the cramped space, kicking the wads of denim and jersey to the bottom of the bag, tangling their legs.
Side by side was the only useful way to screw in the tight space, and Rena was so juiced up that Gage slid into her as easily as a deep breath and just as welcome. “You okay?” he asked.
She nodded, too breathless to speak. She felt open and a little exposed, but not nervous any more.
Gage began to thrust in and out. She met him in a delicious rhythm. When he pulled out she ached for his return and when he pushed in she groaned with sweet relief. They rocked and rocked and rocked. She wanted it to go on forever.
After a while, it dawned on her that Gage might be holding back, waiting for her to come, so she reached down to bring herself off.
Gage stopped her hand and shifted his shaft so it rubbed her in quick circles. She gasped, electrified. This was really, really good. Perfect. Oh.
Before she knew it, before she could get control, she shot off, flying free, crying out into the open darkness. It was almost more than she could stand.
Gage shuddered and gave out, too, and they held each other, face-to-face, breathing hard, chests moving in and out as one. He cupped her face and looked at her. She didn’t know what to do with her eyes, her hands, her body. Emotions flew between them, tangling like their legs.