by Danika Stone
Ctrl Z
A novel by Danika Stone
Table of Contents
Contents
Chapter 1: An ‘A’ for Effort
Chapter 2: Finding the Cache Files
Chapter 3: Secrets Hidden in Plain Sight
Chapter 4: Scuffed Up Surfaces
Chapter 5: Tyrone “King” Fischer
Chapter 6: Things I Haven’t Told You
Chapter 7: View from the Fifteenth Floor
Chapter 8: Maybe
Chapter 9: Opening the Vault
Chapter 10: Bad Taste
Chapter 11: Caught in the Act
Chapter 12: The Long Road Home
Chapter 13: Taking a Stand
Chapter 14: Questions and Answers
Chapter 15: The File of Francesca Williams
Chapter 16: Money’s not an Issue
Chapter 17: The Other Side of the Window
Chapter 18: The Rest of the Story
Chapter 19: The Word on the Street
Chapter 20: From the Outside
Chapter 21: Last Second Plans
Chapter 22: Taking Position
Chapter 23: The Power Shift
Chapter 24: Fallout
Chapter 25: One Year Later
Copyright, Legal Notice and Disclaimer:
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review. This publication is protected under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws, and all rights are reserved, including resale rights.
*NOTE: The characters, situations and artists portrayed in Ctrl Z are all fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any commentary on public figures, government, or political systems, is purely fictional and has no basis in fact.
Stone, D. (2013). Ctrl Z. North Charleston, NC: Create Space Books.
©www.danikastone.com
Published by Dancing Dog Productions
Cover Illustration Design by K. Goble
Also by Danika Stone:
Intaglio: The Snake and the Coins
Intaglio: Dragons All The Way Down
Tathagata
Chapter 1: An ‘A’ for Effort
Jude was standing up at the bar with the rest of the Tech Department when she walked through the foggy glass doors of O’Reilly’s. He’d remember that afterward. How Marq Lopez was right beside him - Charlie and Kimbra and the new guy, whose name Jude could never pronounce, a little way down - and how the entire group of them had turned as one to stare at the woman who had just stumbled in off the street. It was the horrible half-season between winter and spring. Outside the bar’s doors, a sheet of water poured over the edge of the building’s overhang like a faucet. She was soaked to the skin, like she’d stepped right out of the shower, a puddle of water spreading beneath her feet.
“Fuuuuuck,” Marq groaned. Even then, he was never the brightest one of the lot.
Pretty was too drab of a word to describe her. Jude stood, slack-jawed, as she leaned to the side, rolling a swath of rain-darkened hair into a loop like a sodden dishcloth and wringing it unceremoniously onto the floor. She swung back up, brushing the hair back from wide eyes. Long strands of it were plastered to her cheeks, one lock crossing her petulant lips like a gash. That, Jude would think later, should have destroyed the illusion. It didn’t. She was beautiful in a strong, unhindered way. If anything, the negligent physicality of her made every other woman in the bar look overdone. She glared out into the crowd, seeking something or someone.
For a moment, she caught Jude’s eyes, and he stopped breathing. His body reacted with a rush of attraction, focused on an invisible charge that arced across the room, linking his gaze to hers. The second lingered just slightly longer than he expected, her sooty lashes narrowing.
And then she moved on.
In a flicker of long limbs and damp flesh, she was absorbed in the teeming crowd. Around them, the music pulsed like a heart, vibrating the glasses that lined the rack above the dimly-lit bar. All eyes - Marq and Charlie, Kimbra and Abhishek, and Jude too - lingered on the spot where she’d disappeared into the press of bodies.
“Who was that?” Charlie breathed.
Jude smiled, the second when she’d looked right at him leaving him drunk on possibilities.
“I don’t know,” he said, “but I’m going to find out.”
: : : : : : : : :
Indigo was in a sullen mood to begin with, and drinking wasn’t helping. Five shots down and she was only starting to buzz, melancholy dampening her mood like a wet coat. Around her, friends drank and danced. Shireese was off somewhere with Tanis, celebrating the success of tonight’s gig, but Indigo couldn’t join in. Tonight she wanted to forget about the mess of her life. Say ‘fuck you’ to all the broken promises the last year had wrought. She knew she should tell Shireese what had happened earlier that evening, but she couldn’t bear the “I told you so” that would certainly follow.
Not yet.
Fighting angry tears, she lifted her last shot glass, swallowing liquid fire and revelling in the heat drawing a line from throat to stomach. When she slammed the glass down on the table, someone stood across from her. Recognition flickered. She’d noticed him when she’d first walked into the bar tonight. She had the same thought now that she’d had then: the guy was completely out of place. He wore clothes two grades above this dump, his dark prep-school hair neatly combed, button-down shirt rolled up to the elbows, and jeans still creased down the center of his knees.
His expression kept her from looking away. He looked soft, where the rest of the men in the bar looked hard. He’d get rolled tonight if he wasn’t careful, Indigo thought. She’d done it herself a time or two and O’Reilly’s was full of grifters. She smirked, and the man – whoever he was – smiled back.
“I’m Jude,” he said, his voice lifted over the din of the bar.
Indigo nodded, but didn’t answer. This wasn’t the first guy who’d tried to pick her up tonight, and the truth was, she wasn’t interested. She didn’t turn him away though, not yet. He stuck out just enough to make him intriguing. He had a bright smile and straight teeth, but more telling than that was a faint Brooklyn accent that had been smoothed away under the file of good schools and money. In the darkness, she couldn’t tell what colour his eyes were, but she liked their shape. They looked kind.
“I’m here in the city with friends,” the man added.
“Hmmph.”
His smile faded. He had to be in his late twenties, Indigo decided, but with the uncertainty of his expression, he seemed younger. He glanced over his shoulder, and then back to her.
“Well, um… sorry for bothering you,” he said, taking a single step back.
Indigo spun into motion, her hand snaking out and flattening against the table with a slap, eyes narrowed and glittering. She knew she looked like shit, the rain had seen to that, but she still wanted to forget. Someone like this, a frat boy who was looking for some fun, someone who was out of place and completely out of her league was exactly the kind of guy she wanted. If some part of her knew that this was what’d gotten her into the mess in the first place, she pushed the thought away.
“That’s a shitty pick up line,” she snarled. “You want to get somewhere with me, then you’ve got to do better than that.” She smiled just enough to take the barb out of her words.
He laughed nervously.
“C’mon then,” she growled, tipping her head to the side. “I’m waiting.”
His brows pulled together li
ke he was taking an exam. A second passed, then two.
“You’re gorgeous,” he said earnestly. “You could be a model or something.”
She laughed aloud, her head tilting back, exposing her neck, as if that was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. Guys loved that, she knew. Made them feel powerful.
“You’re a bad liar,” she said. “I look like a drowned cat.” His face fell and she felt a twinge of guilt. “But you can still stay, honey.” She winked. “‘A’ for effort and all that.”
He chuckled, and moved closer. This time when Indigo smiled, it was real. The man’s eyes were green, she saw, with a navy ring around the iris. Not brown like his. And that was all she needed tonight.
“Well, if you’re giving out points for effort,” he said, dropping his chin. “I might do alright after all.”
Indigo gave him a slow smile, her eyes moving down his body, measuring the hint of musculature under crisp cotton.
“Mm-hmm,” she murmured, “yes, Jude, I think you might.”
: : : : : : : : : :
It’d been Marq’s idea to come out to O’Reilly’s tonight. “Slumming it” was what he called it, but the night had proven more than Jude could have hoped. He sat in the booth, his arms wrapped around the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, never mind touched. He could have written everything he knew about her on a single cocktail napkin: Her name was Indigo, and she was here to see the band. Full stop. Nothing else.
When he’d asked for her number, she’d kissed him instead of answering.
If he thought there’d been a connection in those numerous small movements while they talked... his thumb on the inside of her arm, his hand against her shoulder, her lips brushing his ear... he was completely unprepared for the sudden explosion of fire beneath his lips when she kissed him. A burning match dropped into an open tank of gasoline, exploding into a flash-fire of need. Jude wasn’t sure how she’d ended up on his lap, but she had. They were making out like teenagers, his hands moving brazenly below the edge of the table. Indigo’s hand moved up his thigh, tongue pushing into his mouth. She tasted like whiskey and cigarettes, but she smelled like rain.
Someone shoved into the booth from the other side, jostling the two of them apart, and Jude pulled back. Indigo’s lips were damp and slightly parted, dark blue eyes half-hidden by a fringe of lashes. She smirked, her fingers on his thigh rising higher. With a strangled gasp, he caught hold of her hand, keeping her from reaching the button of his pants. He needed to slow down a bit, and if not that, then find a place where things could continue.
The man beside them laughed, bumping into them again, and Indigo slid off his lap, her wrist still trapped by his fingers.
“You want to get out of here?” Jude panted.
She chewed her lower lip, turning to glance out at the bustling bar. Jude’s eyes lingered on her profile, catching details he’d missed: the tiny mole near her hairline, the curved bow of her lips, the darker tone of her eyebrows as they drew together. But whatever Indigo saw changed things. Her expression sharpened. Without warning, she jerked her hand away, crossing her arms, inexplicably angry.
“Not yet,” she grumbled. “Not drunk enough yet.”
He turned to see who she was glaring at. A twenty-something woman with ebony skin and corn-rowed hair stood a few feet away. She grinned as Jude caught her eye, then turned her back on both of them. Indigo slumped down in the booth, her eyes on the empty shot glasses that cluttered the table, the mood between them inexplicably souring.
“You want another drink?” Jude suggested.
She smiled, and his heart jumped to double time. Gorgeous didn’t even cover it. When she looked at him, he felt things.
She leaned in, mouth brushing against his cheek.
“That’d be great,” she murmured. “Whiskey shots first…” Her hand dropped back to his thigh, squeezing in promise. “Then we can leave.”
He nodded, desperate to comply. He had no idea where they’d go, or how long it’d take to get there. His apartment was on the far side of the city, in the suburb that surrounded the university, but he’d figure that all out later. For now, he just wanted to touch her again.
“Back in a second,” he said with a grin, and then he was out of the booth, fording his way through the masses of people.
He didn’t see the woman who’d been watching them turn around and walk back to the table.
: : : : : : : : :
“Where’s your man?” Shireese asked dryly.
She was staring down at Indigo, smiling, a beer in hand. Indigo shrugged, not answering.
“Didn’t think you were coming down,” Shireese continued. “Too bad you missed Tanis. The set was good.”
“Just came to have a little fun,” Indigo muttered, her gaze skittering away. This was the story she didn’t want to tell.
“By yourself?”
“Wasn’t alone a minute ago.”
Shireese smothered a laugh under her hand, but Indigo didn’t notice. She was staring down at the sticky surface of the table, chest tight.
“Right,” Shireese chuckled. “Well, everyone’s enjoying the show you’re puttin’ on, but you might wanna tone it down a bit.”
Indigo’s head jerked up like it was on a string.
“We broke up. Okay?”
Her words were dashed away in the roar of the bar, but the message made it through without a doubt. Shireese’s expression back-flipped from laughter to sudden concern.
“You and…?”
“Yes,” Indigo cried. “It’s over. A year together just… gone.”
“Oh my God,” Shireese breathed. “What happened?” Indigo shook her head. She didn’t want to explain. “Is that why?”
Shireese gestured to the distant bar where Jude waited patiently amidst the other drinkers. Indigo had the random thought that she hoped he’d moved his wallet to his front pocket. There were pickpockets in the crowd. She knew some of them.
“I just wanna drink,” Indigo said morosely. “Drink and forget.”
“Then why’re you looking for trouble?” Shireese asked.
“What?”
“Trouble,” Shireese repeated, “with that guy.”
Both women turned to watch Jude as he stood at the bar, his clothing as well as his demeanour separating him from the rest of O’Reilly’s patrons. He was more than passingly handsome and the gaze of a group of giggling women perched on barstools lingered on him. He had the kind of physique achieved and honed by effort and repetition. His face was smoothly shaven, the hard line of his jaw preventing the high planes and delicate features from being pretty. None of that intrigued Indigo; for her it was his expression. Jude was different than the other men of the bar… the curve of his lips and guileless look in his eyes. The innocence.
“He seemed nice,” Indigo said wistfully.
She wished she’d agreed when he’d asked her to leave. She didn’t feel like dealing with her best friend tonight. Shireese wasn’t the fuck-up, she was. She wanted to forget that too.
“What’s your problem with him, anyhow?” Indigo sneered, her anger quick and easy. “Is he too good for me too?”
As expected, Shireese’s hands went to her hips, her brows beetling together.
“I never said that,” she retorted. “But a white boy dressed like that in a place like this? You know he’d want something in return.”
“I just want to have fun! What’s wrong with that?”
“Fun isn’t gonna make this any easier, honey.”
“You’re not my mother, alright?” Indigo snarled, crawling out from the crowded booth and staggering under a wave of vertigo. She might not feel drunk, but gravity was no longer reliable.
Shireese reached out, catching hold of her arm.
“I’m not your mom,” she said tiredly. “But I am your friend.” Her arm slid around Indigo’s waist, as she guided her through the crowd. “You bring a purse or anything?” she asked.
“No,” Indigo muttered, glanci
ng back over her shoulder one last time.
Jude still waited at the bar, a folded twenty in one hand, reaching out to the bartender. She had the sudden, irrational hope that he’d turn around and look at her.
He didn’t.
“Then let’s get you home,” Shireese said, nudging open the door with her boot and dragging Indigo along with her. “Otherwise you’re gonna hate yourself in the morning.”
“Already do,” Indigo whispered.
If Shireese heard, she didn’t answer.
Outside the rain fell in heavy sheets, the entire world dead or drowning. A car drove by, water hissing out on either side like two shining wings. As they walked to the subway, Indigo slumped against her friend’s shoulder. Hidden by the rain, her face in shadow, she finally let the tears come.
No one would see them now.
Chapter 2: Finding the Cache Files
Indigo sat at the computer, fighting down the urge to smash the stubborn machine to bits. She’d copied all of the files over to a second jump drive minutes ago, re-saved the entire project, and meticulously re-linked all the files to the original footage. Now all she needed the program to do was to export the damned scene, but the computer just wasn’t behaving the way it should.
Indigo closed her eyes, counting slowly backwards from ten, the claw of her hand loosening on the mouse. She opened one eyelid a crack.
Unknown error: Export failed.
“Motherfucker!” she barked.
All eyes in the class jumped to where she sat in the back row.
“Ms. Sykes!” Professor Sakamoto yelped, his bald head appearing from behind one of the distant screens. “Please remember your audience.”
A titter of nervous laughter trickled through the lab and Indigo winced. She might be starting her second year of classes here, but she still wasn’t used to the expectations of a university program. It’d taken her less than six months to get her GED at the community college, but classes like this – filled with spoiled little rich kids who’d never had to struggle for anything – were an altogether different experience. The scholarship for the Design Program had seemed like a gift at the time, but there were moments – like now – when Indigo wished she’d turned it down. Stuck with what she knew. Stayed where she belonged.