Through Monica pushing and Jason pretending to defer, they agreed to meet after work. Instead of drinks at her place, she changed their plans to go out to a bar and hang out. Jason’s nerves ran high while out in public, but he couldn’t say anything.
• • •
His day flew by in a flurry of changes. His office was relocated rapidly with some of his necessary work being duplicated so he could function in both locations. The staff began offloading his patients, his charts and reviews, and his meetings. He would be effectively transitioned within a few days and could start focusing on his new research unfettered.
The attendant announced Monica’s arrival.
Jason couldn’t help but gawk when he opened the door, shocked to see her in something other than her butch mechanic attire. She wore a black low-cut dress, which hugged her athletic frame incredibly well. Her tan skin looked vibrant and her cleavage looked like it might pop out of the top of the dress. Lustrous black hair slightly curled around and delicately framed her face. Black pumps made her calves flex as she walked with a slow, sensuous glide. An oversized bag she used as her purse ruined the effect of her dress, however. He gave a startled laugh. Her eyes flashed dangerously, warning him to keep his mouth shut until she was safely inside where they could talk. Other than her warning glance, she maintained her poise until inside his apartment. Then, she punched him on the shoulder. Hard.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Is the fact I had to throw this harlot outfit on and pretend to be all girly and gushy to cover your stupid ass amusing?”
“Ow!” he rubbed his shoulder. “Harlot, huh? C’mon. I’ve just never seen you in women’s clothing. Kinda surprising is all.”
“Yeah, well get out of your biosuit and we’ll get on with our stupid dinner plans. Neither one of us can afford to have even the minor fluctuations of our emotions read by our biosuits while we talk. Oh, and by the way? Yeah, I had a date tonight. He was hot and I could have had him nail me, so unless you plan on putting out, I don’t want to hear your whiny stupid comments about how I look.”
“What am I supposed to wear? I always wear my suit, so it’s going to look weird.”
“Oh, for the love of . . .” She stomped into his bedroom and started throwing clothing out of his closet and dressers as he followed. Finally, she settled on jeans, a tight muscle shirt and a hat. “There. Relaxed and blasé enough to send the signal you aren’t truly interested in my pursuit of you, but stereotypically gay enough that you’d have it in your closet in the first place. Seriously, are you twenty-three?”
He scowled and went to the bathroom to change.
“Oh, really? Now you aren’t going to even change in front of me? Wow, what a prude.”
Jason could almost see her roll her eyes by the tone in her voice as she shouted into the bathroom. “I’m not really interested in you, you know. I could care less. Sure, you have a nice physique and cute face, but . . . GAY! So gay.” He heard Monica walk into the living room and flop down onto the couch with an unladylike grunt.
“So, who is this date of yours you’re skipping out on?” he called out from his bedroom.
“His name is Jessie or maybe Jake. Whatever. He’s a Mech too.” She laughed. “He works on the city water reclaiming system and he’s super hot. Dumb as a rock, but when his arm muscles flex, I don’t really care. When a contaminant sprayed out of one of the drums on him, he had to strip and hit the shower, so I took full advantage of watching him. After I saw those abs and his ass, I about jumped in the shower with him. And wow, is he hung. Yummy! I figure he’ll make a good couple of weeks of fun before I get bored.”
“Wow, you weren’t kidding about being a harlot.”
“Yes, I’m totally a skank. And I’m not getting laid tonight because of you, which throws my whoring schedule completely off. Now hurry your faggoty ass up.”
It only took him a few minutes to change and, since he wore a hat, he didn’t have to comb his hair. “Um, hello. No cologne?” She grabbed his shoulders and turned him around, aiming him back into the bathroom. “Wow, the fact you don’t have a boyfriend is just shocking. You have the personal hygiene habits of a hobo.”
“I do not! I’m very clean.” Even though he’d protested, he headed back to the bathroom for a spritz of cologne.
“Jason, seriously,” she called after him. “Being grungy is not how you win someone over, you dumbass. What guy is going to fall for ‘Hey there, hotty. Did you notice I don’t smell like a dung heap? Yeah . . . it’s cuz I showered today! Ta da! I’m a catch!’ Try dressing in something other than your suit once in a while and put on some cologne. You’ve got a great body. Show it off.”
He came back out, having walked through a fine mist of some scent he’d been given as a gift. Possibly by Monica, now that he thought about it. She smiled, white teeth flashing. “See? Mmmm . . . your cologne smells really good.” She inhaled deeply. “Very sexy. And you didn’t bathe in it like most guys, so at least you got the amount right. Now c’mon. You take longer than a girl.” Then she clarified. “One of those high maintenance types, not me.” She got up and led him out of the apartment.
He laughed as he followed her out.
Mom sat on the steps, talking to Derek and Joey, another kid who constantly got into trouble in the neighborhood. He overheard her threaten them with grounding, of all things. It seemed completely absurd until Jason realized she pointedly referenced leveraging her influence with everyone in the neighborhood to enforce it. With a surprised laugh, he discovered he actually believed she could do it.
Mom got up and smoothed the seat of her floral pattern dress from where she’d rumpled it from sitting. She walked over and pulled his head down for a quick kiss on the cheek, then repeated the action with Monica. They’d gotten so used to this, neither one of them found it odd. She surveyed them, looking over their clothing while the two boys stared at Monica, clearly smitten. Derek adopted a foolish grin.
Mom said, “You look beautiful, honey. Your new dress is stunning.” Monica blushed, and Jason’s surprise at her girlish reaction elicited a laugh.
When had she ever blushed? Jason thought.
Mom turned to Jason, one eyebrow raised. “Oh, sweetie.” Her voice was almost tragic. “You look like you are pretending to be a high school student. What on earth are you wearing? A frat party nightmare is not exactly romantic.” She ran the fabric of his shirt sleeve between her fingers and arched an eyebrow.
“This isn’t a date, Mom. We’re going out for drinks as friends. And this is what gay guys wear. Gay, like I’m not going to be dating Monica at all.”
Mom smiled and patted his shoulder. The same one Monica had punched earlier. She glanced at Monica, who affected a slightly hurt look, which Jason found absurdly overdone. Mom seemed to buy the whole act and gave Monica a reassuring look. “Well, you kids have fun. Don’t stay out too late, since you both work. Maybe your next date can be a shopping trip for you, Jason. Monica seems to realize clothing isn’t something you can keep wearing for a decade after you get out of school.”
He opened his mouth and then clamped it closed.
Derek and Joey burst out laughing and Monica tried to stifle a giggle.
Finally, he said, “We can stay out as long as we want, we are both—”
“Have a great time,” Mom said. She walked over to sit back down with Joey, brushed his hair out of his eyes and put an arm over his shoulder, talking to him in a nearly inaudible tone as Jason and Monica’s autonomous hover-car arrived to take them to the bar.
“That woman. Wow,” Jason said, flustered. He got in and sat down on the chair facing Monica. Since there were no drivers, the seats were arranged so passengers could face each other to socialize during the ride.
Monica laughed. “She’s great.” When he shook his head, she followed up with, “Oh come on. You know you love seeing her every day.” She brushed her leg seductively against his. “And she’s super glad we’ll be giving her some grandchildren. I just can’t help my g
irly gushy feelings for your manly studliness. If only you hadn’t worn your, what did she call it? ‘Frat party nightmare’ outfit. It’s irresistible,” she said, then laughed.
He couldn’t help but laugh too. “You’re the one who picked this out!”
Monica slumped back into her seat, stuffing her large bag down in their leg space. Jason felt compelled to ask about it.
“Seriously, what’s in your oversized trash bag of a purse?”
“My makeup. Why?” She looked at him innocently.
“That’s ridiculous! Not even a clown needs that much makeup.”
“How would you know? How much makeup do you wear?” She took a tube of lipstick out of the side pocket and touched up her lips as if to make a point. “It’s just stuff, Jason. Women have to have their crap to lug around with them everywhere. All of it. It’s compulsory.”
He let it drop.
They kept their conversation light and moderately pointless as the cab’s computer attendant flew with automated precision through the city. When Jason wasn’t chatting with Monica, his thoughts centered around the Tech he’d met earlier in the day. More and more his and Monica’s conversation drifted off as he became lost in his thoughts and observations.
He looked out the window and watched the constant flow of traffic: the huge mechanics of buildings as they shifted their positions toward their solar power source; the play of electronics amongst the green of the sylvan metropolis; the living things themselves, passively guided by their nannies. All of it. The whole city and those beyond were under the control of one being. He feared the Council, the power they seemed to be seeking, but everyone completely overlooked the obvious. None of them could escape the fact the Techs were the ones who controlled everything.
Monica touched his shoulder, drawing his attention back to her, away from his thoughts. She gave him a questioning look. He smiled reassuringly, but both knew they couldn’t talk. She read his face and, with an intuitive understanding, struck up another idle conversation, diverting his dark thoughts so he’d keep his poise.
Monica had chosen a dark but modern club. Brushed steel and blue luminescent wiring provided most of the décor in the otherwise stark bar. The place milled busily with well-dressed people and Jason suddenly regretted wearing his street clothes. Most of the men wore tailored suits or dress shirts, their handsome features heightened by their classy choice of clothing. The women were in cocktail dresses or low-cut gowns and high heels, with tastefully touched-up faces and neatly styled hair. Jason appeared as if he should be at a young gay club, and felt he clearly did not fit in.
Monica laughed, having known full well where they were going and, it was clear, had purposefully chosen his clothing. She had decided to play with him, finding clever and mischievous ways to distract him. He had assumed she’d just prattle at him all night about movies or books. He should have known she’d play some elaborate game. He had to admire her cleverness, if not her enjoyment of his discomfort.
The bartender looked at him with a barely contained sneer and curtly took his order, clearly annoyed he’d have to serve someone who didn’t have the decency to dress appropriate to the bar.
Jason ordered a vodka cranberry, which seemed to further incense the bartender. Monica ordered a scotch and smiled winsomely. The bartender grinned and then threw a dark look at Jason, obviously attempting to lure her away.
“What a lovely place you picked. Thanks.”
She pretended not to hear his sarcasm. “Oh! Do you think so? I find this place to be so classy and professional. All the men seem to really understand how to treat a lady.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him.
“I’m going to kill you.”
“Oh! My! What a shocking thing to suggest, pumpkin. However shall you do it?” She clapped her hands, feigning excitement. “I do so hope it involves poison. Poison is so romantic. I’ll be the talk of the whole city!” She leaned in eagerly, pretending to be riveted by him.
He laughed at her absurdity and she shed her helpless girl act and laughed with him. “Seriously, I couldn’t help it. C’mon, you must admit it’s pretty funny. Besides, who cares what these people think? I’m just paying you back for this god-awful dress.” She got an evil glint in her eyes. “We should totally go to the bathroom together and switch clothing. Cross dressing would really make things fun. Then we could pretend like we don’t even see anything wrong or weird. We’d find out just how stuffy this place is.”
He laughed with her. “Yeah . . . I’m not sure about the whole getting my ass kicked and thrown out part, though. Explaining things to Mom when we get home and she has to watch me walk by in your new dress would add to the misery.” He grimaced as the bartender nearly hurled another drink at him. “How long are you planning on tormenting me here?”
“For a while, actually. I think you’ll forgive me in about . . . oh . . . fifteen minutes. They play really good music and you’re going to love the dancing.” She downed her drink quickly and snapped her fingers haughtily at the bartender, paying him back for his rudeness to Jason by suddenly losing interest.
“Dancing in here? These people will hyperventilate in their stuffy clothing.”
She just stuck her tongue out at him, then excused herself to the bathroom, hauling her bag with her.
He sipped his vodka cranberry and looked deeper into the club, seeing a large, empty dance floor. Background music streamed, but he could barely make it out above the conversational hum. His personal device indicated fifteen minutes until ten, which was, presumably, when the dancing started. He decided to get drunk. He drank his vodka quickly, ordered a shot, which he slammed down, then ordered another drink.
After five minutes, he grew bored and annoyed and decided Monica would have no problem finding him in his ridiculously out-of-place clothes. He got up and wandered around, enduring the occasionally raised eyebrow. Despite this, most of the people were surprisingly friendly, so he quickly stopped feeling out of place.
He had to admit there were a large number of attractive men. It had been a long time since he’d really been out, and he realized he’d become so engaged in his career he’d neglected his dating life. A few of the men grinned at him and he could feel their eyes on him as he walked by, which made him feel better.
Finally, the music started, and Monica still hadn’t come out of the bathroom. He started to get a bit worried, then figured she probably had to spend time wiggling out of that dress to keep from peeing all over it. Carrying his empty glass back over to the bar and with an impudent grin at the sour bartender, he ordered another drink, then decided to head out to the dance floor.
The DJ began to play excellent music. Jason, feeling slightly drunk, put his drink down and started to get into the music. He noticed the crowd had really started to enjoy themselves. The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees and he realized management had adjusted for dancing.
A few minutes later, Monica appeared in front of him and he stopped dancing in disbelief. Knowing how Jason normally dressed, she had anticipated his look and changed into nearly matching street clothes, looking as out of place as he did. She grinned at him impishly and he laughed. No wonder her bag was so enormous.
With abandon, they danced for several hours, having a great time. Monica would snatch an occasional man out of the crowd and dance with him, which seemed to make the room feel incredibly friendly. With a few of the men, she’d dance close and then, leaning forward with a few whispered words, pull them over to Jason. He danced with a few of these guys, briefly, having a great time. All of them were smiling broadly and he realized, with surprise, they were actually attracted to him.
Jason felt a great sense of freedom without his bio-suit. He relied only on himself to gauge everyone around him. He enjoyed the pleasure of reading body language instead of incoming data and savored the thrill of surprise as a handsome man would flirt.
He was thoroughly drunk. Monica had to yank him away from his admirers, letting him know they were going ho
me. Several of the men offered to take him, which he thought seriously about, but Monica took their numbers and told them she’d interview them for the position, tactfully getting him out of the club. One guy, who had been pressing a leg against Jason at the bar, offered to take them both back to his place.
In the cab ride home, Jason drunkenly professed that Monica had consistently shown herself to be the best and most important friend ever. He made her laugh at his inebriated proclamations, and he realized she had done one more thing for him. She’d intended to get him drunk. She’d planned the whole thing and he’d been easily and handily manipulated.
She took him back to her place and threw him on the couch. “You get to sleep there, so don’t get any ideas. I’m a virgin, you know. I don’t want you thinking you can have this sweet fresh maiden without a ring and a very large . . . dowry.”
He exploded with laughter at the absurdity of her statement and she laughed too, getting him some water and a multivitamin.
“See? Much better, right?”
“Yeah, a lot. Thank you.”
“Taking time to help when you’re down is what friends are for, Jason. Remember to return the favor, so you aren’t a one-sided selfish asshole when I need someone to lean on too, mmmkay?” She grinned.
“Got it.”
She slipped out of her clothes, unashamedly undressing down to her panties and bra as if he were her brother. She got him a blanket and threw it over him as he closed his eyes.
As he heard her enter her bedroom, his eyes popped open. “Monica?”
“Yeah? What?”
“Oh my god, Monica, I didn’t get a chance to tell you.” He sat up on the couch so he could see her. “Today at the meeting. A Tech. Sector Seven, he was in the meeting today.”
Sector Seven Page 9