Page 113 of Sparktopia
Then again.
And again.
And again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The job offer from Staynfor this week is security. Most of the time Stayn hires out his off-duty patrolmen for private bodyguarding when important people come into Tau City for meetings or whatever, and doesn’t bother calling me in. But there’s a big political thing happening this week and all his off-duty guys are busy.
I’m always the last one on the list when it comes to jobs he needs done, but I don’t mind because nine out of ten times when he makes me an offer like this, I don’t even take it. I’ve gotten used to the retired life. I like calling all the shots and have little interest in being accountable to people for coin.
But I feel the need for space after last night’s conversation with Clara about her boyfriend. Actually, it’s notallabout her boyfriend, it’s more that I need time to think about who she is because I think my first impression of her was wrong, so this job is a reason to get myself some space.
I don’t make many mistakes when it comes to figuring people out. Normally, I have a highly refined sense of intuition andthese instincts have saved my ass in the Omega Outlands on more than one occasion.
But it turns out that there’s more to up-city Clara Birch than I first thought. Maybe evenmuchmore. It’s not surprising that she has a boyfriend. She’s pretty, she’s young, and she’s smart. Not to mention the hot body. Which is all I thought she was—the body—when I first found her down in the lower levels of the tower.
I’m still not sure what was up with the dress she was wearing, but she alluded to it being out of her control, and that makes sense. Because the Clara Birch I have started to get to know is not a tavern wench. Not even close. She’s some kind of princess. Not in the literal sense, though maybe she is, for all I know. It’s possible the Tau City she comes from has royalty. But it doesn’t matter if she’s got the blue blood or not, she’s… refined. And you only have to spend a few hours with her to see it. Slutty dresses cannot hide the things she is inside and if there’s one thing that’s certain to me now, it’s that Clara Birch is intrinsicallypolished.
Anyway, the part about her boyfriend that bothers me isn’t the fact that he exists. It’s not even the fact that she still has feelings for him. The part that bothers me is their history.
Childhood friends, teenage sweethearts, first loves.
That’s a hard act to follow, even if he did send her into the tower as some ritualistic sacrifice. Given the choice to go back or stay, she would go back.
Which shouldn’t bother me—she and I are nothing to each other—but it took me three hours to fall asleep last night after I got in bed with her. She had no trouble whatsoever putting me out of her mind and sleeping through the night. She passed out like a baby within minutes.
And then the first thing I started thinking about when I woke up—even as I was getting out of bed and opening the door for the phone delivery—washer.
Her. A woman who is no one to me.
And how I am nothing more than the inevitable…rebound.
Which kinda pisses me off.
I’m kind of a big deal. Well,waskind of a big deal. Yes, I am a failed augment, but being an augment at all puts me in the top point zero-zero-one most intelligent people of the known world. I have a pension, for fuck’s sake—which most augments never even get because theydie—and I’m only thirty years old.
I’ve got my whole life ahead of me.
Kind of.IfI were interested in living somewhere other than Tau City Tower, and I’m not. Not at the moment, anyway.
This is another thing that’s bothering me. She said no to the hotel offer last night, but she’s probably rethinking that decision in the light of day. And once she gets some coin in her hands, she’ll be doing more than thinking about it. And I guess that’s my fault because I’m the one who set her up with a job with Rodge. But I can’t just leave her on her own all day. It’s the tower, for fuck’s sake. It’s not a bad place most of the time. But the people here… they’re the farthest thing from up-city we have in this place. Someone needs to keep an eye on her and no one’s gonna do it for free. The job with Rodge was the only choice on short notice.
So she’s gonna get coin. And as soon as she figures out that she can pay her own way, that’s what she’s gonna do. She’s gonna go get a room. Her own room. One with electricity, and heat, and AC, and screens. But the most important thing is that it will be a room she doesn’t have to share with me.
Because let’s face it, we’re just a couple of fuckin’ strangers who got stuck with each other simply because I stumbled into her on a day when she either lost her mind or walked through a dimensional portal.
And now that work’s over, this is all I can think about.
I was pretty busy all day because the man I’m running security for is a politician from Lambda. He’s got his own team staying close to him, but Stayn says he doesn’t trust the politician—does anyone trust a politician?—and wanted me to follow him. I’m sure the man was thrilled about that, but what can he say? It’s not his town, is it? If he wants to be here, he’s got to put up with me.
But I’m only working days. Stayn has someone for the night shift, so it’s just a little past seven when I walk back into the Ruin District and start climbing the outside steps to the tower.
Anneeta is waiting for me at the top, once again looking like a child model in a fashion show for eccentric small people. Her skirt today is a ballerina tutu in pink and everything else—tights, shirt, boots, vest—is all different shades of tan and brown. The only other thing that’s pink are the ribbons in her haphazardly plaited hair.
She’s cute as fuck, this kid. But every time I see her all I can think about is how sheshouldn’tbe cute as fuck. Because she’s a homeless seven-year-old so addicted to spark, I’m not even sure she’s technically human.
Of course, I’m one to talk. As an augment—failed or not—I’m not technically human either. But I look the part of failed augment. Anneeta here looks like… an avatar. Something artificially generated for virtual space. A little too smooth and perfectly imperfect.
