Page 35 of Perfection

Chapter Seven

Kindra smoothed her hands down the front of her shirt as she stepped from York’s air-car into the shopping mall’s parking lot. Her emotions flew like a yo-yo that had broken its string. One second she was grateful for the police escort and the doorstep parking spot that came with it. The next instant she was miffed because he wouldn’t simply wait in the air-car as she zipped in and out of the mall. No, he had to accompany her.

People entered and exited the twenty-five-story center on Michigan Avenue as if they didn’t have a care in the world. She headed for the entrance with York at her side, all tall, massive, and silent. Her mind wouldn’t settle.

This was the single most complicated day of her life. Besides dealing with Mr. Charisma, a motherly war waged within her. She wanted to do her job, but she also needed to be with and take care of her daughter.

She paused, allowing her gaze to skim upward over the massive oval-shaped building adorned with glass windows and crisscross metal framing. Around thirty steps separated the parking area from the entrance. Halfway up an apron of stairs, a teen plowed into Kindra, knocking her off-balance and down a step. York steadied her, firmly seizing her elbow. He glared at the youth.

“Um, sorry,” the boy stammered, backed up a few steps then hurried away.

Adjusting her stance, she resisted the urge to bat his hand away. She didn’t need his help, didn’twantthe man’s vigilant attention, and didn’t appreciate the tight feeling in her chest when his warm fingers touched her skin.

“Thanks,” she forced out as politely as she could. “Landing on my ass would have set us back some.” She gave an awkward chuckle, then eased her arm from his grip.

“Are you okay?”

“Of course.”

Now to shake these strange sensations.

She closed her eyes, hard. Opened them. The child’s death, plus her own sense of culpability in it, kept tugging at her. That was it. It was not the suspicion that her energy had somehow entwined with York’s.

She made her feet move.

The automatic doors opened as they approached. She glimpsed the time on the massive media screen at the far end of an open courtyard. 4:50 p.m. Not much time to get it all done.

The screen scrolled into an advertisement for E Generation babies that would be available soon, promoting a list of the options the parents could choose from. The very thing she was challenging the Committee about this morning. She released a disgusted sigh.

“This way,” she said, making a hard right.

“What are we here for?”

“A gift for my daughter.” They walked briskly past a tea café and a loud group of patrons. A man and woman turned their heads to watch them go by. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught York’s bold stare back at them. The couple immediately returned to their tea.

“Birthday?” he asked without missing a beat as if he hadn’t just given the strangersThe Look.

“No.” She stopped in front of the florist. Tipping her head, she added, “You want to come in or wait here and admire the locals?”

He angled his chin toward the center of the oval-shaped mall. “Like the green-and-fuchsia-tinged teenage girls over there?”

“A few drops of Glo under the tongue and your skin color changes. What’ll they come up with next?” She shook her head. “Their GEI parents did everything to make their lives perfect, and they want to change their skin color.”

His lip curled upward. “Yeah. Go figure.”

“Come on.” She led the way into the store, headed straight for the clerk, and requested a sunflower. Natural, not cloned. The short red-haired man looked her up and down, pursed his thin lips, and gave a curt nod before he disappeared behind a door. Kindra glanced at York. She felt as if she’d just gotten the clerk’s seal of approval.

“It smells so good in here.” She inhaled an exaggerated breath. “Soreal.”

“You need to get outdoors more,” York said.

The clerk returned with a floating tray of half a dozen red pots. “These are the only ones I have. All cloned,” he said. “Sorry.”

Kindra lifted each pot and examined it thoroughly, finally choosing a sunflower the size of her palm that peeked out of lush green leaves. “This will have to do.”

“That’s a good choice, actually, with three plants combined. See the two other buds.” He pointed them out. “Give it a cup of water, a pinch of nutrition, and at least six hours of sunlight every day.”

Kindra hesitated. Would Brianna discern the difference between natural and cloned? Her stomach clenched, knowing she wouldn’t be able to fully honor her promise. “I’ll take it,” she said as she placed her thumb on the payment scanner for the account transaction.