Love Minus Eighty (11 page)

Petra Knox’s screen finally swiveled away from Nathan, and Nathan immediately turned and headed toward Rob. Either he’d spotted Rob watching him, or had set up a facial-recognition program to alert him when Rob showed up.

Nathan extended a hand as he approached. “How did you get my name again? You said you were a friend of Winter’s?” He looked to be carrying on at least two remote conversations, maybe three, while speaking to Rob. His style was impressive; Rob didn’t even recognize the vocal rhythm he was using, and his fingers worked the air so deftly Rob could almost see the virtual keyboard he was working, in lieu of working directly on his system.

“I got it from Idris Badini, one of Winter’s friends. And I
am
a friend of hers, not was.”

Nathan looked Rob up and down, not missing a beat. “You’ve got a rented system and out-of-style boots, but you’ve got the juice to be friends with a dead girl at eighteen hundred a minute? Okay, suddenly you got interesting. Give me some context.”

If he told Nathan the truth straight-out, would Nathan punch him? Rob wasn’t sure. Nathan wasn’t a thick-browed hyper-masculine orc, but he had a restless, high-energy style that might translate into violence under the right circumstances. Rob opened his mouth to tell some credible lie, but couldn’t think of a damned thing. What would explain his situation, besides the truth? He took a subtle half step back from Nathan.

“I’m the one who hit her.”

Rob watched Nathan take this in, his face slack with surprise, his other conversations dropped. It was strange to have someone’s full attention (someone other than his dad, anyway).

“Hold on,” Nathan finally said. “Let me get this straight:
you
killed Winter? You ran her over?”

Rob looked Nathan right in the eye, fighting the urge to look at his shoes. “That’s right.”

“And then you thawed her out for a visit?” He was shaking his head, incredulous. “Did you tell her who you were?”

“Yes, of course. Why else would I go there?”

“I don’t know. I can’t believe you went there, period.” His fingers were flying again, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he resumed his secondary conversations, probably encouraging his friends to listen in. Fortunately, they couldn’t simply pop open screens and gawk because of the cover charge.

“You went there, too,” Rob pointed out.

“She told you that?” Nathan seemed surprised.

“She mentioned it, yeah.”

He studied Rob for a moment. “I want to hear the whole story. You’ve got beach balls, Cousin.” He put his arm across Rob’s shoulders, turned him toward the bar. “Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.”

Rob began at the beginning, with Lorelei. He wanted Nathan to have the full context for the accident. If he was going to convince Nathan to commit to visiting Winter, and hopefully coordinate with Rob to spread out their visits, he needed Nathan to like him. When he mentioned he’d been living with Lorelei, Nathan’s already animated features lit up further. “Lorelei Van Kampen?”

“You know her?”

“Indirectly. Three degrees.” It took Rob a second to get it, that Nathan knew someone who knew someone who knew
Lorelei. Three degrees of separation. “She’s got a trillionaire grandfather, but she’s mostly cut off, right?”

“Right. So, she’s throwing everything I own out the window with three hundred screens looking on. My photo files. Recordings of songs I composed—”

“Yeah, I can see what you mean about all the eyes—she’s got quite a following. She’s one rare bird, though. Gorgeous.”

Rob’s stomach lurched. “Are you watching her right now? Live?”

Nathan nodded, his attention clearly compromised.

“Please don’t do that. I don’t want any connection to her, not even once-removed.”

Nathan flashed a wide smile, nodded. “No problem, I get it. I take it there’s no chance of me getting an introduction, then?”

Rob laughed. “No, we’re not on speaking terms.” This guy was something.

Rob went on with the story, careful to avoid foisting responsibility for Winter’s death onto Lorelei, or onto Winter herself. From the start it had been tempting to claim Winter came out of nowhere. Given Winter’s breakup with Nathan that day, Rob could have weaved a convincing story of a heartbroken and careless woman not watching where she was going. Maybe he could have even convinced himself. But Rob had been the one who came out of nowhere, drunk, driving too fast. He skipped the part about being drunk.

When he told Nathan about the promise he’d made to Winter, and how he planned to keep it, Nathan stopped him. “Wait a minute. You’re giving up everything, including your dream of becoming a famous musician, just so you can visit Winter?”

“That’s right.”

“For how long?”

Rob shrugged. “Until she’s out of there.”

Nathan tilted his head, as if maybe he hadn’t heard Rob correctly. “Cousin, she’s not ever getting out of there. She’s a cutie, no doubt, but there are many, many cuties on ice in that place.”

“Then I’ll visit her for the rest of my life.”

Rob looked at Nathan, daring him to question his commitment.

Nathan groaned, rolled his eyes. “Shit. We’re about to have company. One of my coworkers just touched base and she’s completely unglued, babbling about someone jumping from a bridge. Hey, I’m sorry about this.”

Rob waved off the apology, quickly got to the point. “The reason I’m here is because Winter said you were planning to visit occasionally as well—”

Nathan’s smile vanished. Suddenly he looked grim, pained. “I see where this is going. Not a chance, Cousin.”

Someone in the bar pinged Rob; Rob sent a quick decline, wondering who would be interested in talking to a guy with a rented system, a guy who was so scrawny he looked like bait for stray cats. “But you promised her you’d visit.”

“Of course I promised her. What was I supposed to say? ‘Hell, no, Winter. I can’t afford it? I can’t imagine anything more depressing than visiting my dead ex-girlfriend every couple of months?’ ” He craned his neck to look around Rob, maybe at a woman who had pinged him. “I’m sorry I went there in the first place.”

A dark-haired woman appeared in the entrance, her eyes red, her lower lip trembling. She looked utterly out of place,
her baggy, multipocket pants and red sweatshirt not intended to show off her figure. It had to be Nathan’s friend.

Rob talked faster. “I understand what you’re saying, but these visits mean the world to her; she clings to them like a lifeline. I thought if you—”

“They’re not a lifeline, because she’s not alive.” Nathan put a hand on Rob’s shoulder, lowered his voice as the woman approached. “I don’t mean to be cruel, but Cousin, you snipped her lifeline.”

The woman rushed into Nathan’s arms, sobbing. “Give me a sec, Veronika,” he said, prying her off far enough to offer Rob his hand. “I admire what you’re doing. No—‘admire’ isn’t strong enough. I’m in awe.” The woman clinging to Nathan turned to look at Rob, her eyes wet, but curious. She was on the chunky side, her brown hair a great unkempt tornado, her eyes squinty. Despite all of that, she was cute, in a shy, intellectual sort of way. Rob wasn’t sure if he should introduce himself, or if that would seem insensitive, given her agitated state.

“I just sent you nine hundred toward your next visit,” Nathan said. “I’ll help when I can. That’s the best I can do.” He gave Rob’s hand a final squeeze and let it go.

“Thanks. That helps more than I can say.”

“Yeah, well, it’s guilt money. I figure I’m ten percent responsible for what happened.”

Nathan turned his attention toward Veronika, and Rob headed for the exit. He was disappointed, but with an extra nine hundred in his account it hadn’t been a total loss.

“And Cousin?” Nathan called. Rob turned back. “Let me buy you a drink sometime. I’d like to see if some of whatever it is you have rubs off.”

“I’d like that,” Rob said.

Nathan nodded. “I’ll be in touch.”

As he left, Rob heard the woman breaking into sobs. Nathan had said it was about someone jumping off a bridge. Rob wondered if he’d meant it figuratively, or literally. It would be rude to linger, so he’d probably never find out.

All night, Veronika saw the man leap off the bridge. She’d doze from time to time, and wake feeling sure the whole incident had been something she’d seen on TV, or in an interactive, and then with a jolt she’d realized that no, it had actually happened. Then when that jolt had just about played itself out, she remembered she was going to see Sander and Jilly in the morning, and a fresh jolt of adrenaline would hit her. When she dragged herself out of bed at six, she was exhausted.

There was no way she could see her sister. She needed to be at her best for that encounter, otherwise she’d be a twitching, nervous mess. As she showered and dressed, she went back and forth, came close to telling Nathan to stay home half a dozen times, finally decided she would let him show up, then suggest they get doughnuts instead.

All of her anxiety evaporated when the door opened and Nathan let himself in. He was perfect. His haircut probably cost more than Jilly’s car, the points on his boots were a foot
long and rapier-sharp, and his eyes were auburn to match his silk cravat. He’d opted for a full system, wrists to shoulders to breastbone, like he was prepared for battle.

A glow of triumph washed over Veronika, erasing much of the awfulness of the previous day, returning her thoughts to an older, long-festering trauma. The prodigal daughter returns. Jilly would feel like so much river scum when Veronika made her entrance.

“Remember, you have to act like my boyfriend. Like you’re madly in love with me.”

Nathan shrugged. “No problem. You can’t be a good dating coach if you’re not a good actor.”

That stung a little, but Veronika didn’t let it show. “Give me a minute.” She hurried off to put on her outfit—a six-piece ensemble constructed of bright primary colors to fit the mood of a child’s birthday party.

When she paused in the doorway, Nathan clutched his heart. “My God, you’re ravishing!” There was a playfulness to his tone, but still, he looked at her toe to head, the way you look at a woman rather than a buddy.

“Ready?” He offered Veronika his arm. The door adjusted to allow them to leave side by side. Nathan’s biceps felt like marble under her fingers.

“How are you feeling, about the jumper?” Nathan asked as his vehicle hit the ramp to Low Town. He grasped the control stick.

“A little better, I guess. I mean, at least I tried to stop him. Fifty people in screens just watched.”

“Absolutely. That’s what I was trying to tell you last night. It’s a shame the man died, but you should feel proud.”

“I was also thinking that it’s possible I did save someone.
I spent over sixty hours up there, and there was only one suicide attempt during that time. Last year there were seven in that same period, so either it’s a fluke, or my presence discouraged approximately six people from jumping to their deaths.”

“Or they came back when you weren’t there and jumped anyway.” Nathan laughed.

Veronika raised a finger. “In which case we should see a surge in the prevalence of suicides during the hours I’m not there, as compared to previous years. And you know what?” She reached over and flicked his earlobe. “We don’t.”

“Ow.” Nathan clapped his palm over his earlobe. “That was uncalled for.” He reached out, tried to twist her nipple, but she was ready for it and parried, both of them giggling. “You know, it would have been easier for me to be madly in love with you for this party if my ear wasn’t throbbing.”

“I’m sorry.” Veronika made a show of examining his ear for bruises or bleeding.

Veronika looked out at the crowded streets of Low Town, the mélange of pedestrians, bicycles, Scamps, minis, cars, buses, tubes winding through mottled patches of sunlight mixed with dim stretches. It was hard for her to believe she’d spent most of her life here.

“Have you thought about what you’re going to say to your sister when you see her?”

The question set Veronika’s heart pounding. She’d thought of a thousand things she might say to Jilly, none of them quite right. “I think I’m going to go with, ‘Hello.’ ”

“That’s good.” Nathan nodded. “Pithy, to the point.”

“I think so.”

He slowed. “There’s a spot.”

“Now, don’t open your door. People could be watching,”
Nathan said as the vehicle slid into the tight space horizontally. He got out and went around to her door.

The party was on the roof; Veronika thought she heard the screeches of kids having fun through the traffic noise, but wasn’t sure.

She was breathless from nerves by the time they stepped into the elevator. It was almost inconceivable that she was about to see Jilly, her parents. Sander. They seemed like part of some other lifetime.

“Relax, it’s going to go fine. I promise.” Nathan’s voice helped calm her, reminded her that she wasn’t going into this alone.

“Thank you for doing this.”

“De nada.”

The elevator opened onto the roof. Heads turned, most of them people she didn’t know, many hovering near young kids or holding babies. Nathan’s hand slid around her waist, his fingertips pressed to her hip bone. He guided her forward, out of the elevator, toward a table stacked with presents. Veronika added hers to the stack. She’d obsessed over how to sign the ID tag, finally settling on her first name, sans
Love
, or
From
, or
Aunt
.

For a moment she didn’t recognize the woman heading toward her, hands clasped in front of her, wearing a sundress that looked like it had spent the winter crushed at the bottom of a drawer. It was Jilly, smiling nervously, circling Veronika as if waiting for permission to come closer. “I’m so glad you came.”

Veronika didn’t want to say she was glad she’d come, because she wasn’t sure about that yet. “It’s good to see you” also seemed like a stretch. Her damned heart was racing, making it hard to think. “Hi, Jilly,” she managed through dry lips.

“God, you look beautiful. I can’t believe it’s you.” Jilly
finally stepped forward, misty-eyed. She looked so much older than Veronika remembered. She turned, called, “
Mom?
”