Love Minus Eighty (39 page)

Happy? Probably not the word she would use, but she let it go. Maybe she was selling Nathan, and herself, short. Maybe she didn’t represent the lifestyle Nathan was clinging to, maybe she was his Lycan. Safe and kind. Comforting, if not capable of quickening the pulse.

Veronika wished she had a time machine, to send this moment back to herself at a point when it would have put her right over the moon. It was a shame, really. “I really do mean it. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know. But you’re not going to want to go out much. It’s just the reality of not being single.” He leaned back in his chair, folded his arms. “It’s funny, I never outgrew the things I loved when I was twenty. I still love crowded bars, prowling the streets on Friday night, looking for the places where things are happening. Stopping in for a slice. But you stop fitting in—”

Suddenly, they had company. Lorelei had popped into the room via screen, unannounced.

“Sorry, I thought you’d be alone,” Lorelei said. In a downbeat tone, she added, “Hi, Nathan.”

“No, I actually have friends,” Veronika said. She had to admire how incredibly adept Lorelei was at the subtle insult. “What can I do for you, Lorelei?”

“Nothing, just popped in to say hello.” Without her entourage? Unlikely.

“So how you doing, Nathan?” Lorelei said. “Good to see you again.”

“You, too.”

Veronika guessed Nathan’s heart was hammering. He was holding a big grin in place, overdoing it a little.

“I wanted to apologize for springing everything on you so suddenly. I didn’t give you much warning.”

“No, I appreciate you being direct. It’s one of the things I admire about you.”

Lorelei smiled brightly. “Thank you. Not everyone appreciates that quality.”

Somehow Veronika got the sense that comment was a swipe at her, but she didn’t see how it applied. Maybe it was her innate paranoia—a trait almost no one appreciated.

“I wanted to congratulate you,” Nathan said. “Your idea brought the mighty Cryomed to its knees. Very impressive. Creativity—there’s another of your admirable traits.”

You’re laying it on a little thick
, Veronika sent to Nathan.

I’m not laying it on at all
, he shot back.

Poor Nathan. It was hard to believe that a few minutes earlier he’d been professing his love for Veronika.

Then
Lorelei
pinged her privately.
This is all very awkward. Can you get rid of him? We need to talk.

What about?
Veronika sent, as Lorelei and Nathan continued to chat.

Parsons and I broke up. We had a dazzling view of the city as a backdrop. Close to a quarter of a million viewers.

That surprised Veronika, although it probably shouldn’t have.
Congratulations
, she sent.

The thing is, I’m not sure if the argument was real or not. If it’s just for drama, and we’re going to get back together, that’s skintight, because it played well. If it’s real-real, then, I liked him, you know? Plus, I lost my director.

Another surprise. Lorelei could be hurt by someone.
I’m sorry. What do you need from me?
It was also hard to believe Parsons would bail at this point. Lorelei’s star was rising; she was doing interviews on the macros, taking all the credit she could for bringing down the bridesicle program. Not that she didn’t deserve some of the credit.

I want to talk about employing you, full-time.

Veronika stifled a laugh. Nathan glanced her way, puzzled, before refocusing his attention on Lorelei.

Full-time? Veronika could be the new puppet master, steering Lorelei to even greater heights. She could build on Lorelei’s notoriety as one of the architects of Bridesicle Watch’s victory, create a new, more socially conscious persona, use Lorelei’s fame to do good things in the world.

Sorry, not interested
, Veronika sent.
Can’t drop my clients like that, plus, it’s outside my area of expertise.

Across the table Nathan was laughing, his eyes bright, probably thinking he had most of Lorelei’s attention, hoping he was winning her back, unaware that his rival wasn’t Parsons, it was Lorelei’s lifestyle. Nathan had no chance with Lorelei because getting back together with him would be a rerun. Lorelei had to keep her material fresh.

A black corrugated-steel grate rattled as he stepped on it and passed back onto the gum-stained sidewalk. Old-fashioned storefronts lined the streets, with doors and windows instead of the wide-open look of the modern stores in High Town, where invisible containment barriers kept the heat and cold out.

Moving kept the anguish at bay. Moving among old, solid things was especially therapeutic. Seeing Winter occasionally was better than the hopelessness of thinking he’d never see her again, but it was more painful than he’d thought. He’d never been the affair type, had never even gone out with a woman who was supposed to be exclusive with someone else.

He lived for any word from Winter, though they were few, because Redmond might get suspicious if he checked her communications and found a bunch of text messages or screen visits to Rob. They’d risked going to a virtual movie together the night before, in an old 1920s-art-deco setup to
see a flat black-and-white film from that time, but it wasn’t the same. Moving those silly avatars around, pretending the squeeze he felt inside his glove was Winter’s fingers on his.

God, he hated Redmond, hated his entire family for how they treated Winter. He recalled the story Winter had told him last night, how Red’s son Lloyd made her sit down and finish a berry wrap she’d left half-eaten, because she had no right to waste their food.

Rob cut down a cobbled side street. He needed to get out of his head. All day, he thought the same pointless, repetitive thoughts. He couldn’t banish them even for ten minutes, couldn’t drive them out with music or conversation or drugs—

He jolted to a stop as Winter popped up in a screen directly in front of him. She was crying.

“Red found out about us. He’s going to have me interred in a debt camp.”

Of course he found out. At some level Rob knew he would. He suspected Winter had as well. “Run. I’ll meet you—”

Winter shook her head. “I’m trapped. There’s no way off this
fucking
island-on-stilts. I’m a hundred feet above the water.”

Rob headed toward the Christopher Street Pier a block away, with Winter’s screen gliding beside him. He could steal a boat.

“How did he find out?”

“He got suspicious, so he had a winged camera the size of a fly following me. It was in your apartment with us.” Winter looked behind her, as if she was afraid someone might be eavesdropping. “I begged Red to release me from my contract. I told him I loved you, that I could never love him. He recorded it all as evidence.”

Heart pounding, Rob slowed to a jog as he reached the wharf. He leaned over the railing separating the walk from black water. There were dozens of old wooden boats creaking in the shallow waves, moored with rotting ropes or plastic cord. He trotted down corroded concrete steps, unmoored one of the boats that had oars.

“What are you doing?” Winter asked.

“Tell me how to get to you.” He climbed into the boat, grasped the oars, then paused. The boat was probably some poor guy’s livelihood. He pulled off his High Town shoes and tied them to the mooring rope, as compensation.

“Rob, stop. There’s no way down to the water. I just wanted to say good-bye, to tell you I love you.”

“There must be a maintenance ladder. Something.”

“There’s no ladder.”

Rob was swinging the boat around, aiming the nose toward open water.

“Rob, listen to me, there’s no way down. I’d have to jump—”

She went silent. Rob stopped rowing. He worked his system.

“How high up are you?”

“Rob, even if it’s possible, we can’t do this. You’d never be able to live in the city again.
Any
city. You’d never see your father again, or Veronika, or any of your friends.”

His face would be in the criminal database. Any time his likeness was caught by a public camera, the authorities would be alerted automatically.

“I knew what I was getting myself into when I came to your apartment that night,” Winter said. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay. Debt camp will probably be an improvement.”

“Just tell me how high up the estate is.”

Pause. “It’s a hundred eighteen feet.”

A quick query told Rob it was possible to drop up to one hundred fifty-eight feet without sustaining serious injury,
if
you landed just right—feetfirst, with your head tilted back to minimize the likelihood of your neck breaking on impact. Then again, a drop of forty feet could kill you if you hit the water wrong. If you drifted too far forward, your ribs would puncture your aorta on impact; too far back and your spine was snapped.

“Tell me how to find you.”

“No. I can’t do that.”

Rob huffed, frustrated. They were wasting time. “Winter, I’m glad Red caught us. I don’t want to have a few hours with you once or twice a week, hiding in my apartment. I want to be with you all the time. The only reason I didn’t ask you to run away with me before this was because it wasn’t fair. You’d be taking most of the risk. Now that’s not an issue. So let’s go, let’s run away while we still can.”

After a long pause, a red light appeared on the horizon, to the left of the Statue of Liberty. “I’m two point six miles from you, in the upper bay.” Another pause. “It should take an amateur rower an hour and forty-four minutes.”

“I’m guessing that estimate is for people not rowing for their lives,” Rob said. The nose of the little skiff lifted out of the water on each pull. If he still had the soft hands of a musician, he probably would be looking at savage blisters after this trip. Hopefully the long hours at the reclamation center would pay off, not only in calluses but in endurance.

“Where are you now?” he asked.

“In my room. I’m not locked in.” She shrugged. “Where would I run?”

Rob was terrified, but also excited. His belly felt like he was
in an elevator, falling swiftly. They had no choice now—they were going to be together, unless they were caught. It would be hard, but they’d be together. That was all he wanted.

“Do me a favor?” Rob said. “Connect me with my dad.” He didn’t want to take his hands off the oars even for an instant.

As he rowed past the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island, Rob said good-bye to his father. Lorne told him he was doing the right thing. Rob promised to get word to him when they were safe, somehow. He didn’t even know where they were going. It would be safest to get out of the country, but they had no way to pay for transport. Their accounts would be frozen as soon as Winter was discovered missing.

Rob also said good-bye to Veronika, and left it at that. The rest of his friends would have to hear it from Lorne or Veronika.

After an hour of rowing, the nose of the boat was no longer lifting out of the water. His fingers were raw. The oars rubbed in places that lifting and moving and plucking things did not. Rob had no idea how long they had before the authorities came for Winter. He couldn’t help imagining there was a copter in the air at this very moment, on its way to get her. He glanced over his shoulder. The estate island was glowing red, maybe half a mile away. Rob clung to the oars and tried to push with his legs to make up for the stiff, exhausted state of his arms.

Tiny waves lapped the sides of the boat, tilting it this way and that as Rob stared up at Redmond’s estate. Now that he saw how high a hundred and eighteen feet was, it seemed far, far too high.

Winter’s screen, which had accompanied him during the entire trip, was tilted up to take in the height as well.

“I don’t know about this,” Rob said.

“No, me neither.”

They stared up in silence. Rob looked each of the pillars up and down carefully, hoping Winter had missed some important detail. There were no details to miss; they were nothing but slick gray-carbon fiber. Likely Winter had opened a screen and examined each one up close.

“I’m coming,” Winter said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m out of my room.”

Rob’s heart began to pump faster. She was really going to do it. When she got to the edge, would she change her mind? Possibly. He couldn’t imagine climbing over the low fence that surrounded the estate and jumping from that height.

“I’m in the elevator. Oh, crap.” Her screen disappeared.

“What is it? Winter?” No reply. Rob was tempted to open a screen up there to find out what had happened, but that could only make things worse. So he waited, his mouth dry, his heart hammering, wondering what he would do if he didn’t hear from her again. What could he do? Row back to shore.

Winter’s screen reappeared. “I’m here. I bumped into Lloyd’s wife, Kidra. I told her I was going to see Red, to beg him to reconsider. I’m outside. There’s no one in sight.”

Rob thought he caught a glimpse of movement above.

“I can see you,” Winter said. “Okay. I can do this.” Feeling like his heart was going to explode, Rob watched her climb over the fence, then turn and face the water. “Oh, God, I don’t know.”

“Keep your head back, hands at your sides.”

“I’m so scared. I don’t know if I can do this.”

Maybe it would be best to convince her to go back inside and wait for the authorities. Better she live in a debt camp than drown. She was right there, though. So close. In a few seconds she could be in the boat.

“I’m going to count to three,” he said. “On three, you jump. Don’t think, just jump. On three. One. Two—”

“I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“Three.”

She jumped.

Suddenly she was falling, her clothes billowing, her red hair like the tail of a comet. Her hands were pinned to her sides, her feet together, head back. Rob had a flash of that other bridesicle, falling in ten thousand places at once. But she hadn’t been real—no bones that could break, no aorta to puncture.

Winter hit the water. Without waiting for her to surface, Rob rowed frantically toward the spot where she’d hit, leaving her still-open screen behind after catching one quick glimpse of her—her face barely visible in the dark water, obscured by bubbles, eyes wide.