Zoey Punches the Future in the Dick Page 3

  Tilley asked Shae, “Where are the showers?”

  “W-what?”

  “The employee showers. In the lounge, you mentioned it before.”

  “Th-thirteenth floor. It doesn’t show on the elevator but I can make it stop there with an eye scan.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Zoey spent the elevator ride up filling her mind with wild guesses about what this guy wanted to do in a group shower setting. She nervously fidgeted with her necklace. They arrived to find the employee lounge was locked behind a sturdy door that wouldn’t even open for Shae—probably some automated lockdown system—but Dexter calmly tore the door off its hinges and tossed it aside. Inside was a break room with a few sofas and vending machines and a huge framed list of staff reminders on one wall. (“If a hand goes under your clothing, GENTLY resist and remind the guest of Rule #4. BE NICE.”)

  A couple who appeared to have been hiding out in the room recoiled at the sight of them. The guy was in a white suit with a white cowboy hat perched above unkempt eyebrows, the girl was a stunning Filipino woman half his age.

  The woman, whom Tilley apparently did not recognize as Zoey’s associate Echo Ling, screamed, “Oh, my god, don’t kill us!”

  Zoey thought it was … fairly convincing. The guy in the hat, Budd Billingsley, acted like a man who was frantically trying to size up the situation while remaining cool, which probably wasn’t a performance.

  Dexter nodded toward the door and said, “Out.”

  Zoey was hoping he’d demand they stay, as Budd and Echo both had way more experience with this kind of thing than she did. Apparently Tilley thought that’d be too many hostages to control. The couple hurried out of the room and Echo, in her “panic,” left her purse behind. That purse, Zoey was sure, contained some kind of weapon or gadget she could use to disable Dexter in an emergency. Right as they reached the door, Dexter said, “Hey, you forgot your purse.”

  Nice guy.

  Echo hesitated, but went back and picked it up. Her eyes met Zoey’s, just for a second. Echo’s look seemed to ask if Zoey was okay, if things were under control. Zoey tried to project confidence, but guessed that her own expression only communicated that she’d made a horrible, horrible mistake. Both of them left and Dexter led Zoey and Shae into a connected tiled room with a half dozen private shower stalls.

  Tilley drilled his gaze into Shae and said, “You told me they have showers. I never asked you why. I want you to tell me.”

  “Tell you … what?”

  “Why do you have showers?”

  Zoey didn’t understand the question and it was obvious that Shae didn’t, either. The other thing Zoey didn’t know at the moment was if Tilley was livestreaming this encounter himself. The cameras could be as tiny as you wanted—he could have one embedded in his belt buckle, or anywhere. It would help to know if she was still performing for an audience.

  Zoey said, “Let’s not get sidetracked. The clock is ticking before somebody on the outside, either my people or some other group looking to make a name for themselves, tries to storm this place. Let’s work out a deal and then I can go back home. I think my party guests have left but there should still be food.”

  “Answer my question.”

  Shae looked pleadingly back and forth from Dexter to Zoey. “I don’t … I don’t understand. The showers are for the staff.”

  “You work up a sweat doing this? Lying there, watching movies?”

  “Not always, but—”

  “But sometimes you want to shower after doing it. After having to lay there with some damp fatass for two hours. Got his BO all over you. Right?”

  Shae didn’t answer.

  Dexter said, “Or maybe you just need a shower anyway. Because you just feel gross inside, having some ugly guy rubbing up against you, his bad breath in your face. A shower, to try to put it out of your mind.”

  “No, it’s not like that.”

  Still locking eyes with her, he asked, “Did you ever shower after our appointments?”

  “No. No.”

  Zoey didn’t know if Tilley could spot the lie in Shae’s eyes, but Zoey could.

  Without a word, he went to one stall after another, turning on the water. While he was distracted, Zoey surreptitiously pulled out her phone and typed in a search:

  HOSTAGE NEGOTIATION STRATEGIES

  In the thirty seconds she had to browse the list before Tilley returned, she saw something about reassuring the guy that any previous actions were easily revocable and making a big show of listening to demands. Then there was something about extracting concessions in exchange for meeting lesser demands, like food deliveries, finally just delaying until the bad guy got tired and gave up. God, she was going to be here all night. She heard his shoes coming her way and quickly put the phone away.

  “There’s recording gear that can penetrate walls,” he said, “but it shouldn’t work this far in and it can’t handle that background noise. That means it’s just us.”

  Dexter put his arm around Shae and pulled her close. She tried to suppress her tears, but failed. He said “Shh” and kissed the top of her head.

  Zoey said, “First of all, the fact that this city is a lawless clown orgy works to our advantage here. Nothing has happened so far that can’t be easily fixed. Nobody’s been hurt or killed, and insurance will patch up the window. That’s the big thing we all need to keep in mind. If we want, we can all go back to normal.”

  Dexter held up a hand to stop her. “See, here’s the problem with that. Your ‘normal’ is my Hell.”

  “Okay. So, tell me what you want.”

  This stopped Dexter. It was like he actually hadn’t been expecting this question. He suddenly seemed nervous, like he’d been put on the spot. Zoey thought that where most guys had at least a little confidence, this one only had a dark cellar where he stored his shame.

  “So, every weekend I’m here. With Shae. I buy back-to-back sessions when I can. We talk, we hold each other, I pour out my heart to her. We cry. The first time in my life I’ve had this. I’m not ashamed to admit it. I’ve been invisible my whole life, until now. I feel her pressed up against me and I become real, for the first time. So two weeks ago all I did—all I did—was ask if I could see her outside of the sessions. If we could go have coffee. She says no, and that’s fine, no big deal. Next time I come, they tell me I have to go with a different girl. Shae has blocked me.”

  Zoey knew without having to consult the hostage negotiation guide that this was not the time to tell a crazy man he’s being crazy. Women get their faces smashed in doing that. Anything she said that challenged him, or made him feel small, would just be seen as an attack. So what in the hell do you say?

  Zoey said, “That must have been hard.” There, that should do it. “But you know that’s not the fault of any of the hundred other people in the building, so how about you let us move the snack truck that’s blocking the front door and start getting those people out of here. You don’t want to hurt them.”

  “And what do I get in exchange for doing that?”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want Shae.”

  “You want them to let you make appointments with her again?”

  “No. I want Shae. My only possible life is with her. If I can’t be with her, I have no life, and I’m taking as many people with me as I can.”

  Zoey started to tell him that perhaps the terrified girl standing next to him should have some say in how she spends the rest of her life, then stopped herself. Zoey didn’t have much of a filter but sometimes it did kick in during emergencies.

  She thought for a moment. “Wait, if that’s all you want, why did you ask for me? Why didn’t you just grab her and go?”

  “You have to let her out of her contract. The slave deal you made her sign.”

  “I’m sorry, the what?”

  “You made her and all of the other hosts sign a deal that they have to work out their yearlong contract, or else your people track them
down. She can’t go with me unless you release her from it. We want that, plus some money. Enough to get away. Ten million.”

  The contract thing didn’t sound right to Zoey. It’s entirely possible some of her businesses had been run that way at one time, but that was the kind of thing she’d put a stop to. Then her eyes met Shae’s and the obvious truth hit her: that had been Shae’s lie to stall Tilley. She hadn’t been expecting him to actually call the owner to get it voided.

  “Ah. Right. But if you didn’t find that out until you got here, it means you didn’t come here planning to stage a hostage crisis. So what’s really in your backpack there? Your lunch?”

  That, it turned out, had been the wrong thing to say. Dexter pushed Shae aside and flew across the gap between him and Zoey. His fingers, coated in segmented metal, were instantly around her throat. He pushed her back against the cold tiles. He then swung his other fist and it exploded into the wall next to Zoey’s head, leaving a hole the width of a bowling ball and sending ceramic shards spraying across the room.

  Zoey’s ears rang from the impact. Shae screamed.

  “You know what these implants can do,” hissed Tilley. “I can smash your skull against this wall, like cracking an egg. You know that, right?”

  Zoey clawed uselessly around her neck. Then she reached down frantically with her left hand, digging into her pocket.

  He said, “So it doesn’t matter whether or not I have the device, not to you. Because you know I can smear these tiles with your brains without breaking a sweat. Right?”

  Shae begged him to stop, told him she didn’t want this, any of it.

  Zoey’s lungs burned, trying to pull in breath through her compressed windpipe. Her hand found her phone. She brought it up with her right hand, holding it so the screen was visible over Dexter’s left shoulder. With a shaking thumb, she tapped the browser and brought up the list of hostage negotiation tips again. She found what she thought was the relevant sentence.

  She croaked, “I … can take that request to my people. But … it will take some time…”

  Dexter squinted in confusion, glanced back at the phone, then let her go. Zoey collapsed to the floor.

  He said, “You’re dumber than they told me you were. I know you own this place, I know you’ve got the money. Whatever I want done, you can do it with a word.”

  Zoey struggled to catch her breath. Her throat was throbbing. “I’m sorry … I’m used to being on Shae’s end.”

  Shae said, “Can we please talk to that other guy instead?”

  “I want half of the ten million in dollars,” said Tilley, “and half in Spoils, transferred to my Hub account.”

  Still sitting on the tile floor, Zoey folded her legs under her and let out a sigh. Her neck was burning and she was starting to feel clammy all over from the shower steam. She pushed her hair out of her face.

  “You know I can’t let you take her.”

  “You can’t stop us.”

  “‘Us?’ You’re acting like you’re running off together. You think she wants this? Look at her!”

  “So what. For almost all of human history, this right here is how it was done. You wanted a woman, you acquired her, no different from livestock. I understand why, now. Women don’t know what they want. I can make Shae happy. She doesn’t know it now, because society has told her it’s shameful to be with a guy like me. All we have to do is push through that. In time, she’ll see.”

  Zoey found herself wishing someone had in fact activated a device to melt her brain.

  “I, uh, understand where you’re coming from, Dexter. And it’s good that you’re … honest about your desires—”

  “No. You don’t even live in the same universe as I do. You notice ninety percent of the customers here are male? All of us, starving for this.”

  “Yeah and ninety percent of the employees are girls, same as the sex workers in any of the thousand brothels in this city. You think they wouldn’t prefer to be doing something else? Meanwhile, I have to do boring meetings with rich CEOs every week and guess what—they’re mostly guys. That’s the world.”

  Zoey had several vices in her life, perhaps none more dangerous than her addiction to pointless arguments.

  “No,” said Tilley, trembling with the anticipation of finally putting all of this into words. “Look at you. You’re as fat as me and your face is nothing special, but even if you lost every penny you could always find a guy to take care of you. Men have wanted what you have since before you even knew what it was, begged you for it, done you favors. Meanwhile, I was treated like a slug on a sidewalk, told every day that no one wants me. You’ll never know what that’s like. So no, you won’t talk me out of this. We’re not even speaking the same language.”

  “I just came from a party, a bunch of people there I barely know. This gross old rich guy was hitting on me the whole time. Do you know what he liked about me?”

  “Your tits? That you look like you have no respect for yourself and will do anything in bed?”

  “He liked that I’m twenty-three. How many years can pass before that window closes? All that humiliation you went through in school, all those cheerleaders getting treated like goddesses, I get it, I was there, too. But each and every one of those girls is praying they can get their lives to a solid place before society declares them invisible. Meanwhile, a guy can get old and ugly and still pick up prom queens as long as he’s got his life together. That can be you! Let Shae go, maybe we can work something out. Turn your whole situation around.”

  Dexter reached over and grabbed Shae, roughly this time. He pulled her in front of him. An arm around her neck, a gloved finger stroking her collarbone.

  “I’m not giving her up to some fraternity douchebag. You have five seconds to tear up her contract, or I’ll crush her windpipe.”

  Zoey’s hand instinctively shot up to her own neck.

  “There is no contract. She just made that up, to stall.”

  Tilley scoffed and shook his head, as if he was annoyed with himself for falling for it. “So we don’t need you at all.”

  “Well, you do now. There’s almost certainly a trigger-happy army waiting for you out there and your implants don’t make you explosion-proof.”

  “Then they’ll take out Shae, too. We’ll die together. If that’s how it’s destined to happen, so be it. I still want the cash. We’re done talking.”

  He raised his hand, putting his fingers around Shae’s throat. Zoey reached up, touching the MY EYES ARE UP THERE pendant, rubbing it between two fingers.

  Zoey said, “Stop.”

  “I said WE ARE DONE TALKING!” The shouts ricocheted around the tiles.

  “I agree. Let go.”

  Tilley loosened his grip.

  His eyes went wide. Confusion. Doubt.

  Zoey said, “Take your hand away from Shae’s throat. Drop it by your side.”

  He did just that, his eyes following his hand as it dropped.

  Terrified.

  His hand was acting on its own.

  Zoey said, “I forgot to mention before now, but my company developed those implants. Well, one of my companies. One product we never sold publicly was the remote override. I’ve got one embedded in my necklace here. It’s voice operated. Have a seat, on the floor. Let’s talk.”

  Dexter Tilley did not move. He was trying to lunge at Zoey, she could see him flexing, trying to make his body obey. His face was turning red with the effort. For the first time in his life, his arms and legs were not his own. People have nightmares where this happens, right?

  She touched the pendant and said, “Sit on the floor.”

  His body did as it was told.

  “Thank you. Shae, if you want to slap him or kick him, now is your chance.”

  Shae had backed away, trembling. “I don’t understand what— I just want to go. Can I go?”

  “I don’t want some private security dope out there to gun you down in the confusion. Give me a minute and we’ll all leave toget
her. Now, we have several options for what we can do with Mr. Tilley here. And I’m leaving it up to you. If you want me to make him tear his own throat out, that’s what we’ll do.”

  “I don’t want that.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I just want him to stay away.”

  “And you don’t want an army of angry trolls coming after you later. You heard the chanting out there, right?” It was clear from her expression that Shae hadn’t considered that as a possibility. “Do you like living here? In the city, I mean.”

  “Not particularly.”

  “We’ll set you up with something. Wherever you want.” To Tilley, Zoey said, “You, on the other hand, deserve nothing. And right now, my associate, Will Blackwater, is telling the news cameras that we do not negotiate with terrorists, that I’m going to offer you the same less-than-nothing he offered, that your options are to give up or die. I know this, because we planned it in advance. Just as we planned to give you that cool-looking drone to smash in front of everybody, to show off how big and strong you are. But then you’re going to walk out that front door and announce that you’re getting everything you wanted. You’re going to say that you demanded we give you a job. Fortunately, I have an associate named Rico Hierra, he owns a very successful materials recovery company, they go into buildings that need to come down and rip out all of the valuable stuff.”

  “You’re … offering me a construction job? I don’t—”

  “Not construction. Deconstruction. You’ll be smashing bricks, breaking glass, knocking down walls and listening to the wonderful sound they make when they fall. It’s hard work, but the good kind. Rico is big on second chances, hires a lot of ex-cons and other shady types, and the job pays accordingly. But get on Rico’s good side and you’ll have your pick of jobs; his name means a lot around here. You can get your own place, have a reason to get up every morning. A new start. And you’ll be surprised how fast you put on muscle doing it.”

  Zoey paused to give him a moment to take it in, to visualize it. Then,

  “But Shae won’t be there. That’s not an option. We find you anywhere nearby, if you show up in the same city as her, you’ll die and I’ll feel nothing. All I have to do is push a button and overload your implants, turn you into a pile of charcoal on the floor. If I ever hear you’ve pulled anything like this with anyone else, you die. If you tell anyone we have control over the implants, you die. That’s information we’re keeping under our hats, for now. Instead, you will say to the crowd that this was all your idea, that you’ve decided you want to work on yourself first, that women are all ungrateful harpies anyway. It’ll be super convincing.”