Zoey Punches the Future in the Dick Page 4
“Why? I mean, why offer me any of this?”
“Because I believe that giving people second chances pays off in the long run, regardless of whether or not they deserve them.”
“Bullshit. There’s something else here. You fear me. You fear my people. Otherwise you wouldn’t be giving in.”
“I can command your right hand to rip out your tongue and flap it against your scrotum for the rest of the week. Within fifteen minutes I could have your mother, brother, and nephews killed in their homes and I would not be inconvenienced by so much as a visit from the police. I am giving you a chance, and it tastes like poison in my mouth to be giving you anything. But the private prisons in this city will just spit you out as twice the monster you are now, so there’s this big, gross gap between what you deserve and what would actually make the world better. And even then, I’m giving Shae the right to take back this offer if at any moment she decides she’s not cool with you going unpunished.”
Dexter stared daggers into Zoey. Then he worked his jaw, and suddenly burst into tears.
Zoey sat quietly as he did so. Her face was stone.
After a while, she said, “A year ago, I was living with my mom. We had nothing, because she had hitched her wagon to a rich psychopath who bailed before I was born, and I had hitched mine to a high achiever who eventually decided high achievers can’t be seen in vacation photos with girls whose thighs look like this. My entire idea of the future was blown to pieces in a single late-night conversation conducted on my mom’s back porch in a pair of lawn chairs. I didn’t leave the trailer for three weeks. Caleb, his new girl, and all of our old friends all went on vacation in Cuba, streamed the whole thing on Blink, these quarterbacks of life and their giggling trophies. I sat there in my room and watched it all, every minute. I watched them sleep. I was too sick to eat but still somehow gained six pounds.”
She shrugged.
“Skip forward a bit, and here I am. This life, Dexter, it crashes in on you. You get your heart broken and you get humiliated but the sun rises the next day. The difference is I never tried to hurt any of them, never tried to take what they have. You won’t ever do anything like that again. You’re free to move your limbs now.”
Tilley tested his right arm. He wiped his eyes.
“Oh,” she said, “also, don’t activate your implants. Not even to knock over walls for Rico. None of the devices you can buy on the black market are safe, they either overload and explode, or else they’re calibrated wrong and you’ll accidentally twist your own ligaments off.”
Tilley clearly wasn’t listening. “What if Shae changes her mind? What if she wants to see me?”
“You’ll never see her or speak to her again.”
Zoey stood, her legs feeling unsteady beneath her. She was relieved, but only because she was, of course, unable to see the future, to know exactly what chain of events she’d just set in motion. She had no idea, for instance, that at least one person in that room wasn’t going to live to see Halloween.
“Let’s go,” she said, “I have to get back home, my cat is going to be furious.”
4
Zoey made it back to the gigantic ballroom of the enormous mansion she’d inherited from her ginormously corrupt father, only to find it empty of party guests. She heard a faint ripping sound and found her cat, named Stench Machine, under one of the circular white tables. He was casually shredding a cat-sized paper party hat with his claws. She reached down to stroke him and he allowed it.
In the center of the room was a giant cake shaped vaguely like him: a grumpy white cat with a dark splotch like a coffee stain on his face and chest and a studded collar around its neck. Only a few tiny pieces had been taken. Nobody eats at parties in Tabula Ra$a, they just drink and nibble and then talk about how full they are. Even so, Zoey had hired a master sushi chef who’d rolled in with a whole setup that had to be unloaded from a truck, including cartons of fresh mackerel on ice. All of that was now gone, too. At one end of the room was a pink, ten-foot-tall octopus wearing sunglasses, frozen in place behind a turntable setup—the animatronic DJ they’d rented that someone had mercifully turned off before Zoey arrived. Champagne flutes sat abandoned on tables, some with delicate lipstick kisses on the rim. Nearby was a pair of ruby-red high heels someone had left behind. These people just go places and forget their shoes?
Zoey sighed.
She hadn’t actually known any of those people, she’d turned her cat’s birthday party into a fundraiser for an extremely important cause that Zoey couldn’t remember at the moment. The ballroom had filled with rich locals wearing practiced smiles and elaborate wigs who either wanted on her good side or who just liked to be seen at these things—there was a reason Zoey had downed a fairly large antianxiety cookie before anyone had arrived. A monitor on the wall was still showing a Blink feed of the hostage crisis aftermath. Zoey imagined her guests huddled around it, watching to see if Zoey would get killed so they’d have an excuse to leave early. Then they’d left early anyway. Eh, she’d have done the same.
Near the opposite wall was a green tarp covering a lump the size of a school bus. The hidden object was humming ominously, Zoey could feel it through the floor. To keep people from messing with it, a WET PAINT sign had been taped to the tarp. She wondered if anyone at the party had gotten curious and taken a peek.
Zoey pulled out her phone and tried to call her mom to let her know she was okay, but got no answer. That was hardly unusual, her mother had a hard rule about not breaking up in-person conversations for phone calls.
Carlton, the butler who Zoey estimated was probably older than America, entered and said, “Good to see you back in one piece, Ms. Ashe. I of course was unable to view the standoff itself but I did get to see some harrowing moments on the TV there. That was a very tall ladder.”
“Where did everybody go?”
“Your mother and her friends left to go find a bar—I believe one of them is going through a difficult divorce and she felt she needed support. The sushi chef feared that if he stayed, you would not approve the overtime, despite my reassurances to the contrary. I had him save you a plate, though he was not happy about that, either—he asserted that even minutes-old leftovers do not represent the true quality of his work. Many of the remaining guests left as they assumed you would not be in the mood to deal with company after your ordeal. Others had already departed after realizing that they were not, as they had mistakenly believed, at a party hosted by world-famous blues singer Zoe Ashley.”
Zoey picked up Stench Machine and squeezed him. “Crowds aren’t his favorite thing anyway.”
Will entered next—Zoey had told everyone to meet up back at the ballroom—and seemed relieved that the party had dispersed. He glanced at the frozen robot octopus, rolled his eyes, then made a beeline for the open bar to pour himself a glass of scotch. Next came Wu, dressed in clingy black with harnesses and carrying a rifle case, like an exotic assassin in an action movie. He was immediately identifiable as a sniper, which would have been a terrible choice for a mission in a public location unless his goal was specifically to get caught, which it had been.
Zoey said, “Could you have shot through me if you’d had to?”
“There were not actually any cartridges in the rifle. Even if there had been, I would have no idea how to program the proximity detonation triggers. I’m not trained in that type of weapon; a bodyguard who hides and shoots from fifty yards away is probably being a bit too proactive in his duties.”
“No, I mean would you have been able to make yourself do it, if you had to?”
“Not shooting at the client is actually one of the very first lessons they teach you in bodyguard school.”
Zoey heard Echo Ling’s heels clicking into the room. She wore a jade sweater over leather pants that covered a physique that had apparently been designed in a lab specifically to make Zoey feel bad about her own. She’d recently added some gentle curls to her neck-length black hair as an additional insult.
“A little bit. What was in your purse you tried to leave behind? A stun gun or something?”
“A second override for the implants. It was on my key chain, we were worried you may have lost yours during one of the several times you fell down on the way in.”
“Wait, how did you know he’d head for the employee lounge?”
Budd Billingsley was right behind Echo, and answered for her. “Tilley was takin’ suggestions from his ‘fans’ on Blink chat. So we got on there and fed ’em the idea anonymously, told him it was a way to thwart long-range microphones. We had an entry team hacking the elevator to get back up there when you came out. Wouldn’t have worked if we’d lost track of where you were in the building.”
“Yeah, it’s really sinking in now how much worse that could have gone. Could everyone see up my skirt as I was climbing up?”
Echo said, “Well, uh, the bad news is that, yes, a clip from the ladder situation went viral immediately. The good news is those skull-dot panties sold out nationwide within twenty minutes. There was an article about it. Probably an endorsement deal in it for you, if you want.”
“And … yes, I want to die.”
Andre Knox was the last to arrive, saying, “Thought you were gonna fall off that ladder.” He glanced at a nearby table. “Anybody want some cocaine? Somebody left quite a bit behind. Aww, who turned off DJ Rocktopus?”
Zoey said, “All right, everybody gather around. I’m giving Wu an eight for his performance tonight.”
Wu looked confused. “That’s an eight out of…?”
“Ten. You played a convincing sniper and also said you wouldn’t shoot through me. Wu, you are allowed a piece of the cat cake.”
Andre said, “Wait, is this something we’re doing now? When did this start?”
“Yes, we’re doing performance review scores. Budd and Echo, you both get a nine. You guys were so on top of this guy that you were at the scene of the hostage crisis before it was even a crisis. Incredible work, to the point that it’s a little creepy. Actually Echo loses a point for telling me about the underwear thing, which I now can’t stop thinking about. Echo, you should have lied. Make a note going forward. Still, you both get two pieces of the cat cake.”
Echo gave the cake a slightly alarmed look. Zoey had never seen her eat anything but leaves, lab-grown seafood-style “meat,” and endless varieties of protein shakes. She probably hadn’t allowed herself to have cake since her ninth birthday party.
Budd said, “That probably isn’t as impressive as it looked. Only two places in the city you can get the implants done and I’ve got somebody inside both, leaking to me whenever a patient shows up. Then Echo noted that our Mr. Tilley sent up every shade of red flag one can imagine.”
“That’s actually super impressive, guys. Andre … let’s see. You get a seven.”
“Oof. That’s harsh, Zoey.”
“On one hand, the spider tank thing was incredibly scary, on the other, I am getting the sense that you overspent on it. And also it got bashed into junk.”
“That was the plan! As for the cost, there’s two things to consider there. One, you always get shafted as a last-minute shopper, and two, do you want to live in a world in which any group of lowlifes can raise the cash to get somethin’ like that? And really, it only added up to about two months’ profit from one of the casinos.”
Will choked on his scotch.
Zoey said, “Normally a seven would not qualify for cat cake, but Echo may let you have her pieces. Will, you get a four.”
Andre said, “Damn, Will, you’re dragging this whole organization down. Be honest with me, are you drinking again?”
Zoey said, “On one hand, this entire thing was Will’s plan and it worked out exactly the way he said it would. On the other hand, Will’s first plan, which was to splatter the hostage taker with a squad of guys with exotic weapons, was just shameful.”
“I still think we should do it. Track him, take him out. The moment he leaks the fact that we can override the implants, somebody will come up with a workaround to counter it. We can make it seem like an accident, if that makes you feel better.”
“Why would that make me feel better? It’s a million times better to get a bad guy to turn his life around than to get exploded by a railgun or whatever you had in mind. And what about Shae?”
“What about all of the future Shaes? Our only alternative was to let the guy walk out with enough gain to save face. That creates incentive for others to do what he just did. The predators in this world can sense that weakness from across an ocean.”
“So you don’t negotiate, and then the guy triggers his bomb before you can kill him and a couple hundred people die? That’s what we want?”
“Yes, because it saves lives in the long run. From that point on, everybody knows not to take hostages, because we’ve sent the message loud and clear that hostages are not valuable to us. If you care about the lives of innocent people, really care, you take away the financial incentive to hurt them. Otherwise you’re just creating a bill that somebody else will have to pay.”
“Enough with that, you’re upsetting Stench Machine. As punishment for that dismal performance, you must eat the entire rest of the cat cake, all at once, with your hands tied behind your back. The entire time, the rest of the team will take turns explaining in detail at least one thing they don’t like about you. If you try to refuse, Wu will be allowed to chop off one limb of his choosing.”
Will finished his drink and set the empty glass on a nearby table. “I’m going home. I’ll talk to the manager of the Night Inn in the morning, see what it’ll take for the staff to come back to work. I’m guessing it won’t be cheap.”
“Ugh. Fine.”
He turned to go.
Zoey said, “Hey.”
Will stopped and turned.
“How did I do? Tonight, I mean?”
“We’re all still here, aren’t we?”
That was all she would get from him.
As he left, Zoey let out a long sigh that devolved into a raspberry. “Well, I’m going to go soak in my bathtub until I fall apart like a corned beef.”
“There is one last thing,” said Budd, “unless you don’t want to deal with one last thing in which case I can take care of it, but Shae is in the foyer. She wanted to have a word with you.”
“Shae?”
Andre said, “You know, the hostage? From the hostage situation? That happened an hour ago?”
“Why does she want to talk to me?”
“Didn’t feel right to interrogate her on the subject,” said Budd. “Want me to send her away?”
“No, it’s fine.” It actually wasn’t fine, Zoey wasn’t in the mood to have this woman tearfully thank her and call her a hero, she’d find that just as draining as the standoff. Still, if Zoey could be said to have a job at all, this was it.
Zoey found Shae standing just inside the huge etched bronze doors of the main entrance, bundled in a long jacket that was too warm for the weather and definitely too warm for the foyer. Her arms were folded like she was hugging herself and her posture suggested that she thought the marble tiles around her were trapdoors. She clearly wasn’t used to being in places like this and seemed afraid that one wrong move would result in getting mauled by guard dogs. Zoey remembered the feeling.
“Hey,” said Zoey as she descended the stairs. “You holding up okay?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“You wanted to talk to me?”
“I’m really sorry. I just mentioned it offhand and your guy told me to wait here, it’s fine if you don’t have time, I didn’t mean it like—”
“Oh, no, it’s fine. I’m in for the night.”
“It’s just … your people are offering me all sorts of money and stuff and I don’t want it. That’s all. I don’t want to go back to the inn but I’ll find a different job. It’s okay. I’m okay.”
“Hey, I get i
t,” said Zoey as she stepped off the bottom stair. “I don’t like accepting help from people, either. But one thing I’ve learned is that sometimes the best thing you can do is say yes and then try to make the most of it. In terms of cost, don’t worry about it. It’s nothing compared to some of the other stupid junk we spend money on.”
“It’s not that. I don’t … please don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t want to be a part of this.” She waved her hand around the room. “This … thing, what you guys do. I can’t get wrapped up in anything like this. If I’d known you guys owned that place, I wouldn’t have taken the job. And please, please don’t get mad at me for saying that, I don’t have any problem with you, I really don’t, but I can’t get pulled into … I just…”
Shae was near tears.
“Oh,” said Zoey, letting out a nervous chuckle that was completely inappropriate in the moment. “You’re talking about all the crime. You think if you take the money then you’re on our payroll and somebody is going to show up at your house a month from now and say, ‘Hey, we paid you, now you gotta pay us back by whacking this union organizer we got beef with.’”
Shae did not crack even the hint of a smile. “I just want to go home.”
“Shae, you’ve got us all wrong. Or, well, you’ve got me all wrong. Can I tell you the story? It’ll take like thirty seconds.”
Shae didn’t answer but made a face like she was bracing herself to listen to a sales pitch while simultaneously rehearsing how to say no to it.
“I want you to imagine,” said Zoey, “that I gave you a piece of paper signing over everything I own—this huge mansion, all the businesses, everything—to you, right now. That’s exactly what happened to me a little over a year ago. I’m not a crime person at all. I was a regular girl, just like you. So, what happened was a famous crime boss got a random stripper pregnant and never gave her the time of day after that. Twenty-two years later, he dies and leaves everything he owned to the stripper’s baby that he had no relationship with whatsoever. That’s me, I’m the stripper baby! And when I say everything, I mean everything. Hotels, casinos, apartment buildings, sex workers. That scary guy I showed up with? Will? He was my father’s right-hand man. Same with the guy who brought you over here, his name is Budd. This is a team my father put together years and years ago, I inherited them along with all the rest. But I didn’t know about any of this until last Christmas.”