Chapter 30
Her door chimes, alerting her to their first visitors.
Just a dab more of blush . . . perfect. When she breezes into the living room, James is emptying several packages out of the smartwaiter, which she’d prefer to be doing herself because—well, he’s very particular about the use of funds—and while they’re definitely probably covered—and while he did say she deserved all the things she wanted .
. . that does seem like a few more packages than what she purchased.
There’s tension in the set of his shoulders as she turns around.
“James?” she asks, testing.
The door chimes again.
“We can talk about this tomorrow,” he says.
She slips past him, opening the door, grateful for the distraction.
“Happy Holiday, Katie-Cakes!” Jett calls, rushing over to her to pepper her with cheek kisses. “Lessa won’t make it. Morning sickness.”
“It’s not even morning,” K8 says, wondering why her friend hasn’t made a better excuse.
Jett waves a flippant hand through the air.
“That’s what I said.” Then he leans in conspiratorially.
“It’s been over two months since they turned Yansy in, and I might have heard them telling the woman next door that they’re staying home and activating a ManuMATE as a little Holiday present for themself. ”
K8 giggles. That sounds exactly like Lessa.
James approaches. “Speaking of, I wanted to reiterate that I appreciate you leaving Decci at home. I know you would enjoy having . . . it—” James clears his throat, and Jett’s grin illuminates how amusing it is to watch James stumble around for his words. “Having him here with you for Holiday.”
Jett puts a conspiratorial hand on James’s arm. “Believe me, I find this much more amusing.” He nudges K8 in the ribs. “Don’t you agree?”
She giggles, biting her tongue.
James continues, undeterred that her friend is poking fun at his expense. “When I can, I will compensate you for the time lost, naturally.”
“Naturally,” Jett says, snorting. As K8 turns toward Oro1, he mutters, “I see you’re still clinging to the hyperindependent bullshit.”
“It’s a process,” James replies.
She ignores them and their weird, blunt dynamic in favor of greeting Oro1. “Happy Holiday!”
He returns the greeting, pulling her to his side.
From the corner of her eye, she sees James attentively watching as Oro1 squeezes her.
Silly man. He says nothing, which is good because she wouldn’t tolerate it if he did—another reason she is never jealous.
But it still makes her insides warm. Maybe he’ll forget about the purchases.
“Sable is running late. NHOS inspectors showed up at the recycle station, which delayed a batch of decommissionings,” Oro1 says. “Apparently, since the runaway manupartner, they’ve made a few unexpected appearances.”
“Good thing we got our two loaners for the fight tonight before they came,” James says, opening a bottle of Vine. She can’t help but notice his stare drift toward the smartwaiter.
K8 retrieves five glasses and watches James pour.
Fifteen minutes before they’re about to leave, Sable arrives with the two stocky manupartners.
K8 puts on her most winning grin, offering her hand to the woman like James showed her. She adores the customs from his time. They make her feel like she’s a character real person in one of the Old News articles. “Hi, I’m K8.”
Sable glances at her hand, then at James, which makes K8 bristle.
“It’s called shaking hands,” James tells Sable, cutting through the quickly coagulating tension. “I’ve been showing K8 things from my time.”
Sable’s dark eyes widen.
K8 is becoming increasingly antsy with her hand hovering in midair between them, but her desire to impress James outweighs her rising discomfort.
Berry-stained lips purse as the physician considers K8’s hand. “I don’t see why we must touch each other to greet, but if this was your custom.” Sable takes her hand and K8 nearly breathes an audible sigh of relief.
“We just move them up and down for a second, like this,” K8 says, demonstrating. “Now you say, ‘I’m Sable.’ Then we both say, ‘Nice to meet you.’”
“At the same time?” Sable asks, incredulously.
K8 defers to James, who says, “No,” then laughs as they follow the procedure.
When K8 releases her hand, James slips an arm around her waist, murmuring in her ear, “Very nicely done.”
K8 beams, hoping his praise means she’ll be getting a reward later. It is Holiday, for Zephyr’s sake. “Now we’re friends,” she tells the other woman.
“That will throw off my optimal balance,” Sable notes, sighing.
“That’s what I said!” K8 exclaims, pleased they’ve found common ground so quickly. “I think as long as we don’t become good friends, it will be fine.”
Sable studies her for a moment. “You’re making a joke?” Her open features can’t hide the twitch at the corner of her full lips.
“K8 is very clever. It’s one of the traits I like most about her,” James says, his warm hand running affectionate strokes down her side.
From the kitchen, Jett makes a retching sound, and she swears she hears him say something about Yansy.
Sable says, “Well, that was interesting. I tend to agree with the man in the kitchen.” Then she looks toward the two manupartners patiently waiting by the door. “We should probably go get them entered. I think that one,” she points to the slightly taller one, who is twitching, “is malfunctioning.”
“What about your Vine?” K8 asks, startled that the seemingly intelligent woman would forget about something so important. It was pre-boxing Holiday drinks, after all.
Sable straightens like K8 has caught her interest, then follows her to the kitchen. When K8 hands her the glass, Sable sniffs it, then downs it in one go. She hands the glass back. “Thank you. After the day I’ve had, I needed that.”
K8 isn’t sure what to think of the abrupt physician who she’s decided has zero interest in James or the people in the ring trying to punch each other.
“Why do you all like this again?” she asks.
Is it something she should be concerned about?
The stagnant smell from the tightly packed spectators certainly is.
Sweat and something metallic—blood. Her nose wrinkles as she stares down at the red splatter in the center ring, where workers are actively cleaning.
If only she had a perfume-scented scarf to tie around her face.
“I like it because of the Blackmarks,” Sable says, pointing to the climbing wagers.
Her new friend has a point. Those figures would go well with her Worldbank account. And keep her from the chastisement her purchases have surely earned her.
An hour goes by before their first manupartner enters the ring. Thankfully, it’s the twitching one. Better to get it out of the way first before things get worse.
It steps into the ring clad in the shortest pink-and-black-spotted one-shoulder tunic she’s ever seen. It’s wearing a scruffy-looking shoulder-length wig, a matching headband, and a pair of boxing boots that resemble gladiator sandals. A detail only the most fashionable during her time would note.
“What is he wearing?” James asks.
“It’s supposed to be a cave dweller costume,” she says, pointing to the particle pane displaying a picture of the manupartner along with the words “Stone Man.” The crowd goes wild as the manupartner walks to its corner.
Jett nods to the manupartner in the ring. “Stone Man’s face is twitching in rhythm with the clapping. Should we be concerned?”
Sable’s lips purse as her eyes narrow on the manupartner. “He’ll last through the fight.” She pats her breast pocket. “I can decommission him after if needed. Hopefully, it won’t come to that, because I don’t know how we would get his limp body back to GROW for recycling without being noticed.”
Butterflies erupt in K8’s stomach. That doesn’t sound good. James must notice her newly erupted nerves because he reaches over, takes her hand, and squeezes. “It will be fine. She’s being cautious.”
James enters a large sum into the betting platform for Stone Man’s opponent. K8 glances at the smaller contestant, who’s listed as “Boxer Yoorl.” By the anxious glances he’s giving his stocky manupartner opponent, he must be human.
“In my time, boxers were categorized by weight, but it seems now they’re organized by the potential for spectacle,” James tells her. Maybe that means she’ll finally get to see the unbeaten Lizard Man. That would be one amusing positive for coming.
The bell rings and the first round starts.
The crowd gasps as Stone Man misses three jabs in a row before landing a poorly placed uppercut.
It’s enough to send Boxer Yoorl stumbling back.
The crowd cheers. Loudly. The raucous noise makes K8 grateful she’s never attended one of these events before.
Between the smell, the violence, and her already-aching feet, she can confidently say she is not a fan of boxing.
But James is wearing a fiercely attractive grin, which makes it worth it—at least for this one night.
Though she isn’t sure if it’s the boxing he’s enjoying or the prospect of making unicoin.
Boxer Yoorl rallies, but not before the wagers for Stone Man skyrocket. The seconds drag on with Stone Man landing two more hooks, only taking one himself. The bell rings, ending round one.
It’s not looking good. K8 leans over to James. “He’s going to win.” As the fighters get to their feet, she buries her face in James’s shoulder. “I can’t watch.”
“No, he’s not. Look.” James takes hold of her shoulders, turning her toward the center ring.
She peeks open an eye in time to see Boxer Yoorl land a precisely executed right hook on Stone Man’s inconspicuously presented jaw. He goes down.
The ring master rushes forward. “Ten, nine, eight . . .”
Stone Man stirs but doesn’t rise to its feet. Unlike the crowd, she knows it is a carefully planned act.
“Four, three, two . . .”