Chapter 32
“Still nothing?” she asks, knowing there’s nothing she can say to ease his distress. At least the PalmPrint prototypes arrived, which will give him something to do.
“No. I’ve messaged her, but she hasn’t seen it,” he says, grimacing. “I don’t like this being out of my control.”
“I know,” she agrees. “We have to trust that she’s taking care of it.”
“No news is better than bad news, right?” she says, though she isn’t sure even she feels reassured. She checks the Flash News app. No reports of a mishap at GROW. That is good news at least.
James grumbles, “I’m sure it’s fine.”
Her device pings. She glances at the screen, eager for the distraction. It’s an email from GROW. The subject reads:
SPECIAL OFFER.
Please let it be a discount, she prays to Zephyr. The inspectors never sent her one, and she was reluctant to broach the subject, afraid it might trigger them to come collect James for testing. She settles into her desk chair to read the message.
“Renew now and receive two free weeks,” it reads.
Excellent, she thinks, skimming further.
Well, boo. It’s only valid for another three-month contract.
As it stands, she only can afford the next month.
But maybe if they were to combine their money.
She saw the balance of his account last night.
Might as well check and see if they can take advantage of the discount.
She switches her workstation on, and the screens illuminate. The retina scan confirms her identity, and K8 logs into her Worldbank account.
She almost chokes when she sees her unicoin balance. She must have gasped, because James, who is inspecting the PalmPrint prototypes on the kitchen counter, shoots her a glance.
“You okay?” he asks.
K8 plasters on a fake smile. “Sure am.” She hopes he’ll not see straight through her.
Her focus returns to the screen and the dismal reality of her Worldbank account. Thank Zephyr he has the funds. She should probably tell him to go ahead and wash the Blackmarks into unicoin.
Goose bumps trail down her spine at the thought of what will undoubtedly be an uncomfortable conversation. Telling him about Viper the night before was one of the most embarrassing moments of her life. Perhaps the conversation can wait a few more days.
She glances at the calendar, then opens the GROW contract.
At the bottom, near her digital signature, is the date her extension payment will come due if she chooses to keep him.
Her manupartner will be due back to the facility by noon twelve days from now.
In big block letters, it says “OR GROW PERSONNEL WILL BE DISPATCHED TO REPOSSESS YOUR UNIT.” She swallows at the aggressive text.
Twelve days. Where has the time gone? No problem.
Her stomach churns. Maybe if she were getting paid soon, she could manage month four, then that would give her reprieve from the conversation all together.
She searches her calendar, landing on the Fifthday sixteen days from now.
Maybe GROW has a by-the-day extension plan?
She could buy a few more days, and then if she sells a few things like she’s been meaning to but was really hoping to avoid, she could do a longer extension then.
Then he would cover month five and beyond, and they’d never have to talk about it.
For all he’d know, she had it covered the entire time.
She logs into her GROW account. Three unread alerts are waiting for her:
Limited Time Offer.
Something Special Just for You!
Ever Considered a Second Manupartner?
She scoffs. Who can afford that? Maybe with one of the off-brand models, but certainly not a GROW.
She clicks on the link that says Plan Extensions.
One month is half her normal monthly earnings. She scrolls down.
Two weeks . . . there’s hardly a discount. Clearly, the aim is to get people to purchase longer contracts.
One week . . . is . . . oh Zorg, she’s in trouble.
Why hasn’t she looked at this sooner? It’s still over a week’s earnings.
And there isn’t a by-the-day option. Surely they won’t repossess him.
Then she can pay the late fees or whatever once she gets paid.
No more nights out for a while. And there was that pair of shoes, but for James, she’d forgo those, naturally.
K8 creates a quick tally, including columns for her current Worldbank balance, a number uncomfortably close to zero.
Then her next paycheck. Her monthly expenditures.
Finally, the total for a one-month GROW contract extension.
She sets the formula and her stomach swirls as the bright red negative calculates.
James is worth it. Not only is he a real man, he’s .
. . well, he’s James, something she never imagined she would think all those weeks ago when she read the articles.
She glances over at him. The muscle of his forearm flexes as he types something onto his device.
Zephyr, he’s beautiful. The intensity of his gaze warms her to the core.
Not to mention his talented fingers. His promises.
His shoulders lower as he sets the phone down, turning to her. “Sable was able to include the manupartners in her first batch of recyclables this morning.”
“It’s well past noon,” K8 says, her lips pressing into a frown. James has been a nervous flutter of energy all morning. Needlessly. She feels rather irritated with the physician. Perhaps enough to degrade her to an acquaintance.
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I know. She says she got busy and forgot to message.”
K8 chuffs. “That is not very respectful or considerate.” Unlike James, who she is certain will never let her down. She wants to be there in the same way for him. Show him he can depend on her.
Steeling herself, she adds a third column titled Value of Items to Sell. She can do this and preserve her dignity.
With purpose, K8 rummages through her closet.
It only takes her an hour to have a sizable pile on her bed.
One by one, she takes each pair of shoes, handbag, or luxury scarf into the living room, starting with her least favorite.
Obviously. She places them on a little table she’s set up opposite a stretch of particle pane she sets to a muted neutral light.
Then she takes several photos, a video, and then catalogues it into the tally.
She leaves a little breathing room in her figures for meals and possible estimating errors, then assigns an expected value for each item.
When the little red numbers flip to black, she lists the selected items online.
Satisfied, she files her unlisted treasures back into her closet. When she picks up a particularly adorable bird-shaped bag by an up-and-coming designer, she clutches it to her chest. “I’m so pleased I was able to save you.”
When she’s almost finished restoring her closet, her device emits a ping associated with a monetary transaction.
She snatches it off her nightstand, eager to see which item went first. Seeing the heels with the heart-shaped embellishments, she sighs loudly.
It’s tragic, really, but at least she got full list price for them.
And if she remembers correctly, she was wearing those that night in X Quadrant when she’d met and subsequently slept with that lovely man all those years ago.
Well, maybe they will do someone else some good. The woman’s messaged that she’d like to come pick up her purchase as soon as possible.
K8 is digging them out from the bottom of the pile of items for sale when the door chimes.
She fishes out the pair, keeping her device in her other hand so she can confirm the transaction.
When she returns to the living room, James has answered the door.
A short woman stands before her, and K8 recognizes her cropped, shiny brown hair from her purchaser profile.
“Hello,” the woman says brightly, showing her the purchase code on her device. “Are those them?”
She makes gimmie hands in the shoes’ direction. James watches with a curious expression on his face as K8 instinctively pulls the shoes back from the woman. “Are you sure they’ll fit?” she asks her, hoping it doesn’t come off as rude.
The woman, for her part, blushes. “I know I’m rather small, but they’re a size thirty-eight, correct?”
“Yes,” K8 chirps. She can feel her knuckles going white around the straps.
The woman takes pity on her. “They’re quite lovely. If you’d like to cancel the sale, I’d understand completely.”
James’s brow furrows as his assessing gaze drifts between her and the woman. He frowns as he grabs ahold of K8’s wrist, squeezing slightly as he pulls the heels from her grip. He hands them to the woman. “These will accentuate your legs beautifully, I’m certain.”
The woman is blushing furiously now. “Thank you,” she says, sneaking a last glance at James. Then she takes off toward the elevator at a pace that makes K8 wonder if the woman thinks she is going to chase her down to steal the shoes back.
When the door closes, James turns her to face him. “What are you doing, K8?”
She shrugs, looking at her device as if it might get her out of the conversation. Finally, she offers, “Nothing.”
“You didn’t seem like you wanted to sell that woman those shoes?”
“Well, it was a little uncomfortable, but I listed them for a reason.” Despite the fact that their parting is making her feel a bit forlorn. They’re just shoes, K8. James, focus on James.
“Sweetheart,” he says, and she leans into his palm as he cups her cheek. “Why are you selling your things? You don’t have to do that for me. I told you I’d figure it out, and I have.”
Tears prick her eyes as she contemplates her answer. “I want you to be able to depend on me. I told you I have the next month covered. I just would prefer a little more wiggle room.”