Chapter 39
Two armies of butterflies battle in her stomach.
The first set, a fiery red army with luxurious fluttering wings, eagerly wants to feel him once more.
The second army of butterflies are much more ominous, made up of frozen accounts, scoundrels named Viper, and anything and everything that could go wrong.
She imagines they’re black and dangerous.
They fly around, taking aim with their dagger-sharp wings, trying to eliminate the red army.
Best to ignore them. As soon as she gets up, she’ll check her account. The Blackmarks from the PalmPrint sale should get washed, then transferred today. And maybe a few returns will show up early. Then she could pay the lease and never have to worry again. At least for another month.
But when James says, with a roll of his hips, “I can hear you thinking. Focus on me, sweetheart,” the black army disappears in an explosion of color.
He makes love to her slow and sweet. It is in that moment she realizes she could do this a thousand more mornings.
More, and never get tired of it. It isn’t just the sex, though James is an excellent lover.
It’s him. He approaches making love to her like everything else he does.
With his sole focus and determination. It makes her feel like the treasure he says she is.
Afterward, James exits the bathroom, hair wet and slicked back from the shower. His clothes are still in the spare bedroom, so he wears only a towel as he approaches her. He leans over the bed where she is resting after their morning activities.
“What time is it?” she asks on a yawn. For her to be this tired, it must be early.
“It’s 05:30,” he says, and kisses her sweetly. “Go back to sleep.”
“What are you doing?”
“In my past life I used to be an early riser,” he says. The way his stare keeps retracing her sheet-clad form like he’s unable to peel his eyes away makes warmth flood through her. She stretches, luxuriating in his gaze, before turning and nestling into her pillow.
She feels the heat of him as he leans over, brushing his lips below her ear. “You are perfect, exactly as you are.”
“Mmm,” she sighs, savoring the perks of her new relationship as she hears the door click shut behind him.
The doorbell chimes, and she wakes with a start. She glances at the clock, noting the time: 07:50.
She draws in a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. She must have been having a bad dream. The doorbell chimes again. “James!” she calls as she jumps out of bed to throw on a robe. He must have run out.
The dark army of butterflies revisits her when she opens the door to a frazzled-looking Lessa. Their gunmetal hair is tied back in a messy knot and their wan color of their usually glowing skin makes them appear as if they haven’t been sleeping well.
“Is it the baby?” she asks, ushering them inside. Trying not to panic.
Lessa gestures at their overall appearance, which includes a bland tan jumpsuit. “Yes, this is the baby, but that isn’t why I’m here. I’ve sent you a dozen messages. Where is your device?”
K8 bites her lip. “I put it on Do Not Disturb last night.” She runs to her bedroom, but it isn’t on her nightstand. She returns to the living room to find Lessa plucking it from between the couch cushions. They hold it out to her like it’s dirty.
“Don’t ask,” K8 says, taking it.
Lessa clutches her stomach, glancing away for a few seconds. K8 tries patiently waiting, but not knowing why her normally aloof friend is waking her up at eight in the morning is making her have morning sickness, too.
She scans the messages as Lessa rushes to the bathroom.
Check your email. Can’t sleep. Just got an email from Worldbank.
They’re looking into the accounts of anyone who has done business with GROW recently.
K8’s heart skips a beat. She keeps reading.
My account is flagged with a note that says vendor transactions may take an extra 10 days to process due to the review.
K8, why aren’t you answering my messages?
I got myself a GROW for Holiday, by the way.
This can’t be legal. It says we can still receive payments and use our existing and some pending funds. I’m looking into it now.
K8, aren’t you concerned about paying James’s lease?
Jett told me you were counting on a few returns to cover it. Did you already pay it?
There is an hour between messages. Then:
K8, I’m coming over.
K8 is standing at her desk, stunned, when Lessa returns from the bathroom. Offhandedly, she asks, “Is there something they can do for the vomiting?”
Lessa shakes their head. “Nothing they’ve given me is working.” Crossing the space, they plop down onto the couch and scan the living room. “Where’s James?”
K8 shakes her head. “I don’t know. He was gone when I woke up. Probably at the Sports Center with Oro1.” Panic hits her all at once. “Does this mean my account is being reviewed too? My returns! If they take longer to process—we’re counting on them to pay James’s lease!”
Lessa rubs their temples, and K8 is aware she’s shrieking.
“That’s why I came over. You should check your account,” they say.
“And pay the lease as soon as possible. If NHOS is investigating GROW, you want to have as long of an extension as you can afford covered. GROW won’t want to refund the longer leases, so they’ll have their legalese team work something out with the officials. The more you can pay, the better.”
If only she had a way to pay more. Quickly, K8 logs into her Worldbank account, finding the same note tagged on her account.
James’s transfer and two of the twelve returns are showing as pending, which is a relief.
She may not have enough to pay one month if her remaining returns take an additional ten days.
She needs to have this uncomfortable discussion with James—which would make him proud of her growing relationship acumen. If only he were here.
She’s about to message him when her device chimes.
Ah, it’s probably James. She glances at the email.
It’s from the Birthing Agency. Her heart backflips.
Despite her rising panic at James’s undisclosed whereabouts, she clicks the message.
She’s never received an email from the Birthing Agency, and there’s only one reason they’d contact her.
It reads:
Congratulations, C-K8lyn-MSP-00023468!
The NHOS Sector MSP Birthing Agency has identified you as a citizen candidate for reproduction. Please use this unique registration code to set up your appointment with a representative from the Agency.
MSP-BA-CC-K8lyn-00023468-9EJ0753
While you are preparing for your visit, it is important to consider the method of copulation a candidate may utilize.
Many candidates choose to select a DNA donor from the Birthing Agency’s registry list and implant the zygote medically.
However, if the candidate can provide a suitable genetically approved donor or partner to copulate with, the candidate must provide this information to their assigned representative at the registration meeting.
At your visit, your representative will collect a blood sample.
Once the candidate’s identity is confirmed, your representative will remove your Reproduction Prevention Implantation Chip.
Once the candidate’s chip is successfully removed and your ability to conceive is confirmed by our highly specialized—
There are several paragraphs left, but K8 quits reading.
She’s been selected. Against all odds, she’s been selected.
After Lessa, she never thought she’d get the chance.
Tried to put it out of her mind, but being a citizen candidate of the Birthing Agency has been her dream for as long as she can remember.
It’s the only plausible hope she had for finding a real partner. But then she got James.
She’s too stunned and worried to feel any excitement.
She needs James. She thinks the command to call him.
Answer, she mentally decrees. There is a buzzing coming from his old room.
When she enters, the first thing she sees is his device is lying abandoned in the center of the neatly made bed.
Her dread carves out a pit in the depths of her stomach.
It isn’t like him to forget it. “Oh, James, what have you done?”
Lessa comes to stand beside her, glancing from the device to K8.
Her body feels cold as she sits down on the bed, cradling the black-market device in her lap.
If only she knew the code to get in. But because of the nature of these devices, they’re notoriously difficult to hack into.
Perhaps Oro1 could do it in a few hours, but she has a sinking feeling that tells her she’s too late. Something’s amiss.
The bed creaks beside her as Lessa sits down. Then in an uncharacteristic move, Lessa puts her arm around her shoulders. K8 holds up James’s device. “What does this mean?”
“I don’t know,” they say.
Tears spring forth in K8’s eyes, falling unhindered.
K8 sniffs. “What? No jokes about wrinkles?”
Lessa shakes their head. “I can feel you hurting and I don’t like it.”
She looks at her friend. “Lessa, that’s called empathy.”
“Is there a pill for it?” they ask, giving her a crooked smile.
K8 chuckles despite her aching heart. “Probably, but you don’t want to take it. Empathy is a good thing.”
Lessa chuffs. “If you say so.”
Right then, the other device in her hand pings. Another email. From GROW this time.
K8 swallows the tight lump in her throat as she opens it.
She doesn’t read past the first line:
Thank you for turning in your GROW manupartner at the K Quadrant Recycle Station. We hope you had a pleasant—
She gasps. “He turned himself in.”
Lessa looks over and reads the email. “Why would he do that?” they ask.