Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LARKE
“We’re not judging,” Emilio said. “There’s just been…rumors, and those rumors mean you should be able to buy us lunch. I mean, it’s only me, you, Yvette, and Lyric. That’s like a hundred credits at most.”
“What rumors?” I asked.
I knew exactly what he was referring to.
I’d gone from being unknown and cast aside in Sanitation to the well-known “kept woman” of a high-ranking Totten officer.
One of the highest-ranking Totten officers.
Back in the day, there was a social distinction between mistress and prostitute. In Totten, they appeared to be one and the same. For all of Totten’s hierarchies and its need for social order and morals by marriage, there was no building on Dez’s map I remembered being labeled Church.
“First of all, you live in Juniper,” Emilio continued.
“Juniper’s no Woodhaven, but you live in the same building as the medical staff when you should be in Aspen or Hawthorne like the rest of us who don’t fit the build-heal-farm-protect hierarchy.
Then, I heard you had a Class One there early this morning, and there might have been some moaning. ”
If this place planned to go that far, to be that small town-like, the next time Dez was there, I would give them a show. It would be like porn over the radio. Maybe I would move the bed closer to the window to give them an entire production.
“And, remember, I work in Accounting,” Emilio went on. “The Class One who was outside your door is paid, baby girl, and he’s paying for that little studio of yours at Juniper. Then he filed a special request to make sure you live alone. Wonder why that could be?”
Dez had likely filed the request because of how I’d lived in Sanitation. Still, with how attracted I was to that man, I would have gotten down and dirty with him even if I’d had roommates.
“I’m not a prostitute,” I clarified. “We know each other from before. He used to work for me, and this is his way of getting some semblance of power back.”
“Are you fucking him?”
I wasn’t.
Not yet.
“No.”
“Does he want you to fuck him?”
“Can we decide on lunch, please?” I looked at Yvette and Lyric, who silently watched with interest and amusement. “And no, I can’t ‘buy’ lunch for us all. I’m broke.”
Emilio scanned my outfit. “Plaid, preppy mid-thigh dress, long-sleeved top, and tights? That’s a nice outfit for someone who’s broke, or did ‘Daddy’ buy that for you too?”
I flipped him off.
The trio burst out laughing.
Our RFID credit bracelets were delivered today, although mine arrived with a zero balance.
A Class One was in charge of all of my purchases, which was something I wasn’t informed of until they delivered the bracelets.
Whatever I “earned” in Operations was deposited into Dez’s account, and he was then in charge of giving me an allowance.
Had it been anyone other than Dez, I would have sprung for the fence.
“Just ask him,” Emilio insisted. “We can have a courier up here in minutes to run a message over to Woodhaven. Write a little notey-note and ask him for money.”
“And why would he just give me money?”
He gave me another look.
“Oh, so you want me to prostitute myself.”
“I mean, is he at least a good-looking Class One? I only know his name, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him.”
Lyric cut in, “He’s the one that’s always angry. The fine one with the hair and the low-cut beard.”
“He’s White, though,” Yvette added. She made a tick mark in the air. “Points off his scorecard.”
I looked at her, confused.
Yvette was at least twelve shades lighter than Dez. The word pale squinted at her in the sunlight.
Dez looked like he hiked and surfed, down to the sun-lightened strands of his hair.
But it wasn’t like I’d gone out looking to fall in love with a man with “sun-lightened” hair strands.
Love ran up on me, bit me on the neck, and laughed as it tiptoed away.
My memories of being “in love” in the past now felt completely misguided.
Dez and I had a rebellion to organize, but the only thing I’d managed to do all morning was miss him.
Want him.
Need him.
My fantasies were pure filth.
In them, Dez was able to clone himself, and the things each Dez did to my body made me blush, though my excitement was indistinguishable from my shame. In one fantasy, the clones cornered me in a cave, and they did not take turns. A sausage casing would have watched on in awe.
Emilio waved a hand. “Yvette, please. With your pale ass.”
“I’m one-sixteenth Cherokee,” she argued.
“Yeah. Jeep.”
I choked on a laugh.
Lyric did the same.
Accounting was in a different part of the building. However, the work was painfully easy because of Emilio’s expertise as a former partner at a large accounting firm. So, he killed time by, as he called it, “annoying everyone else.”
Lyric worked in Logistics.
Yvette worked in Oversight.
They’d placed me in the Civic Systems division. Totten had created an entire unit focused on internal policies, law, and legal communications. Still, they’d seen fit to throw me in Sanitation because I’d chosen to combat sperm with hormones and latex.
The peek I’d gotten at Totten’s personnel files this week—as a result of shamelessly fooling Yvette—brought a name front and center that I hadn’t seen in a while.
Matthew Neal.
If that Matthew Neal was the same one I was thinking of, he’d had a hand in my misery.
I was sure of it. We shared a mutual loathing, as I’d regularly refused to imbibe on his bullshit liquor like much of our constituency.
He’d been a target on my prosecutorial hit list, and while I never said so directly, it was possible he’d picked up on the “you’re going to jail, you ignorant motherfucker” in my eyes.
“Call a courier,” Emilio pressed. “You need to eat too, don’t you? If he doesn’t answer, I’ll cover for you. Pay me back with gossip.”
After spending time with these three, it became easier to see how comfort could breed complacency.
They weren’t wealthy, but they could eat.
They shared their homes with maybe one or two other people, each with their own space.
They shopped in Eden Square and weren’t suffering by any means.
Then, none of them knew I’d come over from Sanitation.
Yet, they would all find out what was truly happening over there in due time.
Cynthia Greer, the Operations manager, entered the office space. She glanced at Emilio, who looked at her as if daring her to ask him why he was there, but he technically had more seniority than she did.
“I heard you all talking about lunch,” she greeted. “Does anyone want to eat in the Woodhaven building?”
I nearly leaped from my seat.
I didn’t give a damn about the food. It could have been paper shreds, for all I cared. Being in Woodhaven meant I’d be closer to Dez. I’d been waiting all morning for him to call for me, but maybe our kiss hadn’t had the same effect on him as it did on me.
“Well, we just got word that Woodhaven is opening up its kitchen on a rotating basis,” she continued. “Today, Operations pulled the winning card. It’s not free, but I heard the food is amazing. Who wants to go?”
Emilio, Yvette, and Lyric jumped at the chance.
I pretended to contemplate. “Are you sure it’s okay?”
She nodded. “Yes, one hundred percent. I figured, let’s walk over, and we can take a long lunch. Get to know each other better.”
Emilio squeezed my shoulder. “Come on, Larke. Ask if you-know-who has a tab or something. Plus, I’ve heard that the food at Woodhaven is like nothing we’ve ever tasted, even before all this shit started happening.”
The Mae Dez knew from D.C. turned out to be the same Mae in the kitchen most days, though the other cooks were talented themselves.
Mae’s food simply had a certain je ne sais quoi that I was convinced had helped my recovery.
Dez would bring me my favorite sweet bread as a treat, and when he told me it was Mae’s recipe, it made sense as to why I’d scarfed it down with a swollen throat.
At the thought of a swollen throat, the Dez clones returned.
“All right, then.” I stood. “Let’s go.”
I followed the group out the door.
On the way to the stairs, I spotted Tamra peeking around the wall at the end of the hallway. Our gazes connected. Then, very discreetly, she patted the pocket of her apron and sent me a thumbs-up.
The line wasn’t excessively long, but the people there indicated that Totten had grown considerably since Dez and I showed up.
I’d yet to find anything on when the “idea" of the Fort Totten survivor’s camp took shape, as it was too well put together to be a last-minute decision. To have made as many adjustments as they’d made so far meant a “safe zone” had been in the works for a while.
Possibly, the government had been aware of the Infection long before it became known to the general public.
I vaguely recalled reading about the ultra-wealthy creating underground bunkers.
A place like Totten seemed counterintuitive to that.
Why give survivors access to provisions and a miniature model of familiar society?
Why not just hoard everything and leave what was left of the world to suffer?
It would make for good pillow talk between me and Dez.
I scanned my bracelet at the lunch kiosk.
The balance was still zero.
Dez wouldn’t want me to starve, but I wasn’t sure how to notify him that I needed to eat. Totten had couriers, but we had to pay to send messages, and I wasn’t sure if there was a “pay on delivery” option.