She was bedridden still, her eye darting around, making her even more dizzy.
Hector brought her an eyepatch, but she refused to wear it. She left it on the bedpost.
“Where in Ares’ name would you get an eyepatch?” she asked loud enough to be heard.
He yelled from the kitchen. “Costume party. I used to go to parties, alright? I was fun. Come on. Just wear it?” he pleaded, doing the dishes.
Patty said nothing. She had already declined. She grabbed the knife and her arm whirred, shuddering awkwardly. She held it still with her other hand and cut a small piece of pickle.
She put the knife down and grabbed the fork. After a couple of tries, she managed to get the pickle and bring it up to her mouth.
Mmm. Delicious pickle, at last. Her stomach roared.
Then her arm suddenly jerked, and it fell down, making a mess.
Hector came in the room, taking a bite of his sandwich. “Oh, come on, just let me feed you! Quit being so damn proud, you’re injured.”
She ignored him and wiped off the pickle juice from her t-shirt. “What do you do? For a living?”
“I’m an armourer. We’re on top of my shop. HPP,” he said, saying each letter out loud.
“HPP? That sounds like a venereal disease.”
He snorted. “Hector’s Personal Protection. I really like yours, by the way.” He pointed at her boobs.
She blushed, then got furious, and then looked down. Oh, right, they were covered in armour. She didn’t pay any attention to it, it was like when you forgot about having shoes on. “How’s the tournament going?”
He sat down on a chair and shrugged. “No clue.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You’re an owner and you’ve got no clue how the tournament is going? Are the Pinups winning? Who got knocked out? What about the percentages and points?”
He just took a bite of his sandwich and blinked at her.
She stared back at him hard, but her lazy eye darted around the place. Oh, this was ridiculous. She surrendered. She tugged on the eyepatch and put it on.
Oh, much better. The eye still whirred with its own volition, the sound drilling deep through bone conduction, but at least she wasn’t getting dizzy anymore.
“See?”
“Through the other. Can I please have your WiFi password so I can keep up with the Pinups?”
“Oh, right! Totally forgot,” he stood up and wiped his hands on his trousers.
He gave her the password. ‘Armadillo.’ Weird, but she didn’t care. She checked up on the Cyberpink tournament.
So much noise, so much had happened. She had a fifteen-day gap and felt like she needed to fill it up. It felt weird not being up to date on the most important aspect of her life.
She fumbled with the pickle once more as she read, completely absorbed.
It fell on the floor, and a greyish thing ran towards it and snatched it up. “What the hell is that?” she screeched.
“Relax, it’s Armadillo, my friend.” Hector picked it up and petted it. “Say hi to Patty.”
The little rodent had her pickle in its tiny front legs and was munching on it, right to her face. Bastard.
“His name is Armadillo? Couldn’t you have come up with a better one?”
“Why, what’s wrong with Armadillo?” Hector put it back down and it scurried off with the wheel of pickle in its mouth. “Huh. I guess the only one who doesn’t like pickles in this house is me.”
Patty ignored him and turned back to read the articles and watch the streaming commentary. She stumbled on her own knock out and winced.
“Yeah, it was rough. You’re a very tough lady, you know that?”
She glanced at him with her one good eye, then nodded slightly, blushing. Then she tried to grab the pickle with her good arm.
“Just let me do it!” Hector exclaimed, stepping close.
She thought about it, then nodded in agreement.
Her owner carefully cut a wheel of pickle and brought it to her mouth. She ate it and it was an attack on the senses, pure bliss. The vinegar was prickly, the texture was soft, the crunch between her tongue and the roof of her mouth was divine.
She closed her eye and appreciated the taste for a while. Then she opened it. Hector was kind. She turned her good eye away, towards the window, and hesitantly opened her mouth, waiting for more food.
DROP NINETEEN
“Show me,” Patty demanded.
“No.” Hector waved her away. She could stand up and move around now, but that was pretty much all she could do. The mechdoc had said she needed to take walks as frequent as she felt like it, but not to strain herself. Bullheaded as she was, Hector needed to push her back on the bed after each walkabout.
He was doing the accounts on the dining table. He kept sighing and calculating, and Patty must have picked up on this.
She limped close and steadied herself on a chair. “Why won’t you show me?”
“It’s none of your business. I’m the owner, and this is my business.” He thought about it, not feeling so sure now. “Plus the part where you’re my second business. Whatever.” He waved her away. “Nevermind that! Shoo.”
She plopped her ass down on the chair before him and spun the spreadsheet towards her on the veil. Her eye scanned columns, and he just froze, mouth open.
The audacity!
He stood up and poured some ouzo for him. “I’m not offering you any, it will mess up your meds.”
“Not my first rodeo,” she said, her attention still on the spreadsheets.
He leaned back on the sink and waited. “So? Tell me then. How broke am I?”
“Close to it, but not yet. I assume those 10k miscellaneous payments are mafia pay-offs?”
“Pretty much. I’ve dealt with that for now but the problem will simply compound next month.”
“And the Mechdoc says my replacements are about 7k plus work.” She pointed at the eyepatch.
“Yeah, bottom-shelf stuff. They’ll probably break after a match or two but we can’t have you sitting around while there’s a tournament going on.”
She clicked her tongue, thinking. She did that a lot, and Hector didn’t think she realised when she was doing it.
“Have him waive his work expenses for now,” she said and turned her back. She tapped the accessibility options and turned on voice control and dictation.
“What? No, stop typing shit.”
“I’m not typing shit,” she prodded, wiggling her fingers in the air.
“You know what I mean.”
“Shush, dear.”
He got angry at that, but decided not to oppose her at this time. She was lying down for a long time and she must have felt terrible, not doing anything. Her mind was obviously sharp and needed hurdles to jump over and problems to solve.
She dictated a polite letter to the Mechdoc, asking him to waive his fee for the moment. She promised to recommend his services to more athletes and repay him that way.
“Huh. That’s not a bad idea actually,” Hector said and drank ouzo.
She glanced back at him with her one good eye and raised her shoulder, teasing him. “See?”
Maybe it was the ouzo. Maybe it was being a bachelor for so long. Maybe it was her wits and how she flaunted them. But Hector had a definite reaction to that naughty stare.
She kept on assessing his finances. “How soon can you get this order done?”
“Ugh, five days, tops. It’s pretty standard, copy and paste for twenty pieces.”
“And this unpaid one? Why isn’t this client sending the money he promised, three months ago?”
“Dover? He’s a sucky client. He always says he’ll pay and never does.”
“I see no reminder emails from you.”
“That’s because I haven’t sent any.”
She turned back to him. “Did you call?”
“Nope.”
“Then how do you expect people to pay you? Jeez!” She dictated a polite but firm email stating th
at Hector’s Personal Protection expected payment for their product delivered, plus late fees of 10%.
“That’s good, but he’ll never pay the extra.”
“We don’t want him to pay the extra, we just want him to pay, don’t we?” she explained nasally.
We?
WE?
Hector let go of his drink and stormed out of the room. He needed to strike hard on things down at his workshop.
DROP TWENTY
Hector pounded on metasteel like the Greek god of the Fire Mountain. He was soaking in sweat, his shirt off and feeling better with each blow. Who did she think she was, coming in here, in his house, in his business, changing things?
Hector didn’t handle change all that well. He drove his father’s old truck, he worked his father’s old job, he stayed in the same house he grew up in, heck, he even ate from the very same plates he had growing up. If something wasn’t at least 30 years old, he didn’t use it.
Hitting stuff made him feel better.
The wiped off his sweat on a dirty towel.
Panting, he saw Patty standing in the doorway. She had a wide smile on her face that he hadn’t seen before. “How long were you standing there?”
“Not long enough. I managed to get down the stairs in one piece, by the way.”
He made a thumbs up at her and drank some water, he was so damn thirsty. “Good,” he panted. “You should have told me in case you couldn’t manage it, but good.”
“Would you have done so in my place?”
“Not really.”
She walked in close, eyeing him up and down. “You’re completely vanilla, aren’t you?”
“What? Vanilla, regarding what exactly?”
“Implants, augmentations. You’re just as your mom made you, aren’t you?” she said, trailing a finger on his glinting arm.
“I have veil implants in my eyes. Not the free ones with the ads, I’m not a moron,” he said, pointing at his eyes.
She waved the comment away. “That barely counts, everybody has those. So, vanilla. I see. Interesting,” she said, dragging out the last word.
He felt her calculating stare on him. Hector coughed and put on a t-shirt. “What about you?” He sat back on a bench to rest.
She chuckled. “Me? Isn’t it obvious?”
It was. Half the face, one eye, right wrist, right arm, both knees, ankles, torso exoskeleton. Even damaged like she was right now, she was a sight to behold.
“I-I meant, did you have augmentations before joining Cyberpink?” he stuttered.
“My dear, nobody joins Cyberpink.” She sighed and Hector could tell it was a touchy matter.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“We’ll see. I came downstairs to tell you that the Doc just emailed back to accept and will be coming over tomorrow to fix me up, waiving his fee. And Dover sent 3k. I believe with that order you’re pounding on over there, it should be enough to get me back into fighting shape.”
Hector blinked. Shaking his head, he gestured in the air and checked his accounts. “Motherfucker,” he wheezed. “He never pays on time.”
“How will he pay if you don’t harass him, dear? I call it the PITA tax.”
“PITA? Like gyro?”
“No!” she chuckled. “Though I’m dying for one right now.” She slapped his chest. “Pain In The Ass tax. If you become a pain in the ass, you get paid on time.”
He eyed her, mocking her to her face. “I see how you’d be an expert on that, Pickle.”
She smiled. “Right! I’m ordering gyro for us with a side of pickles. Just until you go out for groceries and buy me a jar.”
He stood there, in a ‘seriously?’ pose.
She raised two fingers. “Make that two jars, actually.” Patty strode off the workshop.
DROP TWENTY-ONE
“I thought you’d be happy to leave the house,” Hector said, parking the truck.
“Oh, trust me, I am. But I can’t stand these girls,” Patty said, wincing at the sight of the building.
“Why is that?”
“They’re bitchy. Stupid. Shallow. Mean. Illiterate. Worthless. Slow. Lazy. Did I mention bitchy?”
Hector bit down a smile. “So... you don’t like them very much?” he teased.
“Nope.”
“It’s okay, let’s just go get your stuff.”
The building had a gigantic logo on it, saying Pinup Girls. With a neon pinup girl in a provocative pose. It was afternoon, but it still lit up everything around in a pink glow. That must have driven a couple of neighbours insane. Blinking. Blinking. Blinking. Forever.
The place actually seemed nice. He walked towards the reception. “Um...” He still had no real clue how to present himself in this business. “I’m Patty’s new owner? We’re here to collect her personal items from her locker.”
The receptionist, far too pretty to be of any real use, eyed Patty beside him.
“Yes,” she drolled. She literally raised her nose.
Hector shut his eyes and let it go. This was showbiz. Appearances mattered, he reminded himself. And here he was, showing up in his usual rugged attire.
Rookie move.
“Pickups and drops for fans are on weekdays until 5 p.m. Come back tomorrow.”
“We’re not fans,” he said, showing a fake smile and keeping his cool. “She’s a replacement for the team. She used to live here, we just need to get to her locker.”
Patty jiggled her keycard.
“Right,” she drolled. “Let me check with the manager.”
Hector turned his head and rolled his eyes at Patty, who seemed to feel exactly the same way.
“Uh-huh. Yes. No licence. Of course.” She hung up. “Do you have your owner’s licence with you?”
“Do I-?” he checked his pockets. “No, but what does it matter? I’ll wait here, Patty Roo, a replacement for the team, will walk in and pick up her stuff from her locker. I won’t budge from this spot.”
“Right,” the receptionist dropped and picked up the phone again.
For fuck’s sake! Hector kept his cool. He thought about happy stuff. Metasteel bending the exact way he wanted it. Matte surfaces. Overlapping Kevlar scales. Nice things.
“Uh-huh. Her name’s Patty Roo?”
Hector pointed both hands at the big frickin' holoposter on the wall, which contained Patty among other girls. She sure wasn’t posing good enough to be considered a Pinup Girl, but she was there, clear as day.
The receptionist glanced at it. “Uh-huh.” She hung up. “You may go inside and pick up your stuff.”
“Thank you,” Hector spat out the words.
A short man in a flashy suit blocked the door. “Patty’s new owner, so nice to meet you!” He shook hands firmly, a motion characteristic of a man always networking and bullshitting. “I’m Nicomedes, I own the Pinups.”
“I’m Hector Troy, nice to meet you too.”
The short man turned to her. “Patty Roo, good to see you’re better. Go on inside with the girls, the men have things to talk about.”
“Of course,” Patty lowered her head and walked towards the corridor.
Nicomedes slapped her butt as she walked by him. She pushed his hand aside and carried on.
Hector immediately thought of three ways to break that hand, and if he had more time, he’d get even more creative.
But a thought stopped him. Perhaps these two had something going on, which certainly wasn’t Hector’s business. Everyone here was an adult, after all.
No, the disgust in her face told him otherwise.
“Come to my office, please,” the sleazy man said.
Hector checked out the trophies. There were plenty, despite the team sucking donkey balls, as Patty had elegantly put it. Hector knew nothing of the sport and he could hardly judge, but it seemed like an objective assessment. The place looked cheesy, and he thought it would look exactly like this if Hugh Hefner ever owned a sports team. Life-size pinups i
n posters, pictures of parties and VIPs shaking hands with the proud Nicomedes, golden and expensive and frivolous stuff all around him.
Nicomedes offered whiskey, the good kind, and Hector accepted it, not wanting to offend the fucker. He sat down on a comfy leather sofa, and Nicomedes sat on his enormous desk chair that made him look important.
“Let’s talk, shall we? Let me get to know you. You’re a wild card, you know that? Coming out of the blue, purchasing Patty Roo, heh, that rhymed. I have a poetry collection out, it just pours out of me naturally, what can I say?”
“I don’t really care for poetry.”
“A shame. What do you do? Custom armour, I heard?”
“Yes.” Hector didn’t touch the drink. He also decided to be laconic.
“Excellent. And how does a shopkeeper end up in this business, if I might ask?”
“Just happened, didn’t really plan for it, really.”
“Right. So can I interest you in an offer?”
“Sure. Tell me.”
“I can take Patty Roo off your hands for 80 thousand, hard cash, right now.”
Hector licked his lip. He made the mental calculations, that was about two years of her worth, all in one sitting. It was tempting. Really damn tempting. “And what will you do with her once I sell her to you?”
Nicomedes chuckled. “Well, that’s hardly your business at that point, is it?”
“True. Nonetheless, I’d like to know.” Wheels spun in Hector’s mind. Was this offer made to Diego as well? Why didn’t he take it, pay Hector what he owed, buy a ton of drugs? A junkie would never give up such a pay-day. Only if the junkie knew what the true consequences were of that deal and had a shred of decency and self-control left.
Nicomedes fussed with his tie. “Heh. Let me call in a couple of the girls, help make up your mind. Call in Suzy please,” he said, pressing the intercom.
A drop-dead-gorgeous blonde sauntered inside, wearing a provocative retro outfit. She walked right up to Hector and sat on his lap.
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