Cherry Blossom Girls Box Set

by Harmon Cooper

  Update me -- DB.

  “What’s with this guy?” I thought as I typed out a quick reply: We’ll be in Austin tomorrow. Let’s meet in a public place.

  I hit send and received a reply back within seconds.

  No, we will meet at my place.

  He gave me the address and I quickly found it on GoogleFace maps.

  It was in the western part of Austin, not far from Bee Caves Road. Judging by the size of the houses in the area, I could see that he lived in the rich part of the city.

  About twenty minutes and a ton of GoogleFace inquiries later, I found that my initial assumption was most definitely true and that it only got richer the farther west you traveled.

  Interesting. I’d heard Austin was an appealing place to live, its only drawbacks being the housing prices and its terribly hot summers.

  Most Americans knew Texans and their pride. I’d already seen it coming into the state: the big flags in front of people’s houses, the sticker flags on the backs of their trucks, the ‘Don’t Mess with Texas’ road signs. It was the exact opposite of what I was used to in New England, which focused more on patriotism as a whole – something that was shared, rather than hoarded and shielded.

  The thoroughfares were set up differently here too. Cities in the other states we’d driven through were set away from the traffic, usually hidden from view by trees. Everything in Texas was built right along the road; you could literally have the entrance to your home jutting off the highway.

  From what I could tell, this was the way Longview had been built; a city sprouting around the highway, cushioning it like a hotdog bun.

  “Barbeque or Mexican food?” I asked Grace as we prepared to leave the hotel.

  She chose barbecue, and after Veronique drained just a little more energy from Dorian, we hit the streets.

  Coleslaw, baked beans, cornbread, potato salad, ribs, pulled pork, grilled chicken, brisket – Grace and I ate like Southern royalty. Veronique ate a little, mostly the brisket, and once we finished, we took a quick trip to the mall to get her more clothing.

  I would have preferred to stay at our hotel while they shopped, but I was worried about them going out alone. If they were captured, or if something happened to them, I would be completely screwed. Aside from the fact that I’d be stuck in a hotel room with Dorian, who would eventually wake up, I would be without a purpose and without the two women who were the reason for my crusade.

  A crusade? A sci-fi writer going up against the FCG and MercSecure could be considered one of two things: a suicide or a crusade. I was banking on the latter.

  The other reason I wished they could have gone alone is that I hate malls. There’s nothing scarier to me than a mall full of people. From shootings to terrorist attacks, malls had become hotbeds for public violence.

  To the generation following mine, malls would be nostalgic. To my generation, they were slightly toxic.

  But I couldn’t let the two go in alone.

  “Let’s make this quick,” I said under my breath as we left our vehicle. We would get a new one when we came back; another chance to test-drive a different model.

  Grace and Veronique were also not feeling the crowd at the mall, even if it was relatively small. There were just too many people around, so we tried to make it as quick as possible.

  Aside from purchasing a Houston Texans jersey – mostly because it seemed a little lighter than my New England clothing – I stood outside the stores, taking notes on my smartphone about what I wanted to write later that day and keeping an eye on the crowd.

  I was getting close to completing the second Mutants in the Making, and if I worked hard at it, I could have it done by tonight.

  We were only four hours away from Austin. Rather than stay where we were another day, I figured we’d leave later that night so we could get a feel for our situation once we arrived.

  For once, everything went smoothly while we were on our shopping excursion.

  Veronique was disappointed that the mall didn’t have any mil-spec outfits, which was kind of funny. I suggested we go to an outdoor store, but I figured most of the stuff in Texas wouldn’t be what she was looking for. There would be plenty of camo and bright orange jumpsuits, but there wouldn’t be form-fitting black bodysuits.

  So she got the next best thing.

  With Grace as her shopping assistant and ‘funding’ all the purchases, they found a few outfits Veronique liked, as well as a jacket – although, it was already ninety-something degrees outside, so definitely not jacket weather.

  She also bought a lot of undergarments from Victor and Victoria’s Secret, a store that used to be just for women but had changed by 2030 due to gender binarism debates.

  We got back to the hotel, and Veronique drained more from Dorian. I started writing my ass off, and right around the time I’d gotten to the end point, I ordered a pizza.

  Everything was going according to plan.

  Sound the trumpets and bring out the booze! I had finished my manuscript, AI had edited the chapters, and I was ready to birth my creation onto the masses. Other writers be damned – make room for Gideon Caldwell at the top!

  With a fresh manuscript in its appropriate folder on my computer, I pulled up the EBAYmazon dashboard, uploaded the cover, fleshed out the product description (damn, did I hate doing that), and uploaded the final file.

  It’s missing something … I thought as I reopened the file. I went through the collection of book quotes I keep and picked one by Ralph Waldo Emerson: “We, as we read, must become Greeks, Romans, Turks, priest and king, martyr and executioner; must fasten these images to some reality in our secret experience, or we shall learn nothing rightly.”

  I went for the $0.99 price point, only because I didn’t need money any longer, and I was going for that big Andy Weir launch part deux.

  After checking everything for a final time, I put the book up for sale, which meant it would take ten to twelve hours to be approved.

  I closed the laptop and exhaled audibly.

  Grace and Veronique were back on their home improvement show, this one about fixer-upper homes in Britain, and there I was in the other room feeling like a million bucks.

  Actually, finishing a book doesn’t quite feel like a million bucks. It feels more like a burden has been removed from your shoulders, only to have another one ready to drop – aka the next book. But it did feel good at the time, and even a brief interlude of not having the book on my shoulders was worth its weight in gold.

  With nothing better to do, aside from pat myself on the back, I went into the other room to wait for the pizza.

  “Room for me on that bed?” I asked, half joking.

  “Yep,” Veronique said, moving aside so I could crawl between them.

  How I kept living every fanboy’s dream, I had no idea, but I wasn’t complaining. With Grace on my left and Veronique on my right, I tried to keep my focus on the television. Once this failed, I turned to my phone and saw that Luke was active.

  Me: Bruh. What’s going on?

  Luke: I’m revamping the cover for the first Star Defacer book. What do you think?

  Me: Definitely cool. I liked the first one too. It had a vibe.

  Luke: I know, but now that the series is selling, I want to do a little rebranding and upgrading.

  Me: Nothing wrong with that. I like the little skull in the middle, with the spiky head. Looks killer.

  Luke: Hell yeah, people love skulls. I don’t know why.

  Me: Me neither. Maybe it’s because humans have a weird fascination with their own mortality and the skull represents a watered-down version of this.

  Luke: Publishing a philosophy book next?

  Me: Hardly. Just trying to make it to Austin in one piece and get my ass some

  Luke: I feel that. Damn, Gid, I got about three hundred questions for you. But I’ll start at the top. Did you hit pub on Mutants in the Making 2?

  Me: It’s like you’re reading my mind or something. I just di
d, like ten minutes ago. So, it’ll be up by tomorrow for sure, but maybe even by tonight if the EBAYmazon gods process it quickly.

  Luke: Last I checked, you’re holding your ranking, which means people are digging it. I hope the second book grabs even more readers.

  Me: It should. The second book gets into details of the assault, and Angel, and Dorian Gray. But just the start of that story, because I don’t know how that’s going to play out.

  Luke: LOL. Yeah, she’s there now.

  Me: Did I already tell you that? Sorry, I’m in a bit of a daze. I somehow managed to write ten thousand words today – six thousand in a frenzied afternoon sprint. My hands are killing me. I’m just glad to be inside with the A/C and some pizza coming.

  Luke: A/C. Oh that’s right, you’re down south.

  Me: Hot as balls.

  Luke: Did you go with the pink cover for MM2?

  Me: Yeah, I think it’ll look good, especially on reading devices. You want to see some of my throwaway covers?

  Luke: Hold on, let me go to the bathroom, take my pants off, and sit, just in case I feel the urge to shit myself.

  Me: Ha! They’re not that bad. Okay, I made this one three days ago. I was a little delirious at the time. Terrible, I know. But speaking of skulls …

  Luke: The two big skeletons had sex, and those are their children. Also, the adult skeletons are headless.

  Me: I definitely wasn’t at my best when I made that. I also made this one. Warning: I don’t know what I was smoking when I thought this would be a good cover. Sometimes I have to make a bunch of crappy covers before I can really hit my stride and make one that looks good.

  Luke: Brutal, and by brutal I mean brutally bad.

  Me: Yeah, definitely not good.

  Luke: Were you trying to cover her nipples with font? Because you failed. LOL. Also, are those supposed to be little explosions behind her?

  Me: They’re flowers.

  Luke: Well, I can say that I like the font.

  Me: I also made this one:

  Luke: What’s she supposed to be looking at? Looks like something from a Poltergeist remake.

  Me: A light, a beacon of truth.

  Luke: Okay. I see it now. How is it that you make such terrible covers and then make one that just hits?

  Me: No idea, but luckily, fourth time was a charm.

  Luke: Looks like a winner to me. Hey, got a question for you. You said you’re planning to meet this guy in Austin. You going prepared?

  Me: I believe I’m going prepared. I have two human weapons with me, and I was able to modify Veronique a little bit.

  Luke: Great, what were you able to do?

  Me: Well, the readers that like stats and modifying abilities will love the fact that I was finally able to dig down a little deeper into Veronique’s situation and figure out more about her power. Turns out, she’s not a vampire.

  Luke: LOL.

  Me: She actually drains the metal from people’s bodies. Sounds weird, but you know there’s a lot of different metals floating around in our bodies and bloodstreams. I’m not claiming to be a scientist here, obviously, but that’s what she does. Hell, she’s done it to me, and it feels really strange.

  Luke: Wait a minute. Her ability allows her to modify the atomic structure of the metal and pull it through someone’s skin? If I were reading this in a book, I would call BS.

  Me: I wouldn’t call BS, only because I’m not so hot on the ‘science’ part of science fiction. I’ll leave that to Neal Stephenson and some of the military sci-fi guys who can roast me any way they want over this shit because the fact of the matter is, it’s true.

  Luke: What you are experiencing and writing about isn’t fiction, so that’s why it’s kind of funny I’d call BS on it.

  Me: What can I say? Even my own life has some plot holes. I’m sure there’s more to the science part, but I’ll let someone else explain that.

  Someone knocked at the door. Pizza had arrived.

  Me: Shit just got real.

  Luke: What do you mean?

  Me: Pizza’s here. Got to eat and run.

  Luke: Enjoy, and good luck!

  As Grace got up from the bed and moved to the door, she morphed into a Texan she’d seen earlier. Her hair was frizzy and big, and she wore a pinkish-red button-up shirt, a bolo tie, a pair of tight Wranglers hugging her ass, and some elaborate cowboy boots. No cowboy hat though, which made me wonder if she couldn’t morph a hat. But she did get the accent down.

  “Howdy,” she said when she opened the door.

  “Two Hawaiian pizzas, one with chicken instead of Canadian bacon?” the delivery driver asked.

  “I do believe that’s what we ordered – ain’t that right, Kenny?”

  I looked at Veronique. “Am I supposed to be Kenny?”

  “That’s right, Grace,” Veronique said, trying for her best, deep-voiced country accent and failing miserably. Luckily, the delivery guy couldn’t see us.

  “Great,” the guy said and handed Grace the pizza.

  “Now, Gerald, you gonna get on over here and get these here pizzas or what? Can’t ya’ll get your butts off the bed?”

  “I’m Gerald and you’re Kenny, right?” I asked Veronique.

  She nodded, a genuine smile spreading across her face. I then tried to imagine what the delivery driver was thinking when he saw a hot country girl open the door and say there were two men in the room with her, both on the bed. Good thing we were going to wipe his mind.

  “Can I feed too, Gideon?” Veronique asked me, her hand falling on my arm as I slipped off the bed.

  “Later,” I said. She shrugged and turned back to the TV. I took a deep breath and approached the door. Grace gave me the pizzas. Damn if they didn’t smell good.

  “Yep, that’s right,” Grace told the driver, “I already done paid ya’ll.”

  “Oh,” the man said as he looked at the receipt he still held. “I see that now.”

  “No, we can pay.” I put the pizzas down on a table near the door and grabbed my wallet, pulling out two twenties. I gave the driver forty bucks, told Grace to make sure he didn’t remember any of this, and we bid him farewell.

  “I love pizza, I love, love pizza,” Grace said, morphing back into her base form.

  I opened the box and frowned at the greasy mess dotted with pineapples. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

  The pizza wasn’t so great, but at least it was cheesy. I guess that’s the thing about most pizza – it has cheese. But this pizza was definitely not the best I’d had; hell, it wasn’t even the best I’d had from Wendy’s Hut.

  Still, it hit the spot.

  After we finished eating, we packed up and headed to our car, Veronique using her powers again to drag Dorian behind us.

  Chapter Thirteen: Endgame Dreams

  We headed west on I-20 and eventually reached the outskirts of Dallas. The farther we got away from the eastern part of Texas, the drier it became. It was still hot outside – our Subaru’s temperature said it was eighty-eight degrees – and the cityscape quickly morphed from ‘gone country’ to ‘urban cowboy’ as we zipped by Dallas.

  “It’s so big,” Grace said as she looked out the window.

  We weren’t cutting through downtown Dallas as much as we were skirting around it. The highways all made circles around the city, reminding me of a spider web. We only touched the lower right-hand quadrant of Dallas as we transferred to I-35, but we did get to see the city, the lights at night, and the new buildings under construction.

  As she normally did, Veronique sat in the back seat with Dorian next to her.

  Every time I glanced in the rearview mirror, I either caught a glimpse of Veronique looking directly at me – which was kinda creepy – or Dorian sitting there with her eyes glued shut – also creepy.

  We have to figure out what to do about her, I thought as I drove around a slow-moving Ford Escort.

  We will.

  I smirked. You aren’t supposed to be reading my thought
s.

  There’s nothing else to read.

  You can read my phone.

  Reading while riding gives me a headache.

  Then find something different to listen to, I told her. For the last twenty minutes, we’d been listening to a local Tejano station, which was kind of cool, but which was also starting to drive me mad with its up-tempo beats.

  “Would you like to listen to NPR?” she asked in Ira Glass’s voice. “I’m Ira Glass, and each week, we take an adventure across America in search of secret government facilities.”

  “Man, Ira would love to get his hands on this story,” I said. I took over the wheel from the auto drive function; I felt like being in control at the moment.

  “Yes or no?” she asked, still using his voice.

  “No, for now. Let’s get some music going, something dancy.”

  Grace flipped through the stations until she found one playing disco hits from the 70s.

  I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. “Disco works for me.”

  So, after going through Waco, Round Rock, and a slew of other smaller cities, we drove into Austin jamming disco. I wouldn’t recommend three hours of straight disco to anyone; that said, it did make the drive faster.

  “Who’s ready to stay in a mansion tonight?” I asked as we took the 183 exit, heading toward MoPac and Westlake Hills.

  MoPac passed over Lady Bird Lake, and Veronique pointed at some of the mansions that lined the water.

  “Stay at a mansion in Austin? Let’s do it.”

  We took the Westlake Hills exit. To get to the lakeside mansions, we’d need to take the loop around and then hit one of the roads that cut through Zilker Park. I wanted to find one that wasn’t gated in. Not that we couldn’t get in a gate with Veronique and Grace’s abilities.

  After driving around for a few minutes, we found a gateless home the size of a grocery store. The entrance sloped down to a five-car garage. To the right of the garage was a door that a giant could get through, and, I shit you not, a bridge from the parking area to the front door.