by JT Lawrence
Kale’s eyes are watering. “In fact, if you must know, I think it’s pretty horrible to be surrounded by dying plants all day.”
“They’re not dying! They’re fresh and beautiful!”
“They’re dying. They’ve been cut off from their life source. It’s all downhill for them now.”
“Only you could find flowers depressing.”
Kale shrugs and lifts her sap-stained apron over her head.
“Not so fast. I need you here for another half an hour.”
“Argh. I have tix for The DarkReiki.”
“Half an hour, Kale.”
The young woman hesitates. Her hayfever tears have scored lines in the smudge on her cheekbones.
“I brought new stock with me. Some tulip-cross-ivy, in the tuktuk outside. Will you fetch them, please?”
Kale sighs and puts her apron back on. “All right.”
“You’ll be rewarded in goth heaven!” Jasmine yells after her, and without turning around, Kale flips her the middle finger.
* * *
Jasmine slips into the stock room, redolent of zinnias and anemones and flower food, and draws the curtain away to reveal the secret entrance to the Alba headquarters. She has to stand on her toes to get the retina scanner to unlock the door for her, and when it clicks open she steps into the brightly lit open plan offices. Despite the hour, there are at least five people grinding quietly at their desks.
“Hello bunnies!” she calls, and some of them—the ones without noise-cancelling headphones on—look up and wave at her.
“Hello, Boss,” says Seth, standing up. “I was wondering when you’d get here.”
“I meant to arrive sooner. They had me peeling a super-rich woman at the spa.”
“Gross.”
“I’m actually finding it quite therapeutic. No pun intended.”
“And you got what you wanted?”
Jasmine lifts her 50s clutch and snaps it open to reveal the vial of serum. She smiles at Seth.
“I did.”
“That must be a record.”
Seth smells like vetiver and grapefruit, with a hint of gunflint. He also smells like sex. Jasmine can’t wait to get him alone. “Well, let’s not count our chickens. We need to test it first. I’ll take it to the lab. You can wait for me in my office.”
* * *
“How did you know?” asks Seth, when Jasmine returns.
“Know what?”
A painting of a man with carriage bolts for eyes reminds Seth of the art at TommyKnockers, his favourite underground kink-club, and he makes a mental note to visit again soon.
“How did you know they were up to something at Tabula Rasa?”
“I don’t know anything yet.”
“What made you suspect them?”
“I got a tip-off.”
“From who?”
“That’s none of your business, Seth Denicker.”
“A lover?” he says, inching towards her. He takes her hand and kisses her spark plasters.
“Close the door,” she says, her voice gruff. He does, then walks over to her and pushes her up against the desk.
Jasmine’s body relaxes in his grip. “Would it bother you?”
“Your other lovers?” he says. “No. I quite like the idea.”
“Hmm,” says Jasmine. “Not jealous?”
Seth thinks of the blonde Pharmax intern he had uninspiring sex with in the boardroom earlier.
“The only thing I’m jealous of is the fact that your lovers seem be great informants. I seem to lack that calibre. Or maybe it’s you. Maybe you know just how to mine people for all they’re worth.”
“It does take some practice,” she says, lifting his shirt and inhaling the warmth of his skin. She bites his chest, and he feels himself grow hard against her.
* * *
There’s a knock at the door, and they move reluctantly away from each other. Seth clears his throat, adjusts himself, and takes a seat. Jasmine smoothes her beehive, pushing in the errant hairpins, and checks her lipstick on the selfie function of her snakewatch.
“Come in,” she calls.
The Lab Man is a nervous, wiry man with a moustache that jumps when he talks. “Got them,” he says, “Got them!” and wipes his hands on his pants.
Jasmine crosses her arms and waits for him to elaborate.
“It’s exactly what you thought it was,” he says, then puts his index finger to his mouth.
Jasmine smiles. “Excellent.”
“Fill a brother in,” says Seth.
“My … informant …” she winks at Seth, “told me she’d heard rumours of Tabula Rasa injecting stem cells into their clients’ faces.”
“Um, that’s gross? But not illegal. Remember the Lonehill story? They didn’t even get charged.”
The Lab Man goes white. “I don’t want to know.”
“There was a dodgy Thai manipedi place in Lonehill performing stem-cell facelifts in the back room. But these were manicurists and masseuses, right? No knowledge of chemistry.”
“Seriously, I don’t want to know,” says the Lab Man. “I’m quite squeamish.”
“So they ended up mixing stem cells and calcium in the clients’ eye sockets, which, over time—”
“Argh!” exclaims the man.
“Cut it out,” says Jasmine. “He’ll faint.”
Seth shrugs. “All right. I won’t say any more.”
The Lab Man’s face looks like a wheel of camembert, and his upper lip is beaded with sweat. “Well, you can’t just stop in the middle of a story.”
Seth hesitates, then continues. “They basically grew these sharp bone shards in their eye sockets that were stabbing their eyeballs every time they blinked.”
“Seth!”
“What? He asked me to finish the story!”
“You shouldn’t take such pleasure in other peoples’ misfortunes.”
“I can’t help it. I’m a terrible person.”
“I won’t argue with that.”
“I just can’t stand the stupid. So much stupid. It brings out every shade of my schadenfreude.”
Jasmine taps her foot. “Can we please get back to the project at hand?”
“Yes!” says the Lab Man. “Stem cell treatment is not illegal, but stem cell trade is. 99% of all bio materials are bought with untraceable blox on the bioware marXet.”
“So you want to nail Tabula for buying stem cells illegally?”
“No. I don’t have a problem with corps breaking bullshit laws. I hate living in a nanny state as much as you do. But where are those cells are coming from?”
“Well, they’re grey goods, no doubt, but—”
“I’ll only find out if go back and look around.”
“There’s no way they’ll let you back in.”
“A girl can try.”
“Why go back? Just report the bastards. Let the pigs do the rest.”
“If I expose them now,” says Jasmine, “we’ll only get them. But if I dig a little deeper, I’ll be able to find out who’s supplying them, and get them, too.”
“It’s too dangerous,” says Seth. “They’ll know you took the vial. You can’t go back there.”
“I have to, if I want the whole story.”
Chapter 9
Hot Pocket
Seth’s apartment couldn’t be any more different to Jasmine’s caravan. A new biomorphic building, cool with smoked emerald glass and metal; glittering charcoal porcelain tiles. Smog-eating exterior paint and a solar Cool Roof with water catchment tanks. It’s the ultimate lock-up-and-go: wholescale security, self-regulating, pet-free. It’s spacious, minimalist, neutral, and air conditioned, and there’s not a plant in sight, unless you count the micro-herb pockets on the kitchen windowsill.
Not that Jasmine is looking at the kitchen windowsill. She’s tearing Seth’s clothes off in the entrance hall.
“Good evening, Seth,” purrs the apartment voice. “Welcome home.”
“Thank you, Sandy,” says Seth, pr
essing Jasmine against the wall and lifting her ruffle skirt. He kisses her hard on the mouth.
“Were you working late again today?” asks the voice. “You work too hard.”
“Not now, Sandy.”
“You need to take care of yourself.”
Jasmine laughs. He hooks the lace of her panties with his thumbs and pulls them down, kneeling in front of her as he does so.
The apartment voice won’t be deterred. “Have you eaten? Shall I warm up a hot pocket for you?”
Seth looks up at Jasmine and wiggles his eyebrows, and she laughs. Then he starts licking the inside of her thigh, and she stops laughing.
“Don’t tease me.” Her cheeks are flushed with desire. “I’m already hot from earlier. I need you inside me right now.”
“Sandy,” he says to the voice, “play my Neon Tetra playlist.”
The music begins, and Seth turns Jasmine around and bends her over the longline couch, pushes the black-striped skirt up over the ripe peach of her ass. She’s fully clothed apart from the panties around her ankles.
He nuzzles and bites the pale velvet and she gasps.
“Now?” he asks. The bass makes them both vibrate.
“Yes,” Jasmine pulls him closer. “Right now.”
Seth makes her wait.
He goes down again and teases her with his tongue, can feel how swollen she is. He’s so hard he feels like he’ll explode soon. He tries to think of unsexy things to slow himself down. He silently recites the Fibonacci sequence till he gets lost in her. Seeing Jasmine in this position, smelling her, tasting her … it all swirls together and makes the numbers evaporate. He finds her sweet spot, and moves his warm tongue in wide circles, and she groans. A spiral to oblivion. It’s her low, rolling moan, the one he knows well. The one that means she’s so close to coming that there’s no going back; like thunder before the storm.
Seth stands up and pushes himself inside her, and her groan gets louder. He feels her muscles contract around him, and it knocks the air out of his lungs. Slowly he starts moving, but she’s so swollen and he’s so hard that he only manages to thrust a few times before everything drops away from him and it’s just them, just their hot skin and the rest is a wide open black galaxy, and they both explode together.
* * *
Later they lie on Seth’s padded cineroom floor binge-watching Extreme Science and eating protein pops. Seth’s hand is warm on Jasmine’s thigh. When the episode about Mars tourism comes to an end, she yawns, claps the screen off, and stretches.
“I need to get home,” she says.
“You don’t want to stay the night?”
“Ha.”
“I’m being serious.”
“I thought you didn’t do sleepovers.”
“I don’t. Not usually. But I’ll make an exception for you. I have pajamas for you to wear and everything.”
“No you don’t,” says Jasmine.
“You’re right, I don’t. Who needs pajamas’ anyway?” He kisses her shoulder.
She kisses him back, then pulls away. “I can’t see you for a while.”
Seth runs his fingers over her ribs. “Are you breaking up with me?”
Jasmine laughs. “I haven’t heard that phrase in years. Cute.”
“I knew it could never last,” he says, sighing. “You’re perfect, and I’m … not.”
“It’s got nothing to do with you. It’s business.”
“Yes, Boss.”
“I’ve got a kicker of a new assignment for you. A place may be opening up at Fontus and we need to move fast.”
Seth’s ears prick up. “Fontus? You’re kidding.”
“It’s going to be dangerous.”
“You know I like the sound of that.”
“I’m being serious. You’ll need to be very careful.”
“It turns out that I’m naturally paranoid. Perfect for the job.”
Jasmine pulls her clothes back on, hunts for her snakewatch.
“I’ll bump you the details anon as soon as the position becomes available, and then we’ll need to move fast.”
“I’ll resign from Pharmax tomorrow.”
He’ll miss designing drugs, or, at least, he’ll miss the perks of designing drugs, but a new job is exactly what he needs.
Jasmine’s ready to leave. “What’ll we do with all the Mexican Mint I’ve been growing for you?”
“I can think of a few ways to make use of that.”
Seth pulls her towards him, kisses her lips.
“In the mean time, we shouldn’t have any contact,” says Jasmine. “It’s a big corporation with eyes everywhere. If they realize we’re connected you’ll never get the job, especially with the new case open against me. They’ll do some kind of survey of your data. Delete any link you have to me on all your devices. And don’t contact me until you absolutely have to. We can’t fuck this up. This is the big one.”
Seth feels a spike of excitement in his stomach. This is exactly what he’s been waiting for.
“Yes, Boss.”
Chapter 10
Tabula Rasa rats
Jasmine walks into Tabula Rasa with her heart in her throat. She’s sure they must have realized by now that a vial of SkinneRenew is missing and checked their security cams. She’s sure that a security guard will be waiting for her at the entrance. She steps over the threshold and holds her breath.
“Hey,” says a male voice, stopping her in her tracks.
Shit!
Should she try to explain? Make something up? Or should she run?
“Hey,” she says, a deep blush painting her cheeks.
It’s the receptionist. “I just wanted to say thanks for the fresh flower tip. It works really well.”
* * *
As she continues into the building Jasmine prays under her breath to all the gods who will listen. She needs to be able to get to the delivery entrance without being stopped. The delivery van leaves the bay at 09:30 sharp, and it’s already 09:28. She rushes along the passage scented with orange flower and sandalwood, and uses her watch and the silicone clay thumb to open the biometric back door. She makes it to the delivery bay without anyone getting in her way, and hides behind a mesh cage of silver canisters. It would have been easier to come in using the back entrance of the building if it weren’t for the extra security posted there; men with automatic rifles stand guard, as if this building is a penal labour colony instead of a luxury high-tech spa. The plain delivery van is parked a little way away from Jasmine, but she won’t be able to reach it without one of the guards seeing her.
The driver appears and greets the guards, then unplugs and unlocks the vehicle. He checks his tile and something he sees makes him frown. He talks into his cuff. Jasmine guesses that he’s noticed and reported the missing stock. She doesn’t have much time to do what she has to do and get out of here.
She’d known something was off when Neo had explained that the spa collected their stock from their various suppliers instead of having it drone-delivered. It struck her as odd at the time, but now she knows why. They kind of places they’re getting the stem cells from aren’t the kind of places that deliver. She needs to get to the van, but two armed men amble up and stand in her way.
The delivery bay is a small, dim, temperature-regulated warehouse. There’s enough space for a few delivery vehicles, and two of the walls are lined with stock that has not yet been transferred inside. Jasmine looks around for some kind of distraction, and spots a box in the corner marked flammable. She crawls as quietly as she can towards it, then clicks her fingers. Nothing happens.
* * *
“Did you hear that?” the guard closest to her says.
Shit.
“What?” says the man next to him.
“I don’t know. I thought I heard something.”
“Wanna take a look?”
Oh fuck. Jasmine holds her breath.
The guard with good hearing looks right in her direction and thinks about it for a moment, s
ucking his teeth. “Nah.”
“Probably those rats again,” says the other guard, tickling his weapon. “I fucking hate those rats.”
A shiver travels up Jasmine’s spine. She looks at the floor around her. She must not scream if a rat runs towards her. She must not scream.
“Well, there are regular rats, and then there are Tabula Rasa rats. I don’t know what they eat in here but, hell. I once saw one that looked like a bloody kangaroo.”
“Tell me about it. They deserve their own fucking nature documentary.”
The men find this hilarious. The driver throws his head back and chuckles.
* * *
Jasmine clicks her fingers again while the men are laughing, and a spark appears. Then again, and she has her flame. She holds it underneath the flammable box until she’s sure it’s caught alight, then crawls in the opposite direction. A thin plume of smoke rises from the box, and the card crackles as it burns.
“Hey,” says the guard. “What the—?”
They both see the fire at the same time, and run towards it, yelling, with their hands on their guns as if shooting the box will stop it from exploding. The driver peels off to the side to grab the fire extinguisher from the wall. He pulls the pin out and starts dousing the flames with the sodium bicarb foam.
Jasmine sprints to the van and sticks her tracking pixel to the underside. When she’s sure it’s in place, she steals quietly through the back door. She bumps Keke the pixel code for the van and a message to check her SkyBox.
Mission accomplished. Now all she needs to do is get the hell out of this place. She smoothes her beehive and takes a few deep breaths while she looks in the mirror on the wall. Neo’s face appears behind her.
“Jasmine,” she says. “Barnaby would like a word.”
Chapter 11
Vagabond
Neo pushes Jasmine forward, and Jasmine resists.
“I can walk on my own!”
