The Radioactive Redhead with The Peach-Blonde Bomber

by John Zakour

  She turned and looked at me with moist, wide eyes.

  “I can’t stay here. I don’t feel safe.”

  “We’ve sealed off the floor, Sexy. No one is going to hurt you here.”

  “I won’t be able to sleep in this place, Zach. It’s filled with bad memories and negative vibes.”

  The Elite’s security system was top of the line. I knew that Sexy was safe here. Unfortunately, I also knew that there was no way she was going to be able to get any rest in her current state. Like it or not, for her own mental health she needed to get out of the hotel. The problem was, I couldn’t think of any place to take her that was more secure at the nano.

  That’s a lie. I knew of one place. I just didn’t want to admit it.

  “Please, help me, Zach. Please.”

  I sighed and held out my hand to her. She took it gently and I helped her to her feet.

  “HARA, bring the limo up to the hoverport.”

  “Where are we going?” HARA asked.

  “Home.”

  30

  I brought Sexy into my house with as little fanfare as possible. It was late at night so there was no one out to see the limo land in the driveway and HARA had Shreek take the vehicle back to the hotel as soon as we were clear.

  Thankfully the household droids had cleaned the place up since Electra’s morning outburst so the house was relatively debris-free. The new couch had even arrived and the housebots had set it up in its designated spot in the living room.

  HARA had the house computer make Sexy some cocoa and she sipped it as she sat on the new couch, (I managed to deactivate the glowing UPC tag just before she sat down). She was still a little upset but much less so than before and she was calming down with every nano. She needed to rest but I could tell by the look on her face that she wasn’t quite ready to be alone yet. So I grabbed a cup of coffee and made myself comfortable in the easy chair across from her.

  “You live here alone?” she asked, sipping her tea.

  “My girlfriend stays here most nights,” I said. “But she’s staying at her own place for the time being.”

  “You guys fighting?”

  “Something like that.”

  “It’s not over me is it?” she asked.

  “Would it make you feel better or worse if I said that it was?”

  “Better, actually.”

  “All right then,” I said. “We’re fighting over you. But I’d rather not discuss it.”

  She took another sip of her cocoa and curled her feet underneath her. She was wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt now (designer label, of course) and no makeup on her face. But the lack of accoutrements didn’t diminish her beauty. Truthfully, she looked more attractive to me without all the glitz.

  “I’m not usually like this, you know.”

  “Like what?” I asked.

  “Scared, helpless, weak. I’m actually pretty strong.”

  “I know you are.”

  “You have to be strong to be in this business. It’s totally cutthroat. People will kiss your feet to your face but the nano your back is turned, they’ll do anything they can to rip your heart out. You know what I mean?”

  “Um, I think so. The anatomy metaphors don’t really match.”

  “I had to be strong to get to the top,” she continued. “I had to climb over a lot of people on the way. And once I got to the top, I had to keep climbing just to stay there. I’m constantly reaching higher to stay where I am. That kind of wears on a person after a while.”

  “I imagine that it would,” I said. “But again, your metaphors are a little …”

  “You don’t like my music, do you?” she asked.

  I took a long sip of coffee while I considered the best way to answer the question. In the end, I went with a soft-pedaled version of the truth.

  “I’m not in your target audience.”

  “That’s one reason why I hired you, you know,” she said with a bit of a smile. “I knew you wouldn’t coddle me because of who I am. I knew you’d be professional. I knew you’d be honest with me.”

  “I appreciate …”

  “Like Sammy.”

  “Huh?”

  “Sammy’s the guy who helped me find my voice. He’s a genius. There’s no denying that. I owe him so much professionally. But I think I owe him even more on a personal level. Does that make sense?”

  “Actually, no,” I replied. “That makes even less sense than your metaphors.”

  “Oh, I know he’s odd, but once you get to know him, you see what a wonderful, giving spirit he has. He’s honest. He’s nurturing. He takes care of me. That’s why I’m still so wrung out by the incident at the party. He’s not here to comfort me.”

  “I don’t think we should talk about Sammy right now,” I said. “You’ve had a rough day. I think you should get some sleep.”

  She smiled, finished her cocoa, and then got up and stretched. Her T-shirt crept up her midriff as she reached high, showing off her taut, flat stomach. And her sweats hung low on her hips, revealing a little more flesh than I was comfortable seeing, especially when she turned around and moved to the base of the stairway.

  “The bedroom’s upstairs, right?”

  I nodded.

  “I’m assuming that the bed’s large enough for two?”

  I got up from my chair and took a step toward her. She seemed a little disappointed when I took the empty cup from her hand and turned away.

  “I’m sleeping on the couch.”

  “You and your girlfriend are already fighting because of me,” she said. “You might as well make the fight over something worthwhile.”

  “Like I said, Sexy, I’m not your target audience.”

  She shrugged as she turned and disappeared into the bedroom.

  “Your loss,” she said, walking up the stairs into the bedroom and closing the door behind her. “What about your hologram pal?”

  “Good night, Sexy.”

  31

  The couch turned out to be not at all conducive to sleeping (the fact that Sexy was on the other side of the bedroom door didn’t help matters either). But I managed to fall into a fitful sleep just before dawn. It didn’t last long, of course.

  “Zach,” HARA whispered in my ear, her voice soft and lilting. “Zach, you need to get up now.”

  I stirred slowly awake, opened my eyes, and saw her standing over me. She had outfitted her hologram in a long white pajama shirt with thin pink vertical stripes. The shirt hung to midthigh, which was good because she wasn’t wearing pants.

  “Why are you dressed like that?”

  “Because it’s morning,” she replied.

  “HARA, you don’t sleep,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “You have no need to be wearing holographic pajamas.”

  “I thought it might make you feel more at ease.”

  “I would be more at ease if you were wearing pants.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said, changing her hologram back to her business suit. “You’ll need to get up now.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Shortly after six,” she replied.

  “Why do I need to get up now?”

  “Because Dr. Gevada will be here in approximately two minutes.”

  “What?”

  I rolled off the couch in a mild panic and reached for my pants. Unfortunately, they weren’t there.

  “Why is she coming here so early?”

  “I’m not sure,” HARA replied. “According to the work schedule at her clinic, she’s not scheduled to be on call until nine-thirty.”

  “This is not good,” I said, still looking around for my pants.

  “However, my woman’s intuition is telling me that it may have something to do with the footage running on Entertainment This Nano this morning that shows you and Sexy leaving the hotel together last night with your arms around each other.”

  “What?”

  I tripped over the blankets at my feet and fell to the floor.

&nb
sp; “It looks like your good buddy Shreek has been working both sides of the fence,” HARA said. “The pictures were clearly shot from inside the limo. He probably sold them for a small fortune.”

  “That little weasel.”

  “He also got some good shots of you bringing Sexy here.”

  “Oh, DOS.”

  “So I’m thinking that might explain why Dr. Gevada’s in such a hurry to get over here.”

  “Wake Sexy up, we have to get her out of here.”

  “It’s been on the news already, Zach. You’re not going to be able to hide this from Electra.”

  “I’m not trying to hide it,” I said, still searching the room for my clothes. “I’m trying to protect Sexy. There’s no telling what Electra will do to her once she gets here.”

  “Gee, I never thought of that.”

  “And will you please tell me where my pants are?!”

  “The maidbot put them in the wash last night,” HARA replied matter of factly. “They were stained with blood, salsa, and overpriced champagne.”

  “DOS! I need a new pair.”

  “Everything else is in the bedroom.”

  I heard the bedroom door open just then and Sexy walked unsteadily down the stairs into the living room, stretching her lithe muscles and rubbing her eyes.

  “What’s all the commotion?” she asked.

  In retrospect, I suppose that I shouldn’t have been surprised. But, since I was under a good bit of pressure at the nano, I think I can be forgiven for losing my head, just a little, upon first glimpse of the freshly awakened Sexy Sprockets.

  “Sexy,” I said, my life flashing before my eyes, “you sleep in the nude?”

  Sexy looked down at her naked body unashamedly and shrugged her shoulders.

  “Wouldn’t you if your body was this hot?”

  And that, of course, is when Electra walked through the front door.

  32

  In retrospect, I guess you could say that Electra took that initial nano fairly well but only because she didn’t have a firearm handy.

  “I’m going to step back outside,” she said softly between gritted teeth. “I’m coming back into this house in exactly five minutes. When I do, I am going to break the hands of everyone who is not wearing pants.”

  Then she calmly stepped back outside and closed the door behind her (but not before smashing the small table by the doorway).

  “Is that your girlfriend?” Sexy asked, still stretching (and naked).

  “That’s her.” I replied.

  “She’s hot for an old lady. But I think she has some anger management issues.”

  Sexy and I got dressed remarkably quickly and HARA contacted Misty, Sissy, and Lusty (none of whom were happy to be awakened so early) and convinced them to come and pick up Sexy in the hover limo. Then HARA made herself scarce as well.

  True to her word, Electra waited outside for five minutes before coming back inside the house. She sat in the easy chair and didn’t say a word until after Sexy had gone, which gave me about fifteen very uncomfortable minutes of silence. And when the limo finally lifted off, leaving her and I alone, the feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach felt like a black hole.

  “Now, I know this looks bad,” I said.

  Electra’s face was stoic as she activated the computer screen on the wall and switched it to multiscreen mode and brought up Entertainment This Nano, Instant Buzz, Before-it-Happens News, and The Tattler Network. I was pretty certain that I was the top story on everything but the cooking channels. She muted the sound, for which I was thankful. The last thing I needed to hear at that hour of the morning were the smug assertions of entertainment reporters. But the visuals were painful enough on their own: grainy nighttime footage, obviously shot through the open window of the limo, of me and Sexy leaving the hotel together. She had been unsteady so I’d helped her down the stairs and across the hoverport with an arm around her shoulders. She’d put her head on my shoulders and an arm around my waist to keep from falling. But on the grainy, dark recording we looked like two lovers on the lam, stealing a secret nano.

  The footage was the same outside my house only this time taken from above as the limo lifted off; me leading Sexy into my house, our arms around one another, and then stumbling in through the door.

  I knelt beside her as she continued to stare at the monitor.

  “Electra. Nothing happened.”

  “I know,” she said, without looking at me.

  “You do?”

  She sighed and then slowly got out of the chair and walked into the bedroom.

  “Yes,” she said, “but it doesn’t matter.”

  I followed her into the bedroom. She pulled a suitcase from underneath the bed and began packing up some of her things, stuffing cosmetics, lotions, and clothes haphazardly into the bag.

  “Please don’t do this,” I said. “I can explain.”

  “I know you can explain. There’s always an explanation,” she said. “I’m just tired of hearing them.”

  “I understand,” I said. “After this case is over …”

  “After this case is over, there’ll just be another one,” she said without turning away from her packing. “And another after that.”

  “Electra, I’m a private eye,” I said. “This is what I do. I can’t give it up just because it makes you uncomfortable.”

  She turned to me quickly with a flash of anger passing across her face.

  “How many cases have you taken from ugly women?” she said.

  “What?”

  “You heard me. There are a lot of women out there who aren’t stunningly beautiful. They must have troubles too. How many jobs have you done for them?”

  “You’re being ridiculous.”

  “Name one. Come on. Just name one.”

  “Electra.”

  “Because I can list the beautiful ones without any problem. There was BB Star and Ona Thompson. There were actually four beautiful women in that one.”

  “I sort of saved the world on that one as well, as you might recall.”

  “Then there was the porn star, Fever Dream; the heiress, Giselle Dumas; the jilted wife, what was her name, Fifi Lefevre? I can go on all day talking about the clients you’ve had who have been drop-dead gorgeous. Can you name one for me who wasn’t.”

  “There was Pacheco kidnapping case. The mother in that one was no looker.”

  “She hired you to find her beauty queen daughter.”

  “True, but the woman who actually hired me wasn’t beautiful.”

  “How about a man then? Have you ever taken a case from a man?”

  “Men don’t hire private eyes. It’s against our nature, like asking for directions or putting the toilet seat down.”

  “In other words, no male clients.”

  She closed the suitcase haphazardly, with some bits of clothing still poking out from the sides, and carried it out of the room. I followed her as she headed toward the front door.

  “There have been companies,” I said.

  “You mean like the lingerie manufacturer? Or the escort agency?”

  “Those were legitimate cases.”

  “You see the pattern though, don’t you?”

  “I see that my clients make you jealous when they shouldn’t.”

  She snorted and shook her head disbelievingly.

  “And you act surprised when HARV suddenly decides to become a woman.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I’m not a prop, Zach. I’m not a set piece in your playboy, tough guy fantasy life that comes and goes. I’m a living, thinking person and I happen to love you more than anything else. Not for what you do or for the life you lead but for who you are. And yet after all we’ve been through together you still don’t understand how these sorts of things make me feel. How all this marginalizes me and what we have. You want me to be a walk-on in your life. A recurring character on the cast list, who can provide a little comic relief whenever you come home from your zany,
adventure-filled life. Well, I can’t be that. Not if I want to be happy.”

  She was crying now, which is something I’d never seen before. After all this time I’d learned how to deal with the many forms of her anger: the violent outbursts, the seething yet controlled episodes, the unspoken passive/aggressive periods. But I’d never dealt with tears before. And they scared me more than anything because I didn’t know what they meant.

  “You’re wrong,” I said, following her to the front door. “I do love you. Just as much as you love me and I’ll prove that to you anyway you want me to. You want me to quit this case? Fine. I will. You want me to stop taking female clients? I’ll do that too. I’ll take on ugly women only if that’s what it takes to prove it to you. Just tell me how to do it, Electra. Tell me what you want and I will do it. I swear. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

  She took her hand off the doorknob and stood motionless for a long nano; long enough for me to begin to hope again. Then spun around and gave me a left cross to the jaw that snapped my head back like a bungee jumper on a trampoline. A galaxy’s worth of stars flashed before my eyes and my knees buckled as I sunk to the floor and then fell flat on my butt.

  “You’re the private eye. You figure it out,” she said, slamming the door behind her.

  33

  I sat on the floor for a while, thinking and holding my jaw gently with my hand. It’s hard to describe exactly what I was feeling at the nano (other than pain) but I suppose utter confusion comes closest.

  HARA’s hologram appeared, still wearing her business suit, for which I was grateful. I don’t think I would have reacted well to a nurse’s outfit kind of gag.

  “The girl’s got a mean left hook,” she said.

  I said nothing.

  She knelt beside me and looked at my jaw.

  “Somehow I knew that the scene was going to end in violence. Frankly though, I thought she’d take it out on the couch again,” she said. “I’ve scanned your mandible. It’s not broken. Do any of your teeth feel loose?”

  “No,” I replied.

  “Small comfort. You might have a mild concussion but there’s not much we can do about that at the nano. Here. Take a seat on the couch. I’ll get some ice.”