Rain peered at him, quizzically.
He shook his head. “Long story, but it ends with she’s just my friend and a loose one at that. Business acquaintance may be a better light to put it in.”
Rain shrugged as she found her shirt and pulled it on. “Told you. Doesn’t matter. It was a one time thing.”
He felt the words as a phantom knife in his chest. “Doesn’t have to be.”
She looked at him, exasperated, “We’re too much alike Quey, we’re both roaders. You know that’s a life that doesn’t lend itself to anything more than this. We got caught on the same path for a time but sooner or later you’re gunna head east and I’ll be,” she thought then finished, “well I still won’t be sure where I’m going. For the best we part now,” she added as she pulled her skirt on.
He reached out and took her hand and said, “I like you.” There was nothing playful in his voice or his eyes when she met them. “You spin me up in a way I haven’t been in a while. Now usually I’d be glad to let this go as is, pretty thing like you giving me quite the tussle,” she smiled at that and gave a chuckle before he went on. “I could walk away a lucky man. But I found something out the other day that got me pondering the course of things and I feel like I’ve been steering wrong for quite some time. I don’t know if this is the way to go any more than you do, but hell its somewhere new. So maybe we don’t roll together but at least give me your handle. Hell, maybe we’ll end up friends. Might even find you fancy me in time,” he added with a smile.
Rain smiled at him and took a long breath and another sip of shine. She stared at him thinking for the better part of a minute before finally saying, “I believe I would fancy you Quey. Who knows, maybe I’d turn out the lucky one, but I don’t work like that. I don’t go to the same place twice, remember.”
He gave her a look and started, “So you’ve never been with-”
She squeezed his hand and said directly, “Not on purpose. Not for a long time. I’ve got things,” she trailed off.
“What sort of things?”
She looked at him with a tremble in her eyes. “Things I don’t want you caught up in.”
He nodded and sat silent for a moment, looking down at her hand in his. “Breakfast then?” he asked.
She chuckled. He’d put himself out there and she’d batted him to the ground but he didn’t flinch. She’d had this happen a few times before, men she spent time with here or there, sometimes a night and sometimes longer, falling hard and fast but she never saw one take it like him. He wasn’t going to beg or whine or god forbid cry—that had happened once or twice. He wasn’t going to get angry and shout or call her names. He’d said his peace and she’d heard it and that was the end of it. “I’ll buy,” she insisted. “I still owe you for the shine.”
Two mostly empty barrels of Pickens and Zaul moonshine stood in front of the Roaders Dine Out. Most of the other roaders had pulled out already, it seemed, as they came around the building and walked slowly to the window. A younger version of the man who’d taken his order the day before asked, “What can—oh shit, you’re the guy who brought the shine right?”
Quey nodded.
“Well anything ya’ll care fer is on us, yes sir, that was the sweetest damn shine I ever had.”
Quey looked over at Rain and gave a shrug before he ordered. “You do cakes, bacon, eggs, fried potatoes?”
“Sure. And you?” he asked Rain.
“Sounds good,” she replied.
“Maybe some onion in the eggs, you know, if ya got it,” Quey called as the cook started away.
“Sure thing,” he answered.
The morning was cool and dry, though not nearly as dry as the waste, and for that Quey was grateful. While they sat waiting Quey told Rain about how the Once Men had sprung on him halfway through the wastes and how he came to the Robo-tronics compound. He told her everything save the time left on the world. He figured he’d spare her that.
“I was wondering what that thing was,” she said, meaning Geo, as the cook brought their food out to them.
“Guess I’ll have to owe you,” she said as the cook walked away.
“Look forward to it,” Quey replied.
She smiled at his flirt and said, “Me too.” She knew she shouldn’t, it would lead him on, but hell maybe that’s what she wanted.
They ate, chatted, and laughed like friends on a trip who were about to roll out together on some great journey. Quey felt the time passing with every bite and knew there wasn’t much of it left. He could have been foolish about it, could have gotten bent out of shape and raised a fuss, but he decided instead to enjoy the time he had, however little that might be.
When their plates were clean Quey walked Rain back to her van. He took her hand in his and kissed it gently and she lunged forward and wrapped her arms tight around his neck. He held her for a long moment and then looked down into her deep green eyes. Don’t let me go, words she would never say but often meant.
The moment stretched as far as it could and then it was gone. She was behind the wheel with the engine running before he realized it was happening and he shouted, “Rain.”
She rolled the window down.
“Go to Pickens and Zaul’s Scene page and search Terry’s star, if you feel like saying hello. That’ll give you my personal contact handle.”
She gave him a smile that might have held a bit of regret, or maybe that was just in his head, before something pinged in her van. She reached over, lifted and then unfolded her sheet computer. Her face shriveled when the screen clicked on. She touched it twice and he could see her eyes shimmering as they feverishly scanned something, a message most likely, on the screen.
“All right?” he called and she ignored him. He waited, watching.
“I’ve got to go,” she said hastily, tossing the computer—still unlocked in its flimsy paper-like mode—aside and hammered the accelerator. He watched her back tires spray gravel up in a cloud as she raced off to wherever, most likely never to be seen again.
Leo and Viney
Leone Crow was five years old and was about to start school, a private academy for privileged children and the best in the world at that. He was trying to get into his uniform, a white button down with a blue jacket and pants and a little necktie.
Viona sat on the chair in the corner smiling, the morning sun shimmering across her long blonde hair, wrapping her in a halo of light. She found it hard to believe, watching him pull on his little pants, that the boy standing in front of her now and the one she’d fed and rocked and comforted in that very chair were one and the same. Five years. It seemed like so long ago but strangely it also seemed like yesterday.
After her mother… was gone… she was in charge of Leone. It was never said, it simply was. Her father wasn’t going to do it and neither were her brothers. Richter might have hired someone but Viona knew he needed more than a nanny could give if he was going to survive in this house, with the brothers and father he was cursed to have. He was going to need a bit of what her mother had taught her and probably more than a touch of luck.
Leone wasn’t planned. He was an accident. Richter had gotten his sons early, and then later, once he’d established himself, he’d reluctantly given his wife the daughter she’d wanted. After that Della was supposed to be sterile but somehow managed to get herself pregnant for a fourth time. Richter wanted to flush it out, as he said, but Della wouldn’t. Over time she wore him down and when she promised the doctors could make it another boy he gave in.
“Got enough goddamn women ‘round as it is,” he’d said at the end of two tense months. They’d fought constantly about the baby and the things Richter said were words Della’d never imagined hearing the man she’d married say. It was the first time she didn’t recognize him, the first warning she’d had that something was going terribly wrong inside him. And there in the background, always watching like a stalking mountain cat was Mister Stone. She didn’t like him and didn’t like the way her husband had been slowly changing si
nce he’d come around.
“Where did you find this guy?” Della had asked one night in bed, about six months after he’d come to work for Richter.
“He came highly recommended,” Crow replied.
“As what?”
“Huh?”
She turned and looked at him. “What does he do?”
Richter smiled and a bit more than a little of it was sinister, “This and that,” he said. His smile left and he looked at her, “It’s just technical stuff. Almost like a personal assistant.”
Della had nodded.
Sitting in what would be Leone’s room, in the chair her daughter would sit in years later while she watched him dress for his first day at a real school, she rubbed her belly and daydreamed about who might be growing inside. Mr. Stone passed the room slowly and caught her eye. He smiled at her, watching, waiting, and she felt his eyes on her like a cold tongue. Unnerved, she took a breath, looked away and waited for him to go. She didn’t know what his job was and had to admit she was more than a little afraid to find out. Unfortunately, in less than a year she would.
And because she had, because they all had, it was Viona who was helping Leone dress and not her. It was Viona who had fed and rocked him and gotten up in the night to check on him. Sometimes she found herself just standing over the crib watching him sleep.
“Need help?” Viona asked as he tried to button his shirt.
“No,” he said, defensively. “I can do it.”
Viona smiled. “Sure? Because you missed a button,” she told him, pointing to the bit of his belly that was showing. He tried to find it on his own but couldn’t, it was in the hole above. “Come here,” Viona said kindly and he submitted to being dressed by her with a huff.
Leone watched his sister’s eyes as she finished buttoning his shirt and began to tie his tie. “You hear the new Dead Doll Dilemma song?” he asked her.
Viona looked at him and smiled, “Yeah.” Dead Doll Dilemma was a punk cabaret band, a blend of wild pianos and thrashing guitars. “Listened to it last night.”
“Me too,” he said, smiling. “It’s awesome.”
“Hmm,” she teased. “That’s interesting considering it didn’t come out until midnight.”
He smiled devilishly. “I’m sorry,” he said, and she could tell he wasn’t. “But come on, it’s Dead Doll Dilemma, how could I sleep.”
Viona snickered, “I guess you have a point. Just make sure… did you erase the history on your computer?”
He nodded before looking down at his feet, a bit solemn. “I wish we could download it. I want to take it to school with me.”
Viona smiled and pinched his nose, “That’ll get a call home from the school for sure.” She pulled his tie snug to his collar and said, “There.”
Leone looked himself over and said, “Thanks.”
“Get your jacket,” she told him and he pulled it on.
“How do I look?” he asked.
“Like Angus Young,” she told him and smoothed his clothes. “Ready?” she asked, collecting his tiny backpack from the bed. Leone threw his arms around her and hugged her tight.
“I love you Viney,” he said. It was the first thing he’d called her, back when he still couldn’t say Viona.
She hugged him back and tight. “I love you too little man,” she told him softly in his ear.
“No one else, just you,” he added and tugged a clump of her blonde hair gently, like he had as a toddler.
Viona lifted him onto her lap and ran her fingers over his back. “Just you and me little guy. You and me forever.” She kissed him on the cheek and let him down.
Downstairs Voz was in the kitchen eating a sandwich when Viona and Leone came through. Viona went to the fridge and grabbed a sack with juice and a snack she’d made for him, he wouldn’t need a full lunch today.
“Fuck I hated those things,” Voz said, looking down at Leone. “Makes you look like such a fag.”
“I look like Angus Young,” he told his older brother.
Voz looked at him, brow twisted with confusion as he asked, “Who?”
Viona handed the boy his sack and he looked up at her and said, “It’s a sad world we live in.”
Viona snickered, “It is indeed.”
“Whatever you little jerk off-”
“Hey,” Viona snapped.
“What?”
“Be nice, it’s his first day.”
“Fuck him. Might have been cool till you got a hold of him and now he’s all tainted. Turned him into your second vagina.”
“Come on,” Viona said, touching a hand to Leone’s shoulder and leading him toward the front door.
“First day at The Saffron Academy?” Richter asked as he stepped from his office.
“Yes sir,” Leone replied.
Richter nodded. He wasn’t going to send the boy to The Academy, had decided it was a waste, he already had the sons he wanted, but Viona had insisted. She asked him how it would look if his son was going to some second rate school, what would people think?
Viona was good at that, speaking Richter’s language and getting what she wanted from him. It was a situation Sticklan Stone had become acutely aware of since Della had been out of the picture. He’d expected the girl to fall in line after the night her mother had to be dealt with. Instead she’d become more of a presence, pressing Richter about this or that, and always for the boy. It disgusted him, the way she doted over him. Secretly Sticklan had hoped, with the wife gone, he’d be allowed the baby. After all it wasn’t like Richter wanted or needed him, but there was Viona, always in his ear. Viona and her speeches about blood and legacy, and what others might think about him, that last part especially held sway. The arrogant prick had his own channel on VidMeo. Hell, so did the two oldest.
Not her though. She didn’t have their self-importance. Everything she deemed important was really about Leone, and she was tenacious. You wouldn’t know it by looking at her, tiny thing, but she could kick like a mule. He’d seen her do it to both her older brothers once. Again, it was over the little fucker. They were just beating on him a bit. He wasn’t much of a fighter so a bloody nose would do him some good. She was, though, a fighter that is. Voz punched her square and told her what a stupid cunt she was. Her foot moved faster than most men’s hands and her shin crashed into his ribs with a crack, bone-bending bone to the breaking point. Gren grabbed her, pinning her arms down so she grabbed his junk and squeezed. Him she punched, pushing forward with her legs, squeezing everything she could out of those skinny little arms. It was enough to take the taste for a fight out of him.
Sticklan had watched and smiled. She was just the sort he’d like to take to the basement and show the truth. Everything has a limit. Eventually even she would give up.
Viona ushered Leone toward the door. She was so fucking happy about him.
Sticklan was growing wary of her playing house with this boy. He was sick of Richter and his sentiment too. The whole Della situation had turned into a debauchery because this guy had grown reflective at the last minute. Bitches and their pussies, nothing good ever came from earning your way in, just breaks your spirit and leaves you gimped. Richter could have been a great man, for example, but pussy got a hold on him and now he was nothing more than potential without form.
Viona led the boy out the door and Sticklan watched, disgusted. Images flashed through his mind. Blood. Terror. Naked. Screams. Pussy. He shook his head and watched the sway of her hips as she walked away. Had he taken his pill? She kissed Leone and let him go to the car himself. She was the worst of them, so full of emotion and attachment, so weak she wasn’t even worth raping.
No, he remembered. He hadn’t taken it, and so he went to find a pill.
She was about to be twenty. Leone was almost six. He’d been in school over a year and was doing well but something happened that morning, and as she sat waiting for him to get out of classes she chewed her lip nervously, her eyes far away with a heavy thought.
Leon
e ran from the doors and grinned when he saw her waiting. It had been a half-day and she wanted to take him out to lunch, wanted to hear about his day, and she needed to talk to him. Things were about to get harder for him.
She let him pick the restaurant and he selected Digo’s, because he wanted spaghetti and meatballs, and theirs was the best. Sitting at a table near the window he yelled his order as soon as the waiter arrived. He was charged from his day at school and excited to get lunch after, mostly because he wasn’t expecting it.
The waiter smiled and looked to Viona. “Two of those and a wine for me, thanks.”
“I want vanilla soda,” Leone added and Viona nodded.
“That’s fine.”
The waiter checked her ID, drinking age was eighteen on Saffron, as with most worlds. “Thank you,” the waiter said and left the table.
Viona smiled and listened about the other kids in class and where his workstation was this year. He told her about the holographic imaging device on his desktop and how cool it was to bring up the solar system and records of animals, as they were supposed to be, not as they were on Saffron. All children were aware of the mutations, the dangers of water and the organism that lived inside. They accepted it as easily as they accept the sky being blue or the ground being solid, or computers and cars. There was no need to understand any of these things because they were, they existed and that was enough.
Finally the food came, just as he was finishing the tale of the name game. Leone stabbed into his meatball and brought the whole thing to his mouth. Viona smiled as he took a bite and it fell back onto his pile of noodles, splattering sauce on him and the table around his plate. She was going to miss him and the thought of leaving pressed heavily on her chest.
“Leone,” she said hollowly.
He looked at her. He’d heard that tone only a few times before. The first and most memorable was when she explained to him that she wasn’t his mother. Suddenly he wasn’t concerned with meatballs or vanilla soda.
“I’m going to be twenty.”
The Saffron Malformation Page 13
