The last sensor peeled off Rowan’s chest, and Roth turned after laying on another creepy smile. He said over his shoulder, “Ah, I forgot. Your parents arrived in the lobby twenty minutes ago. They’re expecting you. Down the hall to the right. You’ll see the signs.”
“What? Why are they here?!” Rowan jumped off the bed, sorely landing on his heels on the hard vinyl. “What do I say?” He’d assumed he would have at least weeks if not months to spin an explanation for them.
Not looking back, Roth shrugged. “The commotion, remember? They’re your parents. Think of something.”
“Like what?!”
“Use your brain. You’re not a jellyfish.” He opened the door and strode through, whistling a marching tune.
A growled curse rumbled into the bed. Rowan leaped into action, flipping off the hospital gown and banging open the cabinet in a single smooth motion. He dressed in a set of unfamiliar clothing (white sneakers, gray jeans, and a black buttoned shirt). His adrenaline-fueled brain sifted through idea after idea until he arrived at a few believable lines. Telling the truth wasn’t a choice; his mother would freak out for sure, and his dad would call the cops. The cops who were more than likely controlled by Roth’s secret society.
Lying was the only option. He settled on a story which wouldn’t fall apart if Rowan the cyber criminal was beamed onto every news channel during dinner. Lies were tricky business. More lies usually needed to be spewed to cover for old lies, and the sewage system of lies needed to be meticulously memorized else a single pick of truth could cause a pressurized leak. Simple honesty would be preferable here—if he had a choice.
He pulled on the socks and stepped into the unexpectedly comfortable sneakers. Expensive sports brands. He flattened his shirt and pants once before heading out, down the hall to the right. He’d been through these corridors before. This was the same hospital at Capitol City from two years ago. His useful parents had gotten lost and traversed at least the entirety of the ground floor, much to his dismay.
A security guard at a checkpoint glanced up from his desk, nodding. Indeed, Roth and his ilk were not incompetent. Or the security was laxer here. Rowan had grown too accustomed to the psychiatric prison’s totalitarianism.
Ten corridors and two checkpoints later, Rowan arrived at the glass doors leading into the lobby. He paused. His parents and the driver were in there. What if the driver opens his mouth like an idiot? Oh well, that was out of his control.
Rowan shook his head and entered the packed lobby… scanned the rows. No purple hats or black coats sat among the sick, but his parents were waiting near the front entrance away from the concentration of patients. An auburn haired woman and a lanky man with a goatee. Yup, it was them. A different warmth swelled from the center of his chest. It felt good. Not as good as what he felt for Gabrielle but distantly similar.
With a slack wave, he sauntered on the approach. A high-pitch whistle caught their attention. They stood in an instant.
“Rowan?” his mother said with shaky hesitance. She settled on taking his shoulders, her fingers hot. “Where’s Doctor Roth and your escorts?” She looked left and right along with his father. “Does this mean…”
They didn’t know? Damn Roth. “Hey, Mom.” He gave her a fake timid smile. Surprise emerged through her dark-brown eyes. “You didn’t hear? My hearing was moved to yesterday, and they cleared me.”
His father frowned. “Moved? Why weren’t we informed?”
“I don’t know.” Rowan shrugged. “Maybe because it was on short notice? The ward’s director said there was a series of scheduling mix-ups, and mine got pushed to the front of the queue.” The lies flowed like smooth honey running down his tongue. Remarkably effortless. Easy.
“That doesn’t sound right…” He scratched his chin. “We were supposed to be present as your—”
“I turned eighteen the other day. I’m an adult now.”
He blinked, then bellowed a hardy laugh only he could. “I guess you are!”
Yes, this was definitely Rowan’s father. Guilt almost wrapped around his neck for the lies. Almost. He was in complete control. “Yeah, my brain’s more or less normal, and I’m a free man now.” He gave them a wide smile.
His mother collapsed on him, a full-body hug. So smothering. And hot. Too hot. She smelled of salt water and sea life as if she had been diving in an aquarium minutes prior—which was probably the case. Through the windows, the summer sun shone at a lowish angle. Three or four in the afternoon, dinner approaching.
How long had he been out? The maintenance couldn’t have been scheduled for more than twelve hours. Either less than an hour or almost a whole day had passed. If the latter were true, he needed to get into a FIVR pod ASAP. Gabrielle was waiting for him, his sexy beautiful general. She would pummel the marrow out of his bones if his near-death injury had cost her significantly. Time for pointless small talk wasn’t available.
“Rowan?” His mother’s fingers snapped in his eyes. “Earth to Rowan.”
He blinked. “Yeah?”
“What happened? Why were you transferred here?”
The lies kept coming as if it were his day job. Well, a quarter-lie this time; the implant malfunction was true to an extent. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. The board wanted a final tuning on my remaining implants just in case. Roth said it was a risk because less than twenty percent remained, but they insisted, so we went here for his specialized equipment. Didn’t want to take the risk, you know? It ended up causing a minor hemorrhage, and I blacked out. I’m fine now.”
That earned him another salty, seaweed-smelling hug. “That no good board!”
His father glowered. “Maybe I should file an official complaint.”
And that was the opportune moment which allowed Rowan to activate his plan to get the hell out of here. They were so clingy and overprotective. Sure, he was saner thanks to Draesear, but he was no longer the wimp they knew two years ago. This was a different Rowan. Aeon Chronicles was waiting. “Nah, it’s fine. I already got a full apology—and a massive monetary compensation. Fifty thousand credits.” Two months of what Roth was paying, so there was some truth in it.
“Whoah!” His father backstepped. “For real?”
“Yeah.” Rowan smirked.
“That’s pretty good,” his mother said, returning the smirk. “It’s about what a Marine Biologist makes in seven months, if you’re wondering.”
She didn’t have to remind him. For years they’d ranted about how underpaid they were for scientists while the fat executives at the top made billions. “I think I recall.”
His father laughed and ruffled Rowan’s hair as though he were eleven again. “What are you going to do with the money? Investment? Or are you going down the higher education route?” The latter suggestion reeked with a heavy implication of hardship and pain. It was warranted. One needed over a decade of higher education to get a job in a related field. Most just lived off UBI and did whatever they felt like all day every week.
Rowan feigned nervousness, catching a massive breath and straightening his back. “I’ve already been accepted into Capitol College for a conjoint in Automation and—”
“Wow! Automation and Artificial Intelligence!” his mother exclaimed. “That’s amazing. I knew you had it in you. You’re going to be rich one day.”
“Those teachers in the ward were really good.” He waved them off as they were about to say more. “I’m going to get an apartment. Going to go check out a place across the city right now, in fact. I already called a friend I met in the ward who lives nearby for a ride.”
“Whoah whoah whoah, Row.” His father whistled. “What’s with the rush? When did you have time to organize all this?”
Arrgh. Damn him. Rowan fidgeted on his toes. “Just then. There was a phone in the room.”
His mother paled. “You… You called someone you met… from the… the psyche ward?”
So they were going to be difficult. Ugh. Part of him was tempted to just
look for the guy in the purple hat and leave his parents hanging. Why did they have to be so smothering? It was his bloody life. He was a bloody adult now. “Yes. In the psyche ward. And why not now? My first classes start soon.”
“But you just got out of the hospital.”
“Are you sure this person is completely sane?”
Rowan silently groaned, and as if on cue, a purple fedora atop a black trench coat walked through the glare-magnifying glass double-doors. It was time to elope with this… young woman. She had gorgeous blue eyes the size of tennis balls and a figure so divine that he could tackle—
Gabrielle!
Rowan sucked in a lungful of fresh street air that blew in. His heart exploded with incredible fuzzy warmth, thumped against his chest so hard that his ribcage vibrated. It was really her. The cute facial features were unmistakable. He didn’t recognize her with hair tied up into a bun like that. How stupid of me!
Her eyes wandered throughout the lobby before drifting to him. She flashed a mouthful of pearly teeth identical to her in-game character’s though not as straight. “Heya, Rowan!” Her eyes snapped to his parents. She pointed. “Huh? Who are they? They’re not kidnappers, are they?”
Yes. It was her. No one else. Only she could say something like that. It didn’t matter if her quirkiness only made the situation worse. His life was now far better than twenty seconds ago.
Chapter 5
Girl Friend
Somehow Rowan managed to shake himself loose from his stratospheric heart and zip back down to the stark reality of this predicament. The lies he spouted could fall apart any moment; it likely already had. Oh well. All that mattered was the girl standing before him.
“Hey.” He rushed over, tempted to give her a pat on the behind. He smartly gave her a hug instead—and discretely let his palm cup a cheek anyway as her lovely front mounds pressed tight against his chest. Her real life body was heavenly as her in-game counterpart. If not better.
“Hehehe, naughty boy,” she snickered.
“They’re my parents. You haven’t seen them before?” he whispered.
“Nope.”
How peculiar. Rowan swore she had seen them during the day of chaos at Westwind. But the class had been promptly evacuated, and the school had been put on lockdown with police cars everywhere. That was probably it.
His mother was the next to recover, immediately striding over. A reluctant welcoming smile stretched her lips. Every muscle in Rowan prepped for the worst, for the lie to unravel; however, she said, “You… met in the juvenile criminal ward? You were a… patient?”
Doubly peculiar. His parents had hung those damned class photos in the living room, which Rowan had never eyed up-close. But they would’ve seen every face thousands of times while watching television. Either her memory wasn’t well or… Gabrielle wasn’t in any of the photos. He still could not recall anything of her from before that day. Something was afoot. Albeit, the lie wasn’t endangered.
“Little ol’ me?” Gabrielle finally said after too long, pointing at herself.
“Yes, you,” his mother gasped. Her hand shook.
Gabrielle blinked twice. “Yup. And yup.” She beamed, as if proud of such a thing.
“Wha— what did you do to get in there?” Rowan’s mother looked as though she were a last straw away from fainting or screaming. She was starting to really tread on his nerves. This over-protectiveness had to stop.
His dad coughed. “Nice to meet you.” He held out a neutral hand. “I’m Charles Black, and this is my wife, Olivia.”
Accepting the shake, Gabrielle flashed a cute smile, teeth parted. “You too! I’m the most beautiful girl in the lobby, Gabrielle Allaire. I’m also Rowan’s loyal f—”
“Girlfriend!” He nudged her ribs. God damn. How daft was she? No, she was doing that on purpose just to rustle his balls. Those playful gem eyes were beaming. “If you keep saying just friend without the girl part, people will think exactly that and get the wrong message.”
“Ah…” She giggled. “Kay. I’m his girl friend.” The word was split in two with a clear, intended pause. She sniggered deviously, and Rowan dared her to quip another risqué word with narrowed eyes.
Randomly, his mother sobbed for whatever inane reason. “Oh! This is all my fault!”
Rowan rotated back around and found her face buried in her hands. What in Draesear’s hell was her problem? She was being extra overbearing today. Too many pills? Maybe it was her time of the month. A revolting feeling slathered up Rowan’s back. He sighed. “What is your fault?”
“No, no.” His father’s rescue was rather delayed. “It’s not your fault.”
“Yes, it is. My son almost died and ended up with brain damage, then lost two years of his life in that horrid prison.” She sniffed. “Now he’s dating this… bizarre criminal girl with—” Her voice broke. “—giant gray-alien eyes!”
What?
That couldn’t be his mother. A demon had to have possessed her for her mouth to say something like that. Gabrielle was the most beautiful girl he knew, far from strange, and her eyes were not like a gray-alien’s from some cartoon. They were a bit larger than average at most.
“Heeeey. My eyes aren’t that big.” Gabrielle pointed with her pinky finger. “Take that back, ya meanie.”
“See what I mean?” His mother wiped her reddening eyes. “Sweetie. Why are you acting like a child? Please tell me this is some kind of elaborate joke.”
His dad tried to laugh. It came out awfully forced. “Of course, this is a joke. Right, Rowan?” A brow wagged expectantly.
Words failed to compose in Rowan’s addled brain. His jaw sagged. This couldn’t be happening. His own parents were unaccepting of his first girlfriend as far as he could remember. Sure, Gabrielle wasn’t perfect, quirky and maybe very-slightly childish around the edges, but they were acting like detectives in the presence of a maniac.
“I’m livin’ the life! It’s no joke.” Arms wide, Gabrielle spun a three-sixty on the balls of her feet. “Unless ya wanna play a game? I’ll go first. Twirly twirly.”
Squinting, curled hands held at her chest, his mother looked to be on the verge of a full-blown meltdown. Comical. “How old are you?”
“Whaa? I’m nineteen in a month!” Gabrielle cut off her ballerina routine. Her slender arm looped around Rowan’s, and she pulled him close. “Hmph. I was just tryin’ to be nice. Let’s go, my fragile Row. We have important stuff ta do. I dun’ like your parents very much anyway. Oh well. Too bad.” She blew a raspberry, then began tugging him toward the doors. Her real-life strength was impressive for such petiteness.
His mother reached out to him, eyes wide and panicked. “Wait, Rowan. You can’t just leave with her. I don’t think she’s fully sane. Do you know what she was charged with?” She roughly grabbed her husband’s hand. “Charles, do something.”
“Um.” His father’s lips pinched together above his wavering goatee for a second. He smiled; it didn’t reach his eyes. “Gabrielle, let’s start over and head to the apartment together. I’m sure once we get to know each other better, this awkwardness will be in the past.”
Something about their pleading faces pulled on Rowan’s heartstrings like nothing else—and something warm and wet nibbled his earlobe. Oh, Gabrielle was literally nibbling. “We have ta go,” she whispered. “Game’s back up an hour. My town’s under siege by ships and a zeppelin.”
With a thudding pulse, Rowan’s decision was made without further deliberation. His frustrating parents would have to wait another day or week or month. They’d always be there with no doubt, alive. “Mom, Dad.” His mouth was a grim line, and he shook his head, turning away. “Sorry, we’re going alone.” He emphasized the alone part with a firm scowl. “I’ll call you sometime soon.” Taking Gabrielle’s soft delicate fingers, he directed her out the entrance and did best to squint through the blinding glare.
“Rowan!” his mother called.
“Mwahahahahahah! Victory!” Gabri
elle trilled back. “Rowan’s my boy now, ya cranky old lady.”
“Don’t make it worse,” he hissed.
“Heh. She started it.”
The doors shut behind, then she heaved to the left with impressive strength. “Kay, let’s go.” She let go of his arm, waved for him to follow, and dashed down the parking lot. Her roman sandals pedaled one after the other quite gracefully. Nice feet and calves.
Lord, she was such a handful. One fiasco cascaded into the next with her at his side, always on the adventure. Always on the prowl toward her next goal. He wouldn’t have it any other way.
Twisting on sturdy padded heels, Rowan bolted as fast as his tired muscles allowed for, which wasn’t fast in any sense. He hadn’t eaten in a whole day; his stomach ached with a constant hushed growl now that he thought about it. He was out of juice, wheezing dusty carpark air by the time they halted by a spot by an oak tree, his vision blotchy. A sharp stitch in his side, he palmed his knees for ten burning lungfuls. Fortunately, it did not sound like his parents had followed.
Devil's Waltz Page 5
