I smile brightly. “Is that a no?”
She doesn’t have time to respond. The control room door clicks open and Jada walks through, followed by her assistant, Kate. Jada shoots my stepsisters a dark look, so I shoo them to the back corner and start reading the music she hands me. I’ve practiced the song before, of course, but Jada made some changes last night, both of which involve new harmonies.
“Trinidad usually takes the melody,” she says. “Are you okay with that?”
“Yes.”
Jada smiles. “Good answer, although you might be more popular than she is right now. Maybe I’ll play with it a little. Keep you both on your toes.”
Within five minutes, the studio musicians arrive and head to the live room. Jada and I join them there and start working on the song. Middlebrooks arrives a few minutes later, ushering in Trinidad and her entourage.
Middlebrooks beams from ear to ear. “Xoey Stone, may I introduce Trinidad Ray.”
“Xoey!” Trinidad hugs me like an old friend. “Girl, I was so excited when Jada called me about this project! What a trip, right? Who better to sing with than the nation’s favorite little songbird?”
“The honor is mine,” I say.
Trinidad keeps her arm around my shoulder, but pivots toward a muscular man carrying a Flexi Plexi. “You remember when we saw her sing my song for the first time, Kelan? What did I say?”
Kelan smiles and offers me a brief bow. “That she was good enough for a record deal.”
Trinidad nods. “That’s what I said, girl! And here we are, making it happen.”
Middlebrooks claps her hands. “And what a collaboration this will be!”
That’s when I notice Electra and Nox hovering near the piano.
“Trinidad, these are my sisters,” I say, beckoning them forward. Electra waves and Nox dips into an awkward curtsy, but before they have a chance to say anything, Jada interrupts.
“Alright, enough chit chat,” she says. “If you’re not a musician, out of the live room. We’ve got a song to record.”
The recording session lasts several hours, but by the time we wrap it up, Trinidad and I are both satisfied with what we’ve done.
“You need to come out with us tonight,” she says while pulling on her jacket. “Kelan will send a transport. Nine o’clock?”
Middlebrooks is nodding behind Trinidad’s back. I smile. “Nine o’clock.”
She turns to go.
“Trinidad?”
“Yes, my sweet?”
“Your song—the one I sang at Amaron’s party…” I bite my lip. “I just wanted you to know how much I appreciated the opportunity to sing it. You might even say it set my feet on the right path.”
Her eyes flicker to mine, then she laughs. “The path that ultimately led you home to your father?”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
She steers me to one side of the room, all while pulling a tissue and eyeliner pencil out of her purse. She takes my hand and begins to draw on it. “We’re all on a journey, aren’t we? I’m glad I’ve been part of yours.”
“Me too.”
She tucks her pencil away and closes my hand around the tissue.
“Trinidad, we need to go,” Kelan says.
She turns around and waves at me over her head. “See you tonight, Xoey. Dress to impress, okay?”
“Okay.”
I open my palm. The image Trinidad drew stands out boldly on my pink flesh. A small square on the left, with lines on the right and underneath. A simple representation of the American flag. My heart pounds as I use her tissue to wipe it away.
“Hey, Xoey! Love your new haircut!”
I smile and touch the nape of my neck as Kelan steers me past the line of people waiting outside Club Nuño, pausing briefly to retrieve a purse dropped by a girl behind the velvet rope.
“Thank you, Xoey!” she says.
Thumping music blasts through the door as the bouncer lets us in. I stumble in my new platform heels, blinking against the pulsating light.
“Careful,” Kelan says loudly, steering me down a flight of metal stairs and past a dance floor that pulses to the beat. “Wait here.” He comes back a few minutes later and hands me a blue drink.
“Is this…”
“No alcohol.” He excuses himself and heads toward the back of the club, where neon stairs lead up to private rooms partially enclosed in frosted glass.
“Hey, Xoey!”
“Xoey! Welcome home!”
I smile and wave to strangers. When I hazard a sip of my drink, I decide I like it, even if I cannot identify the flavor. I tug on the hem of my skirt and keep my smile in place, hoping Trinidad will be here soon. I feel awkward standing in the middle of a dance club by myself.
“Hey, Xoey!”
“Oh! Hi, Max!” I smile and wave, relieved to see the studio’s drummer. I take one step in his direction, then stop as he is swept away in a crowd of dancers.
“Sorry,” he mouths.
I shrug. My eyes are still adjusting to the pulsating light, but I begin to recognize more people, all from the studio. The pianist is in a big booth with the bass player and three women holding colorful drinks like mine. Two singers, Doris and Chakra, are dancing with Max. When my glass is empty, I take it to the bar, then return to find Andre, the guitar player, striding toward me.
“Come dance, Xoey!”
I shake my head, but Andre must see this as a challenge. He takes my hands and pulls me toward the dance floor, dancing backward the whole way. I laugh because I don’t want to seem like a stick in the mud. I came to a dance club, after all, so I dance, mimicking Andre’s movements and trying not to trip on my stupid shoes.
“Really? This is what girls wear?” I asked Middlebrooks when she showed up after my hair appointment tonight with my white dress and silver high heels.
“Xoey, Trinidad Ray asked you to go dancing with her.” Middlebrooks shook her head as if I was crazy. “You don’t want to dress like other girls; you want other girls to want to dress like you!”
Since I have ulterior motives for meeting Trinidad tonight, I didn’t fight Middlebrooks on my wardrobe. But now I’m wishing I had. My feet hurt, and my dress hem keeps creeping up my legs, forcing me to tug it down over and over. I’m trying to figure out how to excuse myself when Kelan shows up at my side.
“This way,” he says.
I wave to Andre, who keeps dancing, and let Kelan lead me up the neon steps and behind one of the frosted panels.
Immediately, the music’s volume is cut in half. I study the panels and realize they must be dampening the sound. Good, I think. I want to talk to Trinidad. Maybe figure out a way to ask her about her involvement in the Resistance. I shouldn’t dare to hope she knows where Kino is, or where she might keep prisoners, but I do. And tonight could be the night I finally learn something new.
“Xoey! My girl!”
Trinidad is sitting in the corner of an enormous, white sofa. Several people lounge nearby, sipping on drinks, dancing, or playing with their devices. Trinidad uses her bare foot to nudge the closest girl away and pats the seat next to her. “Come sit with me.”
I sit down, tugging at my skirt. “Thanks for inviting me.”
Trinidad blows through her lips, making a motor noise, then laughs. “Don’t even worry about it, Xoey. We’re friends, right? Friends!” She circles her hand in the air. “We’re all friends, right?”
She’s drunk, I realize.
“Hey, Trinny!” says the girl I displaced. “Look at these tattoos! They’re sooooo pretty!” She dives across my lap and starts swiping through screens on her tablet while Trinidad looks on, disinterested. I lean back awkwardly, wondering if I am the only one who thinks this is strange. After a few minutes, Trinidad pushes the girl away.
“Get off Xoey, Rodha. You’re being rude.”
“Am not,” Rodha says. But she backs off anyway, bumping me with her knee as she fidgets in her seat while making I-hate-you faces at me. Meanwhi
le, Trinidad is leaning the other way, trying to order more drinks.
“You don’t need anything else to drink,” Kelan says.
“Maybe not,” she says, laughing, “but what about Xoey? She doesn’t even have one drink. Not one!”
“I’m fine,” I say. “I just finished mine. Downstairs.” Squished between Trinidad and Rodha, I am anything but fine, but drinking something blue on a white couch in a white dress, while I’m being jostled on both sides, doesn’t seem like fun to me. Instead, I take a deep breath and focus on why I’m here.
“You always spoil my fun, Kelan,” Trinidad says.
Kelan nods and hands her a glass of water. “It’s what you hired me to do, Trin.”
“I hired you?” She laughs. “I didn’t hire you. You were assigned to me, right? A gift from the guild. A nosy assistant!”
Rodha and several others laugh.
“You got burned, Kelan!” one guy says.
Kelan smiles. “Again,” he says calmly. “That’s my job.”
An hour later, I am tired and ready to admit tonight has been a waste of time, but not sure of the best way to excuse myself. A headache? Well, that would be true, since the incessant beat of dance music now seems like it’s coming from inside my head rather than on the other side of the frosted glass, but somehow, I don’t think that will convince anyone.
Rodha leans close. “You know what?”
“What?”
“You’re fading into the couch.” She giggles. “White girl, white dress, white couch. Where’s Xoey?” She turns her head from side to side. “Anybody see her.”
“Thas enough, Rodha!” Trinidad jumps up and sways on her platform heels. “Xoey’s my friend. Don’t trash her cuz you’re jealous.”
“Jealous? Hardly!”
“Excuse me, ladies.” I head to the other end of the room and pour myself a glass of water. By the time I head back toward Trinidad, Rodha is gone.
“Xo-eeeee.” Trinidad reaches both hands toward me, wiggling her fingers. “You’re back! Let’s go sing a song.”
She pulls me down the stairs and toward the DJ, who hands us both microphones as if he was prepared for this. His dance mix quickly morphs into Trinidad’s most popular song and the crowd goes wild. Trinidad struts across the dance floor, singing the first verse, then pausing before the chorus to say, “Give it up for Ms. Xoey Stone!”
The crowd cheers again and I begin to sing. By the second chorus, Trinidad’s arm is looped through mine and we are harmonizing as she steers us around the room. When the song ends, we head up the neon stairs, waving to the crowd. Seconds later, the DJ moves on to his next mix. When we drop onto the couch, Trinidad bends over, laughing so hard, she can’t speak. But by the time she leans back against the white cushion again, her face is covered in tears.
“Trinidad?”
She wipes her eyes. “This was stupid. Coming out tonight. I shoulda known.”
“What happened?” I lift my eyes to Kelan, who is crossing the room toward us.
She lifts her shoulders, then lets them drop. “He’s gone, just like that. And I’m just supposed to shut up, right? And keep smiling…keep singing.” She sniffs. “Xoey, they always want us to keep singing, like it’s their right, you know? Like we owe them.”
“Trinidad.” Kelan holds out his hands, pulling her to her feet. “It’s time to get you home.”
Trinidad insists on giving me a ride, so we head out the back door together, followed by Rodha and Nicki who are apparently Trinidad’s house guests this weekend. She’s not crying anymore, but still unsteady on her feet and arguing with Kelan about something as he tries to coax her into the transport. I am standing to one side when I notice a chilling noise coming from the dark shadows farther down the alley: a soft whimper interrupted by a hollow tapping sound.
“Do you hear that?” I ask Rodha and Nicki, but they are both staring at their devices and don’t seem to hear me. I walk away from them, slowly heading toward the noise. I don’t have to go far to find him—a boy about my age, bloody, beaten, and barely conscious. He’s slumped against a dumpster, which he is tapping with a large ring on his finger. As I step closer, I see why he hasn’t yelled out loud. His face is slashed. Blood gurgles across his battered lips and streams down his neck.
“Help!” I yell toward the transport before kneeling beside him and yelling again. “Kelan, Rodha, help! We need to call an ambulance.”
I quickly survey my white dress, looking for something that I might tear off to put pressure on his wound, but there’s not an extra scrap of fabric. I asked Middlebrooks about a shawl, but she told me it would ruin the look. Now I wish I had insisted.
“Ew, gross! Xoey, what are you doing?”
I look over my shoulder to see Rodha and Nicki standing above me.
“I need help,” I say. “Do either of you have something I can use to stop the bleeding until we can get him to the hospital?”
“Ugh. No! We’re not taking him to the hospital,” Rodha says.
Nicki shakes her head. “Are you crazy? Look at how he’s dressed.”
“What does that matter?”
“He’s just some street walker with a violent customer. Happens all the time.”
“Okay, but he is seriously hurt.” Surely they do not understand. “His face is all cut up. He’s bleeding…a lot. We can’t just leave him here.”
“Gross! His blood is getting all over your dress, Xoey!” Rodha takes a big step back.
“Yeah, I’m outta here.” Nicki follows her back toward the transport.
By now, Kelan has noticed what’s happening. He frowns and grabs something from the transport before heading my way.
“Please. We have to help him!” I am crying now, and utterly confused. Kelan squats down next to me and looks at the boy, who is shaking—probably in shock. He takes the jacket he’s holding and carefully tucks it around his shoulders and under his chin.
“We can’t take him to a hospital, Xoey,” he says quietly. “They won’t treat him.”
“What? Why not?”
“He’s clearly a working boy—”
“How can you tell? And why does that even matter?”
“By how he’s dressed. And it matters because it means he won’t have any health credits.”
“But…”
“Working outside the guilds—any kind of work means no health credits.”
“So they won’t help him?”
“No. And if we take him to the health center in our transport, the first thing they’ll do is garnish our health credits to treat him.”
“I’m okay with that!”
“It’s about more than the cost.” He leans in and lowers his voice. “The government will punish all of us if we try to help him. They would rather he die than start a precedent like that, do you understand?”
I shake my head, not understanding at all. When did people become so cold? So callous to others and their suffering? Kelan takes off his jacket and puts it over my shoulders, which makes me realize I’m trembling too. “Kelan, we have to do something. I cannot just leave this boy here to die.”
He sighs. “I know someone. A street doctor, of sorts. I’ll call him. Tell him what happened here. See if he can come.”
I lift my eyes to his. “I’ll pay. Tell him I’ll pay whatever he needs to—”
“Okay. Give me a sec.”
He stands up, taps his tragus implant, and turns away. I take the boy’s hand in mine.
“We’re trying to find you help,” I tell him. “Please hold on. Hold on.”
Then I bow my head and pray.
“Xoey.”
I open my eyes and look up. Kelan is watching me with a strange look on his face.
“You were praying,” he says.
I nod, wiping tears away. “Yes.”
“The doctor is coming. Just five minutes away, but we have to go.”
“But—”
“No, Xoey. We have to. It’s part of his deal. No one sees
him do his thing. Come on.”
Kelan helps me to my feet, then into the transport. We back out of the alley and glide down the street. On the other side of the transport, Trinidad is asleep. Nicki and Rodha glare at me with disgust.
I turn to Kelan. “How will we know if he’s going to be okay?”
He leans back against the seat and covers his eyes with his hands. “We don’t.”
36
Riley
Three days ago, I was attacked for the second time in this city. Since then, I have spent every minute locked in this room, sleeping, staring out the window, gripping Reed’s hand in the middle of the night, or pacing, waiting for him to get back from work. When I touch the window pane, I shake. When the doorknob rattles, I jump out of my skin. Shame fuels my fear instead of dampening it. Together, they have burned with white-hot rage for three days, but today they smolder into angry charcoal. I need to leave this room now if I’m ever going to leave it again.
I unlock the door.
Don’t let them change you, I tell myself. I’m just not sure if I am listening.
I pause in the hallway while nausea festers in my stomach.
Just walk downstairs. No farther.
Yes. I can do that.
One floor down, then another, then another until I am standing in the dim hotel lobby.
Now, just step outside.
I hesitate long enough for the host-bot to greet me. “Can I be of assistance?”
“No.”
Stop being ridiculous. It’s a bright day. You’re safer on the street than you are in here.
As if to reinforce that sentiment, a shadow pauses in front of the double doors, then moves on. It’s enough to get my heart pounding again.
Enough to make me angry again. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that anger outweighs fear.
I take a deep breath and push open the door. Outside, I blink in the sunlight. People pass by, oblivious to my concerns, my history, my pounding heart. No one looks at me at all. I take another breath and walk down the street to Chen’s.
“Bonnie!” Zhu Ruo skirts the large, waving cat to pull me into a hug. “You okay? Clyde say you attacked?”
Weeping Justice Page 26
