Authors: Jessica Shirvington
My mouth was suddenly dry.
He glanced at my M-Band, which remained silent. I couldn’t give him what he wanted at that moment. Turning on my tech was not an option. So instead, I put my hand on his forearm and squeezed. ‘I promise it will work.’
He grabbed my hand and closed it in his, meeting my eyes. ‘I trust you.’
I forced a smile, even though at that moment the only thing I really wanted to do was leap out of his car and run as far away as I could.
When we walked up the steps, there were a few random whistles, which I ignored.
‘Hey, man,’ Morris said, pushing through the people milling about on the veranda. He shook hands with Quentin and the two of them seemed to be genuinely pleased to see one another. Quentin glanced down at his M-Band, prompting Morris to do the same.
If I judged a person purely on his wardrobe, I’d never have tolerated someone like Morris. He had the whole wealthy-but-casual look mastered, wearing khaki pants, a navy button-down shirt and tasselled loafers. Morris was just lucky he had kind eyes and a nice laugh, which was in full swing. ‘Good to know we can still be mates.’
Quentin nodded, glancing at me shyly. He’d had his first non-neg rating. His first
real
rating, given that the vial he’d just swallowed was nothing more than saline and bitter flavouring.
Morris nodded to me. ‘Hey, Maggie. About time you started to make the circuit.’
I couldn’t help but smile back at him. Then he looked me up and down, turning his attention back to Quentin.
‘Dude, you should’ve brought the bike.’
Quentin started laughing beside me. My defences kicked in and I glared at Morris.
He put his hands up in mock surrender. ‘Sorry, babe. But come on, who wouldn’t want to see you on the back of a bike. You look kinda saucy!’
My eyes darted between Morris and Quentin, who seemed to be sharing a look I couldn’t decipher. Then, saving me from the awkwardness of the moment, Quentin grabbed my hand and started to lead me inside. ‘See you later on, man,’ he said over his shoulder to Morris.
I followed, feeling out of my depth and still uncomfortable with the ‘saucy’ comment. When I had to play the part out with Gus at the clubs, it was different … Anonymous. This was the school crowd. The people I’d made sure I remained invisible to.
We stepped into the entry foyer, which also gave us a good view of the massive open-plan living area. Morris didn’t do parties by halves. And with the kind of money he had at his disposal, he’d never have to.
My eyes perused the dozen red-felted rectangular tables that bordered the room, each manned by a dressed-to-the-nines attendant. In the centre of the room, high round tables with white linen and stools took up one half while the dance floor, equipped with a lounge band I’d seen flyers for around town, occupied the other half.
Although drinking was still in vogue, nobody wanted to do it in excess anymore. Too risky for your pheromone ratings. But that had also left a hole to be filled and Morris, who ran one of Kingly’s largest gambling rings, always came through. He had staged a cross between a 1920s prohibition bar in Paris and all the glitz of a Las Vegas high-roller room.
In short, he’d built a casino in his house.
I was instantly jealous as I considered the profits he would reap from this night and the intel that money could buy.
The majority of the girls were familiar faces from school. They were dressed as I’d expected: short skirts, bouncing boobs and too much – colourful – makeup, but I figured they knew what they were doing since they worked so hard at it.
One of the positive side effects of Phera-tech was that underage sex was now uncommon. No point rushing into sex with a non-viable partner at sixteen when at eighteen you may rate with an ideal partner – one who may not see you as so ideal if you couldn’t hold out for them. STDs were also a dying concern; M-Bands provided a zip accessory to authorise a ‘partner-check’ for any red flags before getting it on.
On the flip side, once people were finally fitted with their Phera-tech, well … Let’s just say pants didn’t stay on for long. If it wasn’t with long-term matches, lust-matches – which basically translated to ‘consensual random hook-ups’ – often proved too hard to resist.
Looking around the room, it was obvious to distinguish who was and wasn’t over eighteen. Mostly due to the R-rated behaviour.
Quentin led me to the far side of the room, stopping in front of me and putting his hands on my upper arms.
‘You don’t have to babysit me,’ I said. As much as I’d been taking in the room and the girls, my main focus had been on him. He hadn’t glanced at his M-Band again.
‘I know that, but I have a point to prove.’
I narrowed my eyes. ‘What’s that?’ I asked, my attention drifting towards a game of Phera-bet. It was a stupid tradition for those not yet eligible for Phera-tech. Guys or girls would throw their tops on the table and then a person would be chosen to basically ‘sniff the shirt’. The person sniffing would then choose the one they liked the smell of most. Punters would bet on the outcome and results were often embarrassing.
It was stupid. Most traditions were.
‘Do me a favour and turn around,’ Quentin said. ‘When you do, tell me if I was right about all those eyes.’
He was talking about what he’d said earlier. Fine. If he wanted to make fun of me, he could do his worst.
I turned around slowly and, as I did, I felt the fast onset of heat in my cheeks. More than a handful of guys’ eyes had followed me. Not just creepy bar-guys, but guys I went to school with, guys I’d made a point of staying under the radar around. Quentin stood close beside me and I noticed he tilted his head, but when I looked in his direction, he wasn’t looking at me. His jaw was locked and he was glaring back at every pair of eyes turned in our direction.
I crossed my arms. ‘You do realise the only reason they are all checking me out is because I walked in here with you?’
He gave me a no-holds-barred smile and, hell, the shock of it almost took me to my knees. I’d never seen him smile like that. It changed his face completely, freeing him somehow. And yet, something in his eyes, the something darker that had been spearing guys around the room a moment ago, remained.
Before I could ask what was going on, we were joined by a group of his buddies and he was quickly submerged in the latest sport and school gossip. I noticed every now and then that he would glance at his M-Band – obviously picking up more readings that he was satisfied with. It wasn’t a surprise to me that his true ratings were consistently strong.
There were two girls standing in the group from school, Olivia and Avery. They were both over eighteen, which meant they had active Phera-tech and, by the way they were eyeing off Quentin, they wanted to be first in range, and fast.
‘You want me to grab you a drink?’ Quentin whispered in my ear, his hand lightly touching the small of my back, catching me by surprise. For some reason it seemed so intimate. He could’ve just yelled over the music. God, what was I thinking?
Why
was I thinking?
I shook my head and leaned back. ‘I’m going to grab some fresh air. I’ll catch up with you in a bit.’ He studied me for a moment, then nodded. I stepped away, leaving a gap beside him; I wondered who would fill it first. As I headed for the doors, I glanced back. Olivia.
I smiled when I saw the disappointment on her face.
I walked around the crowded front veranda until I found the more deserted back half. I sat down on a swinging chair and watched the party inside the house.
Eventually Quentin moved into my line of sight. He was smiling and looking relaxed. In control. Like his old self. He glanced out the window and caught my eye, giving me a wave. He made a drinking motion. I shook my head. He was there to get ratings and be happy and normal, not to look after me. He shrugged and stayed where he was. I saw him wave at someone and then Morris joined him. Whatever they were talking about seemed serious and private. Morris nodded and shook Quentin’s hand, glancing over his shoulder in my direction as he did. It made me nervous. Maybe he’d told Morris to throw me out of the party now he knew his Phera-tech was working.
But more time cruised by and nothing interesting happened on my deserted section of the veranda. Settling in for the final hour, I picked up a magazine that was on the chair beside me, the cover advertising a debate on the recently introduced Poverty Tax. I didn’t look at the article, knowing it would only infuriate me. The new tax would take another four per cent of Mom’s salary to subsidise the costs of microchipping and M-Bands in countries that couldn’t afford the outlay. It was crazy. Why was it suddenly so important every single person in the world had this tech? I was sure the people of Zimbabwe would prefer the money went towards food and housing if they were asked.
I flipped through the pages, stopping at an article that caught my attention.
It was about a 43-year-old man who’d been so adamant about finding his true match, he’d taken to walking the world. He believed if he walked for long enough, eventually he’d pass her and get the rating he’d been waiting for.
I shook my head, imagining how many ratings he must have had along the way. He’d probably amassed a number of long-term matches and turned his back on them in favour of an ideal he may never find. Would he walk his entire life? Waste it all for the one thing he may never find? Was his true match just like him, dedicated to the cause so much that she would walk the world? Was
she
reading the article right now, feeling some kind of connection with this man?
All because of a stupid rating.
Reading on, the article speculated on his motivations, stating it was likely that he was after the riches and fame that accompanied a true match. I wondered if that were the case. True matches were treated like uber-celebrities, and money and power accompanied the position, but still … I looked at the picture of the man’s face and saw only desperation in his eyes. The kind of desperation that comes from knowing you won’t settle until you have your answer. Even if it kills you.
The article made me feel sick. Was I just like that man? Walking the world trying to find my father? To prove his innocence? Would I walk on and on until there was nothing left?
I knew I would.
I glanced back through the window. Girls surrounded Quentin, shoulders back, boobs out, basically lining up to get a reading with him. Some looked disgustingly ecstatic with their results. I rolled my eyes, more at the grin plastered on Quentin’s face than the ones on theirs.
A door clicked open and I turned back to the veranda to see Ryan Merit walk out. He was smiling at me as if he’d found exactly who he was looking for.
‘Why out here all alone?’ he asked, taking the liberty of settling himself in the chair beside me.
I shrugged. ‘Not really my thing.’
He nodded, as if he understood. I wondered how a guy like him could.
He held out one of the two drinks he was holding. I didn’t need to taste it to know it was alcoholic. I shook my head. ‘Designated driver.’ The car wouldn’t even start if my M-Chip registered alcohol in my blood.
He put the drink on the ground by his foot. ‘You came with Mercer?’
‘I did,’ I answered.
He glanced towards the window. ‘He seems otherwise occupied.’
I didn’t need to look to know he was referring to the girl-horde.
I raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you trying to make me cry and cause a scene?’
He laughed. Not a small chuckle, but a full-out laugh. It sounded kind of sleazy. ‘I heard you rated high with him?’
I nodded.
‘And now you keep your tech off?’
‘Ryan, what do you want?’ I asked, cutting to the chase.
But before he could answer, Morris was standing by the open door. ‘Merit, yo, this area is closed, man.’
Ryan gave Morris a harsh look, but he stood. Then he leaned over me, actually putting his hands on the sides of my chair as he whispered, ‘If you were here with me, I wouldn’t have let you out of my sight.’
Seriously? I tilted my head to the side. ‘That’s impossible, Ryan.’
He smiled, moving a centimetre closer to getting my fist in his face. ‘Why is that?’ he asked, swaying just enough that his arm grazed my shoulder.
I returned his smile. ‘Because there is no way in hell I would ever be here with you in the first place.’
I heard Morris’s snicker and watched Ryan’s smile disappear. His nostrils flared and, right before he straightened and walked back into the party, I felt his M-Band buzz where it was touching my shoulder. He had his pulse rate zip on mute, but I still felt it. It was perfect.
I started to stand, but Morris put up a hand and swallowed his chuckle. ‘You’re right, Mags. Sorry about that, I just stepped away for a bit. No one else will bother you.’
I did a double take at his words. ‘What do you mean, no one else will bother me?’
‘Nothing,’ Morris said quickly. ‘Just … relax. Quin said you weren’t feeling well and wanted … Ah, don’t worry about it.’ He tried to wave the conversation off, before slipping back inside.
I looked back through the window, beginning to fume. Quentin was still surrounded by girls, all still giggling and casually touching him on his arms. But he wasn’t paying any attention to them. No. He was glaring right back at me.
Turns out I wasn’t the only one fuming.
Well, good.
T
he drive home was hell. Actually, the
drive
was heaven. Quentin’s car was freaking amazing and I was tempted to really open her up, but I held back. Quentin spent most of the trip glaring straight ahead. This guy could do moody and then some. And he didn’t even have a reason to be!
Finally, when we pulled into my street, I’d had enough. I gritted my teeth. ‘Do that again and the deal is off.’
‘Do
what
again?’
I inhaled deeply, resisting the urge to resort to violence. ‘I know you made Morris keep people away from me at the party. I’m not a leper. You can’t stop me from talking to people.’ When he didn’t respond, I felt like screaming. Instead I huffed, ‘God, am I that much of an embarrassment?’
His eyes flashed towards me. ‘Is that what you think?’
‘Tell me you didn’t ask Morris to make sure no one talked to me?’
I bit down on the inside of my cheek as I waited.
It took a long time for him to finally answer. ‘I apologise,’ he said tightly. ‘I thought you didn’t want to be there and was trying to make the night easy on you, instead of you having to spend the entire time fending off sleazebags.’ His eyes cut to me accusingly. ‘Morris barely stepped away to take a piss and Merit was in there like a flash. Slick bastard.’ He ran a hand through his barely there hair and my hand twitched on the steering wheel. ‘I thought …’
I sighed. ‘You were keeping up appearances, making sure no one went near what’s supposed to be yours,’ I said, starting to calm down and understand. He still needed people to believe he was entertaining the idea of going out with me since he still had to have his Phera-tech inactive for the majority of the time. Even if he
was
tallying up Phera-ratings at the same time.
‘It was stupid, but I get it. Just … tell me next time.’
He opened his mouth, but then closed it just as quickly. Finally he nodded. ‘Thanks for understanding. I’ll discuss it with you next time.’
Why was I sure that wasn’t what he’d been about to say?
I nodded in return, hoping to move on. ‘So your ratings went well. You must be happy.’
He shrugged, leaning his head back. ‘Do you think it would’ve lasted much longer?’
My dry mouth returned. ‘No. Maybe a few minutes, but hardly worth the risk,’ I lied. ‘You’re not in a position to test the theory at this stage anyway,’ I added, looking away.
‘There is that,’ he answered. After a few beats of silence, he said, ‘The, um, annual Mercer Ball is on next week at my home.’
‘That’s nice,’ I responded, still distracted by my guilt.
‘And my family expect that you will be my date.’
My eyes widened. ‘No. Take one of the girls who rated well with you tonight.’
‘No,’ he replied, sounding somewhat disgusted by the prospect. ‘None of them rated well enough to justify not bringing you, and anyway … I can’t go through a whole night …’
‘Being nice?’ I jabbed.
He didn’t laugh. ‘Lying to someone like that.’
‘How else is it going to be, Quentin? Even once we get you enough supply of the disruption, you’ll still question it.’ Would he really never let himself get close to someone because he believed he was giving off fake ratings? My stomach churned as I realised just how much damage I was doing to this guy.
He shrugged. ‘I’ve thought of that. I won’t lure someone into a false relationship. Using the synthetic chems is one thing, but that’s to protect my family and keep me out of one of those communities. I won’t lie to someone I’m supposed to love.’
I bit down on my lip and blinked back the sting in my eyes. Was he saying he’d never have a real relationship again? Because of what I’d done?
‘Maggie.’ His voice softened, causing me to look up at him just as his shoulders dropped. ‘Like it or not, you’re the only one in the world who knows the true me.’ His nose crinkled with a thought. ‘Well, you and Gus, and I’m not taking him.’
I forced a small laugh, trying to pull myself together. ‘Gus loves a ball, you should ask him.’
When he didn’t respond, I felt myself sigh. Then something else occurred to me, something selfish and awful, but something that also helped to clear my head. ‘You said there was a mainframe computer at your house?’
He nodded. ‘There is.’
I made a quick decision. Even though I wasn’t a hundred per cent sure it was for the reason I told myself it was. ‘Okay. I’ll go with you, as long as you get me five minutes on that computer.’
If I could get Gus to hack that computer, we might be able to get a lot of the codes and passwords we’d need to break into the core junctions. It would save us a small fortune. Plus, if my father’s location was recorded anywhere … I might just hit gold.
‘Deal,’ Quentin replied.
Since I didn’t have a suitable dress, or any dress for that matter, Quentin insisted that part of the deal included a trip to the mall.
It seemed strange to go to the mall for any other reason than breaking into the underground. Not to mention, it was very unsettling to be ball-gown shopping with Quentin Mercer. To start with, you couldn’t be inconspicuous with him anywhere. The moment we entered a shop, the assistants were all over him, offering him refreshments – basically laying themselves out on the table for him to peruse.
To his credit, he didn’t. And, after hearing his words last night, I gathered that was part of the reason why. The worst thing was, I didn’t know if I was more proud of him for his morality, or ashamed of myself for my lack of it.
‘Mr Mercer, are you buying a suit?’ one shop assistant crooned at him.
He shook his head. ‘My friend Maggie will be my guest next week at out annual ball. She needs a gown.’
‘Any requirements?’ the assistant asked him, not me.
He glanced at me. ‘She can have any gown she chooses and whatever else she needs.’
I pulled him aside. ‘As much as I appreciate your help,’ I pulled one of the vials out of my pocket, ‘maybe you should take this and go catch up with your friends. We could meet up in an hour or so.’
He eyed the vial and took it in his hand. ‘You don’t want me around?’
‘I’m not a shopper at the best of times and having you here feels a little –’
He put up his hand, cutting me off. ‘Call me when you’re done. I have an account here so just put whatever you get on that.’
‘Of course you do,’ I mumbled.
He was already walking out, tipping the vial into his mouth discreetly.
‘Wow, he’s like the catch of the century,’ the shop assistant said, returning to my side.
I turned to glare at her, but then I realised I needed this girl to help me find something that wouldn’t make me the social laughing stock of forever, so I smiled slyly instead. ‘Balls do seem to be the theme of the day. His, in particular.’
She giggled and I held back an eye roll. Whatever made her happy, I guess. ‘So, dresses?’ I pushed on, desperate to get this torture over and done with.
It turns out that big is back, in terms of gown skirts. And colour is key. I’ve never had so much colourful material lugged out and shrugged on top of me. It was a wonder I didn’t fall under some of them. I had a new appreciation for my shopping trips to Target where I could dash in and out, collecting four pairs of the same jeans and a few black T-shirts to last me until they were either ripped or stained irreparably.
Finally, I’d had enough. ‘Mia,’ – because half an hour ago we’d crossed the first name threshold – ‘I can’t wear any of these dresses. They’re beautiful, really, but I’m just not one of these girls. If you send me home with one of these, I’m going to embarrass myself by falling over it, or knocking someone out when I turn around, or worse, suffocating them by simply sitting in their vicinity. Please tell me there are dresses that won’t look out-dated and embarrass Quentin, but that don’t have skirts as large as a small house.’
Mia gnawed on her lip for a while, looking me up and down. Finally she smiled conspiratorially. ‘How brave are you?’
I straightened. ‘Depends what you mean by brave. I’m not afraid of much, if that helps.’
‘How do you feel about black?’ I could tell she was worried, since everything currently fashionable seemed to be dripping with colour.
I overlapped two fingers. ‘Black and I are like that.’
She smiled. ‘Be warned, it might cause a bit of a stir, but I think I have a dress you’re going to love.’
I gotta give it to Mia. She was right.
By the time shoes and bag were taken care of, and I’d finally made Mia accept that I wouldn’t be adding to the Mercer tab by buying jewellery to go with the dress, an hour and a half had gone by.
I lugged the large bag with me and headed for the escalators down to the ground floor. I decided not to call Quentin, as I didn’t want to intrude on his time. But when I stepped off the escalator I saw him sitting around a table with friends. They were laughing at something. I couldn’t help but stare at the way his legs were stretched out and crossed at the ankle, so casually, as he tossed his head back and laughed. He seemed so relaxed. He was never like that around me. I’d made sure of that.
I dropped my head and stepped towards a nearby shop window. What had I done? I could feel the panic building up in me. The worst part was, knowing him the way I did now, how decent he was, how … uniquely Quentin he was, I couldn’t even say with certainty I wouldn’t do it again. The drive to find my father had been all that had powered me through the past couple of years. It was a terrible reality to regret my choices and yet at the same time know I was the kind of person who’d probably do it all again.
‘Find a dress?’ his smooth voice said from beside me.
I didn’t flinch, but he’d snuck up on me all the same. I hadn’t even realised he’d noticed me.
He gently wrapped his hand around my arm. ‘Come and sit with us for a minute,’ he said, already tugging me towards their table.
I sat beside him, nodding my head in greeting to his friends. Morris was there and gave me a warm smile, which helped me to pull myself together. It wasn’t that I couldn’t get my game face on. It was more that, after shopping for ball gowns, I couldn’t have felt less like myself. It just took an extra moment. Or two.
Two girls approached the table around the same time. They were both carrying trays with drinks and proceeded to hand them out.
‘Oh, hi, um …’
‘Maggie,’ I jumped in. ‘And you’re Nerida. We have English together.’
She looked at me blankly. ‘Really?’
‘Really,’ I deadpanned.
The other girl, Holly, put her drinks on the table and grabbed a nearby chair, wedging it in on the other side of Quentin, taking the time to register her rating with him before sitting. I could sense Quentin’s surprise and couldn’t help but steal a glance at his M-Band.
Seventy-three per cent
was
high.
Holly, looking smug, leaned forwards to talk to me, and to give Quentin a good look down her top. She was beautiful, of course, and had plenty more than I had to flash. Not that I wanted to flash anything anyway. Not that I even cared.
‘I heard you don’t keep your tech on?’
I shook my head. ‘No need.’
‘Why?’
I knew she was expecting me to say it was because of Quentin, that I was dedicated to him or something. While there he was using his tech whenever he liked. So I shrugged and leaned forwards, taking a sip of Quentin’s drink, just to show I could.
‘I don’t believe in it,’ I said when I leaned back.
The entire table stared at me in shock. ‘Why?’ she shrieked. ‘Aren’t you the one who rated high with Quinny?’
I narrowed my eyes. ‘According to a gland that I cannot see or feel and that cannot talk on my behalf,
Quinny
and I show the world of potential.’ I held back the gag reflex at calling him that. ‘I’m not interested in a match.’
‘Then what
are
you interested in, Maggie?’ This question came from across the table; Morris had jumped into the fray.
I was about to open my mouth and tell them the truth, but I felt Quentin’s eyes on me, burning a hole right through all my bravado. Instead of blurting out that I wasn’t the relationship type, I remembered the façade we were supposed to be keeping up. I smiled. ‘I just prefer to make my own decisions.’ I stood then, desperate for escape. ‘I gotta get going. Nice to … see you all.’ I glanced at Quentin quickly and mumbled, ‘I’ll catch you later,’ before I spun around and started powering out of there. Give me a real fight any day, but girls? Girls, I could do without.
The worst thing was, there was a part of me that wanted to march right back and tell her to get her fake orange claws away from him. A thought that just infuriated me even more. It was none of my business. His love life was
not
my concern. Now or ever.
I headed for the exit, for once resenting my deactivated Phera-tech. Maybe I should just turn it on. Yeah, right. I picked up the pace, more desperate than ever to get out of there, but Quentin surprised me for the second time by simply appearing by my side, keeping easy pace with me.
Neither one of us spoke. I couldn’t look at him, scared that I wouldn’t be able to hide the elation trying to break free. Not even when he reached down and took the heavy shopping bag from my hand.
I really hoped he wasn’t looking at me.
But my surge of happiness was quickly squashed beneath the heavy realisation that Quentin would
never
have been by my side if he actually knew the truth. He’d walked with me because he believed he was a neg. I was just his way out of it.