Michael pretended to be mightily impressed by Earl’s description of the “particular establishment”. It was all part of building rapport. In the last five years, he’d perfected the art of being amiable and not too memorable. And the fictional “old drinking buddies” gave him an excuse to stay out half the night without Earl thinking anything of it.
By the time he’d signed in, paid the deposit, and pocketed the key, he knew his disguise would hold. Earl hadn’t recognized him, didn’t suspect a thing.
Michael was confident no one else would, either. Excepting perhaps his wife.
He checked his watch. It was nearly four. Marissa had just started working Saturdays as cashier at the local Save-Mart. He’d been gutted to discover she’d taken another dead-end job just to make ends meet. Ironically,
he
had money to burn but no way of getting it to her without raising suspicions—hers and his boss’s.
She’d be finishing her shift soon. It crossed his mind he could visit her workplace on the pretext of needing groceries, just to see her again. Just to confirm that she, too, hadn’t changed a whit.
Too risky.
Just like it was too risky for him to swing by his house and front up to the kids he hadn’t seen or contacted since he’d upped and vanished from their lives. Not that he cared about risking his own hide, but he sure as hell cared about risking Marissa and the kids.
He wanted to see them, though. So damn bad it hurt.
Five years. They would both have changed. Grown up. Done so much without him. It wounded him to think of all the milestones he’d missed.
His already shaky composure was completely sunk when he opened the door to his motel room and realized it was the same room he and Marissa had been given ten years ago. Michael threw his laptop on the table, slumped on the end of the bed and covered his face with his hands as he remembered… and was again forced to confront what he’d given up.
Eventually he got it together, and resigned himself to doing what he did best: Hiding away in some darkened room and ferreting out information. He told himself gathering information was the sole reason he’d come to Snapperton. He was ninety-nine percent certain the “Jay Smith” who’d registered at Greenfield High and was currently residing in an apartment not far from here, was Cyborg Unit Gamma-Dash-One.
He told himself he wanted to eyeball the target, to be one-hundred percent certain, before he sent in an extraction team.
He told himself he was risking his boss’s considerable wrath because it made sense to have all the facts, and having all the facts minimized the risk of casualties if the target set a trap for them, as she had done when they’d gone after her at Durham’s house. She’d beaten them down good and proper that time. And, in the deepest darkest recesses of his heart, damned if he hadn’t applauded. But this time the stakes were too high. This time, he couldn’t afford to think of her as human. She was the target, nothing more.
Michael told himself again what he’d told his boss: Only the mission mattered. And when fear clawed through his belly at the thought of Marissa or Caro or Tyler coming to harm, he knew he was lying to himself. Just as the people he worked for had lied to him all along.
Right from the very start.
For the umpteenth time, Tyler wondered what had possessed him to agree to be Jay’s “date” for her farewell party. If he hadn’t known the truth about what she was, it would’ve been dream come true material. He’d have been blissed out to the max. Over the freaking moon. Period.
But knowing what he knew, knowing what she was….
What made the whole situation miles worse was having Caro, his normally über-cool sister, swan around the house with such a dopey grin plastered over her face that anyone would think
she
was the one going on this date.
Even his mom sported a dewy-eyed, proud-parent-type smile.
He eyed his reflection in the mirror and scowled. It was a killer scowl, absolutely perfect in every way. And if he’d been able to produce it for his mom or his sister, it would’ve wiped the dumb expressions from their faces for sure. No doubt about it. Pity he couldn’t seem to summon anything other than a goofy grin whenever they brought up the “date” subject.
He couldn’t figure out Caro’s deal. What was her stake in having her brother date a
cyborg
? She was his sister and although he loved her to death, the inner workings of her mind were a constant mystery. And his mom? She was a whole ‘nother scary-ass story. What the hell was
she
imagining? The whole hearts and flowers thing? Her son finally dating a “nice” girl?
He snorted. No such freaking thing. Girls weren’t nice. They messed with your head and screwed with your heart.
Vanessa had seemed
nice
at first. Sweet. And totally hot, which of course had been a definite plus. But it’d all been a lie. She’d dumped him the minute Matt looked at her sideways because Matt had his own car. And then, at the first opportunity, she’d dumped Matt for Shawn, moving on up the food chain without a backward glance.
If Caro ever found out what Vanessa had done that night, his sister would pitch a fit of monumental proportions. A drug-dealer for a BFF and an ex-boyfriend who was popping steroids like candy? She’d wig out. She’d never forgive Vanessa and Shawn. Or Tyler, for not telling her the truth.
And Jay…. God, Jay might do more than dump Vanessa on her ass this time. And, if he asked her, she’d treat Shawn to more than just a Dumpster-diving session.
He indulged in a daydream where Shawn got his face rearranged. A couple of black eyes and a swollen, bloody nose. And if not losing a couple of teeth, then maybe enough damage that he’d need a retainer for the next year. Oh yeah. Niiice! Vanessa wouldn’t be too keen on flaunting her Boy Wonder if that happened.
Secrets. Gah. He was just plain tired of them and all they stood for. Maybe he should just ’fess up and tell Caro what’d really happened. She was strong enough to deal. Hey, maybe he should just start a tell-all blog and have done with it.
As appealing as it might be to fantasize about airing his dirty laundry, Tyler had one secret he could barely admit to himself. It was a big-ass scary secret. And one he prayed would never, ever, be discovered by anyone.
If Jay were human, she’d be The One.
Tyler grabbed his new cell phone and shoved it in his jeans pocket. He was halfway out of his room before he decided to grab one more thing, a thumb drive for Jay. He didn’t know whether or not he’d give it to her. He’d just play it cool and see what happened.
His mom was oohing and aahing over Caro’s cell phone when he clomped downstairs. “Are you sure Jay’s uncle is okay with this?” she asked for the umpteenth time.
Caro groaned. “Yes, Mom. He’s got, like, a box of them. Perks of his last job. How many times do I have to tell you this? And they’re pre-pays. So we’ll be using our allowances to top them up, okay?”
“Well, I suppose it’s all right then. But—”
Tyler cut his sister a break and interrupted before their mom could air any more doubts. “I’m ready,” he announced from the doorway. “Let’s go. We promised Jay we’d get there early and help her set up.”
“Bye, kids. Midnight curfew, as usual.”
“Just this once can you make it one?” Caro wheedled from the doorway.
“Fine. Just this once. Have fun.” His mom’s pleased face was the last thing Tyler glimpsed before he pushed Caro, who was still trying to figure out how to disable the predictive text function on her phone, out the front door.
They walked in silence. His sister kept slanting him quick glances, which he studiously ignored.
About halfway to Jay’s place she couldn’t keep her peace any longer. “What gives?”
He stared straight ahead. It was on the tip of his tongue to fob her off with some flippant comment. At the last moment he couldn’t do it. He just hoped she didn’t laugh in his face.
“Tyler? You still with me?” She’d halted and grabbed his arm. Now she shook him gently.
“Yeah. If I tell you something, will you promise not to laugh?”
Her gaze raked his face. She obviously recognized the vulnerability lurking there, for she merely nodded, as if she didn’t trust herself to speak without screwing it up.
He sucked in a deep, bracing breath. It didn’t help. When he spoke his voice cracked like he was on the verge of losing it. “She could have been The One, you know?” He ground his heel into a weed sprouting from a crack in the pavement. “But she’s not even human. And now she’s taking off and I’ll probably never see her again.”
“Ah, shit.” Caro grabbed him and pulled him into a bear hug, ignoring his squawk of protest. “It’ll be okay. You’ll get through this. I promise.”
He allowed her to awkwardly pat his back. He knew she really
did
get it. And it helped.
A piercing wolf-whistle shattered the brother-sister moment. “Get a room, guys!”
Caro released him like he’d burned her and visibly struggled to compose herself. She pulled it together fast, and he envied her the ability. “You’re such a dork, Matt,” she drawled.
As Matt drew level with them, the cheeky grin slid from his face, replaced by stunned, open-mouthed, male appreciation. “You, uh, look amazing, Caro.”
“I know.” She smoothed her silky dress over her thighs and fussed with the tie of her cardigan-wrap. Then, grooming complete, she plucked Tyler’s arm. “C’mon, we better get going.”
Matt’s gaze dwelled on her for a long moment before he finally turned his attention to Tyler. “You going to Jay’s party?”
“Yep. You?”
“’Course. Off to Bob’s Burgers for a feed first, then I’ll head over. See ya ’round.” He made a point of catching Caro’s gaze again before he took off.
She glanced back over her shoulder at exactly the same time Matt did. She waved and he did the same.
Tyler threw her a lopsided grin.
“What’re you smirking about?” she said.
“Nothing.”
~~~
Jay wiped tears from her cheeks. She pressed her fist against her heart, trying to keep the overwhelming pain at bay. She didn’t want to leave him. She didn’t want to vanish from his life as efficiently and carelessly as she’d entered it. She didn’t want him to forget her, even though she knew that eventually, he would.
She would never forget him, though. He was etched in her memory forever. Even if she erased it, she knew that she would always carry this pain in her heart. It was such a human condition, this anguish. And she cherished it.
After running all manner of diagnostic tests, extrapolating all available data, she’d been forced to conclude she was suffering no anomaly. There was no part of her that was in any way, shape, or form, defective. Father had planned this, had designed her to evolve in this manner. All that had been needed to set her on this path was the right catalyst.
Tyler had been that catalyst.
Father had created her to be the daughter he and Mary Durham had never been able to have. He’d even used Mary’s genetic material to make Jay in her image. But in doing so, he’d never considered the long-term consequences to his own state of mind. Every time he’d looked at Jay, he’d seen his dead wife.
Only now did Jay understand just how profoundly it’d pained Father to be forced to look at her, and interact with her, every single day. She was, in effect, a carbon copy of Mary, but she could never
be
Mary. And Father had never been able to bring himself to love her, and assist her to fully evolve.
It seemed grossly unfair to finally find that missing part of her that made her so almost-human the difference was negligible, only to be forced to give him up.
She expelled her breath in a wistful sigh. For the first time since she’d been given life, Jay examined herself critically. Who was the pale, smooth-skinned creature staring back at her in the mirror?
Was she Cyborg Unit Gamma-Dash-One, Mary Durham’s cybernetically enhanced clone, or just plain Jay Smith?
She knew who she
wanted
to be. And she could pretend—she was extremely good at that. Maybe when Tyler looked at her this time, all he’d see would be “Jay”. And maybe, just maybe, it would be enough.
With shaking hands, she opened the shopping bag. Makeup. Hair products. Even a brush and comb. According to Caro, everything Jay needed to look attractive.
First she tackled her hair. It proved no easy task. She’d never tried to style her unruly mane before. In the end, she stuck her head under the faucet and rinsed all the gunk from her hair with warm water.
She assessed the damage as she squeezed the water from it and dried it as best she could with a towel. She wrinkled her nose. There was nothing for it but drastic action. She slathered on some gel, slicked the mass tightly back from her face, and tied it into a ponytail. The wet-look do was such a startling change that she blinked, and then blinked again because the girl staring back did not look like her any more.