Watt sensed that Nadia was trying to get through to him. But even though she wasn’t affected by alcohol, he was—the neurons of his brain firing at a much lower speed than normal, unable to fully process the messages she was sending through his synapses. “I know whashu mean,” he said to Leda, and realized his words were slurring a little.
“Watt—” Leda’s hand was on his thigh, and she was looking at him, a question in her eyes. She was so much prettier than he’d ever noticed: her luminous eyes and full mouth and the smooth richness of her skin.
This was a bad idea. She moved to sit on top of him, the pleats of her skirt fanning out over his legs like the plumes of a peacock tail, and lowered her mouth to his. He considered protesting for a moment, but then Leda’s hands were under his shirt, and drifting lower, and it didn’t seem to matter so much anymore.
RYLIN
SATURDAY EVENING, RYLIN walked up to Cord’s apartment feeling lighter than she had in weeks. She’d met with V earlier to hand off the additional five Spokes packets—she’d been terrified that he might demand even more, and she wasn’t sure what she would have said if he did—but he’d just given her a nod and an eerie smile, and transferred the fifteen thousand NDs to her at once. She’d submitted it to the police as Hiral’s bail, but she hadn’t heard anything yet about when he would be released. She wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, after the way their last meeting had gone. What would he say when she told him they were over?
I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it, she told herself. She’d gotten his bail money just as he’d demanded; he couldn’t ask for anything else. Besides, all she wanted to think about right now was Cord. Every time she remembered their afternoon in Long Island—the waves pounding the beach below them, their bare feet digging into the sand as rain poured on the hovercover over their heads—she felt dizzy.
She stepped up to the front door, wearing a new sleeveless dress with shiny black zippers down one side and a scooped neck. Cord hadn’t told her what they were doing tonight, but when he’d messaged her earlier it had sounded like he had something special in mind.
She held her eyes open for the retina scanner. But the door didn’t open automatically, the way it had since Cord added her to the approved entry list weeks ago. Rylin frowned; Cord would have to call a tech to get that looked at. She pressed the bell for entry. “Cord?” she called out, knocking on the door the way lower-floor people did. Finally it swung open.
Rylin walked through the entryway and past the kitchen. The apartment felt strangely quiet: not a peaceful quiet, but an almost expectant hush, like in a holo theater before a movie was about to start. She walked a little faster.
“There you are,” Brice said from the living room.
He was perched on a high, straight-backed chair; his feet firmly planted on the ground, his elbows resting on the chair’s arms. Rylin was reminded of a king on his throne.
“Hi, Brice,” she said, eager to get out of here. His staged, stiff posture was freaking her out.
“Have a seat.” He nodded at the chair opposite him.
“Brice, I—”
“We need to talk about your little Spokes addiction,” he said, smooth as silk, and held out an arm to block her path.
Rylin stayed standing. “What do you mean?” she said evenly. But a cold chill crept up her spine, raising the hairs on her arms.
“Rylin, we both know you stole from Cord, so quit pretending.”
She didn’t say anything, worried that any protest she made would only dig her in deeper. Her heart gave a dangerous lurch.
Brice’s eyes grazed over Rylin in a bold, knowing way. “I knew there was something off the moment I met you. I tried to tell Cord, but he refused to listen. And look. I was right.”
“Please. Let me explain,” she said, leaning forward.
“No, let me explain. Here’s what’s going to happen right now: you’re going to go in Cord’s room, and break up with him, in a way that makes him never want to see you again.”
“No,” Rylin said automatically. She couldn’t do that. She refused to.
“Let me make this clear. If you don’t go break up with my brother, I’m telling him how you used him to steal his drugs, then I’m notifying the police. You’ll go to jail. Are we clear?”
“I didn’t use him,” she whispered. Brice just looked at her. “You don’t have any proof,” she added, but her heart was sinking.
“It’ll be my word against yours. Who do you think they’ll believe?”
Brice was right. Rylin knew how these things worked. “Please,” she whispered again.
“You have five minutes,” Brice told her.
Rylin was surprised to feel tears running down her face. She was crying. She, the girl who never cried. She took a shaky breath and stood up, wiping at her tears, then started toward Cord’s room.
“Hey,” she said quietly, knocking at the door. “Are you busy?”
“Rylin! I thought you were coming over later.” Cord opened the door, and the eager expression on his handsome face nearly broke her resolve.
“One of my friends is having a party tonight,” Cord was saying as he stepped out into the hallway. Rylin followed helplessly. “I was hoping you’d come. You know, meet some of my friends.” Cord kept going, telling her about his friend Avery and her amazing apartment, but Rylin wasn’t really listening; she was looking up, to where Brice’s shadowy form stood at the top of the stairs. He nodded imperceptibly.
“Cord,” Rylin interrupted, her heart breaking a little, “we need to talk.”
He paused. “Sure,” he said after a moment, clearly trying to sound upbeat. “Let’s sit down.”
Rylin shook her head. She wanted to get this over with; it hurt enough as it was. “I can’t see you anymore.”
“What?” he said at once, stunned. “Rylin. Where is this coming from?”
“I just …” Make him never want to see you again. “I have a boyfriend,” she said slowly.
“I don’t understand.” Cord sank into a chair as if he suddenly lacked the energy to stay upright.
“My friend Hiral, the one I told you was arrested for dealing? I’ve been dating him this whole time. I was just … pretending with you, because I liked this job. And then you took me to Paris, and …” She faltered, but it didn’t matter; she’d made her point.
The worst part was, what she’d said was true. At least, it had been at the beginning. Rylin had never despised herself so much as she did in this moment.
“You didn’t mean any of it?” Cord was looking at her like he’d never seen her before, like he couldn’t believe the words coming from her mouth.
“No.”
“Get the hell out of my house.” His tone was ice cold.
“I’m sorry,” Rylin whispered, looking through blurry, heavy-lashed eyes at Cord’s face. She knew his features by heart, having traced them with her fingertips just the other afternoon in the enchanted half-light of the storm. But something had changed.
This was how he’d looked at the party, she realized, all those weeks ago: as if he didn’t care about anything, or anyone. The way he’d looked when he was hiding how he felt, when Rylin hadn’t known what he was like underneath it all.
“I’ll say it one more time,” he snarled, vicious now. “Get the hell out, and don’t come back.”
Rylin stumbled backward, shocked at the emptiness in Cord’s eyes. He was staring straight through her, as if she weren’t even there. The afternoon they’d spent on the beach together suddenly felt like it had happened to a different girl.
“Good-bye.” Rylin turned toward the door. Regret gathered in her chest, raking at her with tiny sharp claws.
She was in the entrance hall, about to walk out of Cord’s apartment for what was surely the last time, when she heard Brice clatter down the stairs. “I’m sorry, Cord,” he was saying. There was a clink of ice in a tumbler, and she realized furiously that they were drinking. “But honestly, she’s from the thirty-second floor. What else can you expect from a girl like that?”
ERIS
“ERIS?” MARIEL WAS knocking on the front door.