## Chapter 1 — Hypothetically Speaking Thursday evening found Nadia arguing with a piece of sculpture. It was a disagreement she had been having for most of the afternoon, and the sculpture was winning. The installation occupied a generous portion of her Watson studio's main floor: suspended metal elements, carefully positioned light sources, and a network of sensors intended to respond to the movement of people through the space. The effect was supposed to be subtle. A visitor walking between the suspended pieces would alter the composition of light and shadow without necessarily realizing they were responsible. Unfortunately, one particular sensor had developed opinions of its own. Nadia adjusted it for the fourth time. The lights shifted. She stared. “Fuck.” From the sofa near the windows, Shammy laughed. “That's the third time you've said that.” “Fourth,” Panam corrected without looking up from her drink. “Thank you both. Your support is invaluable.” “Want me to take a look?” Shammy offered. “No. I know what's wrong.” “Then why are you swearing at it?” “Because knowing what's wrong and persuading the bloody thing to cooperate are two entirely different artistic disciplines.” Panam grinned. “Sounds like relationships.” Nadia turned toward her. “Darling, if you ever become as difficult as this sensor, I'm replacing you.” “With what?” “A better model.” Shammy nearly spilled her wine. Panam put a hand over her heart. “After everything I've done for you.” “I'm terribly ungrateful.” “Clearly.” Nadia finally coaxed the sensor into behaving. She stepped back, watched the installation respond correctly to her movement, and nodded in satisfaction. “There. Perfect.” “Until tomorrow,” Shammy said. “Don't you dare.” She put her tools away and crossed to the sitting area. The upstairs apartment had become something Nadia hadn't entirely anticipated when she first imagined moving to Night City. A home. Not merely somewhere to sleep between projects, not temporary accommodation provided by someone else's generosity, but a space that belonged to her. Her materials, her unfinished ideas, her furniture, her kitchen, her absurdly large bed. And, increasingly often, these two women. Panam was sitting comfortably with one leg tucked beneath her. Shammy had claimed the opposite end of the sofa, leaving a space between them that Nadia knew perfectly well was intended for her. She took it. Shammy immediately leaned against her shoulder. “Finished working?” “For tonight.” “Good.” Panam handed Nadia a fresh glass. “Drink. You've been abusing that poor machine for hours.” “It deserved everything it got.” “Sure it did.” For a while, the three of them simply enjoyed the evening. There was music playing quietly. The city beyond the windows glowed with its usual indifference. Somewhere below, a vehicle passed with enough bass to rattle the glass, then disappeared into Watson's evening traffic. Nadia rested one hand on Shammy's thigh and accepted Panam's arm around her shoulders. It was a perfectly comfortable arrangement. Which was precisely why she had chosen tonight. She had been thinking about something since Monday. Actually, that wasn't entirely true. She had been thinking about it since the previous weekend at Lizzie's. Monday's conversation had merely made it impossible to dismiss. She had asked Panam and Shammy question after question about the Stable, the collars, the professional arrangements, and the peculiar combination of freedom and chosen submission that seemed to suit both women so extraordinarily well. They had answered. Patiently, mostly. Panam had eventually threatened to charge her by the question. Nadia had considered asking whether the rates were negotiable. But what interested her most wasn't something either woman could answer. It was whether she would enjoy the same life herself. During the intervening days, she had approached that question with her usual thoroughness. She had considered professional reputation, personal privacy, artistic freedom, practical consequences, and the possibility of discovering that something which looked fascinating from outside might feel quite different from within. She had also considered the far less complicated matter of enjoying herself. Rather extensively, in fact. Now she was ready to ask. Naturally, she intended to approach the subject with appropriate intellectual detachment. “I have a hypothetical question.” Panam closed her eyes. “Oh, fuck.” Shammy lifted her head. “Already?” Nadia blinked. “What?” “Nothing,” Shammy said, visibly delighted. “Please do continue.” Panam gave her a sideways look. “You remember Monday?” “Of course.” “She had a fucking notebook.” “I remember.” “Seven times she said she had one last question.” “Eight,” Nadia corrected. Panam stared at her. “You counted?” “I like accurate records.” Shammy dissolved into laughter. Nadia waited until she had recovered. “May I continue?” “By all means, Professor,” Panam said. Nadia took a small sip of wine. “Suppose a reasonably successful artist became interested in working at Lizzie's.” Shammy's smile widened. “Reasonably successful?” “Hypothetically.” “Of course.” “And suppose this artist had no particular interest in constructing an alternative identity.” Panam looked at her more closely. “Go on.” “Suppose she wanted to work as herself. Publicly. Just as Sera does.” Shammy sat up. For a moment, neither woman spoke. Then Panam slowly put down her glass. “Well, shit.” Nadia looked between them. “Is there a problem?” “Not a problem,” Shammy said. “I'm just wondering how long you've been planning to ask that.” “Planning is rather a strong word.” “Nadia.” “Considering, then.” “How long?” “Since last weekend.” Panam laughed. “Of course you have.” Nadia regarded her affectionately. “You sound surprised.” “No, sweetheart. That's the problem. I'm not surprised at all.” Shammy moved closer. “Are we still speaking hypothetically?” “Certainly.” “Right. So this mysterious artist. Does she happen to live in Watson?” “Possibly.” “In an apartment above an art studio?” “Pure coincidence.” “With a ridiculously comfortable bed?” Nadia raised an eyebrow. “You seem remarkably familiar with her domestic arrangements.” Panam snorted. “Jesus Christ, you two.” Shammy kissed Nadia's cheek. “I love you.” “I know.” “And I think you're about as hypothetical as a fucking brick.” That earned a genuine laugh. Nadia put down her glass. “All right. Perhaps the hypothetical framing is becoming unnecessarily complicated.” “Ya think?” Panam asked. Nadia gave her an amused look. “I am considering working at Lizzie's. As Nadia. No cover, no invented history, no pretending to be anyone else.” She let the words settle. It was rather satisfying to say them aloud. Panam studied her for a moment. “Okay.” “Okay?” “Okay. You're considering it.” “You're taking this remarkably calmly.” “What did you expect? Me to fall off the sofa?” “Not necessarily. Although I'd be interested to observe that.” Shammy laughed again. Panam pointed at Nadia. “And there she fucking is.” Nadia smiled. But Panam wasn't finished. “Seriously, sweetheart. I've watched you thinking about this for days. You didn't spend an entire weekend asking questions about the Stable because you wanted to write a fucking research paper.” “An interesting paper could certainly be written.” “Don't.” “I haven't ruled it out.” “Nadia.” “All right, all right.” She leaned back against Panam. “I want to understand what the possibilities would be.” “That's a better question,” Panam said. Shammy watched them both with obvious interest. “May I ask something first?” “Of course.” “Why no cover?” Nadia looked at her. “Why should I need one?” “That's what I'm asking.” Nadia considered her answer. “Because I don't feel any particular need to separate the artist from the woman.” Shammy nodded slowly. “And you think those two would be the same at Lizzie's?” “I think they would remain the same person.” “That's not quite what I asked.” “No,” Nadia agreed. “It isn't.” She took a moment. “I understand why the others use their covers. I've seen enough now to appreciate how much freedom those identities give them. And I know perfectly well who they are.” That knowledge had been one of the more astonishing gifts of the previous weekend. Not because the people behind the covers had become different people in her eyes, but because she had finally understood how deliberately they had constructed their second lives. Mandi. Dalia. Nova. Vega. Deja. Each identity had its own presence and professional history. Yet beneath every face and altered voice was someone Nadia already knew. Someone she could now understand a little better. “But Sera doesn't work that way,” Nadia continued. “No,” Shammy said. “She doesn't.” “People already know you as an artist. You've made no secret of your work at Lizzie's.” “Not particularly.” “And it hasn't prevented you from creating extraordinary things.” “Darling, if anything, it's given me some excellent ideas.” “I've noticed.” Shammy grinned. “Some of which you helped me develop.” “Exactly.” Nadia turned slightly toward Panam. “I don't want to spend half my professional life explaining why Nadia the artist and Nadia the joytoy are two different women. They aren't. If I choose to do this, it will be because I want to.” Panam nodded. “That's fair.” “Besides,” Nadia added, “I suspect maintaining a second personality would become rather tiresome.” Shammy raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I don't know. You could invent a mysterious, outrageously seductive woman with a terrible reputation.” Nadia regarded her solemnly. “Wouldn't that be redundant?” Panam barked out a laugh. Shammy stared at Nadia for a moment before breaking into a delighted grin. “Oh, you are going to be trouble.” “I've been told.” “Frequently?” “Increasingly.” Panam shook her head. “And you're both enjoying this way too fucking much.” “Of course,” Nadia said. There was no embarrassment in the answer. That, too, was something she had been examining. Not embarrassment itself, exactly. Nadia had never been particularly shy about her body or her desires among people she trusted. But she had spent much of her life allowing certain interests to remain private, even when there was no compelling reason for them to do so. She had been quite comfortable accepting pleasure when it arrived. Actively seeking new experiences was a different matter. And the previous weekend had shown her something fascinating. People she respected and loved were doing precisely that. They were choosing their experiences, their companions, their boundaries and, sometimes, quite spectacularly unconventional arrangements. They weren't apologizing for any of it. Nor did they seem especially interested in anyone else's permission. Nadia had found that rather liberating. Shammy, meanwhile, had begun examining her with an expression Nadia recognized immediately. It was the look she wore when a new artistic idea was taking shape. “Oh, no,” Nadia said. Shammy blinked. “What?” “Whatever you're imagining, stop.” “I wasn't imagining anything.” “Shammy.” “Okay, fine. I was imagining a little.” Panam groaned. “That's never a reassuring sentence.” Shammy ignored her. “I'm just thinking about what happens when Night City discovers there are two known artists working openly at Lizzie's.” Nadia smiled. “Ah. That.” “You've thought about that too?” “Naturally.” “And?” “Some people will be scandalized.” “Obviously.” “Some will be fascinated.” “Definitely.” “Some will want to commission work from us.” Shammy's eyes lit up. “Oh.” “And some will probably write extremely long articles explaining what our choices supposedly mean for contemporary artistic culture.” Panam chuckled. “You sound excited.” Nadia tilted her head. “Imagine being paid enormous sums to enjoy myself while other people do the unpaid work of inventing elaborate theories about my motivations.” Shammy nearly doubled over. Panam stared at her. “Holy shit.” “What?” “You've already worked out how to turn the fucking scandal into publicity.” “Not precisely. That would require intentionally causing one.” “You think there wouldn't be a scandal?” “Of course there would. But I see no reason to waste it.” Shammy covered her mouth with one hand. It didn't help. Her hair had begun its familiar upward movement. Nadia noticed. She smiled fondly. “Darling, your halo is showing.” “I'm aware.” Panam looked from one artist to the other. “Oh, God. There's going to be two of you.” “Two of us?” Nadia repeated. “Two fucking artists who think an entire city losing its mind is an interesting creative opportunity.” Nadia considered that. “Well, isn't it?” Panam laughed despite herself. “Fuck me.” Shammy kissed her. “Gladly, darling.” “Not helping.” “Wasn't trying to.” Nadia joined their laughter. And for a few minutes, the conversation wandered. Shammy began speculating about the reaction of certain gallery owners. Nadia pointed out that several would probably pretend to be offended while discreetly seeking invitations. Panam reminded them both that Lizzie's was a working club rather than an exhibition hall, and that Suzy Q might have something to say if the place suddenly became a circus. That brought another round of laughter. But eventually Panam grew quieter. She shifted on the sofa until she could face Nadia properly. “Okay, sweetheart.” Something in her voice changed. Not dramatically. She hadn't suddenly become Madame Panam, the professional who managed an entire Stable with considerable authority and very little tolerance for bullshit. But that part of her was present now. Nadia recognized the transition. She welcomed it. “Okay,” Nadia answered. “Before we get into how this would work, there's something I want to understand.” “Go ahead.” “Forget the art world for a minute. Forget the publicity, the money, and whatever outrageous ideas you two are already cooking up.” Shammy lifted both hands. “I'm innocent.” Panam didn't even look at her. “Bullshit.” “Fair.” Panam kept her attention on Nadia. “I know you're curious. I know you enjoyed what you saw last weekend. And I know you're a grown woman who can make her own damn decisions.” Nadia nodded. “But curiosity doesn't automatically mean you'll enjoy doing the work yourself.” “No,” Nadia said. “It doesn't.” “And I don't want you making a decision because you think it'll make me happy. Or because Shammy enjoys it.” “I wouldn't.” “I know. But I'm saying it anyway.” Nadia reached for her hand. “I appreciate that.” Panam squeezed her fingers. “Good.” There was a brief silence. The installation across the studio changed its pattern as some small movement stirred the air around its sensors. Pale light slid over the suspended metal, throwing slow, abstract shadows across the far wall. Panam glanced toward it, then back. “So tell me something, Nadia.” “Yes?” “Why do you actually want to do this?” It wasn't an accusation. Nor was it a challenge. It was the question Nadia had been asking herself for three days. She could have answered with another joke. There were several excellent possibilities. She could have talked about money, although none of them needed it. She could have explained the artistic value of new experiences, the professional opportunities, the absurdity of public scandal. All of those things interested her. None was the real answer. She looked at Shammy. Then at Panam. “I've spent years studying people,” she said. Neither interrupted. “Their reactions to art. The way they look at something beautiful, or disturbing, or unfamiliar. The things they reveal about themselves when they don't realize anyone is paying attention.” Shammy smiled faintly. “That sounds like you.” “It should.” Nadia glanced toward her installation. “I love making things that provoke a response. I love understanding why people respond the way they do.” She turned back. “But I'm beginning to wonder whether I've spent rather too much time observing certain experiences instead of having them.” Panam listened. Nadia continued, her voice calm. “I watched people at Lizzie's who were completely comfortable with what they wanted. Some of them were our friends. Some were strangers. They weren't all looking for the same things, and they certainly weren't all enjoying themselves in the same ways.” A small smile. “I found that fascinating.” “Professionally?” Shammy asked. “Initially.” “And afterward?” Nadia met her eyes. “Personally.” Shammy's expression softened. Nadia looked down at Panam's hand in hers. “I want to meet interesting people. I want to discover whether the attraction I feel toward someone can become something wonderful when we both choose to explore it.” She paused. “I want to learn things about myself that I haven't had occasion to discover yet.” Panam said nothing. “And yes,” Nadia added, lifting her gaze again, “I want pleasure. Not as a metaphor for artistic exploration. Not as material for my next installation. Not because I need the money.” Her smile was small, but entirely certain. “Because I like it. Because I'm curious about how much more there is to enjoy. And because, for once, I'd rather participate than stand at the edge of the room taking notes.” Shammy reached for her free hand. Nadia held it. “And there's something else.” Panam waited. “I don't want to become someone different to do it. I like who I am.” “Good,” Panam said quietly. “I like being an artist. I like being an intelligent woman. I like being your lover, and Shammys. I like my work, my studio, my home.” She looked between them. “And I rather suspect I might enjoy being a joytoy, too.” Shammy's smile was radiant. Nadia gave a tiny shrug. “I don't see why any of those things should exclude the others.” Panam was silent for several seconds. Then she leaned forward and kissed Nadia gently. When she drew back, there was affection in her face, but something else as well. Respect. “That's a damn good answer, sweetheart.” Nadia smiled. “I've had three days to work on it.” “Yeah,” Panam said. “I can tell.” Shammy leaned in and kissed Nadia's other cheek. “And for the record, darling?” “Yes?” “I think you're going to have a fucking wonderful time.” Nadia laughed. “I rather hope so.” Panam settled back, still holding her hand. “All right, then.” Nadia raised an eyebrow. “All right?” “You've told us what you want. Now we need to talk about what it actually involves.” Shammy reached for her wine. Nadia reached for the notebook lying on the table. Panam saw it. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Shammy exploded with laughter. Nadia opened the notebook with perfect composure. “Don't worry, darling.” Panam looked suspicious. “Why?” “I've already organized the questions by subject.” Shammy laughed so hard she had to put down her glass. Panam stared at the notebook. Then at Nadia. Then at Shammy. “I'm going to need another fucking drink.” Nadia smiled sweetly. “An excellent idea. This may take a while.” And somewhere inside that comfortable, ridiculous little moment, the hypothetical question quietly ceased being hypothetical at all. --- ## Chapter 2 — Rules That Mean Something Panam regarded the notebook with the expression of a woman who had just discovered an unexploded bomb beneath her favorite chair. Nadia opened it to the first page. Shammy leaned over to look. “Oh, darling. You actually made headings.” “Of course.” “How many?” “Six.” Panam groaned. “Six fucking headings.” “Seven, technically. But the last is miscellaneous.” “Jesus Christ.” Nadia smiled pleasantly. “Would you prefer that I approach a significant professional decision without adequate preparation?” “No. I'd prefer to know how the hell you manage to make a conversation about becoming a joytoy sound like a corporate acquisition.” “Acquisitions are much less interesting.” Shammy laughed. “She's got a point.” Panam picked up her drink. “Fine. Let's hear it.” Nadia glanced at the notebook. “First, the professional arrangement itself.” “Good place to start.” “Suppose I wanted to begin this weekend.” Panam stopped halfway through taking a sip. “This weekend?” “Friday, perhaps.” “Tomorrow?” “That is generally what follows Thursday.” Shammy made a strangled noise. Panam lowered her glass. “You've been planning this longer than three days.” “Considering,” Nadia corrected. “Right. Considering.” “Very thoroughly.” “I'm beginning to fucking notice.” Nadia rested the notebook on her knee. “Would that be possible?” Panam considered the question seriously. “Possible? Yes. But we would have some things to arrange first.” “Such as?” “First, you don't simply walk into Lizzie's and start taking bookings. You work through me. I screen the people who want to meet you, I handle the offers, and I make sure nobody gets the wrong idea about what they're paying for.” Nadia nodded. “Understandable.” “Second, I don't promise anyone access to you. Not for five million, not for fifty million, not for however many ridiculous zeros they decide to throw at me.” “Ah. That brings us conveniently to the financial arrangements.” Panam laughed. “Of course it does.” Nadia tapped the page. “Serious question.” “Go on.” “Does Sera genuinely charge five million eddies for a conversation?” Shammy smiled. “Yes.” “Just the conversation?” “Just the conversation.” “No additional obligations?” “None.” Nadia considered that. “Remarkable.” Panam leaned forward. “There's a distinction, sweetheart. The five million doesn't buy the right to demand a conversation whenever someone feels like it. I still screen the prospective client, and Sera has to agree to meet them.” “So someone can't simply throw five million at you and insist on seeing her?” “They can try.” Shammy giggled. “Some do.” “And?” Panam's expression became almost angelic. “I tell them to fuck off.” Nadia laughed. “How professionally diplomatic.” “I'm very diplomatic. I usually smile.” “You do,” Shammy agreed. “It's terrifying.” Panam accepted the compliment with a small bow of her head. “Thank you.” Nadia made a note. Panam stared. “Did you just write that down?” “Not verbatim.” “Should I be worried?” “Possibly.” Shammy reached across Nadia to steal a sip from Panam's glass. “So,” she said, “you get the conversation. You meet someone. Maybe they're fascinating, maybe they're boring, maybe they're perfectly pleasant but nothing happens.” “And if there's no attraction?” Nadia asked. “Then there's no booking.” “Regardless of the money?” “Regardless of the money.” Panam nodded. “Which brings us to the third part. If you both want to continue, then the client makes a separate, serious offer.” “How serious?” Panam shrugged. “Depends on the circumstances. The person. What they're asking for. What you're willing to agree to.” Nadia tilted her head. “You don't have a fixed price?” “Not for something like this.” “Interesting.” “I want an offer that demonstrates the client understands who they're dealing with. But here's the important part.” Panam waited until Nadia met her eyes. “The money isn't the deciding factor. You are.” Nadia's expression softened. “I understand.” “Do you? Because some very rich people don't.” “That's hardly surprising.” Shammy laughed. Panam continued. “You could meet someone who offers an absolutely obscene amount of money, and if you don't like them, that's the end of it. Or you might meet someone you genuinely enjoy, and we work out an arrangement that suits everyone.” “And you would never accept on my behalf?” “Never.” “What if you think it's a wonderful offer?” “I tell you what I think. You decide.” “What if I change my mind afterward?” “Then you change your mind.” Nadia nodded slowly. “And if I've already agreed?” “You can still stop. Agreement doesn't turn you into a fucking vending machine.” Shammy raised her glass. “Beautifully put, Madame.” “I have my moments.” Nadia looked down at her notebook. Then she crossed out an entire line. Panam raised an eyebrow. “What was that?” “A contingency I no longer need to worry about.” “Good.” Nadia took another sip of wine. “And these arrangements would be the same for me as for Sera?” “The same protections and the same principle. Five million for an accepted conversation, then a separate offer if there's mutual interest.” “But the other members of the Stable don't work under that exact pricing structure.” “No. They have their own arrangements.” “Of course.” Panam watched her. “You're not joining a competition, Nadia.” Nadia looked genuinely surprised. “I should hope not.” “Good. Because I don't give a damn whether you book one client or ten, whether Sera earns more than you on a particular night, or whether either of you decides she'd rather stay home and paint.” Shammy nodded. “There have been evenings when I simply wasn't interested in anyone.” “And what happened?” Nadia asked. “I went home.” “Scandalous.” “Absolutely. Madame survived somehow.” “Barely,” Panam said. Nadia smiled. “And that brings us to my second heading.” Panam sighed. “Of course it does.” “Time.” Nadia had written the word in large, neat letters. Panam glanced at it. “As in how much time you want to spend working?” “Precisely.” “Your choice.” “That simple?” “That simple.” Nadia frowned thoughtfully. “I intend to remain a professional artist.” Shammy looked offended. “Darling, so do I.” “I know. I'm making a point.” “Proceed.” “I have a studio to run, exhibitions to prepare, commissions to complete, and several ideas that will require a considerable amount of uninterrupted time.” “And?” Panam asked. “And I have absolutely no intention of allowing another profession to consume my entire schedule.” Panam smiled. “Good. Neither do I.” Nadia considered that. “So if I wanted to work perhaps a few evenings occasionally—” “Fine.” “Or several evenings in a row?” “Also fine.” “And if I became involved in a major installation and didn't want to take any bookings for a month?” “Then you don't.” Nadia looked at Shammy. “You really do have a rather extraordinary arrangement.” Shammy shrugged. “It works.” “That's becoming increasingly apparent.” Panam stretched her legs. “Look, sweetheart. You don't need the money. Neither does Sera. Frankly, neither do most of our friends. That changes the equation.” Nadia nodded. “You can choose your work because you enjoy it.” “Exactly. And I can afford to be selective about who gets anywhere near my people.” There was something unmistakably proud in Panam's voice. Nadia smiled at her. “You rather enjoy that, don't you?” “What?” “Telling extremely wealthy people they can't have what they want.” Panam's grin was immediate. “Oh, you have no fucking idea.” Shammy burst out laughing. “She really doesn't, darling. You should see her when somebody walks in thinking their bank account makes them royalty.” Panam leaned back, clearly pleased with herself. “Some asshole offers twenty million, starts barking orders, and looks genuinely astonished when I tell him to take his money somewhere else.” “What happens if he offers more?” Nadia asked. “I enjoy myself more.” Nadia laughed. “Darling, that's terrible.” “Thank you.” Shammy kissed Panam's cheek. “She's magnificent.” “She is,” Nadia agreed. Panam looked between them. “You two are insufferable.” “Also true.” The third heading was Public Identity. Panam noticed it immediately. “This one's important.” “I thought so.” Shammy settled more comfortably against Nadia. “Let me guess. You're wondering how much of your private life becomes public.” “Among other things.” Panam nodded. “If you walk into Lizzie's as Nadia, people will recognize you.” “I expect so.” “Some won't care. Some will be curious. Some will think it's the most wonderful thing they've ever heard. And some will be complete assholes about it.” “An accurate description of an exhibition opening.” Shammy laughed. “Pretty much.” “But there's a difference,” Panam continued. “You can control who you talk to at Lizzie's. You can't control what people say about you afterward.” “I know.” “Someone might photograph you arriving. Someone might put your name on a gossip feed. You might wake up to a hundred messages from people who've suddenly decided your private life is their business.” Nadia looked thoughtful. “I hadn't considered the messages.” “Really?” “Oh, I considered the publicity. Just not the administrative inconvenience.” Shammy began laughing again. Panam stared at her. “Administrative inconvenience?” “Can you imagine having to sort through all those inquiries? It sounds exhausting.” “You're unbelievable.” “Darling, I already know that people are going to talk. I simply don't intend to let them dictate what I'm allowed to enjoy.” Panam studied her. “And your art?” Nadia smiled. “What about it?” “Some galleries might object.” “Then they can decline to exhibit my work.” “Some collectors might get weird about it.” “Some collectors are already weird.” Shammy nodded vigorously. “Fuck, yes.” “And some people might try to use my professional work as an excuse to get closer to me,” Nadia continued. “Which is why I'd prefer to keep the two businesses separate.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “Explain.” “My studio is my studio. People come there to discuss art, commission work, attend exhibitions or visit me socially. Lizzie's is where I would take professional bookings.” “Good.” “One does not automatically entitle anyone to the other.” “Exactly.” Nadia smiled. “Although if I happen to find a visitor to my studio personally attractive, I reserve the right to invite them upstairs.” Shammy turned toward her. “Oh?” “Don't look so surprised.” “I'm not surprised. I'm interested.” Panam grinned. “Jesus. Here we go.” Nadia regarded Shammy with perfect composure. “It's a rather comfortable apartment. It would be a shame not to use it.” “Darling, we use it.” “Yes. Frequently.” Panam started laughing. Nadia continued as though discussing the weather. “But I see no reason why an interesting new acquaintance should automatically be excluded from my private life simply because we met through my art.” Shammy gave her a long, delighted look. “You've been thinking about considerably more than Lizzie's.” “I did mention that I've been examining my priorities.” “And apparently your guest list.” “Possibly.” Panam wiped at one eye. “Fuck me. You haven't even started working and you're already planning your next adventures.” “Planning would be premature.” “Considering?” Shammy suggested. “Exactly.” All three laughed. Then Nadia grew a little more serious. “There's another distinction, though.” Panam listened. “If someone comes to my studio hoping to purchase art, I want them to understand that they're purchasing art. Not my attention, not my affection, and certainly not access to my bedroom.” “Damn right,” Panam said. “And if I invite them upstairs, it'll be because I want their company. Not because they've bought an expensive painting.” Shammy smiled. “That sounds perfectly reasonable.” “I thought so.” Panam squeezed her hand. “And I'll make damn sure nobody tries to confuse the two.” Nadia kissed her. “Thank you.” By the fourth heading, Panam had stopped complaining about the notebook. Mostly. “Professional boundaries,” Nadia read. Panam raised a hand. “Actually, I want to start this one.” “Please do.” “There's something you need to understand about me.” Shammy's expression changed slightly. Not worried. Attentive. Nadia noticed. Panam turned toward her. “At home, I'm Panam. Your lover. Your friend. The woman who steals the blankets and occasionally forgets where she put her fucking boots.” “You don't occasionally forget,” Shammy said. “You conduct archaeological expeditions.” “Not helping.” Nadia smiled. “Go on.” “At Lizzie's, when I'm working, I'm Madame Panam.” “And?” “And that means I'm responsible for the Stable. The clients, the negotiations, the arrangements, and making sure everybody knows what the fuck they're agreeing to.” Nadia nodded. “I understand.” “I'm also responsible for telling my people when I think something is a bad idea.” “Even if they disagree?” “Especially then.” Nadia considered that. “You're asking me to trust your judgment.” “I'm asking you to understand what my judgment is for.” “And what is it for?” “To help protect the choices you've made. Not replace them.” Nadia was quiet. Panam continued. “If I don't like a prospective client, I'll tell you why. If I think someone's trying to manipulate you, I won't pretend otherwise. If a situation doesn't feel right, I'm going to say so.” “Good.” “But you don't stop being Nadia because you put on a collar.” Nadia met her eyes. “No.” “You don't stop being intelligent. You don't stop having opinions. And you sure as hell don't stop telling me when you think I'm wrong.” Shammy smiled. “Can confirm. She's very familiar with that last one.” Panam glanced at her. “Fucking expert.” Nadia laughed softly. “And what about the collar itself?” Panam's expression warmed. “What about it?” “I've seen what it means to you. And to Sera.” Shammy took Nadia's hand. “It's important to me.” “I know.” “But not because I become somebody else when Madame puts it on me.” Nadia turned toward her. “Then how would you describe it?” Shammy considered her answer. “It's a choice I make. A way of expressing something I already feel. Trust, mostly. Affection. And the pleasure of giving someone I love a particular kind of responsibility for me.” She glanced at Panam. “Something she's very good at.” Panam's face softened. “Thank you, sweetheart.” Shammy smiled. “Don't get sentimental. You're still a bossy bitch.” “There she is.” Nadia laughed. But the answer mattered. More than she had expected. She had watched Shammy hand Panam her leash. Had watched the small changes in their posture and attention, the quiet familiarity of an arrangement that neither seemed to need to explain. It had intrigued her then. It intrigued her more now. “And if I wanted that?” she asked. Panam looked at her. “What, exactly?” “To belong to you in that particular way.” The room grew quiet. Not awkwardly. Not with the sudden discomfort of a conversation that had gone too far. Simply quiet. Shammy remained beside her, warm and attentive. Panam didn't answer immediately. When she did, her voice was gentle. “Then we'd talk about what that means to you. What you're asking me to take responsibility for, and what you're not.” Nadia nodded. “And if I decided I wanted to become your pet?” “Then you'd ask me.” “Personally?” “Of course.” “At Lizzie's?” “If that's where you wanted to make it official.” Nadia thought about that. She liked the distinction. A private decision, made because she wanted it. A public commitment, made because she was willing to stand behind it. “And you would choose my collar?” Panam smiled. “If you wanted me to.” “I think I would.” Shammy's fingers tightened affectionately around hers. Panam looked almost amused. “Are you already shopping, Nadia?” “Not yet.” “Good.” “I was going to ask whether we could go tomorrow.” Panam closed her eyes. Shammy lost the battle against laughter. “Oh, darling!” Nadia looked between them. “What?” Panam shook her head. “Nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing.” “Have I said something unreasonable?” “No, sweetheart. You've just managed to go from a hypothetical question to a shopping trip in under an hour.” “Efficient, isn't it?” Shammy leaned against her, laughing helplessly. Panam pointed at Nadia. “You are going to be a fucking handful.” Nadia smiled. “I should hope so.” Eventually the notebook was closed. Not because Nadia had run out of questions. That seemed unlikely to happen in anyone's lifetime. But because the important ones had been answered. They had discussed professional arrangements, time, privacy and the distinction between working relationships and personal ones. Panam had explained that there would be no obligation to accept a booking simply because a client had money, influence or an inflated opinion of themselves. Shammy had shared some of her own experiences, including several occasions when an apparently promising conversation had gone absolutely nowhere. And Nadia had listened. Carefully. Not searching for reasons to talk herself into something she didn't want, but examining whether the life she was considering was genuinely compatible with the one she already loved. It was. Or at least, she now understood enough to want to discover whether it could be. She put her notebook on the table. “Well.” Panam looked at her. “Well?” “I believe I've reached a decision.” Shammy sat up. “Have you?” “Yes.” Panam's expression grew attentive. Nadia looked at both women. “I want to try it.” Shammy's smile was immediate. But Nadia hadn't finished. “I want to work at Lizzie's as myself. Under my own name, with the same professional arrangements as Sera. I want to meet interesting people, choose my own experiences, and see where those experiences take me.” She turned toward Panam. “And I want you to be the person who manages those arrangements.” Panam smiled. “I'd be honored, sweetheart.” Nadia held her gaze. “There's something more.” Shammy became very still. Nadia took Panam's hand. “I've been thinking about the Stable, too. About what it means to Sera. About what it means to you.” Panam said nothing. “And I think I want that as well.” The words hung between them. Shammy reached across and rested her hand over Nadia's. Panam looked at their joined hands for a moment. Then she raised her eyes. “You think?” Nadia laughed softly. “I'm certain about what I want to explore. I'm still discovering exactly what it will mean to me.” “That's fair.” “But I would like to ask you properly.” Panam smiled. “Then you should.” “At Lizzie's. Tomorrow evening.” A long moment passed. Then Panam leaned forward and kissed her. It wasn't a hurried kiss. Nor was it a reward. It was simply Panam, telling Nadia without words that she had been heard. When they separated, Nadia was smiling. “So,” she said, “does this mean we're going shopping tomorrow?” Shammy burst out laughing. Panam rested her forehead against Nadia's. “Fuck me, sweetheart. You really don't waste time.” “I've been thinking about this for days.” “So you've mentioned.” “And I rather like the idea of you choosing something for me.” Panam drew back far enough to look into her eyes. “Then I'll choose carefully.” “I know you will.” Shammy kissed Nadia's temple. “Oh, darling. I'm so happy for you.” Nadia turned toward her. “Thank you.” “And I'm going to have so much fun watching this.” “That,” Nadia said, “is becoming abundantly clear.” Panam picked up her glass. “Hang on. There's one practical problem.” Nadia raised an eyebrow. “Only one?” “For the moment.” “What is it?” “If you're going to work tomorrow, you're going to need something to wear.” Nadia looked down at her ordinary studio clothes. Then at Shammy. “Ah.” Shammy's expression changed. It was subtle at first. A slight narrowing of her eyes. A thoughtful tilt of her head. Then the unmistakable beginning of a grin. Panam noticed immediately. “Oh, no.” Nadia looked intrigued. “What?” Shammy was already reaching for her phone. “I know exactly who to call.” Panam groaned. “Of course you fucking do.” Nadia smiled. “Should I be worried?” Shammy looked up, positively radiant. “Darling, have you met Lena?” Nadia laughed. “Yes.” “Then you know we're in excellent hands.” Panam drained the last of her drink. “And here we fucking go.” Shammy found the number. Nadia leaned comfortably against Panam, watching her with growing anticipation. Tomorrow had suddenly become a very interesting prospect. And for the first time since the idea had occurred to her, Nadia felt no need to approach it as a question. She had made her choice. Now she wanted to see what happened next. --- ## Chapter 3 — The Designer's Two Questions Lena answered on the fourth ring. "Shammy. Please tell me you aren't calling to order another wedding dress." Shammy grinned. "Hello to you too, darling." "I'm serious. If somebody's getting married again, I want at least three weeks' notice and a written declaration that nobody intends to get creative with the fucking guest list." Panam started laughing. Nadia looked intrigued. "No weddings," Shammy assured her. "Good. What did you break?" "Nothing!" "What did Ace break?" "Nothing that I know of." "Then why are you calling after dinner?" Shammy glanced at Nadia. "I need a favor." There was a short silence. "How expensive?" "Possibly very." "Oh, fuck off. What do you need?" Shammy laughed. "Do you happen to have a fast-drop outfit that's almost finished? Something you could get ready for tomorrow?" Lena didn't hesitate. "Who for?" "Nadia." "Joytoy?" "Yep." Another silence. Then Lena laughed. "Well, fuck me. That didn't take long." Nadia raised an eyebrow. Panam gave her an extremely satisfied look. "You knew?" Shammy asked. "No. But I've met the woman. She's got the eyes of somebody who looks at a locked door and starts wondering whether there's something interesting behind it." Nadia smiled. "I can hear you, Lena." "Good. Saves me repeating myself." Shammy dissolved into laughter. "So? Any chance?" "Actually, the lucky bitch might have caught me at exactly the right time." "Oh?" "I've got an experimental ensemble that's about ninety percent finished. Made it because I wanted to try a particular silhouette and couldn't get the damn thing out of my head. Nobody's commissioned it, and I haven't decided what to do with it yet." Nadia leaned forward. That sounded interesting. "What kind of silhouette?" she asked. "Oh, now she's paying attention." "I'm an artist. You mentioned an experiment." "And I'm a designer. Which means I'm not going to explain a perfectly good visual idea over a fucking phone connection." Panam laughed. "You're going to get along beautifully." "I suspect we will," Nadia said. Lena continued. "It's elegant, a little unusual, and built around movement. Not the kind of thing you wear to disappear into a crowd." "Excellent," Nadia replied. "And before you ask, yes, the fast-drop works. I tested that part first." "I hadn't asked." "You were about to." Nadia smiled. "Possibly." "The piece needs finishing, and I need to see it on you before I can adjust the fit. Tomorrow morning, your studio. I'll bring the outfit, finish the last corrections, and make sure it behaves properly." Shammy looked delighted. "You can really manage that?" "Unless Nadia suddenly grows another arm overnight, yes." "I'll try to avoid it," Nadia said. "Appreciated." Panam leaned toward the phone. "Lena, you're a fucking miracle." "I know. People keep telling me." "We'll pay whatever you want." "Of course you will. That's not the problem." "What's the problem?" "The problem is that I'm not having a respected artist walk into Lizzie's wearing something I've finished in a hurry and then spend the next six months pretending that constitutes a wardrobe." Nadia laughed. "I would never dream of doing such a thing." "Good. Because we're going to have a proper consultation. Measurements, materials, colors, silhouettes, what you actually like wearing, all of it." "I'd enjoy that." "You'd fucking better. You're going to have opinions about everything, aren't you?" "Almost certainly." Lena made a pleased sound. "Excellent. I hate clients who just tell me to make them look pretty." Shammy exchanged an amused glance with Panam. "You two really are going to be dangerous together." "Shammy," Lena said, "you introduced me to a woman who understands that clothing is a form of visual expression. What the hell did you expect?" Nadia's smile widened. There it was. Something more interesting than merely acquiring an outfit for Friday. A designer who thought about clothing in the same way Nadia thought about her installations: not as decoration, but as a way of changing how a person occupied a space. She was already looking forward to meeting Lena professionally. "One question," Nadia said. "Go ahead." "Is your experimental ensemble something you genuinely think would suit me, or simply the only thing you happen to have available?" The teasing disappeared from Lena's voice. "Good question." She paused. "I've seen your work. I've seen you at the safehouse. I know how you move, and I have a reasonably good idea of what you like. It's not something I designed specifically for you, but I wouldn't offer it if I thought you'd look ridiculous." "Fair." "And if we get it on you tomorrow and it doesn't work, we'll say so. I'm not putting my name on something I don't believe in." Nadia nodded. "Then I trust your judgment." "Smart woman. Now, where exactly do you want me?" They settled the arrangements. Lena would arrive at the Watson studio on Friday morning with the nearly completed outfit, the necessary tools, and enough time to make the final adjustments. Shammy promised coffee. Nadia promised an unobstructed workspace. Panam promised to keep both artists from turning the fitting into a four-hour discussion about aesthetic philosophy. "Good fucking luck with that," Lena told her. And disconnected. For a few seconds, the apartment was quiet. Then Shammy began laughing again. Panam looked at her. "What now?" "Nothing. Absolutely nothing." "Bullshit." Shammy grinned at Nadia. "You have no idea how lucky you just got." "With the outfit?" "With Lena." Nadia nodded thoughtfully. "I think I understand." "Oh, you don't. Not yet. Wait until she starts talking about fabric." Panam snorted. "Then you'll understand why I said four hours." "I wouldn't object to four hours discussing fabric," Nadia said. Both women looked at her. Panam closed her eyes. "Of course you wouldn't." Shammy leaned against Nadia, laughing. "We're doomed." Nadia took a leisurely sip of wine. "I fail to see the problem." "That's because you haven't met Lena with a tape measure and a new idea." "I have no objection to either." "Naturally." Nadia looked down at her clothes. She was wearing a comfortable studio shirt and trousers that had survived several increasingly ambitious installations. There was a faint mark of blue paint near one cuff. She liked these clothes. They belonged to her working life, the part that spent hours wrestling with materials and machinery until an idea finally became real. Tomorrow, someone would be bringing her something created for an entirely different purpose. Something intended to present her to a room full of strangers as a woman who had chosen to be seen. The thought was surprisingly exciting. Shammy noticed her expression. "Penny for your thoughts?" "I'm wondering what Lena has made." "You'll find out tomorrow." "I know." "Impatient?" Nadia considered the question. "A little." Panam smiled. "Good." Nadia turned toward her. "Good?" "Means you're looking forward to it." "Very much." Panam reached over and brushed a stray lock of hair away from Nadia's face. "Then we're off to a pretty good start." Nadia caught her hand and kissed her palm. "I'd say so." For a moment, the three of them sat together, enjoying the quiet satisfaction of a decision that had begun turning into reality. Then Nadia glanced toward the table. "There is one small matter we haven't discussed." Panam groaned. "Oh, for fuck's sake. Not the notebook again." "No notebook." "Thank God." "The other members of the Stable." Panam's expression changed. "Ah." Shammy sat up. "Right. The weekend." Nadia nodded. "I wouldn't want everyone to rearrange their lives merely because I've decided to try something new." "They won't," Panam said. "But I was thinking about asking whether anyone wants to work Friday through Sunday anyway." "All three nights?" "If they feel like it. Nobody's obligated." Shammy smiled. "Ace and Mai will probably be interested." "Probably," Panam agreed. "And Iris and Brenda?" "We'll ask." "Kiro?" "Also ask." Nadia looked between them. "Why not simply tell them what we're planning?" Panam shrugged. "I was going to call." Shammy considered that. Then her expression brightened. "Actually, why don't we go over?" Nadia looked at her. "To the safehouse?" "Why not? It's Thursday. We can see who's around, have a drink, tell everyone about tomorrow. Much nicer than sending messages." Panam thought about it. "Not a bad idea." Nadia smiled. "I'd like that." Shammy kissed her cheek. "Good. Then let's go." Panam looked at her. "You don't want to warn them first?" "Warn them about what?" Panam stared. Shammy's innocent expression lasted approximately two seconds. Then both women started laughing. Getting ready to leave took considerably longer than Nadia expected. Not because anyone was particularly disorganized. Panam had misplaced her jacket. Shammy had decided to check a message from Mai, then remembered something she wanted to tell Ace, then discovered that she had left her own jacket downstairs. Nadia waited by the door. Patiently. For nearly three minutes. "Are you two always like this?" she asked. Panam emerged from the bedroom, jacket in hand. "Like what?" "Remarkably efficient at turning a simple departure into an extended logistical exercise." "Oh, shut up." Shammy appeared from the stairs. "Found it!" "Congratulations," Nadia said gravely. Shammy kissed her on the way past. "You're enjoying this." "Immensely." Panam checked her pockets. Keys. Phone. Everything where it belonged. She glanced at Nadia. "Ready?" "I've been ready for some time." "Smartass." "You love me." Panam grinned. "Unfortunately." Nadia stepped closer. "And I love you." Panam kissed her. It was a familiar, unhurried gesture, the kind that no longer required explanation. Shammy watched them with an affectionate smile. Then she moved in and kissed Nadia too. "Come on, you two. Before Mai starts wondering whether I've been kidnapped." "Does that happen often?" Nadia asked as they headed downstairs. "The wondering or the kidnapping?" Panam replied. Nadia looked at her. "Should I be concerned?" Shammy laughed. "Welcome to the family, darling." The journey through Watson was pleasantly uneventful. Night City offered its usual assortment of traffic, neon, impatient drivers, and pedestrians displaying varying degrees of concern for their continued survival. Nadia watched the streets pass. She had lived in Night City long enough now that the initial strangeness had faded, but not so long that she had stopped noticing things. A narrow side street illuminated by an enormous advertising display. An old building whose owner had apparently given up on deciding which repairs were most urgent. Two people laughing outside a food stall. The city remained an inexhaustible collection of details. And increasingly, it felt like hers. Shammy was answering a message from Ace. Panam drove. Nadia sat comfortably beside Shammy, enjoying the journey. Eventually Panam glanced toward her. "You nervous?" Nadia considered. "About telling everyone?" "Yeah." "Not particularly." "Good." "I suspect there will be comments." Shammy laughed. "Oh, there'll be comments." "Quite a few," Panam agreed. Nadia smiled. "Excellent." Panam looked at her briefly. "Excellent?" "I rather enjoy an interesting conversation." Shammy lowered her phone. "You do realize who you're about to have that conversation with?" "Of course." "Ace alone could keep you occupied for an hour." "Then I'll look forward to it." Panam shook her head, smiling. "You're really not worried about getting teased?" Nadia gave her a thoughtful look. "Why would I be? They know me. I know them. Nobody's going to think less of me because I want to enjoy myself." Shammy reached for her hand. "No, darling. They won't." Nadia squeezed her fingers. "And besides, I rather suspect they may discover that I'm quite capable of returning the favor." Panam laughed. "Oh, this I want to see." Nadia turned back toward the window. She had no intention of making any grand announcement. This wasn't a performance. Nor was it a request for approval. She wanted to tell her friends about a decision that mattered to her, invite them to share a weekend, and enjoy whatever conversation followed. A perfectly ordinary evening. With perfectly ordinary people. Well. Perhaps not entirely ordinary. The Watson safehouse came into view. Panam pulled up, and Shammy was already unfastening her seat belt. The street-level armored door recognized their arrival. They entered and took the stairs to the upper floor, where Shammy opened the second armored door manually. Before they even reached it, Nadia could hear voices. Several of them. A burst of laughter. Something that sounded suspiciously like Brenda swearing at a piece of equipment. Then Mai's unmistakable voice. "Brenda, if you put that thing back on the dining table, I'm throwing it off the balcony." "It's not even switched on!" "That's not the point." Ace said something Nadia couldn't quite hear. Brenda replied with a spectacularly creative insult. Shammy glanced at Nadia. "Home sweet home." Nadia laughed. The door opened. Warm light spilled into the hallway. The familiar mixture of conversation, machinery, coffee and mildly organized chaos greeted them. Nadia stepped inside behind Shammy and Panam. And somewhere between the smell of coffee and the sound of her friends arguing cheerfully about something completely ridiculous, she felt that familiar warmth. The one she had begun to associate with this place. She wasn't coming here to ask whether she belonged. That question had been answered long ago. Tonight, she simply had something wonderful to tell them. And judging by the noise coming from the common room, she suspected the telling would be anything but quiet. --- ## Chapter 4 — A Family Announcement “I'm telling you, it's perfectly safe!” Brenda stood beside the dining table with a small metallic assembly in one hand and the expression of a woman whose genius was being tragically misunderstood. Mai regarded her over the rim of a coffee mug. “That's what you said about the last one.” “The last one worked!” “It set off the smoke detector.” “Because somebody installed an oversensitive smoke detector!” Ace, comfortably sprawled on the sofa, raised one finger. “Technically, the smoke detector was right.” Brenda turned on her. “Oh, fuck you.” “See? Even the smoke detector agrees with me.” Iris, sitting at the other end of the table with a drink, was laughing too hard to offer meaningful assistance. Kiro sat nearby, examining the technical specifications on a small display. “For what it's worth,” she said, “the design is sound.” Brenda pointed triumphantly. “THANK you!” “Although I'd probably test it somewhere other than the dining table.” Brenda lowered her hand. “Et tu, Kiro?” “Especially after the smoke detector.” “Oh, for fuck's sake.” That was the tableau greeting Shammy, Panam and Nadia as they entered the common room. Ace spotted them first. “Well, look what the fucking cat dragged in.” Shammy spread her arms. “Hello to you too, sweetheart!” Ace was already getting up. She crossed the room and pulled Shammy into a fierce hug, holding her for a moment before kissing her. Mai followed a heartbeat later. Their reunion was brief, familiar and entirely natural: Shammy belonged between them, and neither Ace nor Mai needed to make a ceremony of welcoming her home. Panam watched with an affectionate smile. Nadia noticed, too. The three of them were quite extraordinary together. Not because they were constantly demonstrating the fact. Because they never had to. Ace eventually released Shammy and turned toward Panam. “Hey, Madame.” Panam narrowed her eyes. “Don't start.” “I haven't said anything!” “Your face said plenty.” “My face is innocent.” Mai snorted. “Your face has never been innocent.” Ace looked offended. “Betrayed by my own wife.” “Frequently.” Shammy laughed and kissed Mai again. Nadia stood watching them, smiling. Then Brenda noticed her. “NADIA!” The device was deposited on the table with a clatter. Mai closed her eyes. “Brenda.” “What?” “The table.” “Oh, come on!” “Put it away.” Brenda muttered something unprintable, scooped up the device, and placed it in a storage case. Then she hurried over and hugged Nadia. “Hi! What brings you three over?” “Good evening, Brenda.” Nadia returned the hug warmly. “We thought we'd come and see everyone.” Brenda pulled back. “All three of you?” “Yes.” “On a Thursday?” “Apparently.” Brenda looked toward Panam. Panam smiled. Brenda looked toward Shammy. Shammy smiled even more. Brenda's eyes narrowed. “Oh, there's something going on.” Ace grinned. “Definitely something going on.” Iris rose from the table and came over to greet Nadia. Unlike Brenda, she didn't immediately start interrogating her. She embraced her affectionately. “It's lovely to see you.” “And you, Iris.” Iris drew back and studied her face. Then she smiled. “You look happy.” Nadia considered that. “I am.” “Good.” It was a simple answer. And, somehow, a rather wonderful one. Getting everyone settled involved some rearranging of furniture, the rescue of two coffee mugs from Brenda's technological territory, and a minor disagreement about whether the remaining components constituted a project or a public nuisance. Mai won. Nobody seemed particularly surprised. Panam claimed a chair near the sofa. Shammy settled between Ace and Mai, where she belonged. Nadia took a seat close to Panam. Brenda and Iris returned to the table, now mercifully free of experimental equipment. Kiro brought over another chair. Ace looked around the room. “So. Who died?” Panam stared at her. “Jesus Christ, Ace.” “What? Three people turn up without warning, everybody's smiling, Nadia looks like she's swallowed a fucking sunrise. Something happened.” Shammy laughed. “Nothing terrible, darling.” “Pregnant?” Mai turned toward her. “Ace.” “What? I'm eliminating possibilities.” Brenda burst out laughing. Panam pointed at Ace. “You. Shut up for thirty seconds.” “That's cruel.” “Twenty-nine.” Ace folded her arms. “Fine.” Nadia watched this exchange with considerable amusement. Then she leaned forward. “Actually, I have something I'd like to tell you.” That got everyone's attention. Even Ace stopped performing wounded innocence. Nadia looked around the room. She knew these people. Some better than others, naturally. But all of them had welcomed her into their lives, shown her extraordinary trust, and given her room to become part of their unusual family without requiring her to resemble anyone else. She hadn't expected to find this when she first came to Night City. She was profoundly grateful that she had. “I've been thinking about last weekend,” she began. Brenda grinned immediately. “Oh, this should be good.” Iris gave her a gentle elbow. “Let her speak.” “I am!” Nadia smiled. “I learned rather a lot.” Ace raised an eyebrow. “About what?” “Your collective extracurricular activities, among other things.” Brenda started laughing. Kiro hid a smile behind her mug. Ace glanced toward Mai. “Oh, she's getting dangerous.” “She's always been dangerous,” Mai replied. “You're just noticing.” Nadia inclined her head. “Thank you, Mai.” “Anytime.” She glanced at Panam, who nodded encouragingly. “Anyway. After a great deal of consideration, I've decided that I'd like to try working at Lizzie's.” Silence. Not a particularly long silence. But long enough for Nadia to enjoy it. Then Brenda said: “Holy shit.” Ace sat up. “Oh, fuck yes.” Kiro blinked. Iris looked from Nadia to Panam. Shammy was already grinning. And Brenda leaned forward so quickly that her chair scraped against the floor. “Wait. Seriously?” “Entirely.” “As a joytoy?” “Yes.” “YOU?” Nadia raised an eyebrow. “Is that surprising?” “No! Well, yes! I mean—fuck!” Iris burst out laughing. “Beautifully articulated, darling.” “Thank you!” Ace pointed at Brenda. “That's the official technical assessment.” Brenda flipped her off. Nadia was laughing now. Kiro leaned forward. “Are you planning to use a cover?” “No.” That produced a second, rather different silence. Iris's expression sharpened with interest. “As Nadia?” “Exactly.” “Your actual name?” “Yes.” Brenda stared. “Holy fucking shit.” Ace laughed. “You said that already.” “It deserves repeating!” Mai watched Nadia thoughtfully. “Have you considered the consequences for your artistic career?” Nadia nodded. “Quite extensively.” “And?” “I suspect it'll make life considerably more interesting.” Shammy giggled. Panam shook her head. “Understatement of the fucking century.” Iris smiled. “Some of your collectors may react badly.” “Undoubtedly.” “And some will be fascinated.” “Also undoubtedly.” “And you're comfortable with that?” Nadia looked at her. “Yes.” Iris studied her for another moment. Then her expression softened. “Good.” Brenda looked between them. “Wait, that's it?” Iris turned toward her. “What?” “She's about to become a famous artist who also works at Lizzie's, and your reaction is good?” “She's considered it, she wants to do it, and she's comfortable with the consequences.” “Yeah, but—” “What else should I say?” Brenda considered. Then she grinned. “Fuck, this is going to be amazing.” Iris laughed. “There you are.” Ace was the first to ask the question Nadia had been expecting. “So. Are you going to be one of Madame's pets?” Panam gave her a look. “Ace.” “What? Legitimate question.” Nadia smiled. “Yes.” That stopped Ace. For approximately two seconds. Then her grin became positively wicked. “Oh, Panam is so fucked.” Shammy collapsed against Mai, laughing. Panam threw up her hands. “Why does everybody keep saying that?” “Because you are,” Brenda answered cheerfully. “Helpful.” Nadia tilted her head. “I don't see why.” Ace looked at her. “Oh, honey.” Nadia raised one finger. “Careful.” Ace's smile widened. “Oh?” “I've spent enough time with Shammy and Panam to understand that I rather enjoy being difficult.” Mai laughed into her coffee. Shammy's hair began its familiar upward movement. Ace looked delighted. “Holy shit. She's learning.” “She's not learning,” Panam muttered. “She came like this.” “That's true,” Nadia agreed. Brenda looked at Shammy's halo. “She's really enjoying this.” Mai nodded. “I noticed.” Kiro had been watching Nadia quietly. Now she asked, “Have you actually made the arrangement with Madame yet?” “Not formally,” Nadia replied. “I'd like to ask her tomorrow evening at Lizzie's.” Panam smiled. “And I'll answer her there.” “Tomorrow?” Iris asked. “Yes.” Brenda looked astonished all over again. “Tomorrow tomorrow?” Ace turned toward her. “No, Brenda. The other tomorrow.” “Fuck you!” “Later. We have guests.” Iris covered her face. Nadia laughed. Panam pointed accusingly at Ace. “That's exactly the kind of bullshit I came here expecting.” Ace spread her hands. “Happy to deliver.” Nadia looked around the room. “Actually, I'm rather glad we came here first.” The laughter softened. She continued. “I wanted to tell you personally. You've all been extraordinarily kind to me, and I didn't want you discovering it from some ridiculous gossip feed.” Iris reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “That means a lot.” Brenda nodded. “Yeah. Seriously, Nadia. Thanks.” Ace's smile gentled. “You're one of us, you know.” Nadia looked at her. “I know.” Shammy slipped an arm around Mai's waist. Nadia glanced toward her and Panam. “And I thought it would be nice to tell you before the entire city starts having opinions.” Ace's grin returned. “Oh, they're going to have fucking opinions.” “Almost certainly.” “Some really stupid ones.” “I look forward to reading them.” Brenda stared at her. “Are you fucking kidding?” “Not at all. I find other people's attempts to explain my motivations quite entertaining.” Iris started laughing. “Oh, Nadia.” “What?” “You're going to be absolutely impossible.” “Thank you.” Panam eventually reclaimed the conversation. “Okay, you maniacs. There's another reason we're here.” Ace leaned back. “Here comes the sales pitch.” “Fuck off.” “Very persuasive.” Panam ignored her. “I'm planning a Lizzie's weekend. Friday, Saturday and Sunday.” Kiro lowered her mug. “All three evenings?” “Yep.” Brenda looked interested. “For everyone?” “For anyone who wants to work. Nobody's being drafted.” Mai nodded. “Good.” Panam continued. “There's no special requirement for anyone to join us. Nadia and Sera will be there, but I'd like to know who else is interested before I start sorting out the arrangements.” Ace raised her hand immediately. Panam sighed. “I haven't even finished.” “Doesn't matter.” “Ace.” “I'm in.” Mai looked at her wife. “You haven't checked our schedule.” Ace turned toward her. “Do we have anything?” “Nothing I can't rearrange, but that's not the point.” “So we're in?” Mai sighed. Then smiled. “Yes, sweetheart. We're in.” Ace looked triumphantly at Panam. “See? Efficient.” “Terrifyingly so.” Shammy kissed Ace's cheek. “I'm glad.” Ace grinned. “Wouldn't miss your girlfriend's grand debut for anything.” Nadia smiled. “How flattering.” “Oh, don't thank me yet. I'm going to be absolutely insufferable.” “You already are,” Mai observed. “Love you too.” Panam turned toward Iris and Brenda. “What about you two?” Brenda looked at Iris. Iris raised an eyebrow. “Are we free?” “Pretty sure.” “Any commitments?” “Nothing urgent.” Iris considered. Then smiled. “I think we'd enjoy ourselves.” Brenda's answering grin was immediate. “Oh, hell yes.” Ace pointed at them. “Fuck. Nova and Vega are coming.” Panam groaned. “What?” “Nothing. Just remembering what happens when those two stop pretending to be respectable.” Brenda gave her an innocent look. “I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about.” Iris smiled sweetly. “Neither do I.” Mai regarded them over her coffee. “That's what worries me.” Nadia watched the married women with considerable interest. She already knew who Nova and Vega were. She had seen enough of their professional personas to appreciate that the two women were rather more uninhibited at Lizzie's than they usually appeared in everyday life. But the way everyone was reacting suggested that she hadn't yet witnessed the full extent of the phenomenon. “Should I be concerned?” she asked. Ace looked at her. “Nah.” Brenda nodded. “Absolutely.” Iris laughed. “Darling!” “What? She asked!” Nadia smiled. “Now I'm intrigued.” Panam shook her head. “You will be.” Kiro had been quiet for several minutes. Panam turned toward her. “And you?” Kiro considered. “I can make Friday and Saturday. Sunday should be possible too, but I need to check something first.” “Good enough. Let me know.” Kiro nodded. “Deja's equipment is ready.” Mai looked at her. “At the safehouse?” “Where else?” “Just checking.” Kiro smiled. “Face-mesh, wardrobe, accessories. Everything's stored here, as usual.” Panam nodded. “And you don't need Victor.” “No voice-sculpt for Deja. She uses my natural voice.” “Right. Lucky you.” Ace groaned theatrically. “Meanwhile, the rest of us get to visit Victor and explain why we're suddenly so fucking popular.” Brenda laughed. “He loves us.” Mai gave her a look. “He tolerates us.” “Same thing.” “Not remotely.” Nadia listened with interest. She had learned enough about the cover identities to understand that their preparation was considerably more involved than simply changing clothes. Face-meshes. Voice work. Wardrobe. Accessories. Carefully maintained identities with their own histories and professional appearances. She knew who was behind the covers, but that knowledge had only made her respect the care they took with them. “And what about Mandi and Dalia?” she asked. Ace pointed at herself. “Present.” Mai raised her mug. “Also present.” Nadia smiled. “I meant their preparations.” “Victor tomorrow,” Mai replied. “We'll arrange the voice appointments and make sure everything else is ready.” Ace glanced at her. “You're already organizing this in your head, aren't you?” “Yes.” “God, I love you.” “I know.” Panam made a note on her phone. “Nobody needs to rush tonight. We'll coordinate the appointments in the morning.” Iris glanced toward Brenda. “We'll need ours arranged as well.” “Yeah,” Brenda said. “And I should probably find out where Vega's shoes ended up.” Iris smiled. “In the wardrobe, darling.” “Which wardrobe?” “The one you put them in.” Brenda stared. “Oh, that's helpful.” “You're welcome.” Nadia laughed. Ace leaned toward her. “Getting a sense of how this family functions?” “I'm developing several theories.” “Good. Let me know when you solve us.” “I suspect that would require a substantially larger notebook.” Panam pointed at her. “Don't give her ideas.” “What about Birgitta and Bea?” Iris asked. Panam shook her head. “Both have their own work commitments this weekend.” “Fair enough,” Mai said. “So no Birgitta or Bea,” Brenda observed. “Nope.” Ace looked faintly disappointed. “Pity.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “Why?” “Because I enjoy watching you attempt to keep that entire circus under control.” “Then you're in luck. You'll have plenty to watch.” Shammy laughed. “Especially if Nadia and I both attract attention.” Brenda snorted. “If?” Nadia looked at her. “Do you think we will?” Brenda stared. Then looked at Iris. Then back at Nadia. “Oh, sweetheart.” Ace began laughing. Iris shook her head. “She's right, Nadia. You're both recognized artists.” “And Sera's already known for her work at Lizzie's,” Kiro added. Nadia nodded. “Which might make my presence less surprising.” Brenda looked genuinely astonished. “Less surprising?” “In some circles.” Ace leaned back and folded her arms. “Oh, this is adorable.” Nadia raised an eyebrow. “Is it?” “You think people are going to see two famous artists at Lizzie's and react like somebody announced a fucking gallery opening.” “Some might.” “Some will. The rest are going to lose their goddamn minds.” Shammy's halo rose another fraction. Panam looked at it. “Oh, wonderful. Now you're excited.” “Of course I'm excited!” “About the potential disaster?” “About the possibilities.” Nadia nodded approvingly. “Precisely.” Panam looked between them. “Jesus fucking Christ.” Mai smiled into her coffee. “I believe you're beginning to understand the scale of your problem.” Panam pointed at her. “You're not helping either.” “I wasn't trying to.” Eventually the conversation turned to practical matters. Panam explained the general arrangements for the weekend, making it clear that everyone would continue working under their own established terms. Nadia and Sera's extraordinarily selective pricing had nothing to do with the other members of the Stable. Nobody was expected to match it. Nobody was expected to compete with it. And nobody was expected to spend their evenings standing around watching two artists become the center of attention. “Thank fuck,” Brenda said. Panam looked at her. “What?” “I like being Vega. I don't particularly want to become an accessory to a celebrity circus.” “Exactly,” Panam replied. “You're there to enjoy your own work.” Ace grinned. “And to take the piss out of them whenever possible.” “That's optional.” “Bullshit.” Nadia raised her hand slightly. Everyone looked at her. “I'd like to clarify something.” Panam smiled. “Go ahead.” “If the city does become rather fascinated with Sera and me, I don't want that to interfere with anyone else's evening.” Mai nodded. “Reasonable.” “And I certainly don't want anyone feeling obliged to participate in some elaborate public spectacle on my behalf.” Iris smiled. “You won't need to worry about that.” Brenda leaned forward. “Sweetheart, I've got my own shit to do. If some rich asshole wants to spend millions talking to you about sculpture, good for you. I'll be busy having my own fun.” Nadia laughed. “Thank you, Brenda.” “Anytime.” Ace raised a finger. “Although I reserve the right to laugh if somebody pays five million and you spend the whole conversation explaining why their taste in art is fucking terrible.” Nadia considered that. “I wouldn't normally insult a prospective collector.” “Really?” “Not without a compelling reason.” Shammy started giggling. Panam groaned. “Oh, I can already see it.” “What?” Iris asked. “Some arrogant bastard comes in convinced his money makes him interesting, Nadia spends ten minutes politely dismantling his entire personality, and he leaves thinking he's had the most intellectually stimulating evening of his life.” Nadia smiled. “That would be rather entertaining.” Ace slapped her knee. “FUCK, YES!” Even Mai laughed. The evening became louder. It was inevitable. Brenda wanted to know whether Nadia had considered a professional wardrobe. Nadia told her about Lena's visit tomorrow morning. Iris immediately became interested. “What is she making?” “Apparently an experimental fast-drop ensemble.” Brenda nearly choked on her drink. “Lena's making you a fast-drop?” “She's finishing one for me.” “Tomorrow?” “Yes.” Ace looked at Shammy. “You arranged that already?” Shammy smiled innocently. “She happened to have something almost finished.” Mai shook her head. “Of course she did.” Kiro smiled. “Convenient.” “Extremely,” Nadia agreed. Brenda was practically vibrating. “Oh, this is going to be good.” Iris laughed. “You haven't even seen it.” “Doesn't matter. It's Lena.” Nadia nodded. “That was rather my impression.” “And she wants to design a proper wardrobe afterward,” Shammy added. That caught Iris's attention. “For your joytoy persona?” “Yes.” Nadia smiled. “We've already agreed that tomorrow's outfit is only the beginning. I'd like to commission something more personal.” Brenda looked delighted. “An entire collection?” “Potentially.” “Fuck, Lena's going to love you.” “I rather hope so.” Iris considered the possibilities. “And your art-world contacts?” Nadia tilted her head. “What about them?” “Some of them might be interested in her work.” Nadia smiled. “That's occurred to me.” Panam shook her head. “Oh, here we fucking go again.” “What?” Nadia asked. “You haven't even had your first evening at Lizzie's, and you're already building a fashion collaboration.” “Would you prefer that I ignore a promising artistic opportunity?” Panam looked at her. Then at Shammy. Then at the ceiling. “Nope. Not answering that.” Shammy laughed. “Wise choice.” At some point, Mai brought out more coffee. Brenda's project was finally put away properly. Kiro and Iris began discussing scheduling arrangements, while Ace entertained Nadia with a spectacularly exaggerated account of Victor's attitude toward unexpected voice appointments. Shammy occasionally corrected her. Mai corrected her more frequently. Panam mostly laughed. Nadia found herself thoroughly enjoying the entire spectacle. It wasn't that the conversation was particularly profound. It wasn't supposed to be. The profound part had happened earlier, when she had told her friends what she wanted to do and discovered that none of them considered it anything other than another interesting choice made by someone they loved. Now they could get on with the much more important business of giving her shit about it. Ace eventually leaned toward her. “So, Nadia.” “Yes?” “Still planning to work under your real name?” “Absolutely.” “No mysterious cover? No sexy pseudonym?” “No.” “Not even something ridiculously dramatic?” Nadia smiled. “Such as?” Ace thought for a moment. “Lady Catastrophe.” Brenda exploded with laughter. Iris covered her mouth. Kiro looked up from her phone. “That's terrible.” “Thank you!” Nadia considered the suggestion with an entirely serious expression. “I'm afraid it lacks subtlety.” Ace looked offended. “It's memorable!” “So is food poisoning.” Mai nearly spilled her coffee. Shammy doubled over. Brenda slapped the table. “OH, FUCK!” Ace stared at Nadia. Then slowly began to grin. “Oh, you're good.” “Thank you.” “No, seriously. You're going to fit right in.” Nadia tilted her head. “I rather thought I already had.” That softened Ace's expression. “Yeah,” she said. “You have.” For a moment, the noise of the room seemed to settle around them. Nadia looked at the familiar faces. Ace. Mai. Shammy. Iris and Brenda, still laughing together. Kiro, watching with a small smile. Panam beside her, affectionate and unmistakably proud. She had come to Night City because an extraordinary woman had offered her the freedom to build a new artistic life. Somewhere along the way, she had acquired considerably more. A home. Friends. Lovers. A family. And now, apparently, the prospect of becoming a professional joytoy while remaining exactly who she wanted to be. It was an absurdly wonderful collection of circumstances. Nadia smiled. “I have to say, I'm rather looking forward to tomorrow.” Panam laughed. “Yeah, sweetheart. So am I.” Brenda raised her glass. “To Nadia!” Ace immediately lifted hers. “To the newest troublemaker in Night City!” “She's not officially anything yet,” Mai reminded them. Ace waved a hand. “Details.” Shammy raised her glass. “To making your own choices.” Iris smiled. “And enjoying them.” Kiro lifted her mug. “To a very interesting weekend.” Panam looked at Nadia. Then raised her glass. “To you, sweetheart.” Nadia felt something warm settle in her chest. She lifted her own glass. “To all of you.” They drank. And then, because this was the Watson safehouse and nobody had ever demonstrated the slightest talent for maintaining a solemn atmosphere for more than thirty seconds, Brenda leaned forward. “So, Nadia.” “Yes?” “One last question.” Panam groaned. “Oh, fuck. Not you too.” Brenda ignored her. “Have you thought about what you're going to do if your first client turns out to be someone you've met at a gallery opening?” Nadia considered that. “Yes.” Brenda blinked. “You have?” “Of course.” “And?” Nadia smiled sweetly. “I suppose I'll have to find out whether they're more interesting without an audience.” There was a beat of silence. Then Ace burst out laughing. Brenda's mouth fell open. Iris made a delighted sound. Shammy's halo practically exploded. And Panam dropped her head into her hands. “Oh, I'm so fucking screwed.” Nadia leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Possibly, darling.” Then she looked around the room. “But I have a feeling we're going to have a wonderfully fun weekend.” For once, nobody disagreed. --- ## Chapter 5 — Made for Nadia Friday morning arrived with sunshine, coffee, and the uncomfortable realization that Nadia had absolutely no idea what Lena was bringing. She considered this a minor personal failing. Normally, when commissioning another artist, she preferred to understand the direction of the work beforehand. Not necessarily every detail—surprises could be delightful—but enough to appreciate the creative intention. This morning, she knew almost nothing. An experimental ensemble. Nearly finished. Designed by Lena. Suitable for Lizzie's. That was the entirety of her information. It was intolerable. “You're doing it again.” Nadia looked up. Panam stood in the kitchen doorway, holding two mugs. “Doing what?” “Thinking so hard I can hear the fucking gears turning.” “I wasn't aware I made a noise.” “You don't. That's what makes it creepy.” Nadia accepted the coffee. “Thank you, darling.” Panam leaned against the counter. “You're excited.” “Yes.” “Nervous?” “Not particularly.” “Curious?” “Desperately.” Panam laughed. “Yeah. Thought so.” Nadia had cleared a generous area near the studio's central worktable. The usual collection of tools, materials, sketches and unfinished experiments had been moved aside to make room for the fitting. A large standing mirror waited near the windows. Beside it stood a folding screen, borrowed from the upstairs apartment. Panam regarded the arrangement. “Looks like you're about to perform surgery.” “Clothing design is considerably more interesting.” “Depends on the surgery.” Nadia gave her a look. Panam grinned. “Just saying.” The building's entrance notification sounded. Nadia checked the display. “Ah. Shammy.” Panam glanced at the time. “Early.” “She promised pastries.” “Then let her the fuck in.” Shammy arrived carrying a large paper bag and wearing the expression of someone who had been thoroughly enjoying herself since waking up. Nadia kissed her. “Good morning, darling.” “Morning!” Panam accepted her own kiss and immediately investigated the bag. “Oh, fuck yes.” Shammy laughed. “I know my audience.” “You absolutely do.” Nadia peered inside. “You bought enough for six people.” “Lena's coming.” “That makes four.” “I'm planning ahead.” “For what?” “Artistic emergencies.” Panam took a pastry. “Those are my favorite kind.” The three settled around the studio table. Shammy described the increasingly absurd discussion at the safehouse after Nadia and Panam had left the previous evening. Apparently Brenda had insisted that she would be perfectly capable of preparing Vega's wardrobe without assistance. Iris had reminded her of the incident involving a missing shoe, a malfunctioning wardrobe compartment, and a rather expensive piece of furniture. Brenda had maintained that the furniture was poorly designed. Mai had disagreed. At considerable length. “And Ace?” Nadia asked. Shammy grinned. “Ace offered to mediate.” “Oh, dear.” “Exactly.” “What happened?” “Brenda told her to fuck off.” Panam laughed. “Reasonable.” “Then Ace suggested they settle the matter with a drinking contest.” Nadia raised an eyebrow. “On a Thursday?” “Mai put a stop to it.” “Very sensible.” “She also informed Ace that if she wanted to arrive at Victor's appointment tomorrow with a hangover, she could explain that to him herself.” Panam winced theatrically. “Ouch.” “Apparently that worked.” Nadia smiled into her coffee. “I really do adore those people.” “So do I,” Shammy said. The entrance notification sounded again. Panam looked toward the display. “Fashion emergency incoming.” Lena arrived carrying an enormous garment case, a compact equipment bag, and the unmistakable air of a woman who had already been working for several hours. Her hair was secured away from her face. A measuring tape hung around her neck, and she wore comfortable clothes with enough pockets to suggest that she expected the world to provide problems requiring immediate solutions. Nadia hurried forward. “Lena! Welcome.” “Morning, gorgeous.” Lena accepted the greeting, kissed Nadia's cheek, and looked around the studio. Then she stopped. “Oh, fuck.” Nadia blinked. “Something wrong?” Lena was staring at the suspended installation. “Is that yours?” “Yes.” “The one from the exhibition?” “A revised version.” Lena put down her equipment bag. “Hang on.” She crossed the studio. Nadia watched with interest as Lena walked around the installation, studying how the suspended elements changed their appearance under the shifting lights. She stepped closer. The sensors responded. A pale ribbon of illumination followed her movement across the metal. Lena moved back. The light changed again. “Fuck me.” Panam leaned toward Shammy. “And so it begins.” Shammy giggled. Lena ignored them. “You've changed the response delay.” Nadia smiled. “Very good.” “It was slower before.” “Yes.” “Why?” “The original version encouraged visitors to stop and observe the effect. I wanted this one to reward movement rather than stillness.” Lena walked around it again. The shadows shifted. “Oh, that's clever.” “Thank you.” “No, seriously. Look what happens when you approach from the side.” Nadia joined her. For several minutes, they discussed light angles, movement, material surfaces and the curious way a small change in timing could alter the entire character of an installation. Panam finished her pastry. Shammy watched the conversation with a delighted expression. Eventually Panam cleared her throat. “Ladies?” Neither artist responded. “Ladies.” Lena glanced back. “What?” “Dress.” “Oh. Right.” Nadia laughed. “Of course.” Lena returned to her garment case. “Sorry. Occupational hazard.” “Don't apologize,” Nadia said. “That was considerably more interesting than exchanging pleasantries.” Panam looked at Shammy. “Fuck. There's two of them.” Shammy beamed. “I told you.” Lena placed the garment case on the cleared table. “First thing,” she said, “I want to make something absolutely clear.” Nadia nodded. “Go ahead.” “This wasn't designed for you.” “I know.” “I made it because I wanted to experiment with a particular construction. It was almost finished, and when Shammy called, I thought you might be able to wear it.” “Understood.” “But if it doesn't work, we don't force it.” “Agreed.” “And if you hate it, say so.” “Certainly.” Lena narrowed her eyes. “I mean it. I don't want polite compliments.” Nadia smiled. “Darling, I have spent years dealing with artists who believe their work is beyond criticism. I assure you I won't contribute to the problem.” Lena grinned. “Oh, I like you.” She unzipped the case. And Nadia forgot whatever she had intended to say next. The outfit was dark. Not black, exactly. Its primary fabric had a deep graphite tone that appeared almost matte until the light struck it. Then a faint blue-green sheen emerged across its surface, disappearing again as the angle changed. The silhouette was asymmetrical, with a carefully shaped neckline and an arrangement of layered panels that seemed almost architectural. It wasn't extravagant. It wasn't covered in unnecessary decoration. It was precise. Beautifully precise. Lena lifted it from the case. The fabric moved. Nadia took a step closer. “Oh.” Shammy smiled. Panam watched her reaction. Lena raised an eyebrow. “Well?” Nadia didn't answer immediately. She circled the table, studying the relationship between the fabric's surfaces and the lines of the garment. Then she looked at Lena. “You've used the reflective treatment selectively.” “Yep.” “Not across the whole fabric.” “Nope.” “Why?” “Because if the entire thing shimmers, nobody looks at the shape. They just look at the fucking shimmer.” Nadia laughed. “Exactly.” Lena smiled. “The effect should reward movement. Not overwhelm it.” Nadia examined the garment again. “And these panels?” “Partly structural. Partly visual.” “There's a deliberate interruption in the line.” “Good eye.” “It makes the whole silhouette less predictable.” “That's the idea.” --- Shammy leaned toward Panam. “They've been talking for thirty seconds.” “I noticed.” “They're already finishing each other's sentences.” “I'm considering leaving them here.” Nadia ignored them completely. She was examining one of the seams. “And the fast-drop?” Lena's expression brightened. “Ah. Now we're getting to the fun part.” The first fitting revealed three problems. The first was minor. The second was annoying. The third made Lena swear. “Fuck.” Nadia looked at her reflection. “That's what I thought.” The garment fit her shoulders beautifully and followed the lines of her body with almost effortless elegance. But one of the lower panels pulled awkwardly when she turned. Lena crouched beside her. “Move your right leg forward.” Nadia did. “Now turn.” She turned. “Yep. There it is.” “Your construction assumes a slightly different balance between the panels,” Nadia observed. “Exactly.” “Can you correct it?” “Of course. I'm irritated that I didn't notice it sooner.” “You designed it without knowing who would wear it.” “Not an excuse.” Nadia smiled. “I wasn't offering one.” Lena looked up. Then laughed. “Fair.” Panam watched from the sofa. “Is this going to take all morning?” “Possibly,” Lena said. “Good. Just checking.” Shammy had been studying the dress with visible interest. “I love the way it catches the light.” “That's the best part,” Lena said. “But it needs to work when Nadia's moving, not just standing around looking fucking magnificent.” Nadia turned toward her. “I appreciate the professional distinction.” “Anytime.” Lena stood. “Walk.” Nadia crossed the studio. “Turn.” She turned. “Sit.” Nadia sat on a nearby chair. Lena frowned. “Stand.” Nadia stood. “Reach.” Nadia lifted both arms. Lena watched the fabric settle. Then shook her head. “Nope.” “What?” Panam asked. “She's going to spend half the evening fighting the garment if I leave it like that.” Nadia looked down. “It isn't uncomfortable.” “Doesn't matter.” “Why?” Lena gave her an astonished look. “Because you shouldn't have to fucking think about your clothes every time you move.” Nadia considered that. Then smiled. “An excellent principle.” Lena retrieved her tools. “Thank you. Now get behind that screen so I can fix the bloody thing.” The next hour became an unexpectedly satisfying collaboration. Lena worked quickly, but never carelessly. She adjusted one seam, reshaped a panel, and reconsidered the balance of the garment around Nadia's hips. Nadia offered observations. Some were useful. One was so useful that Lena stopped working, stared at her for several seconds, and then asked why the hell she hadn't thought of it herself. Another was terrible. Lena told her so. Bluntly. Nadia laughed and agreed. Panam eventually stopped pretending to follow the technical discussion and made more coffee. Shammy remained close enough to offer opinions, but wisely allowed the two working artists to determine the details. At one point, Nadia examined a partially adjusted panel. “What if we changed the angle here?” Lena considered. “That would improve the visual line.” “But?” “But it would make the release less reliable.” “Ah.” “Not worth it.” “Agreed.” Lena looked pleased. “You understand the difference between an aesthetic decision and a functional compromise.” “I work with machinery.” “Good. Because some people think fashion is just drawing something pretty and hoping the universe cooperates.” Nadia laughed. “The universe rarely cooperates.” “Exactly.” She returned to work. Eventually Lena straightened. “Right. Try it again.” Nadia stepped behind the screen. A moment later, she emerged. This time the garment moved with her. The fabric caught the light as she crossed the studio, shifting from graphite to a faint blue-green before settling back into darkness. The asymmetrical panels followed her movements rather than resisting them. She sat. Stood. Turned. Walked toward the windows. And stopped in front of the mirror. “Oh,” she said softly. Lena folded her arms. “Better?” Nadia studied her reflection. “Much.” Panam looked up from her coffee. Then put the mug down. “Well, fuck.” Shammy's smile grew. “Oh, Nadia.” Nadia turned. “What?” Panam shook her head. “Nothing. You look fucking incredible.” Nadia smiled. “Thank you.” Lena was watching her carefully. “More importantly, how does it feel?” Nadia moved her shoulders. “Comfortable.” “Really?” “Yes.” “Nothing pulling?” “No.” “Anything you want changed?” Nadia considered. Then shook her head. “I don't think so.” Lena nodded. “Good.” Shammy rose from the sofa and approached. She walked slowly around Nadia, studying the garment. “Oh, darling. That's gorgeous.” Nadia laughed. “You're biased.” “Completely.” “Appallingly,” Panam added. Shammy looked at her. “As if you aren't.” “Didn't say I wasn't.” Lena watched them with amusement. Then she tapped the side of her equipment case. “Now. The other important bit.” Nadia raised an eyebrow. “The fast-drop?” “Exactly.” Lena didn't treat the fast-drop feature as a party trick. That was one of the first things Nadia appreciated. The mechanism was part of the design, integrated into the garment rather than added as an afterthought. Its purpose was simple: when the wearer chose to release it, the outfit should come away smoothly without catching, tangling or requiring an awkward struggle. It also needed to remain completely secure until that moment. “Last thing you want,” Lena explained, “is an outfit deciding to make its own fucking entrance.” Panam snorted. “Or exit.” “Exactly.” Nadia examined the construction. “So it has to be reliable in both directions.” “Right. Secure when worn, clean when released.” “And easy to put back on?” “Preferably. I'm not designing expensive fucking confetti.” Shammy laughed. “Although that would be memorable.” “Once,” Lena said. “Then you'd be standing there wondering why your entire wardrobe was on the floor.” Panam looked at Nadia. “That's the sort of thing Brenda would suggest.” Nadia smiled. “I suspect Brenda would insist it was an experimental feature.” “And then Mai would murder her,” Shammy added. Lena grinned. “Probably.” They tested the release with Nadia behind the privacy screen. The first attempt worked. Lena wasn't satisfied. The second worked. She made another tiny adjustment anyway. On the third test, the garment released cleanly and was easily gathered without a single panel catching. “Perfect,” Lena said. Nadia stepped back out, now wearing her fitting clothes. “That was surprisingly elegant.” “It's supposed to be.” “I'd expected something more complicated.” “That's the whole point. Complicated construction. Simple operation.” Nadia looked at her appreciatively. “A very sound design philosophy.” Lena smiled. “Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment.” “It was intended as one.” By late morning, the garment was finished. Not merely wearable. Finished to Lena's satisfaction. Which, as Nadia was discovering, was a considerably more demanding standard. Lena packed away the last of her tools while Nadia examined the outfit once more. The designer watched her. “You know what?” “What?” “I think this ended up better than the version I originally planned.” Nadia turned. “Really?” “Yeah. The changes we made suit the whole design.” “I'm pleased.” “So am I.” Lena paused. Then looked at Nadia more thoughtfully. “Now, before you start imagining that this solves your wardrobe problem—” “It doesn't,” Nadia said. Lena blinked. “Right.” “I'd already understood that.” “Of course you had.” Nadia smiled. “Shall we discuss the larger project?” Panam groaned from the sofa. “Oh, here we go.” Shammy laughed. “Let them have their fun.” Lena pulled up a chair. “Okay. Tell me what you're thinking.” Nadia joined her at the table. “I don't want a collection of variations on Sera's style.” “Good.” “She's magnificent, but her aesthetic belongs to her.” “Exactly.” “And I don't particularly want a wardrobe that looks as though someone has dressed me according to a conventional idea of what a joytoy should look like.” Lena nodded. “Also good.” “I want something that feels like my own work.” “That,” Lena said, “is interesting.” Nadia glanced toward the installation. “Controlled contrasts. Unexpected material combinations. Structures that appear simple until you examine them more closely.” Lena leaned forward. “Movement?” “Definitely.” “Color?” “Selective.” “Texture?” “Essential.” Lena smiled slowly. “Oh, we're going to have fun.” Nadia laughed. “I rather thought we might.” Panam looked between them. “Do I need to worry about the price?” Both artists turned toward her. “No,” they said together. Shammy collapsed into laughter. Panam stared. “Fuck. They've synchronized.” Lena shook her head. “Price isn't the issue. The challenge is designing something worth making.” “Precisely,” Nadia said. Lena opened a small sketchbook. “Okay. Initial thoughts. You need several different kinds of outfits, not one idea repeated until everybody gets bored.” “Agreed.” “Something for Lizzie's. Something for social evenings. Something you can wear to an exhibition without looking like you've accidentally wandered in from a nightclub.” “Although that could be entertaining.” “Sure. But I'd rather you made that choice deliberately.” Nadia laughed. “Fair.” “And I'd like to experiment with a few pieces that blur those categories.” Now Nadia leaned forward. “That interests me enormously.” “I thought it might.” The next few minutes produced an increasingly animated discussion about materials, silhouettes and clothing that could transform its appearance through movement or changes in lighting. Lena made several quick sketches. Nadia examined them and offered suggestions. One idea was discarded immediately. Another became more interesting after Nadia proposed changing the fabric treatment. A third caused both women to fall silent for several seconds. Then Lena looked up. “Oh, that's fucking good.” Nadia smiled. “Yes. I think it is.” Panam looked at Shammy. “Do we even want to know?” “Probably not yet.” Lena closed the sketchbook. “Right. We're stopping there.” Nadia blinked. “Why?” “Because if we keep going, I'll still be sitting here at midnight, and you've got somewhere rather important to be this evening.” “Ah.” “Also, I'd like some time to think about what we've just discussed.” Nadia nodded. “Of course.” Lena checked her schedule. “Sunday afternoon?” Nadia considered. “Before Lizzie's?” “Plenty of time if we start early enough.” “Excellent.” “Proper design consultation. Your ideas, my ideas, materials, measurements, the whole fucking thing. We'll scope the collection and get the commission underway.” Nadia smiled. “Then Sunday it is.” Lena looked toward the installation. “And I want another look at that thing.” “Certainly.” “Because I think there's something in the way it handles light that we could use.” Nadia's eyes brightened. “I was thinking exactly the same thing.” Panam threw her hands into the air. “Jesus Christ.” Shammy was laughing helplessly. Lena grinned. “Sorry, Madame. You're dating artists.” “I'm painfully fucking aware.” There was one last detail. Nadia remembered it as Lena was closing the garment case. “Actually, I have a proposition.” Lena looked up. “Another one?” “A professional one.” “Go on.” “I know several people in the art world who commission clothing as part of performance installations. Not costumes, exactly. More integrated work involving movement, materials and visual presentation.” Lena's expression sharpened. “Okay.” “I think some of them would be extremely interested in what you do.” “Really?” “Yes.” Nadia gestured toward the installation. “You understood what I was trying to achieve with that piece within a minute of walking into the room. That's not common.” Lena looked genuinely pleased. “Thank you.” “And your work demonstrates the same kind of thinking. Form and function aren't separate concerns. One changes how the other is experienced.” Lena nodded slowly. “That's pretty much how I see it.” “I thought so.” Nadia reached for her phone. “If you're interested, I'd be happy to make some introductions.” “Fuck yes, I'm interested.” Nadia laughed. “Excellent.” “Although I'm warning you now, I won't take every commission someone throws at me just because they're rich.” “I wouldn't expect you to.” “Or because they think calling something artistic means they can demand whatever the hell they like.” “Darling, you'll find we have remarkably similar opinions about certain collectors.” Lena stared at her. Then burst out laughing. “Oh, we're definitely going to get along well.” Panam leaned toward Shammy. “Fantastic. Now there are two women in Night City who enjoy telling rich assholes to fuck off.” Shammy gave her an amused look. “Only two?” Panam considered. “Fair point.” When Lena finally prepared to leave, the outfit was carefully packed, its finishing details checked one last time. Nadia insisted on accompanying her downstairs. Panam and Shammy followed. At the entrance, Lena turned toward her. “One more thing.” “Yes?” “When you wear that tonight, don't spend the whole evening wondering how people think you look.” Nadia smiled. “I wasn't planning to.” “Good. It's yours now. Wear it like you mean it.” “I will.” Lena studied her for a moment. Then nodded. “Yeah. I believe you.” They embraced. It was warmer than either might have expected from a fitting arranged only the previous evening. But something had changed during those hours. Nadia hadn't merely acquired a beautiful outfit. She had found another artist whose work genuinely interested her, someone who challenged her ideas without dismissing them and who seemed perfectly happy to be challenged in return. And Lena had found a client who cared about considerably more than looking attractive in expensive clothes. Neither had to say it aloud. Both understood. “Sunday,” Lena reminded her. “Sunday.” “And don't let anybody fuck up my dress.” Nadia smiled. “I'll do my best.” Lena looked toward Panam. “Madame. I'm trusting you to bring her back in one piece.” Panam grinned. “Her or the dress?” “Both, preferably.” “No promises about the dress.” “Fair.” Lena laughed, picked up her equipment, and headed out. Back upstairs, Nadia placed the garment case carefully beside her bedroom wardrobe. She stood looking at it for a moment. Then turned toward Panam and Shammy. “Well.” Panam folded her arms. “Well?” “That was an exceptionally productive morning.” Shammy smiled. “You liked her.” “Very much.” “And the outfit?” Nadia's smile widened. “Even more than I expected.” Panam stepped closer. “Good.” Nadia rested her hands on Panam's shoulders. “And thank you.” “For what?” “For not trying to tell Lena what I ought to look like.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “Why the hell would I do that?” “Some people might.” “Then some people are idiots.” Nadia laughed softly. Panam kissed her. “You wanted to work as yourself, remember?” “Yes.” “Then I want you looking like yourself.” Nadia's expression softened. “An excellent answer.” Shammy joined them, slipping an arm around Nadia's waist. “And now,” she said, “you have a dress.” “I do.” “An appointment with Lena on Sunday.” “Yes.” “And somewhere rather important to be tonight.” Nadia looked at Panam. “I believe so.” Panam smiled. “Which means there's something else we need to take care of first.” Nadia raised an eyebrow. “Ah.” Shammy grinned. “Shopping!” Panam shook her head. “You're both way too excited about this.” Nadia looked at her with perfect composure. “Darling, I've just spent the morning discovering how extraordinarily satisfying it can be to place an artistic commission in capable hands.” “And?” “And now I'm rather looking forward to letting you choose something for me.” For once, Panam didn't immediately produce a sarcastic answer. She simply looked at Nadia. Something warm passed between them. Shammy noticed. Of course she did. She rested her head briefly against Nadia's shoulder. Then Panam smiled. “Come on, sweetheart.” “Where are we going?” “To find something worthy of you.” Nadia took her hand. “Oh, I think I'm going to enjoy this.” Panam laughed. “Yeah.” She squeezed Nadia's fingers. “I think you fucking will.” And with Lena's finished creation waiting safely upstairs, the three women headed out into Friday's bright Watson morning. The outfit had been chosen. The next choice belonged to Madame. --- ## Chapter 6 — Madame's Choice “Before we go any further,” Panam said, “I want one thing understood.” Nadia looked at her. “Only one?” “For now.” “How restrained of you.” Shammy laughed from the back seat. Panam ignored her. “We are not buying the first pretty thing you see.” Nadia glanced through the car window. “Of course not.” “And we are not buying something ridiculous because you think it'll be funny.” “That seems unnecessarily restrictive.” “Nadia.” “What?” Panam gave her a sideways look. Nadia smiled. “I promise to exercise reasonable judgment.” “That's what worries me.” Shammy leaned forward between the seats. “Darling, you realize she's going to spend the entire afternoon seeing how far she can push that promise?” “I'm beginning to suspect it.” “Excellent,” Nadia said. Panam shook her head. “Fucking artists.” “Two of them,” Shammy reminded her. “Don't.” “And you'll have both of us at Lizzie's tonight.” “I said don't.” Nadia laughed. There was a peculiar pleasure in watching Panam attempt to maintain an expression of professional authority while the two women she loved conspired against her. It wasn't that Panam lacked authority. Quite the opposite. Nadia had seen enough of Madame Panam to understand why the Stable trusted her. She was decisive, fiercely protective, and capable of reducing an arrogant customer to stunned silence with a few well-chosen words. But she also had a wonderful tendency to become completely exasperated when the people she cared about refused to be suitably intimidated. Nadia found that enormously endearing. She also intended to exploit it whenever the opportunity presented itself. Within reason. Probably. “Besides,” she said, “I thought you were choosing.” “I am.” “Then why are you worried about my judgment?” Panam opened her mouth. Closed it. Shammy made an appreciative noise. “Oh, that was good.” Panam sighed. “It's going to be a very fucking long weekend.” Nadia reached across and rested her hand briefly on Panam's arm. “Darling, I have every confidence in you.” Panam glanced at her. “Yeah?” “Absolutely.” A pause. “Which is why I'm going to be exceptionally difficult about everything except your final decision.” Shammy burst out laughing. Panam stared straight ahead. “I'm turning this fucking car around.” “No, you're not,” Shammy said cheerfully. “No,” Panam admitted. “I'm not.” The shop occupied a quiet upper floor above a collection of expensive boutiques. From the street, there was little to distinguish it from the other businesses in the building. No enormous advertisements, no flashing displays, nothing announcing the sort of clientele it served. Inside, however, Nadia discovered that someone had given considerable thought to presentation. The showroom was spacious, softly illuminated, and almost aggressively tasteful. Glass cabinets displayed collars in a remarkable variety of materials and styles. Some were understated enough to pass for ordinary jewelry. Others were unmistakably designed to communicate something more specific. A separate wall held leashes, chains, cuffs, and accessories arranged with the precision of an exhibition. Nadia stopped just inside the entrance. “Oh.” Shammy smiled. “I thought you'd like it.” Nadia took a slow look around. “This is rather beautiful.” Panam grinned. “Good start.” A discreet attendant approached, greeted Panam with professional familiarity, and asked whether they needed assistance. “Eventually,” Panam replied. “Give us a few minutes.” “Of course.” The attendant withdrew. Nadia watched the exchange. “You've been here before.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “Sweetheart, where do you think I found some of the things in my collection?” “I hadn't considered the precise logistics.” Shammy laughed. “There's a sentence I never expected to hear from you.” Nadia smiled. “One occasionally discovers gaps in one's education.” “Not for long, apparently.” “Quite.” They moved toward the first display. Nadia leaned closer. Several collars were beautifully made, with polished fittings and subtle decorative details. One in particular caught her attention: an elaborate piece with silver filigree and a cluster of small blue stones. She studied it. Panam watched. “Like that one?” “It's interesting.” “Would you wear it?” Nadia considered. “No.” “Why?” “Too ornamental.” Shammy nodded. “That's what I thought.” Nadia glanced at her. “You've been studying my taste.” “I've been paying attention.” “How reassuring.” Shammy smiled. “I do occasionally notice things about the women I love.” Panam snorted. “Occasionally?” “On my better days.” Nadia kissed her cheek. “Then I'm fortunate you've been having so many of those.” Shammy's smile softened. For a moment, the display cases became irrelevant. Panam watched the exchange with an expression that was equal parts affection and amusement. Then she cleared her throat. “Okay, lovebirds. We're supposed to be shopping.” Nadia turned toward her. “Somebody's jealous.” Panam stared. Shammy made a delighted sound. “Oh, that was a mistake.” Nadia raised an eyebrow. “Was it?” Panam stepped closer. “Very possibly.” She kissed Nadia. Not dramatically. Not for the benefit of the attendant or anyone else who might happen to be watching. Just enough to make her point. When she drew back, Nadia was smiling. “Ah.” Panam grinned. “Jealous?” “Apparently not.” “Good.” Shammy shook her head. “You two are ridiculous.” Panam turned toward her. “You're next.” “Promises, promises.” Nadia had expected choosing a collar to be primarily a question of appearance. Within fifteen minutes, she realized she had been mistaken. Panam considered construction, comfort, durability, weight, and how well each piece could accommodate the ordinary movement of its wearer. She examined clasps, asked practical questions, and rejected several expensive designs without the slightest hesitation. At one display, Nadia pointed toward a particularly elaborate collar. “That's rather striking.” “It's ridiculous,” Panam replied. Nadia blinked. “Is it?” “For what I want.” “Why?” Panam lifted it from its display. “Beautiful workmanship. Terrible balance.” Nadia examined it more closely. “Oh.” “See?” “Yes.” Shammy leaned in. “What's wrong with it?” Nadia pointed toward the decorative metalwork. “The weight isn't distributed particularly well. It would pull forward.” Panam nodded. “Exactly.” Shammy considered the piece. “That's a shame. It really is pretty.” “Pretty isn't enough,” Panam said. Nadia glanced at her. “Now there's a sentiment I can wholeheartedly endorse.” Panam replaced the collar. “Your dress doesn't have to be uncomfortable to be beautiful. Neither does this.” Nadia smiled. “You've been listening to Lena.” “Hard not to. Woman talks enough for three people when she's working.” Shammy laughed. “Pot. Kettle.” Panam looked at her. “Excuse me?” “Nothing, Madame.” “Thought so.” They continued. One collar was too heavy. Another was elegant but unnecessarily delicate. A third had a decorative pattern Nadia found distracting. A fourth was almost perfect, until Panam noticed that its fastening was less convenient than she liked. She rejected it. Nadia watched without objection. This was becoming much more interesting than choosing something for herself. Panam wasn't simply selecting an accessory. She was considering what would suit Nadia, what she would enjoy wearing, and what she herself would be happy to place around the neck of a woman who trusted her. And she was taking that responsibility seriously. Nadia found herself unexpectedly moved by it. They had been in the shop for nearly forty minutes when Shammy found something. “Oh.” Panam looked over. “What?” Shammy stood beside a display of relatively simple collars. “Nadia, come look at this.” Nadia joined her. The piece was beautiful. Its primary material was dark, with a smooth, understated finish. The hardware had a restrained metallic sheen, neither ostentatious nor utilitarian. There was nothing particularly complicated about the design. That was its appeal. The proportions were clean. The materials complemented one another. It looked deliberate. Nadia tilted her head. “Very interesting.” Shammy smiled. “I thought you'd like it.” “I do.” Panam joined them. She studied the collar. Then asked the attendant to bring it out. Nadia noticed that she didn't immediately offer an opinion. Panam examined the fittings. Tested the weight in her hand. Looked at the fastening. Asked two questions about the materials. Then she turned toward Nadia. “What do you think?” Nadia smiled. “I think it's beautiful.” “Would you be comfortable wearing it?” “I believe so.” “Would you want to?” Nadia considered the question more carefully. “Yes.” Panam nodded. But she didn't put it on her. Instead, she held it for a moment, looking at the piece as though considering something beyond its appearance. Shammy watched her. She knew that expression. It was the same one Panam wore when she had almost made an important decision but wanted to be absolutely certain. Nadia recognized it too. She waited. Finally Panam turned toward the attendant. “Can you show me the matching options?” “Certainly.” The attendant brought out several leashes. Some were made from the same dark material. Others incorporated fine chains or contrasting finishes. Nadia examined them with growing appreciation. “That's beautifully done.” Panam glanced at her. “Which one?” “The second.” Panam picked it up. A slim, elegant leash with restrained metal fittings and a design that echoed the collar without duplicating its every detail. She tested the connection. Then placed the two pieces together. Shammy smiled slowly. “Oh.” Nadia looked at her. “What?” “Nothing.” “That doesn't sound like nothing.” Shammy's eyes were bright. “I think Madame's found something.” Panam studied the collar and leash for another moment. Then she looked at Nadia. “Do you trust me?” Nadia answered without hesitation. “Yes.” “Then I think this is the one.” The words were simple. Quiet. Certain. And Nadia felt a small, unmistakable thrill. Not because the collar was expensive. Not because it would attract attention. Because Panam had chosen it. For her. She looked down at the dark material and the elegant hardware. Then back at Panam. “I think you've made an excellent choice.” Panam's expression softened. “Yeah?” “Yes.” She smiled. “And I rather like that you didn't ask me to make it.” Panam laughed quietly. “You wanted me to choose.” “I did.” “So I chose.” Nadia stepped closer. “Thank you.” Panam kissed her. This time neither woman hurried. When they separated, Shammy was looking suspiciously emotional. Nadia noticed immediately. “Oh, darling.” Shammy smiled. “I'm fine.” “Your halo says otherwise.” “It does that.” Panam reached for her hand. “Come here, sweetheart.” Shammy joined them. For a moment, the three stood close together, surrounded by beautiful objects that suddenly seemed considerably less important than the people examining them. Nadia looked between her lovers. She had not expected a shopping trip to make her feel quite this way. But then, she was discovering that a great many things about her new life were rather more meaningful than they first appeared. The attendant returned with a small selection of presentation cases. Panam chose one. Nadia looked amused. “Now we're selecting packaging?” “Of course.” “Why?” “Because I'm not carrying your collar around in a fucking plastic bag.” Shammy burst out laughing. Nadia inclined her head. “A compelling argument.” Panam placed the collar and leash in the case, checking that both rested securely. Then she closed it. Nadia watched. “May I ask something?” Panam looked at her. “Sure.” “Why didn't you put it on me?” Shammy grew quiet. Panam regarded Nadia for a moment. “Because you haven't asked me yet.” Nadia nodded slowly. “Yes.” “You've told me what you want. We've talked about it. And I'm happy to choose this for you.” Panam rested one hand on the closed case. “But tomorrow—” “Tonight,” Nadia corrected gently. Panam blinked. Then laughed. “Fuck. Right. Tonight.” Shammy smiled. “It's going to be a long day.” “Apparently.” Panam turned back to Nadia. “Tonight, if you still want to, you can ask me properly.” “And you'll put it on me then?” “If I accept.” Nadia raised an eyebrow. “If?” Panam grinned. “Can't have you thinking you're entitled to everything just because you're cute.” Shammy made a scandalized noise. “Oh, Madame!” Nadia regarded Panam with perfect composure. “An entirely reasonable precaution.” Panam's grin widened. “Good.” “Although I should warn you.” “Oh?” “I can be very persuasive.” Shammy laughed. Panam closed her eyes. “Jesus fucking Christ.” Nadia leaned closer. “Should I prepare a presentation?” “No.” “A formal proposal?” “No.” “A small demonstration of the artistic benefits?” “Nadia.” “References?” Panam caught her around the waist. “You are absolutely fucking impossible.” Nadia kissed her. “Only occasionally.” “Bullshit.” “Fair.” The purchase was completed without incident. The price was substantial. None of the three women considered it particularly important. Panam accepted the case personally. Nadia noticed. She had already decided she liked that. Outside, the afternoon sun reflected off the surrounding buildings, turning the street into a patchwork of light and shadow. Shammy stretched. “Well!” Panam looked at her. “Well what?” “That was lovely.” “Yeah.” “And Nadia has a collar.” “A collar and leash,” Nadia corrected. Shammy smiled. “Of course.” Nadia glanced at the case in Panam's hand. “Although technically, I don't have them yet.” Panam looked at her. “Technically?” “They're in your possession.” “That's generally how carrying something works.” “And you haven't given them to me.” “Nope.” Nadia considered that. Then smiled. “I think I rather like it.” Shammy looked delighted. Panam shook her head. “Of course you do.” They started toward the car. After a few steps, Shammy reached into her pocket and checked her messages. “Oh.” Panam glanced back. “What?” “Mai.” “Everything okay?” “Perfectly. She's just confirming the arrangements for this afternoon.” Nadia looked interested. “Voice appointments?” “Among other things.” Shammy read the message. “Ace and Mai have theirs arranged. Iris and Brenda too. Kiro's checking the rest of Deja's equipment, and apparently Brenda has been forbidden from touching anything on the dining table until the weekend's over.” Panam laughed. “That last one sounds reasonable.” Nadia smiled. “Poor Brenda.” “Don't encourage her,” Shammy said. “I wouldn't dream of it.” Panam made a skeptical noise. Nadia looked offended. “Really. Such distrust.” “You earned it.” “Probably.” Shammy was still reading. “Oh, and Ace says she hopes your shopping trip was successful.” Nadia smiled. “How thoughtful.” “Followed by a question about whether you've bought anything with enough metal on it to set off a security scanner.” Panam groaned. “Of course.” Nadia considered that. “Tell her Madame has excellent taste.” Shammy typed the reply. A moment later, her phone chimed. She read the answer. Then burst out laughing. Panam narrowed her eyes. “What?” Shammy held up the display. Ace's message consisted of four words. THAT WASN'T THE QUESTION. Nadia laughed. “Then tell her she'll have to wait until tonight.” Another reply arrived almost immediately. Shammy looked at it. Her halo rose. “Oh, fuck.” Panam sighed. “What now?” Shammy was laughing too hard to answer. She turned the display toward Nadia. I'M BRINGING A MAGNET. Nadia stared at the message. Then laughed so suddenly that Panam nearly dropped the case. “Oh, that's dreadful!” Panam shook her head. “I'm going to fucking murder her.” “No, you're not,” Shammy said. “No,” Panam admitted. “Probably not.” Nadia was still laughing. “I really am looking forward to tonight.” --- They stopped for lunch. Not because any of them particularly needed an elaborate meal, but because Panam had declared that nobody was arriving at Lizzie's after spending the entire day running errands and forgetting to eat. Shammy agreed. Nadia pointed out that she'd had an excellent breakfast. Panam pointed out that breakfast had been several hours ago. The discussion ended there. They found a comfortable table in a restaurant away from the worst of the midday noise. Panam placed the case carefully beside her chair. Nadia noticed but said nothing. Lunch was pleasantly ordinary. They discussed the morning's fitting, Lena's design ideas, the practical arrangements for the evening, and the likelihood of Ace managing to remain reasonably well behaved for more than ten consecutive minutes. Nobody considered that last possibility particularly likely. At one point, Shammy checked the time. “We'll have to get moving soon.” Panam nodded. “Yeah. Still plenty to do.” Nadia took another bite of her lunch. “May I ask something?” Panam and Shammy looked at her simultaneously. Nadia paused. “What?” Panam slowly put down her fork. Shammy's mouth twitched. Nadia regarded them both. “Oh, honestly.” Panam started laughing. “Sorry, sweetheart. Force of habit.” “You've spent the last twenty-four hours making jokes about my questions.” “Because you've asked approximately six hundred.” “An exaggeration.” “Only slightly,” Shammy said. Nadia sighed theatrically. “Very well. I shall remain silent.” Panam waited. Shammy waited. Nadia lasted perhaps four seconds. “I was going to ask whether either of you has considered what your outfits will look like together tonight.” Shammy blinked. Panam raised an eyebrow. “Together?” “Visually.” Shammy smiled. “Oh.” Nadia looked at her. “What?” “Nothing.” “You've been doing that rather a lot today.” Shammy laughed. “Well, I was planning to wear my white couture.” Nadia paused. “The white one?” “Mm-hmm.” “The fast-drop?” “Of course.” Nadia looked down toward the case containing her new outfit's accessories. Then back at Shammy. “Oh.” Panam glanced between them. “What?” Neither answered immediately. Shammy was beginning to grin. Nadia leaned back in her chair, considering the image. Lena's graphite-dark ensemble, almost black except where the light revealed its blue-green sheen. Shammy's white couture. Two distinctly different silhouettes. Two completely different artistic personalities. And yet— “Oh, that's going to look extraordinary,” Nadia murmured. Shammy nodded slowly. “Isn't it?” Panam looked at them. Then closed her eyes. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Nadia smiled. “Darling?” “No.” “I haven't said anything.” “Don't.” Shammy laughed. “Panam, think about it.” “I am. That's the problem.” Nadia tilted her head. “Two artists. Two contrasting designs. Both fast-drop.” Shammy beamed. “Exactly!” Panam stared at them. “You two are going to turn my fucking club into an exhibition.” Nadia looked thoughtful. “Technically, it would be Suzy Q's club.” Shammy made a strangled noise. Panam pointed at her. “Don't you fucking start.” Nadia continued with a perfectly serious expression. “Although I suppose we could argue that the juxtaposition explores identity, exposure, and the tension between public performance and private desire.” Shammy nearly fell out of her chair. Panam covered her face. “Oh, God.” “Of course,” Nadia added, “we'd need to consider whether the fast-drop mechanisms introduce an additional conceptual layer.” Shammy was laughing helplessly now. Panam looked at her. “You're encouraging this.” “I know!” “You're supposed to help me.” “I am helping!” “How?” Shammy wiped at her eyes. “I'm helping Nadia!” Nadia smiled at Panam. “Darling, we haven't even begun discussing the collars.” Panam stared at her. Then slowly started laughing. Not because she'd been defeated. Not because she was genuinely unhappy about any of this. But because she was beginning to recognize the particular brand of delightful insanity that came from falling in love with two artists who genuinely enjoyed one another's company. And who had just discovered that their completely independent wardrobe choices would produce an almost theatrical contrast at Lizzie's. “Oh, fuck it,” she said. Shammy grinned. “What?” Panam lifted her glass. “You're right. It's going to look spectacular.” Nadia's smile softened. “Thank you.” “But if either of you starts giving interviews about the fucking symbolism, I'm charging you both for the headache.” Shammy laughed. “Fair.” Nadia considered that. “Would you accept a percentage of the exhibition proceeds?” Panam groaned. Shammy lost it again. And somewhere in the midst of their laughter, Nadia realized that she had stopped thinking of tonight as an experiment she might attempt. It had become something she was genuinely looking forward to. Not merely the collar. Not merely the professional work. The whole extraordinary prospect. Being seen as herself. Choosing what she wanted. Sharing the experience with people who understood her. And discovering what might happen when she stopped treating pleasure as something to be observed from a comfortable intellectual distance. Panam reached for her hand across the table. Nadia took it. Shammy smiled at them both. For a moment, the three women were quiet. Then Panam glanced toward the case beside her chair. “Right.” Nadia raised an eyebrow. “Right?” “Finish your lunch, sweetheart.” “Why?” “Because we've got an appointment with Friday night.” Nadia smiled. “And a certain amount of preparation before then.” “Exactly.” She looked toward Shammy. “Ready, darling?” Shammy's answering grin was immediate. “Oh, absolutely.” Panam regarded the two of them. White and nearly black. Two artists. Two women she loved. And, if tonight went the way Nadia hoped, two pets whose idea of behaving themselves was likely to differ substantially from everyone else's. She shook her head. “I'm so fucking screwed.” Nadia leaned forward and kissed her hand. “Not yet, darling. Not quite yet.” Shammy burst out laughing. Panam stared at Nadia. Then slowly grinned. “Oh, sweetheart.” Nadia raised an innocent eyebrow. “Yes?” “Keep that mouth of yours ready for tonight.” Nadia smiled. “I was planning to.” And Panam, discovering that she had absolutely no suitable answer to that, simply laughed. --- ## Chapter 7 — Different Faces, Same Friends Victor looked at the four women standing in his clinic doorway. Then he looked at his appointment schedule. Then back at the women. “No.” Ace grinned. “Morning, Victor!” “No.” “We have appointments.” “I know.” “Four of them.” “I can count.” “Then what's the problem?” Victor leaned back in his chair. “The problem is that whenever you people arrive in groups, my day gets considerably more interesting than I intended.” Brenda stepped forward. “We're perfectly respectable customers.” Victor stared at her. Behind Brenda, Iris covered her mouth. Mai closed her eyes. Ace looked delighted. “Brenda,” Victor said slowly, “I've treated you for injuries that respectable customers wouldn't know how to describe.” “That was an accident.” “Which one?” Brenda opened her mouth. Closed it. “That's a deeply unfair question.” Victor pointed at the examination chair. “First victim. Sit.” Ace raised her hand. “I volunteer Brenda.” “Fuck you.” “See?” Ace said. “Respectable.” Victor sighed. “It's not even lunchtime.” The appointments had been arranged the previous evening, with Mai making certain that everyone knew when to arrive, what they needed, and how much time to allow. Ace had described this as unnecessary administrative enthusiasm. Mai had asked whether she'd prefer to arrive at Lizzie's with Mandi's screaming neon-orange hair and black contact lenses but still speaking in Ace's own voice. Ace had immediately conceded the argument. Temporarily. Victor examined the appointment records while Mai checked the small equipment cases they'd brought. Their cover identities were not improvised costumes. Each had an established appearance, a professional history, its own voice requirements, and enough accumulated detail to withstand encounters with people who had known those identities for years. Some relied on face-meshes. Others didn't. Mandi, in particular, was visually memorable enough without one. Neon-orange hair, black contacts, an unmistakable collar, and an expensive joytoy wardrobe had served her very well. Dalia's cover worked differently. Her face-mesh was essential to keeping Mai's identity protected, regardless of how flamboyant the rest of her appearance became. And for both women, Victor's temporary voice-sculpt work was part of keeping those carefully maintained identities convincing. Victor opened the first record. “Mandi.” Ace gave him a cheerful wave. “Present.” “Dalia.” Mai nodded. “Here.” “Nova.” Iris smiled. “Good morning.” “Vega.” Brenda raised both hands. “Ready to become even more fabulous.” Victor looked at her. “I seriously doubt that's medically possible.” Ace burst out laughing. Brenda pointed at him. “See? That's why I like you.” “I'm devastated.” Victor stood. “Right. Mandi first.” Ace looked toward Mai. “If I don't make it, tell Shammy I loved her.” Mai didn't look up from the equipment list. “I'll tell her you were murdered by a man whose patience you systematically exhausted.” “Cruel.” “Accurate.” Victor gestured toward the chair. “Sit down before I change my mind.” Ace obeyed. For once. The procedure was familiar enough that Ace treated it almost like an inconvenient haircut. Victor did not appreciate the comparison. “Stay still.” “I am still.” “Your mouth isn't.” “My mouth isn't moving.” “It's making noise.” Ace grinned. “Medical terminology. Very impressive.” Victor gave her a look that would have made a less experienced patient reconsider her life choices. Ace merely smiled. Mandi's existing profile was already established. Victor wasn't constructing a new identity or inventing a different voice. He was applying the familiar temporary voice-sculpt that would let Ace use Mandi's professional voice naturally throughout the weekend. There was no need to alter her facial structure. Mandi had never depended on hiding Ace's face behind a mesh. She depended on people seeing exactly the striking, shamelessly confident woman Ace wanted them to see—and accepting the rest of the presentation. Mai remained nearby, answering a message from Panam. Apparently the collar-shopping expedition was proceeding well. Very well, judging by the number of laughing messages Shammy had sent. Mai smiled faintly. Ace noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “That's a smile.” “I'm allowed.” “Somebody said something.” “Shammy says Nadia is enjoying the shopping trip.” Ace grinned. “Oh, I bet she fucking is.” Victor adjusted a setting. “Don't talk.” Ace made a solemn gesture of zipping her lips. Victor regarded her suspiciously. “You know, that's the first intelligent thing you've done since arriving.” Ace answered with a rude gesture. Mai laughed. A few minutes later, Victor completed his work and performed the standard checks. “Say something.” Ace opened her mouth. “Victor, darling, you're looking absolutely ravishing this morning.” Mandi's voice. Distinct from Ace's normal register, playful and confident, with the easy assurance of a woman who knew exactly how much attention she could command. Victor stared at her. Then slowly shook his head. “Every fucking time.” Ace beamed. “Missed me?” “No.” “You wound me.” “Working on it.” Mai laughed. Ace turned toward her wife. “Well?” Mai studied her. “Voice is correct.” “Only correct?” “Convincing.” “That's better.” Victor pointed toward the door. “Out. Next.” Mai's appointment was quieter. Considerably quieter. Victor almost appeared relieved. She sat in the chair, checked the relevant profile with him, and allowed him to work without a running commentary on his competence, equipment, or personal attractiveness. After several minutes, he looked up. “You know, I appreciate having at least one normal patient.” Mai raised an eyebrow. “I'm not sure I'd call myself normal.” “Compared to Ace, you're a fucking saint.” From the other side of the room came Mandi's voice. “I HEARD THAT!” Victor closed his eyes. “Unfortunately, so did I.” Mai laughed softly. Victor finished the procedure. “Okay. Try the voice.” Mai answered him. Dalia's familiar low register emerged, carrying its characteristic whiskey-and-smoke roughness. It was nothing like the exaggerated, breathy performance some people might have expected from a professional joytoy. Dalia was direct. Self-assured. Entirely comfortable letting her words land exactly where she intended them. “Everything feels fine,” she said. Victor nodded. “Good.” Mai tested a few more sentences. Then she turned toward Ace. “Darling?” Mandi looked up. “Yes, sweetheart?” Dalia smiled. “If you make Victor regret agreeing to these appointments, I'm making you explain to Panam why we arrived late.” Mandi's grin widened. “Oh, fuck. That's definitely Dalia.” Victor leaned against the counter. “I thought that was Mai's organizational side.” “Same woman,” Dalia replied. “Different opportunities to use it.” Ace laughed. Victor shook his head. “Christ. You people don't need new identities. You need hobbies.” “We have hobbies,” Mandi assured him. Victor looked at her. “That's what worries me.” Iris went next. Her appointment proceeded smoothly, though Brenda was becoming increasingly impatient. Not with Victor. With the prospect of becoming Vega. It showed. She had been sitting beside the equipment cases for several minutes, tapping one foot and occasionally whispering something to Ace. Ace would snort. Brenda would grin. Mai would look up. Both women would suddenly become suspiciously innocent. Eventually Iris turned in the chair. “Brenda.” “What?” “Behave.” “I am behaving.” “You and Ace have been giggling like schoolchildren for ten minutes.” “That's because Ace is funny.” Mai looked up. “Debatable.” “HEY!” Victor cleared his throat. “Could we finish one appointment before the comedy festival resumes?” Iris smiled apologetically. “Of course.” When Victor completed Nova's voice profile, he asked her to speak. Iris took a breath. “Well, darling, how do I sound?” Brenda stopped tapping her foot. Ace's grin widened. Mai looked toward the chair. And Victor, who had heard more temporary identities than he cared to remember, gave a small nod of professional satisfaction. “Sounds right.” Nova smiled. “Excellent.” There was an unmistakable change in her delivery. Iris hadn't become another woman. But the carefully maintained social polish that usually accompanied her public life had become considerably less prominent. Nova sounded relaxed. Playful. Comfortably aware of the effect she could have on people. Brenda stared at her wife. Then grinned. “Oh, fuck yes.” Nova turned toward her. “Something you wanted, darling?” “Just appreciating the scenery.” “I haven't even finished getting ready.” “Don't need to.” Ace made an appreciative noise. Mai sighed. Victor looked between them. “I've made a terrible mistake.” Nova smiled sweetly. “Oh, darling. We're only getting started.” By the time Brenda settled into the chair, Victor had developed the expression of a man considering an early retirement. “Vega,” he said. “That's me.” “Voice profile unchanged?” “Yep.” “Any problems with the previous sculpt?” “Nope.” “Anything I need to know before we begin?” Brenda considered. “Define anything.” Victor stared. Ace made a noise suspiciously like a muffled explosion. Nova laughed. Victor pointed at Brenda. “No.” “I haven't said anything!” “Whatever you're about to say, no.” Brenda grinned. “Fuck, you're good.” “Years of practice.” He started the procedure. Brenda managed to remain reasonably quiet for several minutes. It was, by everyone's standards, a remarkable achievement. Then she noticed Ace looking at her. “What?” Ace smiled. “Nothing.” “That's your troublemaking face.” “I have several.” “Yeah, and I know most of them.” Victor sighed. “Please. For the love of everything remotely holy.” Ace folded her hands. “I'm being good.” “That's historically unprecedented.” Nova leaned toward Mai. “I think he's beginning to enjoy himself.” Mai considered Victor's expression. “I think he's considering charging extra.” Brenda laughed. Victor finished the final adjustment. “Right. Try it.” Brenda opened her mouth. “Well, fuck me sideways. That feels better.” Vega. Unmistakably. Victor stared at her. Ace doubled over. Nova threw back her head and laughed. Mai covered her face. Brenda—now speaking with Vega's voice—looked around the room. “What?” Victor slowly removed his gloves. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” Vega smiled. “Good. Because I've got plans for this voice.” Victor pointed toward the exit. “Out.” “Don't you want to hear how versatile it is?” “OUT.” Nova rose from her chair. “Come along, sweetheart. Before the poor man has a breakdown.” Vega looked offended. “I was being perfectly professional.” Victor gave her a long, exhausted look. “That's what frightens me.” Outside the clinic, the four women paused to collect their things and organize the next part of the afternoon. Their altered voices were in place. Their normal appearances remained. That was deliberate. The visual transformations would happen privately at the Watson safehouse, where all the required equipment and wardrobe were already stored. Mai checked the time. “Right. We have everything we need. Let's go.” Vega looked at Nova. “You heard the woman.” Nova raised an eyebrow. “Am I supposed to be impressed by your sudden obedience?” “Only if you find it attractive.” Nova smiled. “Depends what else you're offering.” Mandi made a delighted sound. “Oh, fuck. Here we go.” Dalia looked at her. “You're not exactly helping.” “Wouldn't dream of it.” Vega leaned closer to Nova. “Darling, I think they're jealous.” Nova gave her an affectionate look. “Of what? Your inability to keep your mouth shut?” Vega grinned. “You've always liked my mouth.” Mandi burst out laughing. Dalia shook her head. “Can we please get to the car before somebody recognizes our voices?” Nova glanced toward the street. “She's right.” Vega sighed dramatically. “Fine. Business before pleasure.” Mandi looked at her. “Who the fuck taught you that?” “Not you.” “Clearly.” They headed toward the car. Mai walked slightly ahead, already reviewing the remaining preparations. Ace caught up beside her. “Hey.” Mai looked over. “Yes?” “You know what?” “What?” “I think tonight's going to be fun.” Mai smiled. “I know.” Ace glanced back at Iris and Brenda, who were still exchanging increasingly outrageous comments in their newly sculpted voices. “Those two are going to be a fucking menace.” Mai followed her gaze. “Yes.” “Panam's going to lose her mind.” “Possibly.” Ace grinned. “Think we should warn her?” Mai considered. Then slipped her hand into Ace's. “No.” Ace laughed. “God, I love you.” “I know.” --- Kiro had arrived at the Watson safehouse earlier that morning. Unlike the others, she had no reason to visit Victor. Deja used Kiro's natural voice. No temporary voice-sculpt. No additional appointment. No elaborate detour. Which left her with the pleasantly unusual prospect of preparing her identity at her own pace while the others spent their morning being professionally inconvenienced. She had claimed one of the available rooms and laid out Deja's equipment with quiet precision. The reusable face-mesh rested in its protective case. Wardrobe and accessories were arranged nearby. Everything belonged to the established identity, maintained carefully and stored at the safehouse between assignments. Kiro inspected the equipment, checked its condition and confirmed that nothing had been overlooked. Then she sat on the edge of the bed and studied the face-mesh. There was something faintly amusing about seeing a familiar professional face waiting in a case. She had worn Deja often enough now that the preparation no longer felt novel. But it never quite became mundane. The person beneath the mesh remained Kiro. The woman who understood networks, security systems and technology. The woman who loved dancing. The woman whose friendships and affections existed independently of her professional cover. Deja was another way of presenting herself to the world. Not another mind. Not another life that somehow existed separately from hers. Kiro liked the distinction. She especially liked that Deja required none of the voice work that the others were currently enduring. Her phone chimed. A message from Ace. VICTOR SURVIVED. BARELY. Kiro smiled. A second message arrived. VEGA HAS BEEN ACTIVATED. MAY GOD HAVE MERCY ON US. Kiro laughed. Then typed her reply. Should I prepare emergency supplies? Ace answered almost immediately. WHISKEY. LOTS OF IT. Kiro shook her head. “Idiots.” She said it affectionately. By the time the others returned, Kiro had finished most of her preparation. The safehouse door opened. Ace entered first. “HELLO, MY DARLINGS!” Kiro looked up from the sofa. Mandi's voice. Ace's familiar face. It was an entertaining mismatch, particularly because Ace hadn't yet changed her hair or put in the black contact lenses. “You sound different.” Ace grinned. “I'm a woman of many talents.” Mai followed her inside. “Please don't encourage her.” Dalia's low voice. Mai's face. Kiro laughed. “You too?” “Unfortunately.” Brenda appeared next. “WHERE'S THE COFFEE?” Kiro stared. Nova entered behind her. “Darling, you don't need to shout.” Vega turned toward her. “I'M NOT SHOUTING!” Mandi burst out laughing. Dalia put down her bag. “Wonderful. We're home.” Kiro looked between them. Then shook her head. “I'm beginning to understand why Victor doesn't like group appointments.” Nova smiled. “He was perfectly pleasant.” Vega snorted. “He threatened to throw me out.” “You were asking him whether the voice-sculpt could make your swearing sound more expensive.” “It was a legitimate technical question!” Mandi collapsed onto the sofa. “Oh, fuck, I'd forgotten that!” Dalia looked at Brenda. “Please tell me you didn't actually ask him that.” Vega spread her hands. “What? I wanted to know!” Nova leaned over and kissed her wife. “Sweetheart, your swearing already sounds extremely expensive.” Vega grinned. “See? That's why I married you.” Kiro laughed. “Coffee's ready.” Four voices answered almost simultaneously. “THANK FUCK.” The safehouse's preparation rooms soon became busy. Not chaotic. At least, not entirely. Mai had already worked out a sensible division of space and made certain that everyone could prepare without getting in one another's way. Ace described this as dictatorship. Mai informed her that dictators generally didn't bother making coffee for their subjects. Ace reconsidered her position. The established cover equipment came out of storage. Cases opened. Wardrobes were checked. Clothing was selected. Accessories found their proper owners. And each woman began assembling the appearance she would wear at Lizzie's. There was no single procedure that applied to everyone. Mandi needed her neon-orange hair, black contact lenses, collar, and wardrobe. Dalia needed her own far more elaborate combination: neon-pink dreadlocks, strongly reflective green contacts, the face-mesh that protected Mai's identity, her characteristic wardrobe, and the little details that made her recognizable to people who knew her professionally. Nova and Vega had their established cover preparations. Deja had hers. Nobody was inventing an identity on the spot. These women already had lives at Lizzie's. Tonight was simply another working evening. Although, admittedly, one that promised to become considerably more interesting than usual. Ace emerged first. Mandi stood in the hallway, adjusting the final detail of her expensive joytoy outfit. Her hair was screaming neon-orange. Not auburn. Not copper. Not anything that might plausibly have occurred in nature. Neon-orange. The kind of color that made subtlety file a formal complaint and leave the building. Her black contact lenses gave her gaze an extraordinary intensity. Her discreet collar completed the familiar silhouette. And the face looking back at her from the mirror was still Ace's own. Mandi did not wear a face-mesh. She didn't need one. The hair, eyes, voice, clothing, attitude and carefully maintained professional identity did the work. Ace examined the result. Then smiled. “Fuck, I'm gorgeous.” From the next room came Dalia's voice. “Your modesty remains an inspiration.” Mandi grinned. “Darling, modesty is for people with fewer advantages.” Dalia appeared in the doorway. And Mandi's grin widened. “Oh, hello.” Mai's transformation had taken a different approach. Dalia's face-mesh was securely in place. Above it, her neon-pink dreadlocks practically demanded an audience. Her contact lenses reflected the hallway lights in that unmistakable emerald green—the same sharp, vivid green associated with Ace's katanas. Her thigh-high boots completed a silhouette that was immediately familiar. And in one hand, naturally, she held a menthol lollipop. Mandi looked her over. Slowly. “Fuck.” Dalia raised an eyebrow. “Something wrong?” “Quite the opposite.” Dalia slipped the lollipop into her mouth. Then smiled around it. “Good.” Mandi moved closer. “Looking spectacular, sweetheart.” “So are you.” “Think Madame's going to be busy tonight?” Dalia considered. “Very.” “Poor woman.” “Somehow I doubt she's expecting sympathy from you.” “Not remotely.” Dalia removed the lollipop. “You planning to behave?” Mandi looked genuinely puzzled. “Why the fuck would I start now?” Dalia laughed and kissed her. When they separated, Mandi glanced toward the other rooms. “Wonder how the Marlowes are doing.” As if summoned, Vega's voice rang out. “NOVA, WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU PUT MY OTHER EARRING?” Nova answered. “Exactly where you left it, sweetheart.” “THAT DOESN'T HELP!” Mandi closed her eyes. “Oh, they're ready.” Dalia sighed. “Almost.” The transformation from Iris and Brenda to Nova and Vega had never been limited to equipment. Their cover preparations mattered. Their clothing, professional identities and carefully maintained public histories mattered. But the most remarkable change was often something much simpler. The disappearance of the last social filters. Iris was ordinarily quite capable of speaking plainly. Brenda had never demonstrated a particularly delicate relationship with profanity. Yet Nova and Vega seemed to regard restraint as an amusing rumor they had no obligation to investigate. When they stepped into the common room together, Kiro looked up. And laughed. “Oh, wow.” Vega spread her arms. “Well?” Nova stood beside her, smiling with unmistakable satisfaction. “Do we pass inspection?” Kiro looked from one to the other. “Definitely.” Vega turned toward Nova. “See? Told you.” “You told me you'd look spectacular.” “And?” Nova examined her thoughtfully. “Spectacularly troublesome.” Vega grinned. “You love it.” “Every fucking minute.” Mandi appeared behind Kiro. “Oh, Jesus Christ.” Vega looked at her. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” “I was just wondering whether Madame Panam has any idea what she's agreed to.” Nova smiled sweetly. “Five working pets, two famous artists, and a woman who's about to discover how much trouble she can cause without changing her name.” Dalia joined them. “Sounds about right.” Vega leaned against the table. “Personally, I can't wait to see Nadia's face when she gets the full Marlowe experience. Last weekend was just a nice introduction.” Mandi laughed. “Careful. Nadia's been getting pretty fucking good at answering back.” Nova looked interested. “Oh?” “She roasted Ace last night,” Dalia said. Vega's eyes widened. “Seriously?” “With barely any effort.” Mandi sighed theatrically. “I'm still recovering.” Nova laughed. “Oh, I think we're going to have a wonderful evening.” Vega considered this. Then grinned. “Question is, how much of a wonderful evening can Nadia handle?” Kiro looked at her. “I wouldn't underestimate her.” Vega raised an eyebrow. “I'm not underestimating her. I'm hoping she turns out to be a filthy little menace.” Mandi nearly choked laughing. Dalia shook her head. “You're going to corrupt her.” Nova smiled. “Darling, I suspect she's perfectly capable of corrupting herself.” “Excellent,” Vega said. “Saves time.” Kiro laughed so hard she had to put down her coffee. --- Deja emerged a little later. She had taken her time. Not because the preparation was difficult, but because she saw no reason to hurry through something that deserved care. Her reusable face-mesh was in place. Her wardrobe was ready. And when she spoke, her voice was exactly the same voice Kiro had used earlier. “Am I interrupting something?” Vega turned. “Only our plans to ruin Nadia's remaining innocence.” Deja considered that. “Does she have any?” Mandi burst out laughing. Nova gave Deja an appreciative look. “Oh, beautiful.” Vega pressed a hand to her chest. “I'm so proud of you.” Deja smiled. “I do try.” Dalia shook her head. “Wonderful. Now there are five of us.” Mandi raised a finger. “Technically seven tonight.” Nova's smile widened. “Oh, the artists.” “Yep.” Vega looked delighted. “Two famous artists, one already an established pet, the other making her debut.” Deja considered. “Do you think it'll attract attention?” Everyone looked at her. Deja waited. Then smiled. “I know. Stupid question.” Mandi started laughing again. Nova leaned back against the sofa. “Darling, I think the entire fucking city is going to have opinions. Or meltdowns. Or both.” Vega raised her glass. “Then here's to giving them something worth talking about.” Dalia glanced toward the wall clock. “And to getting to Lizzie's on time.” Mandi looked at her. “Christ, you really know how to bring romance into a room.” “Somebody has to keep track of the time.” Vega grinned. “Don't worry, Dalia. We're all perfectly capable of working under pressure.” Nova looked toward her wife. “Some of us actively enjoy it.” Vega laughed. “Fuck yes.” Deja covered a smile. Mandi raised her glass. “To a profitable evening.” Dalia lifted hers. “To a well-organized one.” Nova smiled. “To excellent company.” Vega raised hers higher. “And to absolutely filthy fun.” Deja considered the assembled women. Then lifted her own glass. “To Madame surviving the weekend.” Five glasses met. Everyone laughed. By late afternoon, the practical work was finished. Equipment had been checked. Unneeded personal items were put away. Travel arrangements were settled. The women were ready to leave the safehouse as their professional identities. Mandi made one final adjustment to her collar. Dalia checked the fit of her face-mesh and the unmistakable green of her contact lenses. Nova and Vega inspected each other with the particular attention of two women who had been married long enough to recognize every small detail the other might have missed. Deja collected her bag. Nobody had left loose equipment behind. Nobody had accidentally mixed the identities. And nobody had attempted to place a face-mesh on the woman with hair bright enough to attract attention from orbit. Before they left, Dalia checked the common room one final time. Mandi watched her. “Anything missing?” “No.” “Anything forgotten?” “No.” “Anything catastrophically wrong?” “Not yet.” Mandi grinned. “There's the optimism I married.” Dalia gave her an affectionate look. “Somebody has to balance yours.” Nova and Vega appeared from the hallway. Vega looked toward the door. “Right. Can we go make some fucking money?” Nova slipped an arm around her waist. “Impatient, darling?” “Extremely.” “Good.” Deja picked up her bag. “Ready.” Mandi glanced around the group. For a moment, beneath the professionally maintained appearances and the thoroughly irreverent humor, there was something familiar. Friends. Women who trusted one another. People who had discovered that a second professional life could offer not merely money, but freedom, entertainment, unexpected pleasures and the occasional opportunity to be spectacularly inappropriate in excellent company. Tonight, they would go to Lizzie's as Mandi, Dalia, Nova, Vega and Deja. They would work. They would have their own customers. They would enjoy themselves. And somewhere in the middle of it all, Nadia was going to ask Madame Panam a question that might change the shape of the entire weekend. Mandi smiled. “Ladies?” Four faces turned toward her. “Shall we?” Vega grinned. “Fuck yes.” Dalia opened the door. “Then let's go.” --- Across Watson, Nadia stood in front of her bedroom wardrobe. Lena's nearly black ensemble waited inside, beautifully finished and ready for its first real evening. Beside it, the rest of Nadia's clothes looked perfectly ordinary. Comfortable. Familiar. Her own. She reached out and touched the dark fabric. A faint blue-green shimmer appeared beneath her fingers as the material caught the afternoon light. Nadia smiled. Downstairs, she could hear Shammy laughing at something Panam had said. The sound drifted up through the apartment, warm and familiar. Nadia closed the wardrobe. Not yet. There was still time before the evening began. And somewhere nearby waited Shammy's white couture, a completely different design with its own elegant fast-drop construction. Nadia thought about the two outfits together. White. Almost black. Two artists. Two very different women. She smiled. Panam was going to have an interesting evening. From downstairs came her lover's voice. “Nadia! You coming?” “In a moment, darling!” She glanced once more at the wardrobe. For the first time in several days, she had finished asking herself questions about what she wanted. Tonight, she intended to enjoy the answers. And somewhere else in Watson, five of her friends were preparing to make absolutely certain she would never hear the end of it. --- ## Chapter 8 — A Normal Friday, Almost Suzy Q had learned that a quiet Friday at Lizzie's was generally a bad sign. It meant somebody was late, something was broken, or an unusually large number of customers had collectively decided to spend their money somewhere else. A good Friday was busy. A great Friday was busy without anyone requiring medical attention. Tonight was shaping up nicely. The music was already rolling across the floor, the bar was doing steady business, and Lisa had reported nothing more alarming than an argument outside between two men who had apparently mistaken each other's jackets. Nobody had drawn a weapon. Nobody had thrown a punch. Progress. Suzy was contemplating the possibility of a genuinely pleasant evening when the entrance caught her attention. Madame Panam had arrived. Beside her walked Nadia, wearing an extraordinary almost-black outfit that seemed to change color whenever the light touched it. And on Panam's other side— Suzy blinked. Sera. White couture. Collared. Her leash resting comfortably in Panam's hand. Suzy put down the glass she was polishing. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Panam grinned. “Evening, Suzy.” Suzy looked at Sera. Then Nadia. Then Panam. Then the outfits again. “Seriously?” Sera smiled. “Hello, darling.” Suzy shook her head. “You two look like somebody commissioned a very expensive argument between light and darkness.” Nadia's face brightened. “Oh, that's actually rather good.” Panam groaned. “Please don't encourage her.” Sera began laughing. Suzy looked at Nadia again. “Lena?” “Yes.” “Thought so.” Nadia turned slightly, letting the graphite fabric catch the light. “She's done remarkable work.” “Clearly.” Suzy glanced at Sera. “And you decided to coordinate?” Sera looked delighted. “Not exactly.” Nadia smiled. “The relationship emerged during the fitting.” Panam closed her eyes. “Here we go.” Suzy stared. “Relationship?” “Between the garments,” Nadia explained. “Of course.” “The white and graphite create an interesting—” “Drink,” Panam interrupted. Nadia turned toward her. “Darling?” “I'm buying you a drink.” Sera laughed harder. Suzy reached for three glasses. “Madame, I think you're going to need one yourself.” They settled at the bar. Panam stood between her two lovers, Sera's leash still in her hand. The familiar arrangement was relaxed enough that Sera could lean comfortably against Nadia while Panam ordered their drinks. Nothing about it required a performance. Sera was already Madame's pet. The collar was hers. The leash was hers. And Panam's hand around its end was as natural to them as the affectionate glance Sera gave her when their drinks arrived. Nadia watched them with a small smile. She'd watched them countless times before. But tonight the sight carried a particular promise. Panam noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” Panam raised an eyebrow. Nadia smiled more broadly. “I'm appreciating the composition.” “Oh, fuck off.” Sera nearly spilled her drink. Suzy laughed. “Jesus Christ. Two artists and one extremely patient Madame.” “Patient?” Panam repeated. “Relatively.” “I'd like that on the record.” Nadia reached for Panam's free hand. “You are exceptionally patient, darling.” Panam regarded her suspiciously. “Why do I feel like I'm being managed?” “Because you're very perceptive.” Suzy grinned. “Welcome to my world.” Lisa appeared shortly afterward. “Madame.” “Lisa.” Her gaze moved toward Sera. “Evening.” “Hello, Lisa.” Then toward Nadia. “Welcome.” “Thank you.” Lisa looked at the two outfits. A brief pause. “Wow.” Nadia smiled. “Thank you.” Sera looked delighted. Panam sighed. “Not you too.” Lisa ignored her. “Lena?” Both artists nodded. Lisa shook her head. “Should've guessed.” Suzy leaned across the bar. “Apparently the outfits have a relationship.” Lisa looked at her. “What?” Nadia brightened. “It's a question of visual—” “No,” Panam said. Sera burst out laughing. Lisa looked between them. Then smiled. “I'm going back to work.” “Coward,” Suzy called after her. “Professional,” Lisa replied without turning around. Once the laughter subsided, Suzy looked toward Nadia. “So. Big night?” Nadia took a sip of her drink. “For me, yes.” Suzy gave her a more attentive look. Panam remained quiet. So did Sera. Nadia appreciated that. Neither woman had any intention of explaining her decision for her. “I'd like to work here,” Nadia said. Suzy considered. “As Nadia?” “Yes.” “Publicly?” “Precisely.” Suzy studied her for a moment. Then nodded. “That's a substantial decision.” “It is.” “You comfortable with what that means?” Nadia smiled. “I've spent rather a lot of time considering it.” Panam snorted. “She has notes.” Sera added, “And questions.” “Many questions,” Panam said. Suzy laughed. “Sounds like she's done her homework.” “I believe so,” Nadia replied. Suzy looked at Panam. “Bookings through Madame?” “If Nadia wants me to handle them.” Nadia nodded. “I do.” “Fine.” Suzy looked back at Nadia. “Then the same professional boundaries apply as they do to everyone else working here. You choose what you accept. You can refuse whatever you don't want. And if somebody decides being famous makes you public property, Lisa will enjoy explaining the error.” Nadia laughed. “A reassuring prospect.” Suzy smiled. “Good.” There was no need for a speech. Lizzie's had rules. The Mox enforced them. And Nadia was intelligent enough to understand what she was agreeing to. Suzy reached for another glass. “Anything else?” Nadia glanced toward Panam. “There's something I intend to ask Madame later.” Suzy noticed the glance. Then Sera's small smile. Then Panam's expression. A realization began forming. “Oh.” Panam pointed at her. “Don't.” “I haven't said anything.” “You're about to.” Suzy grinned. “Wouldn't dream of it.” They spent the next little while enjoying themselves. Nadia was in no hurry. She wanted to see Lizzie's as it normally functioned. Not as a special event arranged around her. Not as an audience waiting for a famous artist to do something surprising. Just the club. The bar. The music. The customers. The working women. The Mox. The complicated, colorful, occasionally filthy everyday life of a place that took pleasure seriously without confusing pleasure with entitlement. At one point, Nadia noticed Lisa intercepting a customer who had become a little too insistent with someone near the dance floor. There was a brief conversation. A gesture. Another brief exchange. The customer withdrew. Lisa returned to her previous position. No drama. No raised voices. Nadia nodded appreciatively. “Efficient.” Panam followed her gaze. “Lisa?” “Yes.” “Very.” “She didn't even need to raise her voice.” “Usually doesn't.” Sera smiled. “People tend to learn.” Nadia considered. “An interesting professional environment.” Panam looked at her. “Sweetheart.” “Yes?” “You're doing it again.” “Doing what?” “Studying.” Nadia smiled. “I'm an artist.” “I'm aware.” “Observation is part of the job.” Panam laughed. “Just remember you're allowed to enjoy yourself too.” Nadia leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I assure you, darling, I am.” The first person to recognize Nadia was someone from the art world. A woman who had attended one of her exhibitions months earlier and spent twenty minutes arguing about whether an installation could meaningfully be called collaborative. Nadia remembered her immediately. “Oh! Hello.” The woman looked delighted. “You remember me?” “Of course. We disagreed about agency.” The woman laughed. “We certainly did.” Her gaze moved over Nadia's outfit. “That's extraordinary.” “Thank you. Lena made it.” “Beautiful.” “She's exceptionally talented.” The woman nodded. Then noticed Sera. Her expression changed. “Oh!” Sera smiled. “Hello.” The woman looked between them. “Are you working on something together?” Nadia considered. “Several things, actually.” “Wonderful.” The woman's gaze shifted briefly toward Panam. Then back. “And tonight?” “Tonight,” Nadia said pleasantly, “we're enjoying ourselves.” It was entirely true. The woman smiled. “Well, have a wonderful evening.” “Thank you. You too.” When she left, Sera leaned toward Nadia. “You know she'll tell somebody.” Nadia smiled. “Probably.” Panam sighed. “Here we go.” Nadia laughed. “Darling, I haven't actually done anything yet.” “That's what worries me.” The five arrived a little later. Together. Which was probably fortunate, considering the volume of the argument already underway between them. “I am telling you,” Vega announced as they approached the entrance, “it was a perfectly reasonable question.” Mandi stared at her. “You asked Victor if he could make your swearing sound more expensive.” “Exactly.” “That is not a fucking technical specification!” Nova smiled. “To be fair, darling, I'm not certain it's entirely impossible.” Mandi turned toward her. “YOU'RE NOT HELPING!” Dalia laughed. Deja, walking at Dalia's side, tilted her head. “Actually, perceived social status can be influenced by vocal characteristics.” Dalia looked down at her pet. “Sweetheart.” Deja's innocent smile was magnificent. “Yes, Owner?” “Please don't give Vega any more ideas.” Vega pointed at Deja. “SEE? SHE UNDERSTANDS ME.” Mandi covered her face. “Oh, we're so fucked.” Dalia gave Deja's leash an affectionate little adjustment and continued toward the door. “Come along, darling. Before one of them actually goes back to Victor.” Deja laughed. “Good idea.” Mandi followed. Nova and Vega were still discussing the price of allegedly improved profanity. Suzy saw them enter. Mandi's screaming orange hair. Dalia's hot-pink dreadlocks. Deja's dark venom-green hair and ivory wardrobe, moving comfortably beside her owner. And the Marlows. Vega's black-void eyes beneath chrome-and-brass hair. Nova's white-void eyes, chrome-and-gold styling complementing her partner's without making them look anything alike. All five were fully prepared for their working evening. The face meshes were in place where required, their professional identities intact. More importantly, they had brought their usual confidence. And, apparently, an argument. Suzy leaned against the bar. “Jesus Christ.” Lisa, passing nearby, glanced toward the entrance. “Oh. The girls.” “Yep.” “They look cheerful.” “That's one word for it.” The five approached the bar, still laughing. Then Mandi noticed Panam. And the three women standing together. She stopped. “Oh, fuck.” Vega nearly walked into her. “What?” Mandi pointed. Vega looked. Then Nova. Then Dalia. Then Deja. For a moment, nobody spoke. Sera in white. Nadia in graphite. Panam standing between them, Sera's leash comfortably in her hand. Finally Vega breathed: “Holy fucking shit.” Nova smiled slowly. “That's quite a combination.” Deja tilted her head. “The contrast is beautiful.” Dalia laughed. “Madame's in trouble.” Panam closed her eyes. “Good evening to you too.” Mandi recovered first. Naturally. She crossed the remaining distance with a grin. “Owner.” Panam smiled. “Hello, trouble.” Mandi's collar was already in place. Her leash was part of her working presentation, ready for the familiar greeting she clearly expected. Panam accepted it. Mandi stepped close. Panam gave the leash a gentle, familiar draw, bringing her pet near enough for an affectionate greeting. “Ready for tonight?” “Absolutely.” “Good girl.” Mandi beamed. “And Owner?” “Yes?” Mandi looked toward the two artists. “You're so fucking doomed.” Sera burst out laughing. Panam sighed. “I know.” Nova and Vega approached together. The Marlows were no strangers to this arrangement. Their collars and leashes were part of their professional presentation too, and neither needed instructions on how to greet Madame. “Owner,” Nova said warmly. “Evening, Owner,” Vega added. Panam accepted their leashes for the greeting, giving each woman her attention rather than treating them as an interchangeable pair. “Everything ready?” Nova nodded. “Perfectly.” Vega grinned. “Even Victor survived.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “Should I ask?” “No,” Mandi and Dalia said together. Deja began laughing. Panam looked from one Marlow to the other. Then shook her head. “I'm not even going to try.” “Wise woman,” Nova said. Panam greeted them both affectionately, then returned their leashes for the evening's work. Neither woman was being handed to a customer. They still had their own decisions to make, their own appointments to consider, and the ordinary professional freedom Madame expected them to exercise. Vega glanced toward Mandi. “See? Completely normal.” Mandi stared. “You tried to redesign the economic classification of swearing.” Nova's mouth twitched. “Not redesign. Quantify.” Mandi threw up her hands. “FOR FUCK'S SAKE.” Panam turned toward Dalia and Deja. “Evening, ladies.” Dalia smiled. “Madame.” Deja gave her a cheerful nod. “Hello.” Panam's eyes moved briefly toward Deja's ivory collar. Then to the leash Dalia held. “Everything good?” “Perfectly,” Deja answered. Dalia smiled. “She's been an absolute angel.” Deja looked up at her. “Have I?” Dalia considered. “No.” Deja burst out laughing. Panam grinned. “That sounds more believable.” Dalia's hand remained around Deja's leash. There was no confusion about whose pet Deja was. Panam could welcome them, look after their professional arrangements where appropriate and enjoy their company without intruding on the relationship that belonged to Dalia and Deja. Sera smiled at them. “Hello, you two.” Dalia returned the smile. “Looking spectacular, sweetheart.” Sera glanced down at her white couture. “Thank you.” Deja looked toward Nadia. “And you.” Nadia smiled. “Lena has been very kind to me.” Vega snorted. “Kind?” Nova examined the garment with open appreciation. “Darling, that's not kindness. That's craftsmanship.” Nadia's smile widened. “Exactly.” Panam groaned. “Oh, don't start.” Too late. For the next several minutes, the bar became a thoroughly affectionate disaster. Vega wanted to know whether both outfits were fast-drop. Sera confirmed they were. Mandi made a noise that suggested the news had personally improved her entire week. Nova began examining the contrast between the garments. Nadia responded with genuine enthusiasm. Deja contributed a surprisingly sharp observation about how the different silhouettes influenced the way the women moved. Dalia looked at her with amusement. “Sweetheart, you're encouraging them.” Deja smiled. “I'm appreciating the art.” “Of course you are.” Vega leaned toward Nadia. “So. First night?” Nadia nodded. “Yes.” “Nervous?” “Not particularly.” Vega blinked. “Oh.” Nadia smiled. “Should I be?” Nova laughed. Mandi grinned. “Oh, I like that answer.” Dalia nodded. “Good girl.” Deja's expression brightened. “Very good answer.” Vega regarded Nadia for a moment. Then smiled broadly. “Fuck. You're going to fit right in.” Nadia laughed. “I certainly hope so.” Suzy eventually interrupted. “Ladies.” Nobody heard her. “Ladies.” Vega was explaining something to Mandi. Mandi was objecting. Nova was laughing. Dalia and Deja were exchanging the kind of look that could mean either extraordinary affection or an imminent coordinated verbal assault. Sera looked delighted. Nadia looked fascinated. Suzy raised her voice. “ARE ANY OF YOU PLANNING TO WORK TONIGHT?” Silence. Then Mandi smiled. “Eventually.” Suzy pointed at her. “Don't start.” Mandi laughed. Panam shook her head. “She's right. We have an evening to run.” That changed things. Not because the atmosphere became less cheerful. Because they were professionals. They could spend twenty minutes tormenting one another and still remember why they'd come. Mandi checked her inquiries. Nova and Vega reviewed their own requests. Dalia and Deja remained together, discussing how they wanted their evening to unfold. Panam settled into her booking responsibilities. Suzy returned to the bar. And Lisa kept an eye on the floor. Lizzie's continued being Lizzie's. Nadia watched the transition with interest. The laughter didn't disappear. Neither did the affection. But the five women's attention shifted naturally toward the people who had come to see them. Mandi greeted a familiar customer with a dazzling smile. Nova and Vega entered a conversation with two interested visitors, their easy coordination matched by the certainty that each woman would make her own professional decisions. Dalia and Deja remained close. A returning customer approached them, and Dalia greeted her warmly. Deja joined the conversation without surrendering her independence or pretending that her collar made her somebody else's property to negotiate over. Nadia found that particularly interesting. The visible dynamics were important. But the trust beneath them was what made everything work. She turned toward Sera. “They're very good at this.” Sera smiled. “Yes.” “And they genuinely enjoy it.” “Very much.” Nadia considered. “I'm glad.” Sera slipped an arm around her. “So am I.” The evening settled. The first working conversations became bookings where everyone involved found the terms agreeable. Others remained conversations. Some went nowhere. That, too, was normal. No one had to accept an unsuitable customer. No one had to justify a refusal. And nobody at Lizzie's was confused about the difference between a woman wearing a collar and a customer possessing any particular rights over her. Nadia found herself becoming more comfortable with every passing minute. She had imagined this evening many times. Not precisely like this. Reality was too full of small surprises for that. But the important parts were here. Panam. Sera. Her friends. A professional environment whose structure made chosen freedom possible. And the exhilarating prospect of being publicly, unmistakably herself. A little later, Nadia's acquaintance from the exhibition returned. The woman approached politely. “I'm sorry to interrupt again.” Nadia smiled. “Not at all.” “I've been thinking about what you said earlier.” “Oh?” “About enjoying the evening.” Nadia waited. The woman glanced toward the working floor. Then back at Nadia. “Would I be correct in thinking you're considering professional work here?” Nadia smiled. “Yes.” The woman looked surprised. Then interested. “Really?” “Really.” “As yourself?” “Of course.” The woman considered. “I hadn't expected that.” Nadia tilted her head. “Why not?” The woman laughed. “That's a good question.” Nadia waited. After a moment, the woman smiled. “I suppose I've been thinking of you primarily as an artist.” “I am an artist.” “Of course.” “One doesn't necessarily exclude the other.” “No. I suppose it doesn't.” Nadia smiled warmly. The woman looked toward Panam. “And if I wanted to ask about your availability?” Nadia followed her gaze. “Madame handles professional inquiries.” The woman nodded. “Thank you.” Then she smiled. “And for what it's worth, I think this is rather wonderful.” Nadia's expression softened. “Thank you.” The woman excused herself. Panam had heard enough of the conversation to understand its direction. She approached Nadia. “Interesting?” “Quite.” “Want me to speak with her if she comes back?” Nadia considered. “Perhaps.” Panam smiled. “That's not a yes.” “No.” “Good.” Nadia laughed. “I'm learning.” “Sweetheart, you already know how to make decisions.” “True.” “You're just getting used to making them here.” Nadia looked around. Then smiled. “Yes.” “I think that's exactly it.” From behind the bar, Suzy noticed the growing interest. A few customers recognized Sera. That was nothing new. A few more recognized Nadia. That was new. Then somebody noticed the two artists together. Somebody else realized Madame Panam was accompanying them. And a handful of quiet conversations began. Not a scandal. Not yet. Just curiosity. Lisa approached. “Everything good?” “So far.” “The artists are getting attention.” “Yep.” “Any trouble?” “No.” Lisa nodded. “Then we're fine.” Suzy smiled. “Exactly.” Across the room, Sera was laughing with Nadia. Panam stood close beside them. The rest of Madame's working circle had settled into their professional evening without requiring the club to revolve around the new arrival. It was, Suzy thought, a rather good Friday. So far. Nadia noticed the presentation case again. It rested securely beside Panam. She knew what was inside. Her chosen collar. Her leash. Neither had been placed on her. Neither would be until she asked. She watched Panam's hand resting lightly around Sera's leash. Watched Sera turn toward her owner with a smile. Watched the completely natural affection between them. And felt something settle inside her. The decision was no longer hypothetical. Not something to analyze. Not something to discuss endlessly. Something to do. Sera noticed her expression. “Darling?” Nadia turned. “Yes?” “You've gone quiet.” “A little.” “Thinking?” Nadia smiled. “Not anymore.” Sera's face softened. “Ah.” Nadia nodded. “I believe I'm ready.” Sera took her hand. “Are you sure?” “Yes.” Sera kissed her cheek. “Then go.” Panam was finishing a message when Nadia approached. She looked up. And smiled. “Hello, sweetheart.” Nadia stopped before her. “Hello, Madame.” Something in Panam's expression changed. Not her affection. Never that. But she recognized the particular steadiness in Nadia's gaze. The way she'd chosen to approach. The way she stood. Panam set her phone aside. “Everything okay?” “Perfectly.” Nadia glanced toward the presentation case. Then looked back into Panam's eyes. All afternoon she'd imagined this moment. She'd wondered what it would feel like to stand before Madame here, with the music around them and the knowledge that the decision would be hers alone. Now she knew. It felt right. “Madame,” she said quietly, “may I ask you something?” Panam reached for her hand. “For you, sweetheart?” She smiled. “Always.” Behind Nadia, Sera remained nearby, her expression warm with anticipation. Across the floor, the working women continued their Friday evening. Dalia and Deja together. Mandi enjoying her chosen company. Nova and Vega entertaining theirs. Suzy running the bar. Lisa watching the floor. Nobody called for attention. Nobody interrupted the music. And in the middle of an ordinary Friday at Lizzie's, Nadia prepared to ask Madame Panam for something that would make the evening extraordinary. --- ## Chapter 9 — The Question Panam knew that look. She had seen it across the studio table while Nadia explained an idea that had apparently occupied her thoughts for days. She had seen it during discussions about art, during arguments about the merits of apparently useless objects, and once when Nadia had announced that a particular installation needed to be suspended from the ceiling despite several excellent reasons why it absolutely did not. It was the look of a woman who had finished thinking. Which meant the rest of the world was about to discover what she'd decided. Nadia stood before her in Lena's extraordinary graphite couture. Her expression was calm. Her eyes were bright. And her hands were entirely steady. “Madame,” she said, “may I ask you something?” Panam set her phone aside. “Of course, sweetheart.” Nadia smiled. “I would like you to become my owner.” For once, Panam had absolutely nothing clever to say. She just looked at her. Nadia waited. Not nervously. Not impatiently. She had made her decision. Now she was giving Panam the freedom to make hers. Behind Nadia, Sera watched with a small, affectionate smile. She had known this was coming. They all had. But knowing didn't make the moment any less beautiful. Panam finally found her voice. “Sweetheart.” “Yes?” “Are you sure?” Nadia's smile deepened. “Completely.” Panam studied her. “You understand what you're asking?” “Yes.” “You understand that a collar doesn't mean you stop making your own decisions?” “Of course.” “That you can tell me no?” “Always.” “And that you can take it off whenever you choose?” Nadia nodded. “Yes, darling.” Panam gave her a look. Nadia laughed softly. “Sorry. Yes, Madame.” Panam smiled despite herself. “Cheeky woman.” “Occasionally.” “Frequently.” “I'll concede frequently.” A quiet laugh came from Sera. Panam glanced toward her. Sera smiled. “She's had plenty of time to think about this.” “I know.” “And she's been asking questions.” “God, I know.” Nadia raised an eyebrow. “I detect a certain lack of appreciation for intellectual preparation.” Panam laughed. “Oh, I appreciate it, sweetheart.” “Good.” “It's the seventy-four follow-up questions that get me.” “Seventy-three.” Sera made a strangled noise. Panam stared. Nadia's expression remained perfectly innocent. Then all three women began laughing. And just like that, the nervousness Panam hadn't even realized she was carrying disappeared. Panam took Nadia's hands. The music continued around them. Nobody had stopped the club. Nobody had announced anything. A few people nearby were talking. Someone laughed at the bar. Glasses touched. Lizzie's remained exactly what it had been five minutes earlier. And Panam found herself grateful for that. This wasn't a performance. It wasn't for an audience. It was for Nadia. “Then I have a question for you,” Panam said. Nadia inclined her head. “Please.” “Why?” Nadia considered. It was a fair question. Perhaps the most important one. “Because I trust you.” Panam's expression softened. “Sweetheart.” “And because I love you.” “I love you too.” Nadia squeezed her hands. “But those aren't the only reasons.” Panam waited. Nadia looked briefly toward Sera. Then back. “I've spent a great deal of my life making decisions by myself. Not because I was lonely, necessarily, but because that was how I preferred to work.” Panam nodded. “I know.” “And I still do.” “Good.” “But I've discovered something rather wonderful about being with you and Sera.” “What?” “That choosing to trust someone else doesn't diminish me.” Panam was very still. Nadia continued. “It doesn't make me less independent. It doesn't make my work less mine. It doesn't make my identity smaller.” She smiled. “It gives me something additional.” Panam swallowed. “Nadia.” “And I want to explore that. With you.” There was a pause. Then Nadia added, very quietly: “Because it makes me happy.” Panam looked at her for a long moment. Then drew her close. Nadia went willingly into her arms. Panam held her. And for several seconds, neither woman spoke. Sera watched, smiling. Then Panam kissed Nadia's forehead. “Well,” she murmured. Nadia looked up. “Yes?” “That's a pretty fucking good answer.” Nadia laughed. “I thought so.” The presentation case rested beside Panam. She looked toward it. Then back at Nadia. “One more thing.” Nadia smiled. “Of course.” “This isn't a professional contract for me to own your choices.” “I understand.” “And it doesn't mean I decide what happens between you and a client.” “I know.” “Your body, your work, your decisions.” “Always.” Panam nodded. “Good.” She paused. “And if we're going to do this, I want you to promise me something.” Nadia tilted her head. “What?” “If something stops feeling right, you tell me.” “Immediately.” “Even if you think it'll disappoint me.” Nadia's expression changed. The playfulness fell away. “I promise.” Panam studied her. Then nodded. “Okay.” Nadia's eyes brightened. “Okay?” Panam smiled. “Yes, sweetheart.” She reached for the case. “I would be honored to be your owner.” Sera made a small sound. Both women looked toward her. She was smiling. And wiping at one eye. Panam stared. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Sera laughed. “What?” “Are you crying?” “No.” Nadia smiled. “Darling.” Sera wiped her eye again. “Fine. A little.” Panam held out her free arm. “Come here, you.” Sera stepped into the embrace. Panam kissed her. Then Nadia. And for a moment the three women simply stood together. Not Madame and two pets. Not two artists and their professional manager. Just three women who loved one another, celebrating a choice that mattered. When they separated, Sera looked toward the presentation case. “Oh, she's going to look beautiful.” Nadia laughed. “I should hope so.” Panam shook her head. “You two are impossible.” Sera smiled. “And yet.” Panam sighed. “And yet.” The case opened with a soft click. Inside rested the collar Panam had chosen that morning. Dark leather. Elegant hardware. A design that belonged to Nadia rather than trying to make her look like someone else. The matching leash lay beside it. Nadia looked down. For the first time that evening, she seemed momentarily lost for words. Panam noticed. “Like it?” Nadia looked up. “Very much.” “I thought you would.” “You chose beautifully.” Panam smiled. “Thank you.” Nadia reached toward the collar. Then stopped. Looked at Panam. And withdrew her hand. Panam understood. She lifted the collar from its place. “Turn around, sweetheart.” Nadia did. Sera stepped a little to one side, giving them room. Panam stood behind Nadia and brought the collar gently around her neck. She adjusted it. Checked the fit. “Comfortable?” “Yes.” “Too tight?” “No.” “Good.” Then— Click. The fastening settled into place. Nadia closed her eyes. Only for a moment. But Sera saw it. So did Panam. The small smile. The quiet breath. The happiness that needed no explanation. Panam rested her hands lightly on Nadia's shoulders. “There.” Nadia opened her eyes. “Thank you, Madame.” Panam kissed the side of her head. “My pleasure, sweetheart.” Then she lifted the matching leash. Its clasp touched the collar's ring. Click. Nadia looked down. At the dark line extending from her collar. To Panam's hand. Then back up. Her smile was radiant. “Hello, Owner.” Panam's face softened completely. “Hello, pet.” Sera promptly ruined the solemnity. “Oh, she's gorgeous.” Nadia laughed. “Thank you.” Panam turned. “Sera.” “What?” “Give her thirty seconds.” “I have given her thirty seconds!” “It's been six.” “She's beautiful for all six of them.” Nadia burst out laughing. Panam shook her head. “You are such a menace.” Sera smiled sweetly. “Your menace, Owner.” Panam opened her mouth. Closed it. Then laughed. “Unfortunately.” Nadia considered. “Would this be an inappropriate moment to ask whether there's an established hierarchy of menaces?” Panam stared. Sera made a delighted noise. “Oh, darling.” “No,” Panam said. Nadia raised an eyebrow. “No hierarchy?” “No discussion.” “Ah.” Sera leaned closer. “I think you'd rank very highly.” “Thank you.” “BOTH OF YOU.” The two artists dissolved into laughter. Panam looked toward the ceiling. “I'm so fucking doomed.” They didn't announce Nadia's new collar to the club. There was no need. People noticed anyway. Of course they did. A woman as recognizable as Nadia, dressed in extraordinary couture and now wearing Madame Panam's collar, was unlikely to pass entirely unnoticed. But recognition happened in fragments. A glance. A double take. A quiet exchange between two customers. An appreciative smile from someone who understood what the collar meant. No applause. No theatrical announcement. And no assumption that anyone witnessing the moment had somehow earned a right to participate in it. Nadia appreciated that. She was not embarrassed. Quite the opposite. She was proud. But the collar belonged to her choice. And the moment belonged to the women who had shared it. Suzy noticed almost immediately. She looked over from the bar. Saw Nadia's collar. Saw the leash in Panam's hand. Then looked at Sera. Who was practically glowing. Suzy slowly smiled. “Well, fuck.” Lisa approached. “What?” Suzy nodded toward the artists. Lisa followed her gaze. “Oh.” “Yep.” Lisa considered the new arrangement. Then nodded. “Good for her.” Suzy smiled. “Exactly.” Lisa looked back toward the floor. “Anything changing operationally?” “Not unless Madame tells us.” “Fine.” And that was that. No interrogation. No speculation about private relationships. No assumption that a collar changed the professional rules. Lizzie's had seen plenty of collars. What mattered was what the people wearing them had chosen. Across the room, Mandi noticed next. Naturally. She was speaking with a customer when the sight caught her eye. Nadia. Collared. Leashed. Panam holding the other end. Mandi stopped halfway through a sentence. Her customer followed her gaze. “What?” Mandi recovered immediately. “Nothing, sweetheart.” The woman smiled. “You look surprised.” “Delighted, actually.” “Someone you know?” Mandi smiled. “Professionally.” That was enough. She returned her attention to the conversation, though the grin refused to leave her face. She'd have plenty to say later. Oh, so fucking much. Nova and Vega noticed together. Vega nudged Nova. “Look.” Nova glanced toward Madame. Her expression softened. “Oh.” Vega smiled. “Good for her.” Nova nodded. “Very.” Then Vega's grin turned wicked. “Think Madame realizes she's just doubled her trouble?” Nova considered. “Possibly tripled.” Vega laughed. “Fuck, you're right.” Their customer looked curious. “Something funny?” Nova smiled pleasantly. “An old acquaintance appears to be having a wonderful evening.” Vega nodded. “And we approve.” No more explanation was necessary. Their private knowledge remained private. Dalia and Deja noticed a little later. They were standing together near the bar, Dalia still holding Deja's leash, when Deja looked toward Panam. “Owner?” Dalia glanced down. “Yes, sweetheart?” Deja smiled. “Look.” Dalia followed her gaze. Nadia stood beside Sera. Both collared. Both leashed. Panam held their leashes comfortably, speaking with the two women as they laughed together. Dalia stopped. Then smiled. “Oh.” Deja's expression softened. “She asked.” “She did.” “And Madame said yes.” “Looks that way.” Deja leaned closer. “Beautiful.” Dalia nodded. “Very.” They watched for a moment. Then Deja looked up at Dalia. “Happy?” Dalia smiled. “For her? Absolutely.” Deja's hand slipped into hers. Dalia squeezed it. Neither needed to say anything more. Nadia discovered that the collar felt surprisingly natural. Not physically. She'd expected it to fit. Panam had been meticulous. But emotionally. She had imagined the moment so many times that she'd half expected reality to feel strange. Instead, she felt settled. At ease. Almost amused by how little the world had changed. The music was still playing. Suzy was still behind the bar. Mandi was still flirting with somebody. Vega was still making someone laugh. Nova was still looking entirely too pleased with herself. Dalia and Deja were still together. And Sera— Sera was looking at Nadia with unmistakable pride. Nadia turned toward Panam. “Owner?” Panam smiled. “Yes, pet?” “May I ask another question?” Panam closed her eyes. Sera began laughing. Nadia waited with perfect innocence. Finally Panam opened one eye. “How many?” “Just one.” “That's what you said this morning.” “And I was being sincere.” “You asked seventeen more.” “Sixteen.” Panam groaned. Sera was laughing helplessly now. Nadia smiled. “Would you prefer I saved it for later?” Panam looked at her. At the collar. At the leash. At that devastatingly pleased expression. Then laughed. “No, sweetheart.” She gave the leash a gentle, affectionate adjustment. “Ask.” Nadia's expression softened. “Would you mind terribly if we simply enjoyed this for a little while before we discuss my first booking?” Panam stared. Then smiled. “Oh.” Nadia tilted her head. “Is that acceptable?” Panam drew her closer. “More than acceptable.” She kissed Nadia's forehead. “We've got all evening.” Nadia smiled. “Thank you, Owner.” Sera stepped closer. “And I think we should have another drink.” Panam laughed. “Of course you do.” Nadia considered. “An excellent suggestion.” Panam looked from one artist to the other. Two beautiful women. Two collars. Two leashes resting in her hand. Both wearing Lena's extraordinary work. Both smiling at her. And both apparently determined to make this the most interesting Friday of her life. Panam shook her head. “Fuck it.” Sera grinned. Nadia raised an eyebrow. “Darling?” Panam smiled. “Let's celebrate.” Suzy saw them approaching the bar. Madame in the middle. Sera on one side. Nadia on the other. Two matching smiles. Two very different outfits. Two collars. And two women looking thoroughly pleased with their owner. Suzy took one look. Then reached for three glasses. “Let me guess.” Panam grinned. “Celebration.” Suzy nodded. “Thought so.” Sera smiled. “Something nice, please.” Nadia considered. “Perhaps something memorable.” Suzy looked at Panam. Panam sighed. “Dealer's choice.” Suzy's grin widened. “Oh, I like that.” She began preparing their drinks. Nadia leaned toward Sera. “Do you think she'll make something symbolic?” Sera's eyes lit up. “Oh, we could ask.” Panam stared at them. “No.” Both artists turned toward her. “Owner?” Panam closed her eyes. “Please.” Suzy burst out laughing. And for the first time that evening, Madame Panam realized something rather alarming. She was going to have to learn how to handle two artists at once. Not professionally. Not in bed. Not even as their owner. But at a bar. When both of them were trying to turn a perfectly ordinary cocktail into a fucking installation. She looked at Suzy. “Make mine a double.” Suzy laughed. “Coming right up, Madame.” And around them, Lizzie's continued its Friday evening. No ceremony. No announcement. No grand declaration. Just music, laughter, familiar faces, and one very happy woman wearing a brand-new collar. Nadia looked toward Panam. Then Sera. And smiled. She had come to Lizzie's knowing exactly what she wanted to ask. Now she had her answer. And the rest of the weekend was still ahead of them. --- ## Chapter 10 — Sera Has Her Own Evening By the time Nadia finished her second celebratory drink, Sera had begun looking toward the club floor. Panam noticed. Of course she did. She had spent enough evenings at Lizzie's to recognize the difference between a pet enjoying herself and a professional considering whether she wanted to get back to work. She gave Sera's leash a gentle tug. “Pet?” Sera turned. “Yes, Owner?” “Thinking about work?” Sera smiled. “Possibly.” Nadia looked at her. “Oh?” Sera laughed. “Darling, you weren't the only reason we came tonight.” “I know.” “And I've rather missed it.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “The work?” “Yes.” “Not just making me carry another leash around?” “That too.” Panam snorted. Nadia studied Sera with interest. There was something wonderfully familiar about this. Sera had already built a professional life around her public identity. She didn't have to discover whether she could enjoy it. She knew. She'd chosen to do this again tonight. Nadia had chosen something new. Neither choice diminished the other. “Then you should work,” Nadia said. Sera smiled. “I believe I shall.” Panam kissed her cheek. “Good. Let me see what's waiting.” Madame's booking system had been designed around one principle that Panam considered so fucking obvious she was mildly offended whenever someone needed it explained. Nobody bought a woman. Clients purchased agreed professional experiences. They paid for time, arrangements and services freely chosen by the people providing them. Collars didn't change that. Leashes didn't change that. And being Madame's pet most certainly didn't change that. The rules applied to Mandi. To Nova. To Vega. To Sera. And now to Nadia. The artists simply operated in a particularly expensive corner of the market. Five million eddies. That was the entry consideration for an approved professional conversation with either Sera or Nadia. Not an appointment. Not a booking. Not a guaranteed yes. And definitely not permission to touch someone just because a transfer had cleared. Panam screened the inquiry first. The artist decided whether she was interested in speaking with the prospective client. Only then did the five-million conversation arrangement become available. A subsequent booking, if both parties wanted one, required its own offer and acceptance. Panam rather liked the arrangement. It discouraged people who believed money entitled them to skip the word please. Unfortunately, it didn't eliminate them. Nothing did. Her first notification wasn't about either artist. It was about Vega. Panam checked the details. A previously screened client. A confirmed appointment. All terms already accepted through Madame. The customer had arrived. Panam glanced toward the Marlows. Nova and Vega were at the bar, entertaining themselves and a pair of acquaintances with the kind of conversation that made Panam extremely grateful nobody had asked her to provide a transcript. Vega noticed her owner looking. “Oh.” Nova followed her gaze. “Work?” Vega checked her own messages. “Looks like.” The two approached together. “Owner?” Vega asked. “Your appointment's here.” “Good.” “Still interested?” Vega glanced at the confirmed details. Then nodded. “Absolutely.” Panam looked at Nova. “You're free until your own appointment. Anything you need?” Nova smiled. “Another drink, possibly.” Panam laughed. “Ask Suzy.” Nova tilted her head. “Can I charge it to Madame's account?” “No.” “Cruel woman.” “Financially responsible woman.” Vega made a choking noise. “Fuck, that's new.” Panam stared. Nova laughed. And Vega, grinning shamelessly, stepped closer for her owner's attention. Panam checked the appointment one last time. Then unclipped Vega's leash. Click. She handed it to her. “Check in when you're finished.” “Yes, Owner.” “And enjoy yourself.” Vega's grin widened. “Oh, I intend to.” Nova watched her go. Then looked at Panam. “She's going to be insufferable afterward.” “She was insufferable beforehand.” “True.” Panam smiled. “Go enjoy your break, pet.” Nova kissed her cheek. “Thank you, Owner.” She headed back toward the bar. Nothing complicated. One confirmed booking. One woman making her own decision. One owner handling the professional arrangements she'd accepted responsibility for. Exactly as it should be. Mandi appeared approximately three minutes later. “Owner.” Panam looked up. “Oh, God.” Mandi gasped. “That's a terrible way to greet your favorite pet.” Panam considered. “Which one?” Mandi stared. From behind her, Dalia began laughing. Deja joined in. Mandi turned. “YOU TWO CAN FUCK RIGHT OFF.” Dalia smiled around her menthol lollipop. “Hello to you too, darling.” Deja's expression was sweetness itself. “We didn't say anything.” “You were laughing!” “That isn't illegal.” “It fucking should be!” Panam shook her head. “What do you need, Mandi?” Mandi turned back. “Work.” “Your appointment?” “Yep.” Panam checked. Another confirmed arrangement. Another customer who had passed screening and agreed to the terms with Madame. Mandi had accepted the booking earlier and was ready to proceed. Panam looked at her. “You still want it?” “Absolutely.” “Feeling good?” “Spectacular.” “Water?” “Had some.” “Food?” “Owner.” “Answer.” Mandi sighed. “Yes.” Panam smiled. “Good.” She released Mandi's leash and placed it in her hand. Click. “Enjoy yourself. And check in afterward.” “Yes, Owner.” Mandi kissed her cheek. Then leaned closer. “By the way?” “What?” Mandi glanced toward the two artists. “Good luck.” Panam narrowed her eyes. “With what?” Mandi grinned. “Everything.” Then she left before Panam could respond. Dalia watched her go. “She's in excellent form.” Deja nodded. “Terrifying.” Panam looked at the two women. “Are you here to torment me too?” Dalia considered. “Not professionally.” Deja smiled. “Yet.” Panam burst out laughing. “Get out of here.” Dalia gave her an affectionate salute with the lollipop. Deja followed at her owner's side, the ivory collar and its leash remaining entirely within their own chosen arrangement. They went back to enjoying their evening. Sera had watched the exchanges with a smile. Nadia had watched them with something closer to fascination. “You make it look effortless,” Nadia told Panam. Panam laughed. “Sweetheart, those women have been doing this longer than I've been managing them.” “I know.” “They don't need me telling them how to do their jobs.” “Then what do they need?” Panam considered. “Somebody who handles the things they've chosen not to handle themselves.” Nadia nodded. “An important distinction.” “Very.” Sera leaned against her owner. “And somebody who notices when we're tired.” Panam looked at her. “Or hungry.” “Or hungry,” Sera agreed. “Or about to make an exceptionally stupid decision.” Sera smiled. “That last one's mostly Mandi.” From across the room, Nova called: “I HEARD THAT.” Panam stared. Sera collapsed into laughter. Nadia looked delighted. “Extraordinary hearing.” “Occupational hazard,” Nova replied. Panam's next message finally concerned Sera. A woman wanted to know whether the artist was accepting professional inquiries tonight. Panam recognized the contact. Not as one of Sera's personal acquaintances. As someone whose previous arrangements through the Mox had established a useful record. A reliable client. Polite with staff. No complaints. No attempts to renegotiate boundaries after a booking had begun. Those details mattered far more than wealth. Panam reviewed the inquiry. Then looked toward Sera. “Pet?” “Yes, Owner?” “Someone's asking about you.” Sera smiled. “Oh?” “Woman. Previously screened. Good record.” “Have we met?” “Not professionally, as far as the records show.” “What does she want?” “Your company. She asked specifically for you.” Sera considered. “Anything else?” “Not yet.” “Has she accepted the conversation terms?” “She knows them. I haven't authorized anything.” Sera thought for a moment. Then nodded. “I'd like to hear more.” Panam smiled. “Good.” Nadia looked between them. “Is this the five-million conversation?” “Potentially,” Panam answered. “First I finish screening the request. Then Sera decides whether she wants to speak with the woman. If we both agree, the customer can pay for the conversation.” “And afterward?” “Anything further is a separate decision.” Nadia smiled. “Very sensible.” Panam laughed. “That's the third time you've said that tonight.” “Because you keep being sensible.” Sera grinned. “Enjoy it, Owner. It won't last.” The woman waiting for Madame was somewhere in her forties. She wore a dark red jacket, beautifully cut, over clothes that looked expensive without making any particular effort to announce it. She had the easy manner of someone accustomed to speaking with professionals and treating them as people. Panam appreciated that. They met privately. The woman's identity and relevant details had already been checked. There were still questions. Panam asked them. The woman answered. “What interests you about Sera?” “Her work was the introduction.” “And now?” The woman considered. “I saw her speaking at a small exhibition some months ago.” Panam waited. “She spent twenty minutes discussing an installation with a man who was very determined to misunderstand it.” Panam smiled faintly. “Sounds familiar.” “She didn't embarrass him. She didn't flatter him either. She simply kept asking questions until he discovered that he wasn't actually interested in the answer.” Panam laughed. “Yep. That sounds like her.” The woman smiled. “I found her fascinating.” “And tonight?” “I'd like to meet her. If we enjoy each other's company, I'd like to propose an evening together.” Panam regarded her. “Not interested in buying an artist as a status symbol?” The woman's expression changed. A brief flash of amusement. “No. I've got enough decorative objects.” “Good answer.” “Also, I'd rather spend time with someone who might tell me I'm full of shit.” Panam grinned. “Oh, Sera can do that.” “I suspected.” Panam studied her for another moment. Then nodded. “I'll put your request to her. If she accepts the conversation, the entry is five million eddies. Whatever happens afterward, that payment doesn't guarantee a booking.” “Understood.” “And Sera can decline anything.” “Of course.” “Without providing a reason.” The woman nodded. “Yes.” Panam smiled. “Good.” Sera considered the information. Her expression was thoughtful. Not uncertain. Interested. “She remembers the installation?” “Apparently very clearly,” Panam said. “And the argument?” “Yep.” Sera laughed. “Oh, I remember that man.” Nadia raised an eyebrow. “Which argument?” “The one about the installation with the moving light panels.” Nadia smiled. “Oh, that argument.” Panam looked between them. “Do I want to know?” “No,” both artists answered. Panam sighed. “Thought not.” Sera looked back at her. “I'd like to meet her.” “Sure?” “Yes.” Panam smiled. “Then I'll arrange the conversation.” Sera squeezed her owner's hand. “Thank you.” Nadia leaned closer. “Have fun, darling.” Sera smiled. “I intend to.” The five-million transfer cleared after Panam notified the prospective client that both she and Sera had agreed to the preliminary meeting. CONFIRMED CONVERSATION PAYMENT 5,000,000 €$ One approved conversation. No booking. No promise of further company. Panam confirmed receipt. Then arranged for the women to meet in Lizzie's soundproof back room. Suzy knew the room would be occupied. Lisa knew who was authorized to enter. Neither needed to know the customer's private financial details. Panam brought Sera to the door. Before they entered, she paused. “Pet?” Sera looked up. “Yes, Owner?” “You want me to stay for the introduction?” “Please.” “Of course.” Sera smiled. Panam gave her leash a light, affectionate tug and kissed her cheek. “Let's go.” The woman stood as they entered. Her gaze moved toward Sera. Recognition. Then something warmer. “Hello.” Sera smiled. “Hello.” Panam handled the introduction. Nothing elaborate. Nothing suggesting the woman had purchased a right to intimacy. Simply two adults who had mutually agreed to meet. Then Panam looked at Sera. “Comfortable?” “Yes, Owner.” “Good.” She unclipped the leash and handed it to her. Click. “Call me when you're ready.” Sera smiled. “I will.” Panam left them to their conversation. The door closed. The music vanished. And Sera looked at the woman across from her. “Well.” The woman smiled. “Well?” “I understand we have a shared acquaintance.” The woman laughed. “A man who didn't like being asked questions.” “Oh, God.” Sera began laughing too. “You were there?” “I was.” “I'm so sorry.” “Why?” “He was dreadful.” “Yes,” the woman said. “He was.” Sera smiled. “Oh, I think we're going to get along.” They talked. Not immediately about professional arrangements. Not about prices. About the exhibition. The woman remembered details Sera hadn't expected anyone to notice. The way the installation changed when somebody entered the room. The almost imperceptible delay before its lighting responded. The fact that two visitors could stand in precisely the same position and still experience something different because of what had happened before they arrived. Sera leaned forward. “You noticed the delay?” “Of course.” “Most people didn't.” “I thought it was deliberate.” “It was.” “Then why did nobody mention it?” Sera smiled. “Because I wanted to see whether anyone would.” The woman laughed. “Cruel.” “Experimental.” “Same thing, occasionally.” Sera considered. Then grinned. “Fair.” The conversation wandered. Art. Night City. The absurdity of trying to make meaningful work in a place where somebody might steal the power supply before the opening. The woman worked with historical buildings and had strong opinions about the city's habit of demolishing anything old enough to have acquired character. Sera found those opinions delightful. The woman found Sera's capacity to turn a practical engineering problem into an artistic argument equally entertaining. At some point, Sera realized she'd forgotten the conversation was supposed to be brief. That was promising. At another point, the woman laughed so unexpectedly that she had to put her drink down. That was even better. And when their eyes met afterward, neither looked away quite as quickly as before. Eventually the woman grew more serious. “May I ask you something?” Sera smiled. “You've already paid a rather extraordinary amount for the privilege.” The woman laughed. “True.” “Go ahead.” “Would you be interested in spending the next two hours with me?” Sera considered. “In what capacity?” The woman met her gaze. “Professional company. Privately. I'd like to continue talking.” “And?” A pause. Then the woman smiled. “And if we both wanted something more personal, I'd welcome that.” Sera appreciated the answer. Not because it was especially clever. Because it was clear. No pretending that an evening of intimacy was secretly an invitation to discuss gallery lighting. No expectation that the first five million had purchased anything beyond the conversation they were already enjoying. Just an adult expressing interest. Sera smiled. “I've enjoyed speaking with you.” “Likewise.” “And I find you attractive.” The woman's smile widened. “That is encouraging.” “But I don't make bookings without Madame handling the arrangements.” “Of course.” Sera considered. Then reached for her phone. “I'd like her to come back.” Panam returned a few minutes later. She looked at Sera first. Not at the customer. “Pet?” Sera smiled. “I'd like to consider a booking.” Panam nodded. “Good.” Then she turned toward the woman. “What are you proposing?” “Two hours. Here, if an appropriate room is available.” “Any additional guests?” “No.” “Any unusual conditions?” “No.” “Anything beyond what you've already discussed?” “Only what Sera chooses.” Panam considered. Then looked back at Sera. “You want two hours?” Sera nodded. “Yes.” “Here?” “Yes.” Panam checked the proposed room with Lisa. Approved. Private. Available. Then she returned to the financial terms. The prospective customer made a separate offer. 24,000,000 eddies for two hours. Panam looked at Sera. Sera considered it. Not simply the number. The woman. Their conversation. The easy humor. The possibility of an evening she might genuinely enjoy. Then she smiled. “Yes, Owner. I'd like that.” Panam turned toward the customer. “Twenty-four million for the two-hour booking. The five million you've already paid was for the conversation and remains separate. Agreed?” “Agreed.” “And anything either of you doesn't want is off the table. No argument.” “Understood.” The booking payment cleared. Panam verified it. Then smiled. “Have a wonderful evening, ladies.” Sera kissed her cheek. “Thank you, Owner.” Panam's expression warmed. “Enjoy yourself, sweetheart.” Nadia was waiting at the bar when Panam returned. Sera wasn't with her. Nadia noticed immediately. “Oh.” Panam smiled. “Yep.” “She accepted?” “She did.” Nadia's expression brightened. “Wonderful.” Panam settled beside her. “Two hours.” “And she likes her customer?” “Very much.” Nadia smiled. “Then I'm pleased.” Panam studied her. “No disappointment?” Nadia looked surprised. “Why would I be disappointed?” Panam shrugged. “First night in the collar. I wondered whether you'd want us all together.” Nadia considered. Then reached for her hand. “Darling.” Panam looked at her. “I love Sera.” “I know.” “And I love you.” “I know.” “But I don't need either of you to stop living your own lives just because I'm beginning another part of mine.” Panam's expression softened. Nadia smiled. “I rather like that Sera has her own evening.” “Good.” “And I suspect she'll have some entertaining things to tell us afterward.” Panam laughed. “Oh, undoubtedly.” Nadia's eyes sparkled. “Besides.” “Hmm?” “We have two hours.” Panam regarded her. “For what?” Nadia smiled. “An uninterrupted discussion about the philosophical implications of cocktail garnishes.” Panam closed her eyes. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Meanwhile, Sera was discovering that her customer had a surprisingly wicked sense of humor. The private room was comfortable without attempting to imitate the architectural pretensions of an expensive corporate lounge. There was somewhere to sit. Somewhere to put drinks. Enough privacy for genuine conversation. And nobody attempting to turn the room itself into a status symbol. Sera approved. The woman looked toward her collar. “May I ask about that?” Sera smiled. “Of course.” “Madame?” “Yes.” “You seem very happy.” Sera considered. “I am.” “Good.” The woman didn't reach toward it. Didn't treat the collar as a novelty or an invitation to explore somebody else's relationship. Instead she looked back into Sera's eyes. “And you're comfortable being here with me?” “Entirely.” “Good.” Sera smiled. “You ask sensible questions.” “I was hoping you'd appreciate that.” “I do.” The woman settled beside her. Not touching. Not yet. Sera found that unexpectedly charming. She considered the woman for a moment. Then moved a little closer. “You know,” she said, “you've been extraordinarily polite.” The woman laughed. “Is that a complaint?” “Not remotely.” “Good.” “But I have a question of my own.” “Go ahead.” Sera smiled. “Would you like to kiss me?” The woman went very still. Then smiled. “Yes.” Sera laughed softly. “Then you should.” The kiss was warm. Unhurried. A little tentative at first, until they discovered they were both smiling too much to maintain anything resembling solemnity. When they separated, the woman laughed. “What?” Sera tilted her head. “Nothing.” “You're smiling.” “So are you.” “Fair.” Sera brushed a hand against her cheek. “You know what I like about you?” “What?” “You don't seem interested in impressing me.” The woman considered. “I suspect that would be difficult.” Sera laughed. “Probably.” “I'd rather you enjoyed yourself.” Sera's expression softened. “I am.” The woman met her gaze. “Then we're doing well.” Sera leaned closer and kissed her again. This time, neither was tentative. Their evening developed at its own pace. They talked. They laughed. They discovered small, unexpected things about each other. The woman had a terrible singing voice and knew it. Sera confessed that she'd once accidentally improved an installation by tripping over part of the control system. The woman refused to believe her. Sera gave a convincing demonstration of the resulting chaos using two drinking glasses and an extremely unfortunate napkin. They laughed until Sera had tears in her eyes. Then the woman took her hand. And the laughter softened into something quieter. Sera looked at her. The woman smiled. “Still having fun?” “Very much.” “Good.” Sera leaned forward. They kissed. The affection was no longer tentative, but it remained attentive; each woman was conscious of the other's responses, comfortable enough to ask when she wanted something and equally comfortable hearing the answer. The room grew quieter around them. Not empty. Just intimate. Sera's laughter gave way to a soft smile when the woman drew her close, and she rested her forehead against hers for a moment before kissing her again. Later, they made love, tenderly and without hurry. Afterward, Sera lay beside her for a while, still smiling at the memory of something the woman had said earlier. The woman looked over. “What?” Sera laughed. “Nothing.” “Again?” “I was remembering your argument about municipal architecture.” The woman groaned. “Oh, God.” “You were magnificent.” “I was furious.” “That too.” The woman shook her head. “Only you could turn a conversation about demolition permits into flirting.” Sera considered. “Would you prefer that I stopped?” The woman reached for her hand. “Absolutely not.” Sera laughed. And kissed her. Back at the bar, Vega had returned from her appointment. She found Nova sitting with a drink. “Well?” Nova looked up. “Successful?” Vega smiled. “Very.” “Good.” Vega sat beside her. “Miss me?” “Terribly.” “Liar.” Nova kissed her cheek. “Occasionally.” Vega laughed. Then noticed Panam. “Owner.” Panam turned. “Hey, pet.” Vega approached and held out her leash. Panam took it and fastened it to her collar. Click. “Everything good?” “Excellent.” “Need a break?” “Definitely.” “Water first.” Vega sighed. “Yes, Owner.” Nova smiled. “See? Somebody has to keep you civilized.” Vega stared at her. “YOU?” Nova took a leisurely sip of her drink. “Obviously.” Panam shook her head. “Jesus Christ.” Mandi arrived at precisely the wrong moment. Or, depending on one's perspective, the perfect one. “What's happening?” “Nova claims she's civilized,” Vega said. Mandi stopped. Looked at Nova. Then burst out laughing. Nova regarded her. “Something funny?” Mandi wheezed. “FUCKING EVERYTHING.” Panam accepted Mandi's returning leash as she stepped close. Click. “Good booking?” Mandi grinned. “Fantastic.” “Water.” “Yes, Owner.” “And food.” Mandi looked offended. “I ate!” “Earlier.” “That counts!” Panam stared. Mandi sighed. “Fine.” Nova was smiling now. Vega looked delighted. Panam glanced toward the bar. “Suzy, can I get some food over here before these three start eating each other?” Suzy looked at the group. Then at Panam. “Professionally?” Mandi nearly fell off her stool. Dalia and Deja were enjoying their own evening. They had found a customer whose company appealed to both of them, and the conversation was proceeding comfortably. Dalia held Deja's leash. Deja rested one hand on Dalia's arm. Their customer had enough experience to understand that visible familiarity didn't automatically translate into an invitation. The conversation was lively. Occasionally outrageous. And very much under the control of the women having it. When Deja delivered a particularly dry observation, Dalia laughed hard enough to remove her lollipop before she could choke on it. “Sweetheart.” Deja smiled innocently. “Yes, Owner?” “That was vicious.” “Accurate.” “Also vicious.” The customer burst out laughing. Dalia shook her head. “God, I adore you.” Deja's expression softened. “I know.” And their evening continued. Sera returned a little over two hours after her booking began. Not exhausted. Not overwhelmed. Simply happy. She found Panam and Nadia at the bar. Panam looked up. The expression on Sera's face told her almost everything she needed to know. “Pet?” Sera smiled. “Owner.” She stepped closer and offered her leash. Panam accepted it. Click. Then kissed her. “Good evening?” Sera's smile widened. “Very.” Nadia moved closer. “Oh, darling.” Sera laughed. “I know.” Nadia hugged her. “I'm glad.” “Thank you.” Panam studied her. “Really good?” Sera nodded. “Yes.” “Anything you need?” “A drink.” Panam laughed. “Of course.” “And perhaps something to eat.” “Even better.” Nadia smiled. “Tell us about her?” Sera considered. Then laughed softly. “She restores old buildings.” Nadia's eyebrows rose. “Oh?” “And she has extremely strong opinions about Night City's demolition policies.” Nadia looked delighted. “Oh, I like her already.” Panam groaned. “No.” Sera laughed. “What?” “You are not introducing Nadia to somebody else who can spend four hours discussing structural aesthetics.” Nadia looked offended. “Darling.” “No.” “The relationship between preservation and artistic continuity—” “NO.” Sera was laughing helplessly now. Nadia smiled sweetly. “Very well.” Panam narrowed her eyes. “You're going to discuss it later.” “Almost certainly.” “Oh, for fuck's sake.” For a while they simply sat together. Panam between her two artists. Sera happily recounting the more entertaining parts of her evening. Nadia listening with genuine interest. Neither woman felt diminished by the other's experience. Sera had enjoyed a professional encounter with someone who interested her. Nadia had enjoyed watching the world she'd chosen begin opening around her. And Panam— Panam was happy. Responsibility had turned out to be an unexpectedly satisfying thing when the people she'd chosen to care for were capable of making their own decisions. She looked at Sera. Then Nadia. Two women. Two artists. Two pets. Two utterly different personalities. Both laughing. Both wearing their collars because they wanted to. Panam smiled. Sera noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” Nadia raised an eyebrow. “Owner.” Panam laughed. “Fine.” She kissed Sera. Then Nadia. “I'm having a good night.” Sera's expression softened. “So am I.” Nadia smiled. “Likewise.” The evening was getting busier. Not dramatically. Not yet. But a few people had begun noticing the artists. A woman at the bar had recognized Sera. Another visitor recognized Nadia. A discreet photograph of Nadia's collar had apparently appeared on somebody's social feed. Suzy noticed the notification. Looked toward the three women. Then at Lisa. “Tomorrow's going to be interesting.” Lisa glanced at the screen. Then toward Nadia. “Probably.” “Think we'll get a crowd?” “Possibly.” Suzy sighed. “Fuck.” Lisa smiled. “You wanted a busy weekend.” “I wanted a profitable weekend.” “Could be both.” Suzy considered. Then grinned. “Fair.” Nadia had been listening to Sera's account of her evening when someone approached the bar. A woman. Not someone she recognized. The visitor spoke briefly to Suzy. Suzy listened. Then indicated Madame Panam. The woman nodded. And approached her. Not Nadia. Not Sera. Madame. “Excuse me.” Panam turned. “Yes?” The woman looked a little nervous. But interested. “I understand you handle Nadia's professional arrangements?” Panam smiled. “I do.” The woman nodded. “Then I'd like to ask about the possibility of meeting her.” Panam regarded her. Not suspiciously. Professionally. “Of course.” Nadia looked toward the woman. Their eyes met briefly. The visitor smiled. Nadia returned it. Nothing had been arranged. No promises had been made. No money had changed hands. And nobody had earned the right to Nadia's time simply by approaching the bar. But for the first time that evening, Nadia found herself looking at someone who might become her first professional client. She felt a small, entirely unexpected thrill. Not fear. Not uncertainty. Curiosity. And perhaps— A little excitement. Panam opened the conversation. “Let's start with what you're looking for.” Nadia smiled to herself. Sera noticed. She reached for her hand. “Something interesting, darling?” Nadia watched Madame begin her careful, familiar questions. Then turned toward Sera. “Oh, I rather think so.” And Friday night at Lizzie's continued. --- ## Chapter 11 — Nadia's First Yes The woman glanced toward Nadia. Only once. Then she returned her attention to Madame Panam. “I'd like to meet her,” she said. “If she's interested.” Panam studied her. “Have you met Nadia before?” “No.” “Then what makes you interested?” The woman smiled. “That's rather a long answer.” “Good. I prefer those to stupid ones.” A laugh escaped her. “Fair enough.” Behind Panam, Nadia was watching with considerable interest. Sera leaned closer. “She's doing the face.” Nadia glanced at her. “What face?” “The one you make when you've found an interesting problem.” “I haven't found a problem.” “Not yet.” Nadia smiled. “Darling, don't spoil it.” Panam looked over her shoulder. “I can hear you.” “Yes, Owner,” both artists answered. The woman facing Panam blinked. Then laughed. “Oh, I think I understand the appeal.” Panam gave her a look. “You haven't even begun.” They moved the initial conversation away from the busiest section of the bar. Not because anyone had something to hide. Because Panam wasn't interested in conducting business over shouted music and strangers' shoulders. “Name?” she asked. “Sabine.” Panam waited. Sabine provided the information necessary to establish who she was. No theatrical display of wealth. No attempt to impress. Just a straightforward introduction. “What do you do?” “Optical materials.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “Specific.” “I make very expensive things behave differently when light passes through them.” Panam considered. “Sounds like art.” Sabine smiled. “Don't tell my employers.” “What brought you here tonight?” “Friends. Music. A drink.” “And Nadia?” “I saw her at the bar.” “You recognized her.” “Yes.” “From?” “Her work. I attended the installation she presented with Sera.” Panam studied her. “Didn't expect to find her here?” “Not remotely.” Good. At least Sabine wasn't pretending she'd somehow anticipated tonight's collaring. Panam leaned back. “You know what you're asking for?” “I know Sera has an unusual professional arrangement. I assume Nadia's is similar.” “It is.” “And I understand that asking doesn't mean she'll be interested.” “Correct.” Sabine nodded. “Then I'd like to ask properly.” Panam liked that answer. Not enough to say yes. Enough to continue. Ten minutes later, Panam returned to the bar. Nadia looked up immediately. “Well?” Panam smiled. “Potentially interesting.” Sera laughed. “Oh, that's dangerous.” Nadia ignored her. “Tell me.” “Her name's Sabine. Works in optical materials. Knows your work.” Nadia's expression sharpened. “Optical materials?” “Yep.” “What kind?” Panam smiled. “That's probably a question for her.” “An excellent point.” “She says she attended your recent installation.” “Good.” “And she wants a conversation.” Nadia considered. “Does she know the terms?” “She does now.” “And?” “She hasn't complained.” Nadia laughed. “A promising beginning.” Panam took her hand. “Do you want to consider meeting her?” Nadia thought about it. Not long. “Yes.” “Because of the optics?” “Partly.” “What's the other part?” Nadia glanced toward Sabine, waiting patiently where Panam had left her. “She's looking at you instead of trying to catch my attention.” Panam smiled. “You noticed.” “Of course.” “And you like that?” “I appreciate someone who understands which conversation she's supposed to be having.” Sera grinned. “Oh, darling.” Nadia looked at her. “What?” “You're going to enjoy this.” Nadia smiled. “I rather hope so.” Panam explained the result to Sabine. “Nadia is willing to meet you.” Sabine's face brightened. “Wonderful.” “Willing to meet you,” Panam repeated. “Nothing beyond that.” “Understood.” “The entry consideration is five million eddies. That buys an approved conversation with her. It doesn't buy a booking, an appointment afterward or any particular outcome.” “Yes.” “If she decides she doesn't want to continue, that's her decision.” “Of course.” Panam watched her. Sabine wasn't pretending the money was insignificant. She considered it for a moment. Then nodded. “I accept.” The payment was made there, in person. Panam confirmed the transfer. 5,000,000 eddies. Received. The only thing purchased was the conversation Nadia had already agreed to consider. Panam returned to her pet. “Ready?” Nadia smiled. “Yes, Owner.” Panam unclipped her leash and placed it in her hand. Click. Then she kissed her forehead. “Have fun, sweetheart.” “I intend to.” Sera hugged her. “Remember to breathe occasionally.” Nadia raised an eyebrow. “Should I also remember to blink?” “Preferably.” “Any other elementary biological functions?” Panam sighed. “Go.” Both artists laughed. Nadia turned toward the waiting woman. And took her first step into professional work as herself. --- The soundproof room was comfortable. Nadia approved of the lighting immediately. Sabine noticed. “You're looking at the lamps.” Nadia smiled. “Occupational hazard.” “Anything wrong with them?” “No. Actually, they're rather good.” “I'll take your word for it.” “Diffused light. No particularly aggressive reflections. Somebody thought about how human faces look in here.” Sabine glanced around. “I hadn't noticed.” “Most people don't.” “Is that good or bad?” Nadia considered. “Good lighting generally shouldn't demand applause.” Sabine laughed. “I'm relieved.” “Why?” “Because I was about to apologize for not applauding.” Nadia smiled. Oh. Interesting. They sat. And Nadia found herself genuinely pleased that this woman had been the first to ask. Sabine didn't begin with compliments. That was another point in her favor. Instead she asked a question. “In your installation with Sera, did you deliberately make one of the optical surfaces imperfect?” Nadia stopped. Looked at her. Then smiled slowly. “Oh.” Sabine raised an eyebrow. “Wrong question?” “Quite the opposite.” “Good.” “Most people assumed that was damage.” “I thought the regularity was too precise for it to be accidental damage.” Nadia leaned forward. “What did you see?” Sabine considered. “The distortion changed at particular viewing angles, but it wasn't symmetrical. At first I assumed a manufacturing defect.” “And then?” “I realized the rest of the surface had been made to accommodate it.” Nadia's smile widened. “Exactly.” Sabine laughed. “I knew it.” “Oh, that makes me very happy.” “Why?” “Because you're the first person who's mentioned that particular detail without being prompted.” Sabine looked delighted. “Then I'm glad I asked.” Nadia considered her for a moment. Then said: “Tell me what you do.” Sabine smiled. “Now?” “Please.” “I develop specialized coatings and optical substrates. Mostly industrial applications.” “Mostly?” “Occasional research contracts.” “Which sort?” “The sort where the customer refuses to tell you what the equipment is actually for.” Nadia laughed. “Night City.” “Precisely.” “And does that bother you?” “Less than you'd think. I care whether the specifications make physical sense.” Nadia tilted her head. “That's a fascinating distinction.” “Is it?” “Yes. You're separating responsibility for the material from responsibility for the purpose.” Sabine considered. “Not entirely. There are things I refuse to work on.” “Good.” “But I can't personally approve every eventual use of every surface I help create.” Nadia nodded. “No.” A pause. Then she smiled. “Now we're getting somewhere.” They disagreed within fifteen minutes. Quite enthusiastically. Sabine maintained that an intentional imperfection remained a defect if measured against the original material specification. Nadia countered that a specification could be deliberately wrong. Sabine argued that this didn't make the manufacturing problem disappear. Nadia pointed out that solving the manufacturing problem wasn't necessarily the point. Sabine laughed. “That's cheating.” “It's art.” “Frequently the same thing.” Nadia considered. Then laughed. “Fair.” They continued. Not loudly. Not competitively. But with the growing delight of two people who had discovered that disagreement could be a particularly enjoyable form of company. Eventually Sabine leaned back. “May I confess something?” “Of course.” “I was afraid you'd be terribly serious.” Nadia stared. Then burst out laughing. “Oh, darling.” Sabine grinned. “Was that unreasonable?” “Entirely.” “I'd seen interviews.” “Ah.” “You're very composed.” Nadia smiled. “Interviews are peculiar things.” “How so?” “Someone asks you a question, you answer it, and then an editor removes the part where you tell them their question is stupid.” Sabine laughed so hard she nearly spilled her drink. Nadia smiled innocently. “It's terribly unfortunate.” The first touch happened without ceremony. Sabine had been describing a piece of experimental glass that had shattered during testing. Nadia was laughing at the story. Not the accident. The appalling bureaucratic response to it. Apparently three departments had spent two weeks attempting to establish which department was responsible for a component none of them admitted ordering. “Eventually,” Sabine said, “somebody suggested that perhaps it hadn't existed.” Nadia stared. “Hadn't existed?” “Exactly.” “But you had the broken pieces.” “In a box.” “Oh, for heaven's sake.” Sabine laughed. “They asked me whether I could prove the box wasn't mislabeled.” Nadia reached across and touched Sabine's arm. “Oh, you poor woman.” Sabine looked down briefly at her hand. Then up. Nadia noticed. The contact had been spontaneous. The reaction was not. Sabine smiled. And Nadia felt something shift. A conversation she'd been enjoying suddenly acquired a second, rather lovely possibility. She left her hand where it was for another moment. Then withdrew it. Sabine's expression remained warm. Neither hurried to fill the silence. Eventually the original conversation period approached its end. Nadia noticed the time. So did Sabine. The difference was that neither looked especially pleased about it. “Well,” Sabine said. Nadia smiled. “Well?” “I believe I've used my opportunity rather enthusiastically.” “An admirable approach.” “Have I exhausted your patience?” Nadia laughed. “Not remotely.” Sabine considered. “Then I'd like to ask whether you might be interested in spending more time with me.” Nadia was quiet for a moment. Not because she didn't understand. Because she did. This was the point where a pleasant conversation could become a professional booking. Her first. Not an experiment in theory. A real choice. With a real person. She looked at Sabine. “What would you have in mind?” “Two hours together. Here, if you're comfortable. I'd enjoy continuing our conversation.” “And if we wanted more than conversation?” Sabine met her eyes. “Then I'd be delighted.” Nadia smiled. “You're very direct.” “I find it saves time.” “Not always.” “No?” “Sometimes the time spent discovering an answer is half the pleasure.” Sabine considered. Then laughed. “Fair point.” Nadia reached for her hand. “I am interested.” Sabine's expression softened. “Good.” “But Madame handles my arrangements.” “Of course.” “And I haven't agreed to a booking yet.” “I understand.” Nadia smiled. “Then let's ask her to join us.” Panam entered a few minutes later. Nadia rose to greet her. “Owner.” Panam smiled. “Pet.” Then she looked at Sabine. “I understand you'd like to make an offer.” “Yes.” “For Nadia?” “Yes.” “Two hours?” “If she'll have me.” Panam glanced at Nadia. Nadia nodded. “That's what we've discussed.” “Good.” Panam turned back. “Then make your offer.” Sabine named the amount. 40,000,000 eddies for two hours. Panam didn't immediately answer. She looked at Nadia. Not the figure. Her face. “Interested?” Nadia considered. She'd spent long enough around people with extravagant wealth to know that a large number wasn't a personality. Sabine interested her. The money was simply the proposed professional arrangement. “Yes, Owner.” Panam smiled slightly. “You've thought about it?” “I have.” “Anything you want changed?” Nadia looked at Sabine. “Two hours. Just us. Here.” “Agreed,” Sabine said. “No additional guests.” “None.” “And nothing beyond what we both choose.” “Absolutely.” Nadia turned back to Panam. “Then yes.” Panam nodded. “Forty million. Separate from the five-million conversation payment.” Sabine agreed. The booking payment was made and confirmed. No remote inquiry. No negotiating around Nadia. No assumption that money could substitute for her answer. Panam checked the final arrangement. Then smiled. “Enjoy yourselves.” Nadia stepped closer and kissed her owner. “Thank you, darling.” Panam kissed her back. “My pleasure, sweetheart.” Then, more quietly: “You know where I am.” Nadia's expression softened. “Always.” For a moment after Panam left, the room was quiet. Sabine looked at Nadia. “Forty-five million eddies.” Nadia raised an eyebrow. “Regrets?” Sabine laughed. “Not presently.” “Good.” “I was simply thinking that I've had considerably less enjoyable evenings for considerably less money.” Nadia considered. “An intriguing endorsement.” “Perhaps not my most elegant.” “Not remotely.” Sabine smiled. “Would you prefer elegant?” “No.” “Good.” Nadia stepped closer. “May I ask you something?” “Anything.” “Are you nervous?” Sabine considered. “A little.” Nadia smiled. “So am I.” Sabine looked surprised. “Really?” “This is my first professional booking.” “I know.” “Yes, but knowing it and experiencing it are rather different.” Sabine nodded. “They are.” Nadia regarded her. “Does that bother you?” “No.” “Good.” Sabine smiled. “Does it bother you?” Nadia thought about it. Then answered carefully. “No. I believe I'm enjoying the anticipation.” Something in Sabine's expression softened. “Then I'm glad.” They didn't rush. That pleased Nadia enormously. Sabine seemed perfectly content to let the evening develop without treating the clock as an opponent. They returned to the couch. To their drinks. To the unfinished argument about manufacturing defects. Only now the conversation carried a new awareness. Their hands met more often. Neither pretended it was accidental. At one point Sabine laughed and leaned close enough that Nadia caught the faint scent of her perfume. Something warm. A little woody. Not overly sweet. Nadia looked at her. “You have excellent taste.” Sabine smiled. “In what?” “Perfume.” “Thank you.” “And women, apparently.” Sabine laughed. “Oh, you're dangerous.” “Occasionally.” “I suspect rather more than occasionally.” Nadia considered. “Perhaps.” Sabine reached toward her. Not quite touching. A question. Nadia answered by taking her hand. Then drawing her closer. Their first kiss was almost comically careful. Nadia smiled against Sabine's mouth. Sabine drew back a fraction. “What?” “Nothing.” “You're laughing.” “A little.” “Should I be concerned?” “Not at all.” “Then?” Nadia considered. “We've spent nearly an hour discussing imperfect surfaces.” Sabine stared. Then began laughing. “Oh, God.” “And now we're both being so terribly precise.” Sabine shook her head. “Occupational hazard.” “Apparently.” Sabine touched her cheek. “Would you prefer less precision?” Nadia smiled. “I'd prefer you to kiss me again.” Sabine did. And the next kiss was rather less careful. Nadia liked the way Sabine kissed. There was warmth in it. Confidence. And an attentiveness that made it easy to relax into the moment rather than stand outside it examining what was happening. That last part surprised her. Nadia had spent much of her life observing. Not coldly. Not clinically. But with the practiced curiosity of an artist who found almost everything worth noticing. She noticed things now, too. The warmth of Sabine's hand against hers. The movement of her shoulders when she laughed. The way her voice changed when a joke became an affectionate murmur. The brief pauses in which neither woman needed to speak. But she wasn't merely collecting impressions. She was enjoying them. Sabine kissed her cheek. Then rested her forehead against Nadia's. “Still happy?” Nadia smiled. “Very.” “Good.” Nadia brushed a hand through Sabine's hair. “And you?” Sabine laughed softly. “I think that should be obvious.” “Perhaps.” “Perhaps?” “I enjoy hearing people say what they mean.” Sabine smiled. “Then yes, Nadia. I'm very happy.” Nadia kissed her. “Excellent.” The evening unfolded through affection as much as conversation. A kiss became an embrace. An embrace became another kiss, longer and less hesitant. They laughed when they got in each other's way, made room for one another, and discovered that the ease they'd found in conversation translated beautifully into closeness. Nadia's extraordinary graphite outfit attracted a little attention of its own. Sabine admired the workmanship. Nadia explained just enough about Lena's design to make her appreciate the craft without turning the moment into a technical lecture. Sabine grinned. “Do you ever stop thinking about how things are made?” Nadia considered. “No.” “I thought not.” “But I can be persuaded to think about other things.” “Such as?” Nadia leaned closer. “You.” Sabine's smile changed. “Oh.” Nadia kissed her. And for a while the questions became quieter. There was no need to pretend they hadn't chosen this. Their attraction was mutual, their boundaries understood, and they took pleasure in the tenderness they'd found with each other. When their intimacy deepened, it felt like a continuation of the evening rather than a sudden change of subject. They made love with warmth and affection, attentive to one another, unhurried enough for tenderness and laughter to remain part of the experience. Afterward, Nadia rested comfortably beside Sabine. Her hair was pleasantly untidy. She was smiling. And Sabine was looking at her with an expression Nadia found deeply satisfying. “What?” Nadia asked. Sabine laughed softly. “Nothing.” “Really?” “I'm happy.” Nadia's smile deepened. “So am I.” They spent some time together afterward. Not rushing to restore their public composure. Not attempting to manufacture a profound conclusion. Simply enjoying the comfort of good company. Sabine traced an absent-minded pattern across Nadia's hand. Nadia watched. Then looked up. “May I ask you a question?” Sabine laughed. “Another one?” “I'm afraid so.” “Go ahead.” “Would you have approached me if you hadn't recognized my work?” Sabine considered. “Probably.” Nadia raised an eyebrow. “Probably?” “You were very beautiful.” “Thank you.” “And you looked happy.” Nadia grew quiet. Sabine smiled. “That interested me.” Nadia thought about the collar around her neck. About Panam. About Sera. About the extraordinary evening that had begun with a question she'd wanted to ask. Then she smiled. “I was happy.” “You still are?” “Very.” Sabine squeezed her hand. “Good.” When their time was nearly over, Nadia surprised herself by feeling a small reluctance to leave. Not regret. Certainly not disappointment. Just the entirely ordinary wish that a pleasant evening might last a little longer. Sabine noticed. “You're thinking.” “Always.” “About?” Nadia considered. “How much I've enjoyed this.” Sabine smiled. “I'm glad.” “And about something else.” “Oh?” “I spent a considerable amount of time before tonight wondering what professional intimacy would feel like.” Sabine waited. Nadia looked toward her. “And?” Nadia smiled. “I was rather afraid it might feel artificial.” “Did it?” “No.” Sabine's expression softened. Nadia continued. “I think that's what surprised me most. We agreed on the nature of the evening. We agreed on the price. We understood the circumstances.” “Yes.” “And none of that prevented us from enjoying each other.” Sabine smiled. “Of course not.” Nadia laughed softly. “Of course not.” She leaned closer and kissed her. “Thank you.” Sabine touched her cheek. “For what?” “For being such lovely company.” Sabine smiled. “Likewise.” Nadia returned to the bar with her leash in hand. Panam saw her immediately. So did Sera. Both women looked up. Nadia approached. Stopped before her owner. And smiled. “Hello, Owner.” Panam studied her. Then smiled back. “Hello, pet.” Nadia offered her leash. Panam took it. Click. A small sound. A familiar gesture. But to Nadia, the feeling was different now. She had arrived at Lizzie's as a woman considering an entirely new part of her life. She had asked to become Panam's pet. She had accepted her collar. And now she'd returned from her first professional booking. Still Nadia. Still herself. Only with a new experience she was very glad to have chosen. Panam kissed her forehead. “Good evening?” Nadia smiled. “Very.” Sera stepped closer. “Oh, darling.” Nadia laughed. “Yes.” Sera hugged her. Nadia hugged her back. Panam watched them, smiling. Then she asked the question that mattered. “Happy?” Nadia looked at her. “Yes, Owner.” A pause. Then: “Extremely.” Mandi noticed. Of course Mandi noticed. She took one look at Nadia's expression and stopped halfway through a sentence. “Oh.” Vega turned. “What?” Mandi pointed discreetly. Vega looked. Then grinned. “Oh, fuck.” Nova glanced over. Her smile appeared almost immediately. “Well, well.” Dalia, standing with Deja, followed their attention. She smiled. Deja tilted her head. “Successful evening?” Dalia nodded. “Looks that way.” Mandi was already approaching. Panam saw her coming. “No.” Mandi stopped. “OWNER!” “No.” “I haven't said anything!” “You're about to.” Mandi looked offended. “That's prejudice.” Vega arrived beside her. “It's experience.” Nova joined them. “Extensive experience.” Mandi stared at the Marlows. “You two are supposed to be on my side.” Vega grinned. “We are.” Nova smiled. “That's why we're enjoying this.” Nadia watched the exchange with increasing amusement. Finally she raised one finger. “May I ask something?” Everyone turned toward her. Nadia smiled. “Is this the part where you're going to interrogate me about my first booking?” Mandi's grin widened. “Oh, darling.” Vega laughed. “You learn fast.” Nova tilted her head. “Exceptionally fast.” Nadia nodded thoughtfully. “Excellent.” Panam narrowed her eyes. “Nadia.” “Yes, Owner?” “What are you planning?” Nadia smiled sweetly. “Nothing whatsoever.” Sera began laughing. Panam closed her eyes. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Suzy Q watched the group from behind the bar. Madame Panam. Her two artists. Mandi. Nova. Vega. And, a little farther away, Dalia with Deja at her side. Everyone smiling. Everyone talking. Nobody appearing particularly interested in behaving. Suzy shook her head. Lisa approached. “What?” “Nothing.” Lisa followed her gaze. “Oh.” Suzy nodded. “Exactly.” Lisa considered the group. “Good night?” “Looks like it.” “And tomorrow?” Suzy thought about the people who'd noticed Nadia's collar. The conversations already spreading around Lizzie's. The fact that another recognizable artist had now joined Madame's Stable in full public view. Then she looked back at Lisa. “Tomorrow might be a pain in the ass.” Lisa shrugged. “Then we'll handle it.” Suzy smiled. “Yeah.” She reached for another glass. “Yeah, we fucking will.” Nadia settled beside Panam. Sera took her hand. And for a little while, she simply enjoyed being there. No need to analyze the evening. No need to draw conclusions for anyone else's benefit. She'd made a choice. She'd enjoyed herself. She'd come back to the women she loved. It was, Nadia decided, a thoroughly satisfying arrangement. Panam leaned closer. “Pet?” “Yes, Owner?” “Want anything?” Nadia considered. “Something to drink.” “Done.” “Something to eat.” “Excellent.” “And perhaps—” Panam narrowed her eyes. “Oh, God.” Sera grinned. “Here it comes.” Nadia smiled. “Perhaps tomorrow we might discuss a few more possibilities.” Panam stared. Then laughed. “Sweetheart, you haven't even finished Friday.” “I know.” “And you're already planning Saturday?” Nadia looked genuinely surprised. “Darling, I'm an artist.” Sera burst out laughing. Panam shook her head. “Of course you are.” Nadia smiled. “And I like to plan.” “Of course you do.” “Thoroughly.” Panam kissed her. “Then tomorrow we'll make plans.” Nadia's expression softened. “Thank you, Owner.” Panam smiled. “My pleasure, sweetheart.” And around them, Lizzie's continued its Friday night. The music played. The drinks flowed. The working women kept working. And somewhere beyond the club's doors, Night City was beginning to discover that Nadia had made a rather interesting decision about her life. That could become tomorrow's problem. Tonight, she was happy. And that was enough. --- ## Chapter 12 — The Net Catches Fire The first photograph was terrible. Blurry. Badly framed. Taken from an angle that made Madame Panam appear to have three elbows. Suzy Q studied it on her screen. Then looked across the bar. Then back at the screen. “Jesus fucking Christ.” Lisa glanced over. “What?” “Somebody posted a picture.” “Of?” Suzy turned the screen. Lisa examined it. Madame Panam stood between Sera and Nadia. Sera wore white. Nadia wore graphite. Both wore collars. And although the photograph was nearly useless as photography, the leashes were unmistakable. Lisa looked up. “That's from earlier tonight.” “Yep.” “Before Nadia's booking?” “Looks like it.” “Who took it?” “Somebody with no fucking talent.” Lisa enlarged the image. The pixels immediately surrendered. “Could be worse.” “How?” “They could've photographed your face.” Suzy stared at her. Lisa smiled. Suzy slowly put the screen down. “Get out.” “I'm working.” “Work somewhere else.” Lisa laughed and went to check the entrance. Suzy looked at the photograph again. The problem wasn't that somebody had taken a bad picture. The problem was that the woman in the graphite dress was Nadia. Not a resemblance. Not somebody working under an assumed name. Nadia. And somebody in Night City had just noticed. The post itself was almost charming. Is that actually Nadia with Sera at Lizzie's? Below it, someone had replied: Yes. Saw them myself. Then: Why is she wearing a collar? And finally, from a third person: You must be new here. Suzy laughed. “Okay, that's pretty good.” She opened the replies. Someone had identified Sera. Someone else had identified Madame. A third person insisted that the photograph couldn't possibly be genuine because no serious artist would be seen in a club like Lizzie's. Suzy read that one twice. Then began laughing so hard she had to put the screen down. “What's funny?” Panam had come to the bar with Sera and Nadia. The two artists were still discussing something involving a cocktail garnish and a lighting installation. Suzy looked up. “Oh, you're going to love this.” Panam narrowed her eyes. “That usually means I won't.” Suzy turned the screen. “Apparently serious artists don't come to Lizzie's.” Sera read the comment. Then looked at Nadia. Nadia considered. “An interesting proposition.” Panam groaned. “Oh, no.” “Does the definition of serious art depend on the venue?” Sera smiled. “Or does the venue become serious when an artist enters it?” Suzy stared at them. Panam turned toward her. “You see what I live with?” Suzy laughed. “Every fucking day, Madame.” Nadia was still reading. “Actually, the author's premise is rather weak.” Panam looked at the ceiling. “Of course it is.” “Artistic seriousness isn't a transferable property of architecture.” Sera brightened. “Exactly!” Suzy reached across the bar and took her screen back. “No.” Both artists looked at her. “No what?” Sera asked. “No dissertations in my bar.” Nadia smiled. “Would a short essay be acceptable?” “NO.” The second photograph was much better. Which created a different problem. Someone had captured the moment when Panam fastened Nadia's collar. Not the entire exchange. Not Nadia's request. Just Panam standing behind her, carefully adjusting the dark leather while Sera watched nearby. It was a beautiful image. Nadia thought so immediately. Whoever had taken it had understood the light. The graphite outfit shimmered without overwhelming the frame. Panam's hands were steady. Sera's expression was unmistakably affectionate. And Nadia— Nadia looked happy. She remembered the moment. The anticipation. The small click of the fastening. The curious sense of relief when something she'd wanted suddenly became real. She studied the photograph. “That's rather lovely.” Panam glanced at her. “You don't mind?” Nadia considered. “I mind that someone photographed us without asking.” Sera nodded. “Yes.” “But the image itself is beautiful.” Panam looked at the screen. Then at Nadia. “Both can be true.” “Of course.” Suzy watched the exchange. She'd expected indignation. Possibly amusement. Instead she got two reasonable statements and a woman who appeared to be evaluating unauthorized documentation of her own collaring as a work of art. It was going to be that sort of night. Lisa returned with a less entertaining development. “Suzy.” Something in her voice changed the atmosphere. Suzy looked up. “What?” “Two people asking staff whether Nadia's taking visitors.” Panam's expression cooled. “Visitors?” Lisa nodded. “One wanted to know whether he could meet her. Other one wanted to know if she was still here.” “Did either approach Madame?” “No.” “Good,” Panam said. “They don't get pointed at her like she's an exhibit.” Suzy nodded. “What did you tell them?” “That if they wanted information about professional arrangements, they could ask Madame in person. And that staff weren't giving out anybody's whereabouts.” Panam smiled. “Perfect.” Lisa shrugged. “Not complicated.” Suzy looked toward the entrance. “Any trouble?” “No.” “Keep it that way.” “Planning to.” She glanced at the screen. “Also, somebody's trying to film near the private-room corridor.” Suzy's amusement vanished. “Handle it.” “Already on my way.” Lisa left. Nadia watched her go. Then turned toward Panam. “Does that happen often?” “People being nosy?” “Yes.” “Constantly.” “People trying to photograph private areas?” “Enough that Lisa takes it seriously.” Nadia considered. “Understandable.” Panam touched her cheek. “Nothing's changing about your work. You're still choosing who you meet.” “I know.” “And Suzy runs her club.” “Also understood.” Nadia smiled. “I'm rather glad to see both principles functioning.” Suzy laughed. “Oh, you have no idea how much I appreciate hearing that.” The next half hour belonged to the internet. Not because anything happened at Lizzie's. Quite the opposite. Inside, the evening remained pleasantly ordinary. Mandi returned from a break and immediately began arguing with Vega about whether a particular customer had been flirting or simply spectacularly confused. Nova offered a third interpretation. Both women rejected it. Deja made an observation so dry that Dalia nearly inhaled her lollipop. At the bar, Sera and Nadia shared a plate of food while Panam watched them with the expression of a woman who had recently discovered that feeding two artists didn't necessarily prevent them from talking. It merely gave them something to gesture with. Outside the club, however, the story was developing without them. The first photograph had acquired a few hundred reposts. Then several thousand. The second was spreading faster. At least three accounts claimed Nadia had been publicly auctioned. Two insisted Madame had purchased her. One declared that Sera had somehow acquired a second artist as part of an elaborate performance. And somebody had written an entire paragraph about the political symbolism of Nadia's collar. Suzy read that last one aloud. Nadia listened carefully. Then said: “I'm afraid they've misunderstood the material.” Sera began laughing. Panam stared at her. “The material?” “Yes.” “Sweetheart, they're discussing your ownership.” “I know. But they've identified the leather incorrectly.” Suzy made a strangled noise. Nadia pointed at the screen. “That's not the material described.” Panam covered her face. Sera was laughing helplessly. Suzy leaned against the bar. “Jesus Christ, Nadia.” Nadia looked up. “What?” “Somebody's having an ideological crisis over your collar, and you're correcting the fucking specifications.” Nadia considered. Then smiled. “Well, one should begin with accurate information.” A few minutes later, Nova approached. “Owner?” Panam looked up. “Yes, pet?” “May I borrow your attention for a moment?” “Always.” Nova leaned closer. Not hiding. Simply keeping her voice below the level of the surrounding noise. “People are talking about the photograph.” “I know.” “Somebody asked Vega whether she knew Nadia.” Panam considered. “What did she say?” “That she'd seen her here tonight.” “Good.” Nova nodded. “Exactly.” “Any other questions?” “Nothing serious.” Panam studied her. “And you?” Nova smiled. “Still having a perfectly ordinary working evening.” “Good.” A pause. Then Nova added: “Except that apparently we're standing beside the most controversial piece of leather in Night City.” Panam laughed. “Oh, fuck off.” Nova smiled sweetly. “Yes, Owner.” She went back to Vega. Neither woman had offered the slightest clue about the people behind the Marlows. They were professionals at work. Their real lives weren't anybody else's entertainment. Panam was perfectly happy to keep it that way. Mandi had a different complaint. “Owner.” Panam looked at her. “What?” “Some asshole just asked me whether he could get a discount because all the attention's on Nadia.” Panam stared. Then: “What?” Mandi nodded solemnly. “Apparently my market value has decreased due to excessive artistic competition.” Sera made a small choking noise. Vega, nearby, burst out laughing. Panam looked appalled. “What did you tell him?” Mandi smiled. “That Madame handles my rates, and if he wanted to discuss them he could come bother you.” “Good.” “And that I'd decline him anyway.” Panam grinned. “Even better.” Mandi considered. “Although I did offer a free explanation of why he was a moron.” Nova closed her eyes. Vega was laughing too hard to speak. Panam shook her head. “Mandi.” “What?” “Was it a long explanation?” Mandi looked offended. “Owner, I am a professional.” Panam waited. Mandi sighed. “Three sentences.” “Good girl.” “Two of them contained 'fuck.'” Panam laughed. “Still efficient.” --- Suzy had retreated to her office. Her office. Her club. Her increasingly ridiculous Friday. She closed the door and looked at the information Lisa had collected. No immediate security emergency. No overcrowding. No unauthorized visitors in restricted areas. One person had been instructed to stop filming staff and customers. Another had been escorted back to the public floor after wandering toward the private rooms. Both incidents had ended without drama. The club was functioning. That was good. The public discussion was accelerating. That was less good. She opened the latest posts. An art-world account had picked up the second photograph. Not a gossip feed. An account that normally discussed exhibitions, commissions and gallery openings. Its caption was short: Nadia appears to have joined Madame Panam's Stable at Lizzie's tonight. If confirmed, this is an unusually public decision by an artist who has generally kept her private life private. Suzy read it twice. Then nodded. “Better.” Not necessarily correct in every implication. But better. It acknowledged uncertainty. It didn't invent a sale. And it didn't pretend a public photograph granted access to someone's private relationships. Below it, however, somebody had asked whether the artist's studio was taking visitors. Suzy's expression hardened. “Oh, no you fucking don't.” She called Lisa. Lisa answered from the floor. “Yeah?” “Keep an eye out for people trying to get personal addresses.” “Already doing that.” “Good.” “Anything else?” Suzy considered. “Tomorrow could be interesting.” Lisa laughed. “You keep saying that.” “Because it keeps becoming more likely.” “Then tomorrow we'll deal with tomorrow.” Suzy smiled. “Fair.” --- Panam knew something had changed when Nadia stopped laughing. Not abruptly. Not unhappily. She simply grew thoughtful. Panam followed her gaze. Nadia was looking at one of the more widely shared photographs. It showed three women. One fastening a collar. One receiving it. One smiling beside them. No crowd. No announcement. Just a moment someone had caught from across the room. Panam touched Nadia's hand. “Pet?” Nadia looked up. “Yes, Owner?” “Everything okay?” “Very.” “You went quiet.” “I was thinking.” “Dangerous.” Nadia smiled. “Apparently.” Panam waited. Nadia looked back at the photograph. “I find it fascinating.” “What?” “How little of the event the photograph actually contains.” Panam considered. “Go on.” “The person who took it saw your hands. My collar. Sera standing beside us.” “Yes.” “But they didn't hear the conversation.” “No.” “They don't know why I asked.” “No.” “They don't know what you said.” Panam nodded. “And?” Nadia smiled faintly. “And apparently they're very happy to supply the missing information themselves.” Panam looked at the screen. Then back at her. “Welcome to Night City.” Nadia laughed softly. “I've lived here long enough to know that people enjoy speculation.” “Then what's bothering you?” “Nothing, particularly.” Panam raised an eyebrow. Nadia considered. “Perhaps that's what interests me.” “How so?” “I expected to feel something when people began discussing it.” “You do feel something.” “Yes. Curiosity.” Panam smiled. “Not regret?” “Not in the slightest.” “Good.” Nadia touched her collar. “I asked you because I wanted this.” “I know.” “And I still want it.” Panam's expression softened. Nadia looked at the photograph one more time. “They can speculate about why.” She turned back. “But they don't get to decide.” Panam kissed her. “Exactly.” Sera had been listening. Quietly, for once. Then she leaned against Nadia. “Can I tell you something?” Nadia smiled. “Of course.” “I had something similar happen after my first public work with Madame.” Panam gave her a look. “Something similar?” Sera considered. “Perhaps less dramatic.” “Less dramatic?” “A little.” Panam laughed. “You were delighted.” Sera smiled. “I was.” “And you spent the entire evening reading increasingly ridiculous opinions about yourself.” “That too.” Nadia raised an eyebrow. “Did you respond?” “Once.” Panam groaned. “Oh, God.” Nadia looked delighted. “What did you say?” Sera smiled innocently. “I corrected an error about one of my installations.” Panam stared. Then looked at Nadia. Then back at Sera. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Nadia began laughing. Sera joined her. Panam shook her head. “Two artists.” Suzy, passing behind the bar, heard enough to understand. She laughed. “Madame, you knew what you were getting.” Panam looked offended. “I absolutely did not.” By midnight, the original photograph was no longer the center of attention. The better image had taken its place. Commentary had split into several distinct species. Some people were delighted. Others were offended. A surprising number had strong opinions about Nadia's career. A smaller number had actually encountered her work. And a handful of thoughtful observers were asking questions about agency, public identity and artistic freedom that Nadia might have enjoyed discussing under different circumstances. There were also the inevitable idiots. One claimed that Madame had forced Nadia into the arrangement. Another insisted the entire thing was a publicity stunt for an upcoming exhibition. Someone else suggested that both artists were part of a secret corporate experiment. Mandi read that one. Then stared at Panam. “Owner.” Panam looked up. “Don't.” “But—” “No.” Mandi held out the screen. Panam read the post. Closed her eyes. Vega leaned over. Then burst out laughing. Nova followed. “Oh, for heaven's sake.” Sera looked curious. “What?” Mandi grinned. “Apparently we're all part of an experimental corporate loyalty program.” Nadia considered. “A loyalty program?” Mandi nodded. “With incentives.” Panam rubbed her forehead. “What incentives?” Mandi smiled wickedly. “Collars, apparently.” Vega laughed. “Do we collect points?” Nova looked thoughtful. “Perhaps after ten bookings we get a complimentary drink.” Suzy heard that from behind the bar. “No you fucking don't.” Everyone laughed. Lisa returned from another circuit. “Suzy.” “What now?” “Nothing dramatic.” “That's the nicest thing anybody's said to me tonight.” Lisa smiled. “Couple of people asked whether Nadia would be here tomorrow.” Suzy looked toward Panam. Panam had heard. She turned. “Don't answer that.” Lisa nodded. “Wasn't planning to.” “Her schedule isn't public.” “Understood.” Suzy looked at Lisa. “How many?” “Three inquiries in the last half hour. Two curious, one asking about professional arrangements.” Panam considered. “Anyone who wants to discuss bookings can speak to me in person when I'm here.” Lisa nodded. “That's what I told them.” “And the rest?” “They can enjoy their drinks.” Suzy grinned. “Beautifully put.” Lisa shrugged. “I have my moments.” There was no sudden stampede. No line forming outside at midnight. No journalists materializing out of thin air. No crowd demanding explanations. Lizzie's continued to operate. Music. Drinks. Customers. Professionals doing their jobs. But something had shifted. A photograph had become a story. The story had become an argument. And the argument was beginning to reach people who had never considered visiting Lizzie's before. Suzy could see the pattern. She'd watched Night City do this to people. A rumor didn't need to be true to become valuable. It merely needed to be interesting. And the combination of Nadia, Sera, Madame Panam and a publicly chosen collar was proving extremely interesting indeed. She looked toward Lisa. “Tomorrow.” Lisa nodded. “Yeah.” “Not panicking.” “Good.” “Just thinking.” “Also good.” Suzy considered. “Capacity stays capacity. Nobody gets waved in because they're famous, rich or holding a camera.” “Obviously.” “Private areas stay private.” “Obviously.” “And if anybody starts bothering the workers—” “I throw them out.” Suzy grinned. “That's my girl.” --- Later, Panam found Nadia standing with Sera near the bar. They were examining another photograph. Panam approached. “What now?” Nadia looked up. “Somebody has written an extraordinarily elaborate interpretation of my dress.” Panam stopped. “Your dress.” “Yes.” Sera was smiling. “Apparently its color represents the death of conventional artistic identity.” Panam stared. Nadia considered. “Which is rather impressive, given that Lena chose it partly because the fabric was available.” Sera burst out laughing. Panam looked at them. Then at the photograph. Then back. “Oh, I'm going to enjoy telling Lena about this.” Nadia brightened. “Actually, she might find it amusing.” “She'll find it fucking hysterical.” Sera nodded. “And she'll probably want to know who took the photograph.” Nadia smiled. “Quite right.” Panam sighed. “Why?” “Because it's an excellent image of the outfit.” “Of course.” “And she may wish to use it as a reference.” Panam stared. Then began laughing. “Jesus Christ. You really are both artists.” Sera smiled. “Your artists, Owner.” Nadia leaned closer. “Your pets.” Panam's expression softened. She looked at the two women. Both beautiful. Both happy. Both wearing their collars. And both apparently determined to extract professional value from an unauthorized photograph before allowing the internet to have all the fun. Panam shook her head. “Fuck me.” Sera grinned. Nadia raised an eyebrow. “Darling?” Panam held up one finger. “Not a question.” Both artists laughed. Near the end of their evening, Nadia looked toward the dance floor. Mandi was laughing with someone. Nova and Vega were sharing a private joke. Dalia and Deja stood together, talking with a customer. Suzy was managing the bar. Lisa was keeping the club running safely. Nothing had stopped. The world inside Lizzie's continued to turn. Outside, however, people were beginning to believe they understood what had happened. Nadia found that rather interesting. Then she looked toward Panam. “Owner?” Panam turned. “Yes, pet?” “I've made a decision.” Panam smiled. “Another one?” Nadia laughed. “Nothing quite so dramatic.” “Good.” “I don't intend to spend tomorrow explaining myself to strangers.” Panam's expression warmed. “Excellent.” “If someone has a genuine question about my work, I'll consider answering it.” “Of course.” “But I have no intention of defending a choice that doesn't require defending.” Panam nodded. “That's my girl.” Sera took Nadia's hand. “And if tomorrow gets ridiculous?” Nadia considered. Then smiled. “Darling, I believe we've already established that I can enjoy ridiculous things.” Panam laughed. “That's one way to put it.” Nadia looked between them. “I came here because I wanted to work.” “Yes,” Panam said. “And because I wanted to belong to you.” Panam's expression softened. “Yes, sweetheart.” Nadia smiled. “Then I believe tomorrow should involve rather more of the first and considerably less discussion of the second.” Sera laughed. “Oh, Nadia.” Panam kissed her. “Agreed.” --- In her office, Suzy checked the latest public discussion one final time. The photographs were spreading. The commentary was multiplying. A few recognizable art-world accounts had begun discussing the news. Nobody yet knew whether Nadia intended to return the following evening. But plenty of people were asking. Suzy put the screen down. Looked toward the club. And laughed quietly. “Tomorrow's going to be a fucking circus.” Then she corrected herself. Not necessarily. A circus required performers. And Nadia hadn't agreed to perform for anybody. Suzy smiled. “Tomorrow's going to be a fucking queue.” That, at least, seemed considerably more likely. She finished the last of her drink. Then went back to running her club. Because whatever Night City decided to make of tonight, one thing remained perfectly clear. At Lizzie's, Suzy Q made the rules. And Madame Panam's women decided for themselves. --- ## Chapter 13 — A Famous Woman Has Breakfast Saturday morning arrived with sunlight, coffee, and the discovery that Nadia had apparently become a political controversy. She found this rather entertaining. “Darling?” Panam looked up from the kitchen counter. “What?” “Apparently I'm destroying the dignity of contemporary art.” Panam considered. “Before breakfast?” “Apparently.” “Impressive.” “Thank you.” Panam returned to making coffee. Nadia scrolled through the article. “Oh, this is fascinating.” From the table, Sera groaned. “Please tell me you're not reading that idiot again.” “A different idiot, actually.” “Wonderful. They're multiplying.” Nadia smiled. “This one believes my decision represents the final surrender of artistic independence to corporate capitalism.” Panam stopped pouring coffee. Slowly turned. “Corporate?” “Yes.” “Capitalism?” “Precisely.” Panam stared. Then pointed at herself. “Does that asshole know who I am?” Sera began laughing. Nadia considered. “I rather suspect not.” Panam put the coffee down. “Good. Because I'd really like to hear him explain what part of my fucking life makes me a corporate capitalist.” Sera laughed harder. “Madame Panam, ruthless financial predator.” “Fuck you.” “Professional exploiter of helpless artists.” “Sera.” “Destroyer of creative independence.” Panam picked up a dish towel. Sera raised both hands. “I surrender!” Nadia watched them with obvious delight. Then looked back at the article. “Oh.” Panam narrowed her eyes. “What now?” “He's also mistaken about the collar.” Panam closed her eyes. “Of course he is.” “The material, I mean.” Sera stopped laughing. Looked at Nadia. Then at Panam. “Oh, darling.” Panam sighed. “Two days. You've been wearing it for less than two fucking days, and you've already become impossible.” Nadia smiled sweetly. “I prefer thorough.” Breakfast at Nadia's apartment was an uncomplicated affair. At least, it had been intended to be. Fresh bread. Fruit. Eggs. Coffee. Three women who had enjoyed an extremely interesting Friday and saw no reason to begin Saturday in a hurry. Nadia had slept beautifully. She'd expected that. What she hadn't expected was waking to discover that an intimate personal decision had generated enough public commentary to occupy several academic conferences. Not particularly good conferences, judging by the articles. But conferences nonetheless. Sera leaned over her shoulder. “What's that one?” “An essay about the commercial implications of my professional decision.” “Any good?” “Terrible.” “Excellent. Read it aloud.” Panam pointed at them. “No.” Nadia looked up. “Just the interesting part?” “No.” “It's only eleven paragraphs.” “Absolutely fucking not.” Sera grinned. “Owner, we could summarize.” Panam looked at the ceiling. “Why do I love artists?” Nadia considered. “An excellent question.” “Don't answer it.” “Would you like a list?” “SERA.” Sera was laughing into her coffee. The first useful article appeared a little later. Nadia recognized the publication immediately. It wasn't a gossip feed. It was a respected arts journal, one that had occasionally covered her installations and had generally done so with reasonable intelligence. The headline was measured. Nadia's Unexpected Public Choice Raises Questions About Art, Identity and Autonomy Sera leaned closer. “Oh. That one's actually interesting.” Nadia opened it. They read in silence for a few moments. The author hadn't assumed that Nadia was being coerced. Hadn't imagined that Panam had bought her. Hadn't suggested that Sera was secretly directing the arrangement. Instead, the article considered the contrast between Nadia's established artistic reputation and her decision to work publicly in a profession usually associated with alternate identities. It also made an important observation. Nadia hadn't adopted a new name. She hadn't hidden her face. And she hadn't attempted to separate her professional life at Lizzie's from her public artistic identity. Whatever her reasons, she had chosen to be recognizable. Nadia finished reading. Then nodded. “Reasonable.” Sera smiled. “Very.” Panam looked at them. “What's the verdict?” Nadia turned the screen. “The author has identified the actual question.” “Which is?” “Whether public recognition changes the meaning of a freely chosen private role.” Panam considered. “Does it?” Nadia smiled. “For the person choosing it? Not necessarily.” “And for everybody else?” “Apparently they can't stop fucking talking about it.” Panam burst out laughing. Sera nearly dropped her coffee. Nadia looked pleased with herself. “I believe I'm learning from excellent company.” Panam eventually confiscated the screen. Not by force. She simply reached across the table. “Nadia.” “Yes, darling?” “Eat.” “I am eating.” “You've been holding that piece of bread for eight minutes.” Nadia looked at it. “Oh.” Sera smiled. “She's got you there.” Panam pointed at her. “You too.” Sera looked down. Her own breakfast was largely untouched. “Fuck.” “Exactly.” Nadia laughed. Panam settled back into her chair. “Okay. Both of you. Breakfast first, civilization's collapse afterward.” Nadia took a bite. Sera did likewise. For approximately forty seconds, peace returned. Then Nadia said: “I do think there may be an interesting professional consequence.” Panam sighed. “Of course you do.” “Artistic, I mean.” That changed things. Panam looked at her. “Go on.” Nadia set down her coffee. “Some of the serious coverage is reaching people who haven't encountered my work before.” Sera nodded. “I noticed.” “Not necessarily people interested in my decision itself. Some are following links to the installations.” “Good,” Sera said. “And others are discussing the materials and techniques.” Panam smiled. “So the gossip is sending people toward your art.” “Precisely.” “And?” Nadia considered. “It could be useful.” Sera grinned. “She's already thinking about commissions.” “Not only commissions.” “Collaborations?” “Possibly.” “Exhibitions?” “Perhaps.” Panam looked between them. “Oh, here we fucking go.” Nadia smiled. “The publicity exists whether I want it or not. That doesn't mean I have to reject every opportunity arising from it.” Sera reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Exactly.” Panam nodded. “That I understand.” Nadia looked at her. “Really?” “Of course. If some idiot makes noise about you and somebody worthwhile discovers your work because of it, that's not your problem.” Nadia smiled. “Quite.” “But—” Both artists looked at her. Panam raised a finger. “Your studio is not becoming a fucking tourist attraction.” Nadia's expression changed. Not defensively. Thoughtfully. “No.” “People can look at your public work. They can contact you through your normal professional channels. They can discuss commissions.” “Yes.” “They don't get to wander into your home because they saw a photograph of your collar.” “Absolutely not.” “And they don't get to assume a professional inquiry buys them a private visit.” Nadia nodded. “My home remains my home.” Sera smiled. “And the studio remains your working space.” “Precisely.” Panam looked satisfied. “Good.” Nadia leaned toward her. “Darling?” “Yes?” “Did you think I might invite half of Night City upstairs?” Panam considered. “No.” “Good.” “I thought you might invite three or four interesting people upstairs and forget that the other half of Night City was watching.” Sera began laughing. Nadia stopped. Considered. Then smiled. “That is a rather more credible concern.” Panam pointed at her. “HA!” Sera eventually rescued the conversation from speculation about hypothetical houseguests. “What do you actually want to do with the publicity?” Nadia thought about it. “Nothing immediately.” Panam smiled. “Best answer I've heard all morning.” “I have work to finish.” Sera nodded. “And Lena.” Nadia brightened. “Oh, yes.” Panam looked suspicious. “What about Lena?” “Our consultation.” “Tomorrow.” “Exactly.” Sera smiled. “She's going to have a field day with those photographs.” “I hope so. The graphite worked beautifully under Lizzie's lighting.” Panam looked at her. “You were wearing it for an entire evening, and you're evaluating the fucking lighting?” Nadia raised an eyebrow. “Of course.” Sera grinned. “That's an artist, Owner.” Panam laughed. “Yeah. I'm beginning to understand the warning labels.” Nadia smiled. “And I'd very much like to see how Lena develops the rest of the collection.” “Which is why you're meeting tomorrow,” Sera said. “Yes.” “And today?” Nadia considered. “Today I intend to enjoy myself.” Panam leaned back. “Oh?” “At Lizzie's.” Sera smiled. “Working?” “If I meet someone interesting.” Panam nodded. “Good.” “Not because people expect me to.” “Even better.” “And not because anyone believes yesterday's photographs entitle them to an audience.” Panam smiled. “Perfect.” Nadia considered. “Although I would rather enjoy discussing optics again.” Sera laughed. “Sabine made an impression.” Nadia smiled. “She did.” Panam studied her. “Would you see her again?” “If we both wanted to, certainly.” “Good.” “But I'm not planning to spend the weekend reproducing yesterday.” Sera's expression warmed. “No?” “No. That would rather defeat the purpose of discovering new things.” Panam shook her head, smiling. “You really are enjoying this.” Nadia looked at her. “Very much.” By late morning, the ridiculous headlines had grown even more ridiculous. One claimed Nadia had retired from art. Another claimed she'd been secretly working at Lizzie's for years. A third insisted that Sera and Nadia were planning a combined exhibition in which every visitor would be required to wear a collar. Sera read that one. Then looked thoughtfully at Nadia. Nadia looked back. Panam noticed. “No.” Neither answered. Panam narrowed her eyes. “Absolutely fucking not.” Sera smiled. “We haven't said anything.” “You're thinking.” “Artists do that.” “Apparently a fucking public-health hazard.” Nadia considered. “An exhibition about the difference between voluntary symbols and imposed interpretations could be fascinating.” Panam stared. Sera's eyes lit up. “Oh, that's good.” “No.” “We could explore the distinction between seeing and understanding.” “SERA.” “And perhaps invite visitors to write down what they believe they're witnessing.” “NADIA.” Nadia looked at her. “Yes, Owner?” Panam pointed at both women. “Finish breakfast.” Sera laughed. Nadia smiled. “Yes, darling.” The first sign of Saturday's actual problem arrived while Panam was clearing the table. Her personal holo sounded. She glanced at the caller. Suzy. Panam answered. “Morning.” “Depends who you ask.” Panam stopped. “Oh, fuck. What happened?” “Nothing. Yet.” “That doesn't sound promising.” “Let's put it this way. You know that photograph?” “Which of the approximately seven thousand?” “The good one.” “Yeah.” “It's everywhere.” “Already knew that.” “Art channels. Gossip channels. Business channels.” Panam frowned. “Business?” “Rich people talking about whether your artists are actually taking bookings.” Panam's expression changed. “Right.” “People are asking questions.” “At the club?” “Some.” “About my pets?” “Mostly the artists.” Panam leaned against the counter. “Then they can speak to me in person tonight. Normal rules.” “That's what I figured.” “Five million gets an approved conversation, not a fucking reservation.” “I know, Panam.” “And neither artist owes anybody a meeting.” “I KNOW.” Panam smiled. “Just checking.” Suzy exhaled. Then said: “That's not why I called.” Panam straightened. “Oh?” “Lisa went outside about ten minutes ago.” “And?” “There's already a line.” Panam blinked. “It's not even evening.” “I'm aware.” “How big?” “Big enough that Lisa wanted me to know.” Panam looked toward the window. Then laughed once. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Suzy didn't laugh. “Some are just curious. Some are waiting for us to open. Some seem convinced they'll get a personal audience with Nadia.” Panam's expression cooled. “Not happening.” “Obviously.” “And Sera?” “Both names are coming up.” Panam sighed. “Okay.” Suzy continued. “I'm keeping normal capacity. No exceptions. Lisa's handling the entrance.” “Good.” “And I'm not letting people turn my club into a fucking press conference.” “Even better.” There was a brief silence. Then Panam asked: “Anything you need from me?” “Just make sure your two celebrities understand that we're not running an exhibition tonight.” Panam looked toward the table. Sera and Nadia were discussing the exhibition they'd supposedly been forbidden from planning. Both looked up. Panam closed her eyes. “Suzy?” “Yeah?” “I'll do my best.” Suzy laughed. “That's all I can ask.” Panam ended the call. Sera raised an eyebrow. “Problem?” Panam considered. “Potentially.” Nadia smiled. “How potentially?” “There's already a line outside Lizzie's.” Both artists looked at her. Sera blinked. “Now?” “Now.” Nadia glanced toward the clock. Then looked back. “How curious.” Panam laughed. “Sweetheart, people have been lining up for hours to see you.” Nadia considered. “Have they?” “Apparently.” “That's rather unfortunate.” Sera tilted her head. “Why?” “Because I'm not there.” Panam stared. Then burst out laughing. Sera followed. Nadia smiled innocently. “And even if I were, I'd presumably be rather busy.” Panam shook her head. “Jesus Christ.” Nadia looked at her. “What?” “You're going to be trouble tonight.” Nadia considered. Then smiled. “Darling, you knew that when you bought the collar.” Panam laughed again. “Yeah.” She crossed the room, took Nadia's face gently between her hands and kissed her. Then she turned to Sera and kissed her too. “Listen, both of you.” They looked at her. “Tonight, we work normally.” Sera nodded. “Of course.” “No performing for crowds unless you actually want to perform.” Nadia smiled. “Understood.” “No explaining yourselves to strangers.” “Gladly.” “And no promises to anybody before I approve the arrangement and you decide whether you're interested.” Both women nodded. Panam smiled. “Good.” Sera leaned into her. “Worried?” Panam considered. “About you two?” “No.” “About the club?” “A little.” “Suzy can handle it.” “I know.” “Lisa too.” “Definitely. She's horrifying.” Nadia took Panam's hand. “Then perhaps we should enjoy the rest of the day.” Panam looked at her. “What did you have in mind?” “Several things.” Sera smiled. “Oh?” Nadia's expression was beautifully innocent. “First, more coffee.” Panam groaned. “Of course.” “Then perhaps some actual art.” Sera nodded enthusiastically. “Excellent.” “And afterward—” Panam raised a finger. “No new exhibition plans.” Nadia looked disappointed. “Darling.” “No.” Sera laughed. “Owner, you're being terribly restrictive.” Panam stared at her. Then shook her head. “I'm going to need a fucking vacation after this weekend.” Nadia smiled. “Would you like us to accompany you?” Panam stopped. Looked at Sera. Looked at Nadia. Then began laughing. “Fuck.” Both artists grinned. “YES,” Panam said, finally. “Obviously.” --- Across Night City, outside Lizzie's, Lisa surveyed the growing line. Some people looked like ordinary Saturday customers who'd arrived absurdly early. Some looked like corporate professionals trying unsuccessfully to appear casual. A few were discussing Nadia's work. Others were discussing Sera. And at least one person was holding up the now-famous photograph as though it were some kind of admission ticket. Lisa stared at him. He smiled hopefully. She didn't. He lowered the photograph. Good. Lisa checked the entrance, the street, and the position of the people already waiting. Then she looked toward the club. Suzy was going to have an interesting evening. And Lisa was beginning to suspect that their ordinary Saturday security complement wasn't going to be enough. Not if this continued. She turned toward the door. Time to have a conversation with the boss. --- ## Chapter 14 — Suzy Q's Problem, Lisa's Queue Lisa had seen riots. She had seen gang confrontations. She had seen corporate security teams attempt to intimidate the Mox on their own territory, usually with entertainingly poor results. She had once watched two heavily augmented men nearly kill each other over a disputed parking space while both their vehicles were being stolen behind them. Night City had provided her with a considerable education in human stupidity. Nevertheless, the queue outside Lizzie's was developing into something new. Lisa studied it for another thirty seconds. Then went inside. Suzy Q was reviewing the evening's staffing arrangements. Lisa stopped in front of her desk. “Boss.” Suzy looked up. “Yeah?” “We need more Mox.” Suzy glanced at the staffing roster. “We've already got Saturday coverage.” “I know.” “Two extra on the floor.” “I know.” “Full door team.” “I know.” Suzy put the roster down. “Lisa.” “Yeah?” “Why are you using that voice?” “Because I need more Mox.” Suzy stared. Then leaned back. “How many?” Lisa considered. “Four more at the doors. Three inside. Two floating between the entrance and the street.” Suzy blinked. “Nine?” “Minimum.” “Nine additional Mox?” “Yes.” “Lisa, what the fuck is happening outside?” Lisa was quiet for a moment. Then said: “Art.” Suzy stared at her. “Art.” “Yep.” “Outside my club.” “Apparently.” Suzy slowly stood up. “Show me.” The first thing Suzy noticed was the line. The second thing she noticed was that the line had developed branches. Not officially. There was one actual queue, clearly directed by the Mox already on duty. But people who didn't want to join that queue had begun forming little groups around it, apparently believing that standing somewhere else would eventually become an alternative method of admission. Suzy looked left. Looked right. Then stared down the street. “Holy fucking shit.” Lisa nodded. “That's about what I said.” “How long has it been like this?” “It wasn't like this twenty minutes ago.” “What happened?” “More people arrived.” “Thank you, Lisa. That's a brilliant fucking analysis.” “You're welcome.” Suzy studied the crowd. It was extraordinary. There were ordinary clubgoers, of course. Regular customers who had arrived early because they'd heard Saturday might be busy. There were tourists. There were people dressed for an expensive night out. People dressed for a gallery opening. People who looked as though they'd come directly from an office. And people who appeared to have spent several hours selecting an outfit calculated to suggest that they didn't care what anybody thought. Suzy recognized that last category immediately. “Corpos.” Lisa followed her gaze. “Some.” “Trying to look casual.” “Badly.” One man wore a plain black shirt, dark trousers and a watch that probably cost more than Suzy's bar equipment. Suzy pointed. “See that asshole?” Lisa glanced over. “Which one?” “The one dressed like he's pretending to have a personality.” Lisa looked. Then laughed. “Oh, him.” “He's wearing a hundred thousand eddies of understated.” “Maybe more.” “Doesn't fucking matter. He's standing in line like everybody else.” “Exactly.” Suzy turned toward the actual queue. “Okay. This I understand.” Then she noticed something else. A woman holding a large printed photograph of Nadia. Suzy stared. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Lisa nodded. “That's number four.” “Number four what?” “Person carrying a picture.” Suzy looked at her. “Autographs?” “Probably.” “Does Nadia even do autographs?” “Not my department.” “Correct.” They watched the woman lift the photograph. A man beside her produced another image. This one showed Sera. Suzy closed her eyes. “It's a fucking fan convention.” Lisa considered. “Without the convention.” “Or the fans being invited.” “Or the performers.” Suzy opened her eyes. “And without anybody selling tickets to the actual fucking thing.” Lisa nodded. “Pretty much.” A pause. Then Suzy asked: “How many more Mox did you say?” “Nine.” Suzy considered. “Get twelve.” Lisa smiled. “Already had twelve in mind.” “You said nine.” “I was being polite.” “Bitch.” “Boss.” Suzy went back inside. Lisa began organizing the additional coverage. She didn't need to invent a new security system. Lizzie's already had procedures for busy nights. This simply required more people to enforce them. The existing entry team maintained the single official queue. Additional Mox would control the surrounding foot traffic, prevent the line from blocking neighboring entrances, and keep curious onlookers from turning the street into an accidental pedestrian obstacle course. Inside, another team would maintain clear access to the bar, working areas, exits and private-room corridor. And nobody, absolutely nobody, was getting admitted merely because they were rich, famous, influential or carrying a picture of Nadia. Lisa considered that last point. Then added a note to the door briefing. Photographs are not admission passes. It felt ridiculous to have to say it. Which usually meant somebody would test it within the hour. The first attempted queue jump happened sixteen minutes later. Lisa watched a man approach the entrance. He was dressed beautifully. Perfect hair. Perfect jacket. Perfect smile. He stepped around the line. One of the Mox stopped him. “Queue's back there.” The man smiled. “I don't think you understand.” Lisa, standing nearby, closed her eyes. Oh, wonderful. One of those. The Mox smiled back. “Then explain.” “I'm here on behalf of a very important client.” “Congratulations.” “He's interested in meeting Nadia.” “Good for him.” “I need to speak with whoever handles her appointments.” The Mox nodded toward the line. “Then you can come inside when we're open and when it's your turn.” The man's smile faltered. “Surely there's a more appropriate way to handle this.” Lisa stepped closer. “There is.” The man turned toward her. “Excellent.” Lisa pointed down the street. “Join the fucking line.” Silence. The man stared. Lisa stared back. He looked toward the entrance. Then toward the queue. Then back at her. “Do you know who my employer is?” Lisa smiled. “No.” He straightened slightly. “Then perhaps—” “And I don't fucking care.” The nearby Mox coughed. The man looked offended. Lisa continued. “Your employer can come here himself if he wants to discuss something. Madame handles her own professional arrangements, in person. Nobody's selling him a shortcut at the door.” “He is an exceptionally wealthy individual.” Lisa nodded. “Then he'll be able to afford comfortable shoes.” The Mox lost the battle against her smile. The man left. Lisa watched him go. Then looked at her colleague. “One.” “One what?” “Arrogant bastard.” The Mox laughed. “Keeping score?” “Might as well.” By the time the additional Mox arrived, the queue had attracted spectators. Not customers. Spectators. People stopping to see why other people were standing in line. Some would ask. Some would look at the public feeds. And some, apparently, would decide that whatever was happening must be worth waiting for. Lisa watched one such individual approach the line. He studied it. Looked toward the club. Then joined. She waited. After a moment she walked over. “Evening.” “Evening.” “Here for Lizzie's?” “Yeah.” “What brings you out?” The man shrugged. “Everybody's waiting.” Lisa stared. “That your only reason?” “Must be something good.” She considered. Then nodded. “Fair enough. Just don't expect anything besides a normal club night.” He smiled. “Sure.” Lisa walked away. One of the other Mox approached. “What?” Lisa shook her head. “We've achieved self-sustaining stupidity.” “Again?” “Apparently.” Inside the club, Suzy was conducting a particularly unpleasant conversation with the staffing schedule. “Where the fuck am I putting twelve more people?” One of her Mox answered. “Two outside at the street approach. Four to reinforce the doors. Three on the floor. One near the private corridor. Two relief and rotation.” Suzy considered. “Good.” “Lisa's plan.” “Of course it is.” “She also wants staggered breaks.” “Obviously.” “And enough water outside for staff.” “Make it happen.” The Mox nodded. Suzy looked at the roster. Then at the current capacity figure. Then back. “Not one extra customer beyond the safe limit.” “Understood.” “And nobody gets clever about squeezing people into the private areas.” “Understood.” “And if someone tries to bribe the door staff—” The Mox smiled. “Lisa already covered that.” Suzy raised an eyebrow. “What'd she say?” “That we can accept compliments, but not bribes.” Suzy grinned. “Reasonable.” “And that anyone offering a bribe gets sent to the back of the queue.” “Even better.” The Mox hesitated. “She also said if they keep arguing, we can send them home.” Suzy nodded. “Excellent.” The second attempted queue jump involved a woman who claimed to be an art critic. She wasn't particularly unpleasant. She was simply very certain that her professional identity should exempt her from ordinary inconveniences. “I cover Nadia's work,” she explained. The Mox nodded. “That's nice.” “I've written extensively about her.” “Good.” “I'd like to ask her a few questions.” “Then you'll need an invitation. This isn't a press event.” The woman frowned. “But she's here tonight.” “Maybe.” “Surely she expects coverage.” Lisa, arriving just in time to hear this, smiled. “Oh, I wouldn't assume that.” The woman turned. “Are you in charge?” “Security.” “Then perhaps you can help me.” “Happy to.” “I need access to Nadia.” Lisa considered. “No.” The woman blinked. “Excuse me?” “Nadia's a customer-facing professional here if she chooses to work. She's not holding a press conference.” “I'm not asking for a press conference.” “Good. Because we're not hosting one.” “I only want five minutes.” Lisa smiled. “Then you can ask her through the proper channels outside her working hours. Whether she answers is up to her.” The woman looked toward the club. “But—” “Or you can come inside as a customer when we're open, subject to capacity. Same rules as everybody.” The woman hesitated. Then sighed. “Fair enough.” Lisa nodded. “Thank you.” She returned to the line. Lisa watched her. Then looked toward the other Mox. “See? That one learned.” “Rare.” “Treasure the moment.” The third attempted queue jump was considerably more entertaining. It involved a man who appeared to believe that money could solve every logistical problem. To his credit, he was very polite. “Good evening.” Lisa turned. “Evening.” “Would it be possible to make a contribution to your organization in exchange for expedited entry?” Lisa stared. “A contribution.” “Yes.” “To the Mox.” “Exactly.” “And in return you'd like to skip the line.” “Essentially.” Lisa considered. Then smiled. “Interesting proposition.” The man brightened. “Wonderful.” “How much?” He named a figure. Lisa whistled softly. “That's generous.” “Thank you.” “And you understand the Mox aren't a private concierge service?” “Of course.” “Good.” Lisa folded her arms. “So you're welcome to donate that money.” He smiled. “And the entry?” “Back of the queue.” His smile froze. Lisa smiled back. “Donations are donations. Admission is admission.” He stared. Then, slowly, began laughing. “You're serious.” “Completely.” He looked toward the line. Then back. “All right.” Lisa raised an eyebrow. “All right?” “I'll make the donation anyway.” Now it was her turn to pause. “Oh.” He smiled. “Worth asking.” Lisa considered. Then laughed. “Fair.” “Where do I arrange the donation?” “Speak to Suzy about supporting the Mox. Just don't expect a fucking receipt that doubles as a door pass.” The man laughed. “Understood.” He walked toward the back of the queue. Lisa watched him. Then looked at the nearest Mox. “Well, shit.” “What?” “That one's not completely an asshole.” “Should we mark the occasion?” Lisa grinned. “Maybe.” By early evening the problem had evolved. The crowd wasn't merely larger. It had become more varied. A group of students had arrived to discuss Nadia's work. They weren't especially interested in the club itself. They wanted to argue about the photograph. One claimed Nadia's collar was an artistic statement. Another insisted it was a personal statement deliberately resisting artistic interpretation. A third argued that the distinction was meaningless once a recognizable artist made a private act publicly visible. Lisa passed them while checking the line. She listened for perhaps ten seconds. Then stopped. “Question.” The students looked at her. “Yes?” “Have any of you considered that she might just like wearing the fucking collar?” Silence. One student opened his mouth. Closed it. Another looked thoughtful. The third frowned. “Well, yes, but—” Lisa held up a hand. “Wonderful. Carry on.” She walked away. Behind her, the argument resumed. Now with an entirely new dimension. Lisa smiled. Maybe that had been a mistake. ---- Suzy received the first complete update shortly before opening. Lisa stood in front of her desk. “Twelve additional Mox on site.” “Good.” “Entrance controlled.” “Good.” “Street access clear.” “Excellent.” “Capacity unchanged.” “Obviously.” “Private areas protected.” “Perfect.” “Four attempted queue jumps.” Suzy raised an eyebrow. “Only four?” “Four memorable ones.” “Ah.” “Two attempted bribes.” “Of course.” “One press argument.” “Predictable.” “One man who joined the queue because he saw the queue.” Suzy stared. Then began laughing. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Lisa nodded. “And three people who've asked whether Nadia's collar is available as merchandise.” Suzy stopped laughing. Very slowly. “What?” Lisa smiled. “Merchandise.” Suzy stared. “Her collar.” “Yes.” “Like a fucking souvenir?” “Apparently.” Suzy put her face in her hands. “Oh, Jesus Christ.” Lisa waited. Suzy eventually looked up. “Please tell me you didn't give them any ideas.” “I told them to ask a leatherworker.” “Good.” “And not to bother Nadia.” “Even better.” A pause. Then Suzy asked: “How bad is it really?” Lisa's expression grew more serious. “Busy. Very busy. But manageable.” “Any immediate threats?” “No.” “Anyone trying to force their way in?” “No.” “Anyone attempting to get around the building?” “Nothing successful. We're watching.” “Good.” Lisa glanced toward the staffing roster. “Without the extra Mox, we'd have trouble keeping entrance and interior coverage at the level I want.” Suzy nodded. “That's why you asked.” “Exactly.” “And if the crowd keeps growing?” “We keep the cap. People wait, or they go somewhere else.” Suzy smiled. “Perfect.” Lisa considered. “There's one other thing.” “Oh, God.” “Somebody asked if they could reserve the entire club for a private exhibition.” Suzy stared. Then leaned back. “Of course they did.” Lisa smiled. “What should I tell them?” Suzy considered. “Tell them to discuss any future event proposal with me during business hours.” “Reasonable.” “And tell them we're not closing tonight.” “Done.” “And Lisa?” “Yeah?” “No fucking exhibition.” Lisa grinned. “Understood.” The doors opened at the normal time. Which, judging by the reaction outside, came as a tremendous relief to a surprisingly large number of people. The line began moving. Properly. Slowly. One group at a time. The first customers entered and immediately discovered something profoundly disappointing. Lizzie's looked like Lizzie's. Music. Lights. The bar. The familiar floor. Mox staff doing their jobs. No special stage. No red carpet. No giant photograph of Nadia. No announcement. No commemorative merchandise. One man looked around. Then approached the bar. “Excuse me?” Suzy looked up. “Yeah?” “Where's the exhibition?” Suzy stared. “The what?” “The Nadia exhibition.” Suzy slowly set down the glass she'd been polishing. “There isn't one.” The man blinked. “But I heard—” “You heard wrong.” He looked confused. “So what's happening tonight?” Suzy smiled. “It's Saturday.” He waited. “At Lizzie's.” He continued waiting. Suzy leaned closer. “We're a fucking bar.” The man stared. Then began laughing. “Oh.” Suzy grinned. “Yeah. Oh.” He looked around. “Right. Well, I'll have a whiskey.” “Now you're getting somewhere.” For nearly twenty minutes, operations ran smoothly. Then someone tried to photograph the private-room corridor. Lisa stopped him before he got very far. “No filming back there.” The man lowered his device. “Sorry.” “Good.” He looked toward the corridor. “Is Nadia working there?” Lisa stared. “None of your business.” “I was just curious.” “Curiosity's free. Access isn't.” He hesitated. “Could I ask Madame?” “When she's here and available, you can speak to her directly about legitimate professional inquiries. Doesn't mean she'll agree to anything.” He nodded. “Understood.” Lisa pointed toward the main floor. “Enjoy the club.” He went. A nearby Mox shook her head. Lisa sighed. “I'm beginning to miss the people who came here to get drunk and dance.” “They're still here.” “Thank fuck.” At the entrance, the queue had reached the point where Lisa's additional staffing decision was paying off. The first group of extra Mox managed the waiting crowd. The second kept the immediate entrance clear. A third controlled interior circulation. Relief staff rotated through so nobody spent the entire evening standing in the same position arguing with the same kind of idiot. The system worked. It wasn't glamorous. It didn't involve spectacular combat implants. Nobody needed to draw a weapon. They simply kept a very busy club operating without sacrificing safety or privacy. Lisa was rather proud of that. Then one of her people approached. “Boss?” “Yeah?” “There's a man outside claiming he personally commissioned Nadia's last installation.” Lisa considered. “Did he?” “No idea.” “Does he have a booking?” “No.” “Is he on the guest list?” “No.” “Then he can queue.” “He says he wants to speak to her about a new commission.” Lisa nodded. “Then he can contact her professionally. We're not turning the club into her fucking studio.” The Mox smiled. “That's what I told him.” “Good.” “He asked whether you were available.” Lisa stopped. “Me?” “Yeah.” “What for?” “To discuss the policy.” Lisa stared. Then slowly smiled. “Oh, I'd love that.” The Mox began laughing. Lisa folded her arms. “Send him over.” “Really?” “Absolutely.” A pause. Then Lisa added: “Tell him my consultation fee is listening to the rules without fucking arguing.” Suzy watched the interior crowd from behind the bar. Busy. Very busy. But not impossible. More importantly, the regular customers were still enjoying themselves. The club's actual business hadn't disappeared beneath the gossip. People were ordering drinks. Meeting friends. Dancing. Flirting. Making arrangements through the established professional channels. The Mox were working. The bar staff were working. And nobody was being allowed to treat Lizzie's like a public-access museum. Suzy smiled. Then she noticed three women standing near the bar. They were examining a photograph. Nadia's photograph. One of them turned toward Suzy. “Excuse me?” Suzy sighed internally. “Yeah?” “Is it true that Nadia works here now?” Suzy considered. “What Nadia chooses to do is Nadia's business.” The woman nodded. “Of course.” “Anything else?” “Yes, actually.” Suzy waited. “Is the woman in white Sera?” Suzy looked at the photograph. Then at the woman. “That's what the public captions say.” The woman smiled. “We've followed both their careers for years.” Suzy raised an eyebrow. “Really?” “Yes.” “And you're here because of the photograph?” “Partly.” “Partly?” The woman grinned. “We also heard the music was good.” Suzy relaxed. “Oh, thank fuck.” The three women laughed. One of them leaned closer. “Is it always this ridiculous here?” Suzy considered. Then smiled. “Sometimes.” “Really?” “Usually the ridiculous people are more interesting.” The women laughed again. Suzy took their order. Now that was a perfectly acceptable reason to visit Lizzie's. --- Outside, Lisa encountered the evening's most extraordinary question. A man approached her. Middle-aged. Well dressed. Polite. “Excuse me.” Lisa turned. “Yeah?” “Could you tell me whether Madame Panam is accepting requests tonight?” Lisa considered. “Professional inquiries are handled with Madame herself, in person, when she's available.” “Thank you.” “Doesn't guarantee a meeting with anybody.” “Of course.” The man nodded. Then asked: “Would it help if I brought flowers?” Lisa stared. “Flowers.” “Yes.” “For Madame?” “Well, I understand she manages the two artists.” Lisa considered. Then shook her head. “Flowers don't get you through the fucking door.” He smiled. “I assumed as much.” “Then why ask?” “Because I thought perhaps it would be a courteous gesture.” Lisa studied him. He appeared sincere. Not entitled. Not demanding. Simply uncertain about how to approach a woman with a formidable reputation. She sighed. “Look. Madame isn't somebody you impress by following a script.” “I see.” “If you want to speak to her, be respectful. Be straightforward. Understand she can say no.” He nodded. “And the flowers?” Lisa considered. “Honestly?” “Please.” “Save them for somebody who actually wants flowers.” The man laughed. “Fair enough.” He joined the queue. Lisa watched him go. Then muttered: “At least that one has manners.” By the time the first hour of the evening had passed, Suzy and Lisa had learned several important things. The line wasn't going away. The extra Mox were necessary. Plenty of people genuinely wanted to enjoy Lizzie's. And an alarming number of people had confused the existence of a famous artist with a promise of access to that artist. Suzy had no intention of rewarding the confusion. Lisa had no intention of allowing it to interfere with security. Together, they had achieved something remarkable. An enormous crowd was waiting outside. The club was busy inside. And nothing had caught fire. Yet. Lisa returned to the bar during a brief lull. Suzy poured her some water. Lisa accepted it gratefully. “Thanks.” “Status?” “Busy.” “Understatement.” “Controlled.” “Better.” “Door team holding.” “Excellent.” “Interior clear.” “Good.” “Private corridor secure.” “Perfect.” Lisa drank. Then looked toward the entrance. “Still a fucking queue.” Suzy followed her gaze. “Yeah.” A pause. Then Suzy asked: “How many people have asked about Nadia?” Lisa thought. “Lost count.” “Sera?” “Nearly as many.” “Madame?” “Plenty.” Suzy laughed. “Anybody ask about the actual fucking club?” Lisa considered. Then nodded. “One.” Suzy looked delighted. “ONE?” “Yeah.” “What'd they ask?” “Whether the music was good.” Suzy put a hand over her heart. “God bless that beautiful bastard.” Lisa laughed. “And another asked about the drink selection.” Suzy closed her eyes. “Oh, thank fuck.” Then one of the Mox approached. “Suzy?” “Yeah?” “There's a customer who wants to know whether Nadia's appearance is included in the admission price.” Silence. Lisa slowly lowered her water. Suzy stared. “Her appearance.” “Yeah.” “Included.” “Apparently.” “In the admission price.” “That's the question.” Suzy looked toward the ceiling. Then back at the Mox. “Tell him the admission price gets him admission.” The Mox nodded. “And?” “And that's fucking it.” “Understood.” The Mox left. Lisa looked at Suzy. Suzy looked at Lisa. Then both began laughing. Not politely. Not quietly. The helpless laughter of two professionals who had spent the day discovering entirely new forms of stupidity. Lisa leaned against the bar. “Oh, fucking hell.” Suzy wiped her eyes. “You asked for twelve extra Mox.” “Yeah.” “Think that'll be enough?” Lisa considered the crowd. The queue. The inquiries. The people with photographs. The corpo representatives. The art critics. The wealthy customers. The ordinary clubgoers who were increasingly amused by the whole spectacle. Then she smiled. “For tonight?” Suzy waited. “Probably.” Suzy narrowed her eyes. “Probably?” Lisa shrugged. “Depends.” “On what?” Lisa looked toward the entrance. “Whether the two artists actually show up.” Suzy stared at her. Then slowly turned toward the main doors. “Oh, fuck.” Lisa grinned. “Exactly.” --- The first familiar faces were approaching. Not Nadia. Not Sera. Not yet. But the evening's regular working professionals were beginning to arrive, along with the steady stream of ordinary customers. Lisa watched the entrance. Looked toward her reinforced door team. Then nodded. “Okay, people. Same rules.” The Mox straightened. “Normal admissions. Normal capacity. Nobody through the private areas without authorization. Anybody causing trouble gets handled.” A chorus of acknowledgments. Lisa smiled. “And remember—” She glanced toward the queue. “Fame isn't a fucking ticket.” Someone laughed. Lisa grinned. “Neither is money.” Another laugh. “And photographs definitely aren't.” This time half the team laughed. Suzy, watching from the bar, shook her head. Then raised her glass slightly toward Lisa. Lisa returned the gesture. Two women. One club. An entire city apparently determined to make their Saturday ridiculous. And twelve additional Mox standing between professional order and complete fucking nonsense. Suzy smiled. “Bring it on, Night City.” --- Outside, the queue continued. Inside, the music grew louder. And somewhere across the city, Nadia and Sera were preparing for what they still intended to be a perfectly ordinary professional Saturday evening. That was the funniest part. Neither artist had requested an audience. Neither had announced an exhibition. Neither had promised a public appearance. They simply intended to go to work. Night City, apparently, had other ideas. Unfortunately for Night City, so did Suzy Q. --- ## Chapter 15 — Business as Usual, Choom The first thing Mandi noticed was the queue. The second was the additional Mox. The third was Lisa, standing at the entrance with the expression of a woman who had personally run out of patience sometime before lunch. Mandi stopped. Looked down the street. Looked at Lisa. Then turned toward her companions. “Holy fucking shit.” Vega grinned. “Popular place.” Nova studied the queue. “Apparently.” Deja tilted her head. “Do we have an appointment?” Dalia removed the lollipop from her mouth. “With disaster? Standing reservation.” Mandi laughed. Then called toward the entrance. “HEY, GORGEOUS!” Lisa closed her eyes. “No.” “I HAVEN'T ASKED ANYTHING!” “That's never stopped you.” Mandi placed one hand over her heart. “I'm wounded.” “Get your ass inside.” Mandi looked down at herself. Neon-orange hair. Black contacts. An outfit that had never met the concept of modesty and wasn't planning to make its acquaintance tonight. She looked back at Lisa. “Darling, if you want my ass inside, you only have to ask nicely.” Vega burst out laughing. Lisa pointed at the door. “MANDI.” “Coming, sweetheart!” She winked. Lisa muttered something about needing hazard pay. The five women entered together. They weren't joining the customer queue because they were working, a distinction that had already required Lisa to explain the meaning of employment to several remarkably wealthy idiots. Inside, the situation was scarcely less impressive. Lizzie's was filling rapidly. Music rolled across the floor. The bar was already busy. Additional Mox circulated without drawing unnecessary attention. And everywhere, people appeared to be looking for someone. Mandi surveyed the room. “Oh, fuck.” Nova glanced at her. “What?” “It's a fucking treasure hunt.” Vega grinned. “Looking for two artists?” “Yep.” Dalia slipped her lollipop between her lips. “Imagine spending your Saturday night looking for a woman who hasn't even arrived yet.” Deja considered. “An unusually inefficient strategy.” “Especially when there are five perfectly entertaining professionals standing right here,” Vega added. Mandi brightened. “Exactly!” Nova smiled. “Some of us may even be available.” Dalia looked at her. “Darling, don't undersell yourself.” Nova laughed. “Wouldn't dream of it.” Suzy spotted them approaching. “Oh, thank fuck.” Mandi opened her arms. “MISS US?” “Desperately.” “Darling, you could've called.” Suzy pointed toward the crowd. “See that?” “People.” “Correct.” “Lots of people.” “Also correct.” “Some of them really fucking attractive.” “MANDI.” Mandi grinned. “What?” “Please tell me you're actually planning to work.” Vega leaned against the bar. “That's generally why we put on the expensive costumes.” Nova smiled. “And not merely to provide a public service in visual appreciation.” Suzy shook her head. “Jesus Christ.” Dalia surveyed the floor. Then smiled. “Sweetheart, this is going to be fun.” Suzy considered the five women. Then the crowd. Then the twelve additional Mox Lisa had practically demanded at gunpoint. “Yeah,” she said. “For you, maybe.” Madame Panam arrived with Sera and Nadia shortly afterward. No announcement. No ceremony. No special lighting. Three women walked through the entrance. And approximately a third of the nearby customers forgot what they had been doing. Panam stopped. Looked around. Then muttered: “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Sera leaned closer. “Owner?” “What?” “I think we're popular.” “Don't start.” Nadia examined the crowd. “Rather more people than yesterday.” Panam looked at her. “That's your assessment?” “Yes.” “Excellent.” “Would you like a more technical one?” “No.” “We could discuss occupancy density.” “Absolutely fucking not.” Sera started laughing. Panam looked toward the bar. Found Mandi waving enthusiastically. And immediately smiled. “There you are.” Mandi spread her arms. “OWNER!” “Behaving?” “Define behaving.” “Never mind.” Vega laughed. Nova nodded. “Wise decision.” The familiar ritual followed. Mandi presented her leash first. Panam accepted it. Click. “Evening, pet.” “Evening, Owner.” Nova came next. Click. Vega. Click. Sera smiled as she presented hers. Click. Then Nadia. Panam fastened the final clasp. Click. Five pets. Five leashes. Five women whose professional choices remained their own. Dalia stood beside Deja, holding her own pet's leash. Panam looked around. “Everybody ready?” “Fuck yes,” Mandi said. “Professionally prepared,” Nova added. “More or less,” Vega admitted. Sera laughed. Nadia considered. “I believe I'm adequately prepared.” Dalia looked at her. “Nadia, sweetheart.” “Yes?” “You're wearing a collar at Lizzie's. You're allowed to say you're fucking excited.” Nadia smiled. “Then I'm fucking excited.” Mandi nearly folded in half laughing. Panam closed her eyes. “I'm surrounded by terrible influences.” Sera kissed her cheek. “Yes, Owner.” The first serious customer approached seven minutes later. A woman wearing a dark red jacket. Short hair. Confident posture. She stopped beside Panam and waited until Madame had finished speaking with Nova. “Madame?” Panam turned. “Yes?” “I'd like to ask about Vega.” Panam studied her. “Have you met her before?” “Yes. Last month.” “Ah.” “We had a very enjoyable evening.” Panam smiled slightly. “Did you?” “Very.” “And now?” “I'd like to see her again. Longer this time, if she's interested.” Panam nodded toward a quieter position along the bar, away from the loudest conversations. “Let's talk.” The woman introduced herself properly. Panam remembered enough about the earlier booking to know the previous experience had been satisfactory. That didn't mean she could dispense with the questions. “What are you looking for tonight?” “Two hours.” “Last time was one.” “Yes.” “Anything different?” The woman considered. “I'd like some time to talk first. A drink, perhaps. Then somewhere private, if we both feel like continuing.” Panam nodded. “Anything specific you want included?” The woman explained. Panam listened without interrupting. Nothing particularly unusual. Nothing Vega hadn't discussed before. But a longer evening meant different expectations. Panam made certain they understood each other. Then she asked: “What are you offering?” “Four hundred thousand.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “For two hours?” “Yes.” “And you want the additional time for drinks included?” “I do.” Panam considered. “Five hundred thousand.” The woman smiled. “Negotiating, Madame?” “That's generally what happens when somebody makes an offer.” “Fair.” Panam waited. The woman thought about it. Then asked: “Would four-fifty work?” Panam smiled faintly. “You've met Vega before.” “Yes.” “And apparently liked her enough to return.” “Very much.” “Then you know she's worth the extra fifty.” The woman laughed. “Oh, you're good.” “Five hundred.” A pause. Then the woman smiled. “Five hundred thousand. Agreed.” Panam nodded. “Subject to Vega wanting the arrangement.” “Of course.” “And those two hours don't buy anything outside what she agrees to.” “Understood.” “Good.” Panam turned. “Pet?” Vega approached. “Yes, Owner?” “Someone would like to see you.” Vega looked at the woman. Her expression brightened immediately. “Oh, hello again.” The woman smiled. “Hello, gorgeous.” Vega grinned. “You came back.” “I did.” “Excellent judgment.” Panam laughed. “Apparently.” She explained the proposed two-hour booking. The additional conversation time. The expectations. The agreed offer of five hundred thousand eddies. Vega listened carefully. Then looked at the woman. “Two hours?” “If you'd like.” Vega's smile widened. “Oh, sweetheart, I think we can find plenty to do with two hours.” The woman laughed. Panam studied her pet. “Interested?” “Very, Owner.” “Anything you want changed?” Vega considered. “No. Sounds excellent.” Panam accepted the payment and confirmed the arrangement. Then unclipped the leash. Click. She placed it in Vega's hand. “Have fun, pet.” Vega kissed her cheek. “Oh, I will.” As she turned toward the customer, Mandi called from the bar: “TRY NOT TO BREAK ANYTHING!” Vega looked over her shoulder. “YOU FIRST!” Several nearby customers stared. Nova began laughing. Panam sighed. Business as usual. The second booking belonged to Deja. Which meant the interested man had approached Dalia. Not Panam. Dalia examined him over her menthol lollipop. He was attractive in a slightly unconventional way. A worn leather coat. Practical boots. A shirt that had probably been fashionable fifteen years ago. And the hands of someone who actually used tools. Deja stood beside her owner, looking unusually amused. “So,” Dalia said, “tell me what you're interested in.” The man glanced at Deja. “Her company.” Dalia raised an eyebrow. “That's reassuringly specific.” He smiled. “I'd like some time with her. Conversation. Drinks. Whatever we're both comfortable with afterward.” Deja spoke. “Apparently he restores old motorcycles.” Dalia slowly turned. “Oh?” Deja nodded. “Really old.” “How old?” “Pre-war.” Dalia looked at the man. “Seriously?” “Seriously.” “What kind?” He named two models. Dalia recognized one. Deja recognized both. The conversation immediately became technical. Suspension geometry. Rebuilt engines. Parts that hadn't been manufactured for decades. And the questionable wisdom of trusting certain modern replacement components. Dalia listened for a moment. Then held up one hand. “Wait.” Both stopped. She looked at Deja. “Pet?” “Yes, Owner?” “Are you telling me you want to spend your evening arguing about motorcycles?” Deja smiled. “Not exclusively.” The man laughed. Dalia considered. Then grinned. “Good answer.” She turned back to him. “How long?” “Ninety minutes?” “Offer?” “Two hundred thousand.” Dalia considered. “What you described sounds like an evening that might take longer than you think.” The man smiled. “Probably.” “Ninety minutes means ninety minutes. Not a vague arrangement that mysteriously becomes two hours because the conversation gets interesting.” “Understood.” “And you're asking for private time after the drinks?” “If Deja wants that.” “Good.” Dalia took the lollipop from her mouth. “Two hundred and seventy-five thousand for the arrangement you've described.” The man considered. “Would two-fifty work?” Dalia studied him. He wasn't bargaining out of arrogance. He was simply asking. She glanced at Deja. Her pet appeared thoroughly interested. Dalia returned her attention to the man. “Two hundred and fifty thousand. Ninety minutes. And the boundaries we've discussed.” He smiled. “Agreed.” “Payment first, then Deja decides whether she wants the booking.” “Of course.” The payment was confirmed. Dalia turned toward her pet. “Interested, sweetheart?” “Very, Owner.” “Everything comfortable?” “Yes.” “Then have yourself a wonderful evening.” Click. Deja accepted her leash. Kissed Dalia's cheek. “Thank you, Owner.” Dalia smiled. “Enjoy yourself.” As the couple walked away, Mandi leaned across the bar. “So.” Dalia turned. “What?” “Did you just arrange a booking because somebody knows how to rebuild a motorcycle?” “Technically, yes.” Mandi stared. Then laughed. “Oh, fuck.” Panam appeared behind her. “Sounds like a perfectly reasonable selection criterion to me.” Mandi jumped. Dalia burst out laughing. --- Nova's customer was different. A woman who had been enjoying a drink near the bar for some time. She wasn't trying to catch Nova's attention through increasingly theatrical gestures. She simply watched the room, occasionally smiling at the conversations unfolding around her. Eventually she approached Panam. “Madame?” “Yes?” “May I ask about Nova?” “Of course.” “She seems interesting.” Panam smiled. “She is.” “Would she be available for an hour?” “That depends on the arrangement. And on her.” The woman nodded. “Naturally.” Panam asked what she had in mind. A comfortable private hour. Some conversation. Affection, if the attraction was mutual. Nothing complicated. Panam studied her. “Offer?” “Two hundred thousand.” “For the hour?” “Yes.” Panam considered. “What made you choose Nova?” The woman smiled. “She looks like somebody who enjoys talking to people.” “She does.” “And I rather liked the way she handled a gentleman who attempted to impress her earlier.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” “He talked about owning three penthouses. She asked whether any of them had interesting books.” Panam began laughing. “Oh, that's Nova.” “Apparently he didn't.” “Tragic.” The woman smiled. “Quite.” Panam considered the arrangement. Then said: “Two hundred and twenty thousand.” The woman tilted her head. “An unusual number.” “It's twenty thousand more than you offered.” “I noticed.” Panam grinned. “Then your arithmetic works.” The woman laughed. “Fair enough.” “Two-twenty?” “Agreed.” Panam nodded. “And if Nova wants the hour, that's the price. Not an obligation to fulfill every possibility you've imagined.” “Absolutely.” Panam accepted the payment. Then called Nova over. Nova listened to the proposal. The duration. The agreed offer. The boundaries. Then she looked at the woman. “Hello.” “Hello.” Nova smiled. “I believe I saw you earlier.” “You did.” “You were laughing.” “At the gentleman with the penthouses.” Nova sighed. “Oh, him.” “Not a reader?” “Apparently not.” The woman grinned. “I have an entire room full of books.” Nova's expression changed. “Really?” “Really.” “What kind?” The woman answered. Nova asked a follow-up. Within thirty seconds, they had discovered a shared interest. Panam waited. Then smiled. “Pet?” Nova turned. “Yes, Owner?” “Interested?” Nova smiled warmly. “Very.” “Happy with the terms?” “Yes.” “Good.” Click. Nova accepted her leash. Panam kissed her cheek. “Enjoy yourself.” “Thank you, Owner.” The woman offered her hand. Nova took it. And the two left together. Mandi watched them go. Then looked at Panam. “Owner.” “What?” “You're losing pets.” Panam looked at the leashes remaining in her hand. Then at Mandi. “That's generally how working works.” Mandi considered. “Interesting.” Panam narrowed her eyes. “Don't.” “I was just thinking.” “Dangerous.” “Apparently we have to start booking ourselves to keep the club from getting overcrowded.” Panam laughed. “Then perhaps you should find someone who can tolerate you.” Mandi's grin widened. “Oh, Owner.” Panam sighed. “I walked into that.” “Headfirst.” Finding an interested customer wasn't difficult for Mandi. Finding an interesting customer was considerably more demanding. The first man asked whether her hair was naturally orange. Mandi looked at him. “Which part?” He blinked. “Your hair.” “Oh.” She considered. “You naturally that fucking stupid?” He left. Panam, watching from nearby, covered her mouth. Dalia began laughing. Mandi looked triumphant. “Efficient screening.” Panam shook her head. “You are a menace.” “Yes, Owner.” The second man wanted to tell her about his netrunning exploits. Mandi listened for approximately three minutes before asking a technical question. He couldn't answer it. She smiled. He left. The third wanted to know whether she'd consider appearing at a private party. Mandi directed him to Panam. He suggested she could probably arrange it herself. Mandi's expression became very still. “No, sweetheart. Madame handles my bookings. If you can't respect that before you've even met her, we definitely have a problem.” The man reconsidered. Then quietly departed. Panam smiled. “Good girl.” Mandi looked delighted. “Thank you, Owner.” The fourth customer was a woman. Late thirties. Dark hair. Beautifully ordinary jacket. And the unmistakable expression of somebody who had watched Mandi's previous encounters and found them genuinely entertaining. “May I ask you something?” Mandi turned. “Depends.” “Was that your standard response?” “To what?” “Stupid questions.” Mandi smiled. “Only the easy ones.” The woman laughed. “Then I'd better be careful.” “Probably.” She leaned against the bar. “I'm Rhea.” “Mandi.” “I know.” Mandi raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” “The bartender told me.” “Did she?” “After I asked whether the orange-haired woman was always that entertaining.” Mandi considered. “And?” “She said, unfortunately.” Mandi burst out laughing. Across the bar, Suzy raised one hand without looking over. “YOU'RE WELCOME.” Rhea repaired medical equipment. Not glamorous. Not particularly lucrative compared with the extraordinary people currently attempting to buy access to the club's two famous artists. But fascinating. She described a hospital diagnostic system that had displayed the same patient's blood pressure for fourteen consecutive hours. Mandi stared. “The same reading?” “Exactly.” “Even when they changed patients?” “Even when they disconnected the fucking sensors.” Mandi began laughing. Rhea grinned. “So I asked the administrator whether he considered that normal.” “And?” “He said the machine was certified.” Mandi put her head down on the bar. “Oh, fuck.” “Then he asked whether I'd tried restarting it.” Mandi was shaking. “STOP.” “I told him I'd replaced the damaged interface, checked the monitoring circuit and tested the sensors.” “And?” “He asked whether I'd tried restarting it again.” Mandi lost the ability to speak. Panam, watching from a few steps away, smiled. Dalia noticed. “Owner?” “What?” “I think Mandi's found somebody.” Panam looked at her laughing pet. Then at Rhea. “Yeah.” Dalia grinned. “Miracles happen.” Rhea eventually approached Panam. Mandi came with her. That pleased Madame. Neither woman pretended that an enjoyable conversation had already established a professional arrangement. Rhea introduced herself. Panam asked about her evening. Rhea answered honestly. An hour. Private company. No elaborate performance. Just an enjoyable time with Mandi, if Mandi wanted it too. Panam nodded. “What are you offering?” Rhea considered. “A hundred and twenty thousand.” Panam studied her. “For an hour?” “Yes.” “And that is comfortable for you?” Rhea smiled. “I repair very expensive machines for people who become extremely upset when those machines stop working. I do all right.” Panam laughed. “Fair.” Rhea continued. “I know there are people in this club offering ridiculous sums tonight. I'm not trying to compete with them.” “Good,” Panam said. “Neither am I.” Rhea smiled. “I can afford a pleasant evening. I'd like to have one.” Panam considered. “What made you choose Mandi?” Rhea glanced at her. Mandi was watching with a suspiciously innocent expression. “Because she's funny.” Mandi grinned. “And?” Rhea smiled. “Because she's beautiful.” “Continue.” Panam laughed. “MANDI.” Rhea was laughing too. “And because I have the impression she's enjoying being here rather than enduring it.” That changed Mandi's smile. Not dramatically. But enough that Panam noticed. Good answer. A very good answer. Panam turned back toward Rhea. “One hundred and twenty thousand for the hour you described.” Rhea nodded. “Yes.” “No additional guests.” “None.” “No recording.” “Of course.” “And if either of you wants to stop, the evening stops.” “Understood.” Panam considered her for another moment. Then smiled. “I can accept that offer, provided Mandi wants it.” Rhea's expression brightened. “Thank you.” The payment was made and confirmed. Panam turned. “Pet?” Mandi stepped closer. “Yes, Owner?” “Interested?” “Fuck yes.” Panam laughed. “Anything you want clarified?” Mandi considered. Then looked at Rhea. “Can we keep talking about broken medical equipment?” Rhea burst out laughing. “If you insist.” Mandi grinned. “Excellent.” Panam unclipped the leash. Click. Mandi accepted it. Then kissed Panam's cheek. “Love you, Owner.” “Love you too, menace.” She turned toward Rhea. “Right.” Rhea smiled. “Right?” “Let's go somewhere I can ask increasingly inappropriate questions about medical equipment.” Rhea laughed. “I don't think there are inappropriate questions about medical equipment.” Mandi's grin became positively lethal. “Oh, sweetheart.” Panam closed her eyes. “Rhea?” The woman looked back. “Yes?” “Good luck.” Rhea laughed. “I think I'll need it.” For a short while, Panam had only Sera's and Nadia's leashes in her hand. Both artists were nearby. Nadia was discussing optical projection with a man who apparently understood far more about specialized equipment than most people she had encountered that weekend. Sera was contributing enthusiastically. Panam watched them. Then looked toward Dalia. “Two.” Dalia raised an eyebrow. “Two what?” “Pets left.” Dalia followed her gaze. Then grinned. “Your expensive division.” Panam sighed. “Don't.” “Your artistic research department?” “Dalia.” “Your premium intellectual companionship service?” Panam pointed at her. “No.” Dalia smiled around her lollipop. “Your two extremely talented, obscenely expensive professional troublemakers?” Panam considered. Then sighed. “Unfortunately accurate.” The first customer attempting to reach Nadia arrived while she was still talking about optics. He came directly to Panam. A promising beginning. Then he opened his mouth. “Madame, I understand there's a five-million fee.” Panam nodded. “For an approved conversation, yes.” “Excellent.” He smiled. “I'll pay ten and take her immediately.” Panam stared. “No.” His smile faltered. “Twenty?” “No.” “Madame, surely—” “Stop.” He stopped. Panam regarded him. “You don't understand what the five million is for.” “An introduction.” “If she's interested.” “Yes, but—” “There's no but. You don't get to double the number and make her decision disappear.” He looked annoyed. “I'm a serious customer.” “Then start behaving like one.” Silence. Panam continued. “You can make an inquiry. I can consider it. Nadia can choose whether to have a conversation. If she does, the five million buys that conversation and nothing else.” The man frowned. “And afterward?” “If you're both interested, we discuss a separate offer.” “Surely money—” “No.” Panam smiled. “That's the part you're having trouble with.” He considered arguing. Then noticed Lisa watching from nearby. He reconsidered. And left. Panam shook her head. “Fucking unbelievable.” The second inquiry was worse. A woman wanted to meet Sera. Which was perfectly reasonable. Then she explained that she expected the five-million conversation payment to be deducted from the price of a subsequent booking. Panam shook her head. “No.” The woman frowned. “Why not?” “Because they're separate arrangements.” “But surely—” “No.” “Madame, I'm prepared to offer substantial money.” “And I'm explaining the terms.” The woman considered. Then asked whether Nadia might be more flexible. Panam's expression changed. “No.” “Not even for a conversation?” “No.” The woman looked offended. Panam leaned forward slightly. “Neither of my artists is a consolation prize because the other didn't give you the answer you wanted.” The woman hesitated. Then nodded stiffly. “Understood.” Panam watched her leave. Sera approached. “Owner?” Panam turned. “Yes, pet?” “You look annoyed.” “Apparently some people need a refresher on the concept of separate human beings.” Sera smiled. “Again?” “Apparently.” Vega returned from her booking looking thoroughly pleased with herself. She approached Panam carrying her leash. “Owner.” Panam smiled. “Pet.” “Miss me?” “Terribly.” “Excellent.” Panam studied her. “Good evening?” “Very.” “Everything comfortable?” “Perfectly.” “And your customer?” Vega smiled. “Already asking whether I'll consider another evening.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “And would you?” “Absolutely.” Panam nodded. “Good.” Vega presented her leash. Panam took it. Click. “Welcome back, pet.” “Thank you, Owner.” Then Vega glanced around. “Where's everyone?” “Working.” “All of them?” “Almost.” Vega grinned. “Oh, hell.” Dalia approached. “Welcome back, darling.” Vega smiled. “Missed me?” “Desperately.” “How desperately?” Dalia considered. “Approximately six minutes.” Vega laughed. “Bitch.” “Professional assessment.” Deja returned next. She found Dalia at the bar. Her expression was serene. Dalia recognized that expression. It was rarely a good sign for anyone hoping to retain conversational control. “Pet.” “Owner.” “Enjoy yourself?” “Immensely.” Dalia raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” Deja smiled. “The motorcycles were fascinating.” Dalia stared. “Motorcycles.” “Yes.” “You've just spent a very enjoyable private booking with an attractive man, and you're going to tell me about motorcycles?” Deja considered. “The mechanical design was extraordinarily elegant.” Dalia closed her eyes. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Deja laughed. Then stepped closer. “Would you prefer the less technical account?” Dalia grinned. “Eventually.” “Excellent.” Deja offered her leash. Dalia accepted it. Click. Then kissed her cheek. “Welcome back, sweetheart.” “Thank you, Owner.” Nova returned shortly afterward. Panam could tell immediately that the evening had gone well. Her pet looked happy. Comfortable. And faintly amused by something she wasn't yet prepared to explain. Panam smiled. “Pet?” “Yes, Owner?” “Everything good?” “Very.” “Anything unexpected?” Nova considered. “We spent almost twenty minutes discussing books.” Panam laughed. “Of course you did.” “And she's extremely interesting.” “Good.” Nova smiled. “Very.” Panam accepted her leash. Click. “Welcome back.” “Thank you, Owner.” Nova looked toward Vega. Vega raised her glass. Nova smiled and moved to join her. No fanfare. No need to explain their familiarity to anybody else. Two professionals sharing a pleasant moment after work. Mandi came back last. Naturally. Her neon-orange hair was slightly disarranged. Her lipstick needed attention. And she was wearing the expression of a woman who had recently discovered several extremely satisfying uses for her sense of humor. Panam took one look at her. “Oh, Jesus.” Mandi grinned. “Miss me?” “Constantly.” “Good.” “How was Rhea?” “Fucking brilliant.” Panam smiled. “Glad to hear it.” Mandi leaned closer. “Owner?” “Yes?” “I think we may have achieved a new medical condition.” Panam narrowed her eyes. “What?” “Excessive laughter during recreational activities.” Panam stared. Then burst out laughing. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Mandi nodded solemnly. “Thought so.” Panam accepted her leash. Click. Then kissed her forehead. “Welcome back, pet.” Mandi smiled. “Thanks, Owner.” --- A little later, the five friends were together again. Mandi had acquired food. Vega was stealing from her plate. Nova was pretending not to notice. Dalia stood with Deja beside her. Panam watched the familiar chaos with satisfaction. Her pets had worked. Their customers had made real offers. Each booking had been considered individually. Each woman had decided for herself. And the absurd attention surrounding the two artists hadn't prevented anybody else from having an enjoyable professional evening. For a moment, she allowed herself to relax. Then somebody approached. A man in a suit. An extremely expensive suit. The kind of suit that existed primarily to remind strangers that its wearer had access to money. Panam saw him coming. Immediately regretted relaxing. “Madame Panam?” “Yes?” “I represent a very wealthy individual.” Panam waited. “He's interested in a private arrangement with Nadia.” “Then he can come here himself.” The man smiled. “I'm authorized to negotiate on his behalf.” Panam's expression didn't change. “I'm not interested in arranging Nadia's intimate company with someone I haven't met.” He blinked. “Excuse me?” “I don't know him.” “He's exceptionally important.” “So is my pet.” The man hesitated. “My principal is prepared to offer considerably more than your normal rates.” Panam smiled. “Do you even know what the arrangements are?” He hesitated. Panam sighed. “Thought so.” “Madame, money is no obstacle.” “Neither is the door.” He blinked. “Madame—” “It's right over there.” A nearby Mox looked over. The man reconsidered. Then left. Panam watched him go. “Fucking corpos.” Suzy approached a few minutes later. “Having fun?” Panam laughed. “You have no fucking idea.” “Try me.” “Someone just attempted to buy access to Nadia through a representative.” Suzy closed her eyes. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” “Exactly.” “Did you send him away?” “Politely.” Suzy raised an eyebrow. Panam considered. “Relatively.” “Good enough.” Suzy glanced at the floor. “Your girls are doing well.” Panam followed her gaze. Mandi was laughing. Nova and Vega were sharing a joke. Dalia had somehow started a discussion with Deja about whether vintage motorcycles were a legitimate romantic interest. Sera and Nadia were still talking with interested visitors, choosing their conversations without promising anything beyond them. Panam smiled. “Yeah.” Suzy considered. “Worth it?” Panam looked at her. “What?” “All this.” The crowd. The extra staff. The ridiculous inquiries. The occasional genuinely promising visitor. Panam thought about Friday. Nadia asking to become her pet. The collar. Sera's delight. The first bookings. Both artists returning happy. Then she looked at the other working women. All of them enjoying the professional lives they'd chosen. “Absolutely,” Panam said. Suzy smiled. “Good.” She reached for another glass. “Because we're nowhere near done.” Panam groaned. “Oh, fuck.” The next serious inquiry arrived while Panam was still talking with Suzy. A man approached. Well dressed. Not ostentatiously. Calm. Polite. He stopped at a respectful distance. “Madame?” Panam turned. “Yes?” “I'd like to ask about Sera.” Panam studied him. “Have you met her?” “No.” “Know her work?” “Yes.” “Which work?” He answered without hesitation. Not with a list of famous exhibitions. With a description of a piece he'd actually seen. What interested him about it. What he hadn't understood. And why that uncertainty had stayed with him. Panam listened. Interesting. “What are you hoping for?” “A conversation, if she's willing.” “Nothing else?” He smiled. “I'd be delighted if we enjoyed each other's company enough to discuss more. But I don't assume that.” Panam nodded. “Good.” “I understand there's a five-million-eddie conversation fee.” “There is. If she agrees to meet you.” “And any further arrangement is separate.” “Exactly.” He considered. Then nodded. “That seems perfectly reasonable.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “Really?” “Yes.” “Most people tonight have argued about it.” The man smiled. “Most people apparently haven't understood what you're offering.” Panam regarded him. “And what do you think I'm offering?” “The opportunity to ask an interesting woman whether she'd like to get to know me.” Panam smiled slowly. “That's a better answer than I've heard all evening.” He laughed. “I'm glad.” She studied him for another moment. Then said: “I'll speak with her when she's free. She may say no.” “Of course.” “And if she does, we stop there.” “Understood.” He nodded toward the bar. “I'll be here enjoying a drink.” Panam watched him move away. No pressure. No attempt to purchase priority. No insistence that his wealth or reputation made him special. Just a man who understood that interesting women made their own decisions. She smiled. Finally. Someone who understood the fucking concept. Mandi noticed. Of course she noticed. “Oh.” Vega looked over. “What?” Mandi nodded toward Panam. “Owner's found somebody interesting.” Nova considered. “He seems pleasant.” Vega grinned. “That's suspicious.” Deja tilted her head. “Pleasant people are not necessarily suspicious.” Dalia smiled around her lollipop. “At Lizzie's, they're practically exotic.” Nadia approached with Sera. “What's exotic?” Mandi grinned. “Apparently we're celebrating a customer who knows how to behave.” Nadia considered. “An admirable achievement.” Vega laughed. “Especially tonight.” Sera glanced toward Panam. Then smiled. “Oh.” Nadia followed her gaze. “Is Madame considering an introduction?” “Looks like it,” Nova said. Nadia smiled. “Wonderful.” Mandi leaned closer. “Think he'll survive the interview?” Nadia considered. “Darling, if he's sensible, he'll enjoy it.” Dalia burst out laughing. “Oh, you're going to fit in beautifully.” Nadia smiled. “I should hope so.” Panam returned to the group. Sera looked up. “Owner?” Panam smiled. “Someone would like to meet you.” Sera raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” “He's polite.” Mandi made a scandalized noise. “NO!” Panam ignored her. “He understands the conversation terms.” Nova placed a hand over her mouth. Vega grinned. “And he doesn't seem to think money guarantees anything.” Dalia stared. “Owner, are you certain he's from Night City?” Panam laughed. “Apparently.” Sera considered. “What does he want?” Panam explained. Carefully. Without exaggeration. Without making the decision for her. Sera listened. Then smiled. “Interesting.” Panam nodded. “That's what I thought.” Sera looked toward the bar. The man was waiting patiently. Not staring. Not hovering. Simply enjoying his drink. Sera smiled a little more. “I'd be interested in talking with him.” Panam's expression softened. “Good.” Mandi leaned closer. “Finally. A customer whose brain survived the journey to Lizzie's.” Panam sighed. “Mandi.” “What?” “Please don't frighten him.” Mandi looked offended. “OWNER!” Vega began laughing. Nova shook her head. Dalia grinned. “Darling, I think she's asking for the impossible.” Near the entrance, Lisa was reviewing the evening with one of her additional Mox. “Queue?” “Still there.” “Capacity?” “Within limit.” “Private corridor?” “Secure.” “Any trouble?” “Nothing serious.” “Good.” The Mox hesitated. “Boss?” “Yeah?” “Somebody outside wants to know whether a hundred million eddies would guarantee a meeting with Nadia.” Lisa closed her eyes. “Did you tell him?” “Yes.” “And?” “He asked whether two hundred would make a difference.” Lisa slowly opened her eyes. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” “That's what I thought.” Lisa considered. “Tell him Madame handles her own business, in person, and that no amount guarantees access to anybody.” “Done.” “And if he keeps arguing?” “Enjoy his drink or go home?” Lisa smiled. “Exactly.” Suzy watched the crowd from behind the bar. Busy. Extremely busy. But controlled. The additional Mox were doing precisely what she'd brought them in to do. The regular customers were enjoying themselves. The professional workers were working. And the two famous artists were beginning to discover that public attention didn't necessarily produce better company. Sometimes it merely produced more company to refuse. Suzy looked toward Panam. Panam caught her eye. Raised her glass slightly. Suzy returned the gesture. Then Lisa appeared beside her. “Boss.” “Yeah?” “Still a fucking queue.” Suzy laughed. “Of course.” “People asking about Nadia.” “Of course.” “Sera too.” “Obviously.” “And apparently somebody wants to commission a custom replica of Nadia's collar.” Suzy stopped. Very slowly turned. “What?” Lisa nodded. “A replica.” “Of her actual fucking collar?” “Apparently.” Suzy stared. Then began laughing. “Oh, Jesus Christ.” Lisa smiled. “I told them we don't sell merchandise.” “Good.” “And to ask a leatherworker.” “Even better.” “And not to bother Nadia.” “Perfect.” At the bar, Mandi was listening to Nadia explain why a customer who boasted about owning expensive art might be particularly entertaining. “I'd ask him why he bought it,” Nadia said. Dalia considered. “Oh, that's good.” Nova smiled. “And if he doesn't know?” “Then I'd ask what he likes about it.” Vega grinned. “And if he still doesn't know?” Nadia smiled sweetly. “Then perhaps he'd like to discuss why he enjoys possessing objects he doesn't understand.” Silence. Mandi stared. Then burst out laughing. “Oh, FUCK.” Dalia nearly dropped her lollipop. Nova covered her mouth. Vega leaned against the bar. Panam, arriving just in time to hear the end, sighed. “Too late.” Nadia looked at her. “Yes, Owner?” “You're going to be trouble.” Nadia considered. Then smiled. “Darling, you chose the collar.” Sera began laughing. Panam pointed at her. “Don't.” Sera grinned. “I said nothing.” “Your face did.” Outside, the queue continued. Inside, the music played. And somewhere between expensive proposals, perfectly ordinary professional bookings, artistic conversations and the occasional spectacular misunderstanding, Lizzie's carried on doing what Lizzie's had always done. Giving people a place to enjoy themselves. Provided they remembered whose territory they were standing on. Madame Panam surveyed her pets. Mandi was laughing. Nova and Vega were tormenting each other affectionately. Sera was preparing to consider an interesting new acquaintance. Nadia was discussing another question no sane person would have expected to hear at a joytoy establishment. Dalia stood with Deja beside her, looking far too pleased with the whole situation. Panam smiled. Not every customer was worth accepting. Not every offer deserved consideration. And no amount of money could replace the simple pleasure of watching the women she loved enjoy the lives they'd chosen. She lifted her whiskey. “Business as usual, chooms.” Mandi raised her glass. “FUCKING RIGHT!” Suzy, hearing her from behind the bar, shook her head. “Jesus Christ.” Lisa glanced toward the crowd. Then toward the still-growing queue. Then back at Suzy. “Think the worst is over?” Suzy considered. Looked toward Madame Panam. Toward her five pets. Toward the two artists. Then toward the entrance. She smiled. “Not a fucking chance.” --- ## Chapter 16 — The Art of Saying No The gentleman waited exactly where he'd said he would. At the bar. With a drink. Not waving. Not attempting to catch Sera's eye every twelve seconds. Not asking the bartender to remind Madame Panam that he was an exceptionally important person. He was simply enjoying his whiskey. Panam found the whole thing faintly suspicious. Not because he had done anything wrong. Because so many people had done so many things wrong that evening that ordinary courtesy was beginning to look like an elaborate disguise. She approached him with Sera beside her. “Still interested?” He stood. “Very much.” Panam studied him. “Good. My pet would like to meet you.” His attention shifted to Sera. He smiled. “Hello.” “Hello.” “I'm delighted.” Sera's mouth curved. “You haven't met me yet.” “True.” “Perhaps you should reserve judgment.” He laughed. “Fair point.” Panam looked between them. Better. Much better. She turned toward the man. “You understand the arrangement?” “Yes. Five million for the conversation. Anything afterward is a separate decision.” “And it doesn't guarantee another arrangement.” “Understood.” “Payment before the conversation.” “Of course.” He completed the payment in front of her. Panam verified it. Five million eddies. A sum that would have made most people reconsider their entire evening. He didn't even glance at the confirmation twice. Not because he wanted everyone to notice how wealthy he was. Apparently because the money wasn't particularly interesting to him. Panam was beginning to like him. That was dangerous. She had spent enough time around interesting people to know that liking someone occasionally made it harder to tell them to fuck off. Fortunately, she had considerable practice. She turned to Sera. “Pet?” “Yes, Owner?” “Still interested?” Sera smiled. “Very.” Panam nodded. “Then go enjoy your conversation.” The gentleman offered Sera his arm. She looked at it. Then at him. “That's charmingly old-fashioned.” “Is it?” “A little.” “Would you prefer I didn't?” Sera slipped her hand through his arm. “Don't be ridiculous.” Panam laughed. The pair headed toward a table where they could actually hear one another. Not Suzy's back room. Not a private audience chamber. Just two people who had agreed to talk, with enough space around them to do so comfortably. Sera glanced back. Panam gave her a small smile. Sera returned it. Then turned her attention to the man. And began asking him questions. “Five million.” Mandi was staring at the transaction confirmation Panam had just closed. Panam raised an eyebrow. “Yes?” “For a conversation.” “Yes, pet.” “A fucking conversation.” Panam looked at her. “Mandi.” “What?” “You've spent the last twenty minutes talking.” “That's different.” “How?” Mandi considered. Then pointed toward Sera. “I'm not charging five fucking million!” Dalia took her lollipop from her mouth. “Darling, perhaps you should.” Vega snorted. Nova smiled into her drink. Mandi looked offended. “I give excellent conversation!” “Oh, unquestionably,” Dalia said. “The problem is persuading you to stop.” Deja nodded. “A significant operational challenge.” “YOU TOO?” Deja smiled sweetly. “Especially me.” Panam laughed. Mandi folded her arms. “Hostile workplace.” Vega leaned closer. “Sweetheart, you threatened to interrogate a medical technician about malfunctioning diagnostic equipment for an entire hour.” “That was interesting!” “I'm sure it was.” “VERY!” Nova raised her glass. “To professional curiosity.” Dalia tapped her glass against it. “And excessive enthusiasm.” Mandi glared at everyone. Then grinned. “Fuck all of you.” Panam kissed the top of her orange hair. “Love you too, pet.” The next customer was considerably less promising. He arrived wearing enough gold to finance a small infrastructure project. A heavy chain. Three rings. A watch that appeared capable of independently purchasing a building. And shoes so polished that Panam could see the club lights reflected in them. He stopped in front of her. “Madame Panam.” She looked up. “Yes?” “I've heard about your artists.” “Most people here have.” “I collect contemporary art.” “Congratulations.” He smiled. Panam waited. “I own several significant installations.” “Lovely.” “And I'm interested in acquiring something unique.” Panam's expression didn't change. “What kind of installation?” He gestured vaguely. “Something from Nadia.” “Then you're looking for a commission?” “Not exactly.” Panam waited. He leaned closer. “I'd like to book her for a private evening.” “Then tell me what you have in mind.” He smiled broadly. “My residence. A small gathering. Ten or twelve distinguished guests.” Panam went still. “A gathering.” “Yes.” “With Nadia.” “Precisely.” “As what?” The man hesitated. “A special guest.” “What would she be doing?” “Entertaining us.” Panam looked at him for several seconds. “With her art?” He chuckled. “Madame, surely you understand the distinction.” “I understand perfectly.” “Excellent.” “No.” His smile slipped. “Excuse me?” “No.” He laughed awkwardly. “I haven't mentioned the money yet.” “You don't need to.” “I'm prepared to offer—” “I said no.” His expression hardened slightly. “You haven't even asked her.” “Because I'm not bringing her a proposal from a man who can't tell me what he expects her to do for twelve strangers.” “It would be a prestigious occasion.” “Then hire an event organizer.” He stared. Panam smiled pleasantly. “Anything else?” Mandi had been listening. Naturally. She waited until the man was gone before turning toward Panam. “Owner.” “What?” “Could I have said it?” “No.” “Just once?” “No.” “I had something really good.” Panam sighed. “Of course you did.” Mandi brightened. “Something about the only installation he needed being a fucking personality transplant.” Vega made a strangled noise. Nova covered her mouth. Dalia nearly choked on her lollipop. Panam shut her eyes. “Mandi.” “Yes, Owner?” “Please don't say that to customers.” Mandi considered. “Before they've paid?” “MANDI.” She burst out laughing. At the entrance, Lisa intercepted another hopeful visitor. The woman was carrying an elaborate gift box. Lisa looked at it. Then at her. “What's that?” “A present.” “For whom?” “Nadia.” “Does Nadia know you?” “No.” “Then no.” The woman blinked. “It's a gift.” “I heard you.” “It's very expensive.” “Still heard you.” “I'd just like to give it to her.” Lisa folded her arms. “Why?” The woman hesitated. Then smiled. “I'm hoping she'll remember me when I ask for an appointment.” Lisa stared. “You want to give her something so she'll feel obligated to see you.” “No, no. Nothing like that.” “Then you won't mind leaving the gift with yourself.” The woman looked confused. Lisa pointed toward the open club floor. “You can come in if there's capacity. You can have a drink. If you want to ask Madame about Nadia, you can do that in person.” “And the present?” “Keep it.” “But—” “Listen.” Lisa's voice remained calm. “That woman doesn't owe you a conversation because you bought an expensive box.” A pause. The woman looked down. Then sighed. “All right.” Lisa stepped aside. “Enjoy your evening.” The woman entered. Still carrying the box. Lisa looked toward the ceiling. “Jesus fucking Christ.” One of the additional Mox glanced over. “Another one?” “Another one.” “Should we start a collection?” “Of what?” “People who've confused gifts with access.” Lisa considered. “Not enough storage.” At the table, Sera was having an unexpectedly good time. The gentleman had introduced himself, but made no attempt to impress her with his occupation or connections. Instead, he had begun talking about an installation he'd seen several years earlier. One of hers. Not among her most commercially successful works. Not particularly famous. In fact, Sera had occasionally wondered whether anybody other than the original exhibition visitors remembered it at all. He did. And he remembered something specific. “There was a point,” he said, “where the light stopped appearing to belong to the structure.” Sera stopped moving her glass. He continued. “I'm not certain how you did that. The projection looked as though it had separated from the physical object. I kept expecting the geometry to resolve, but it never quite did.” Sera looked at him. “What did you think it meant?” He considered. “I'm not sure.” She smiled. “Good.” He laughed. “That's reassuring.” “Most people are very eager to tell artists what their work means.” “I imagine.” “Some of them are even correct.” “And the rest?” “Usually very confident.” He laughed again. Sera studied him. “Did it bother you?” “The uncertainty?” “Yes.” He thought about it. “No. That's why I remember it.” Sera's smile changed. Genuine now. Interested. “Well,” she said, “that's a considerably better answer than I usually get.” Nadia spotted Sera laughing. She was standing beside Panam, watching a woman attempt to explain why being a famous collector ought to qualify her for a discounted conversation. The woman had been talking for approximately four minutes. Panam hadn't changed expression once. Nadia had stopped pretending she wasn't entertained. “Madame,” the collector continued, “I simply believe my patronage should be recognized.” Panam nodded. “It has been.” The woman smiled. “Excellent.” “I recognize that you're asking for a discount.” The smile faltered. Nadia put one hand over her mouth. The collector recovered. “I'm suggesting a mutually beneficial relationship.” “Then perhaps you could explain the benefit.” “I have extensive connections.” “So does Nadia.” “I'm very influential.” “So is Nadia.” “I could introduce her to important people.” Panam looked over at Nadia. “Pet?” “Yes, Owner?” “Do you need introductions to important people?” Nadia considered. “Not particularly.” Panam turned back. “There you go.” The collector's expression tightened. “This is highly unusual.” Panam shrugged. “Night City's full of surprises.” The woman left. Nadia waited until she was safely out of earshot. Then leaned against Panam. “Oh, that was beautiful.” Panam looked down at her. “What?” “Your patience.” “My what?” “You let her finish.” Panam laughed. “Barely.” “I was impressed.” “Don't encourage me.” Nadia smiled. “I wouldn't dream of it.” The next inquiry came from a man who wanted Nadia to attend a corporate dinner as his companion. Panam asked for details. He provided them. A private corporate event. Several executives. Dinner. Conversation. Public photographs. He explained that Nadia's presence would add cultural significance. Panam listened until he reached the photography. “Stop.” He stopped. “Photographs?” “Yes.” “Published where?” “Our corporate channels.” “Under whose name?” “Nadia's, naturally.” Panam looked at him. “And you've discussed that with her?” “That's why I'm here.” “Then what exactly are you asking to buy?” He frowned. “Her attendance.” “Along with permission to use her name and image to promote your company.” The man hesitated. “Well, yes.” Panam smiled. “Then that's not simply a private booking. You're proposing an endorsement.” “I wouldn't characterize it that way.” “I would.” The man looked frustrated. “We can offer excellent compensation.” “Then prepare a proper professional proposal for her art representatives.” “Madame—” “And don't confuse a joytoy booking with permission to use someone's public identity commercially.” He opened his mouth. Closed it. Then nodded. “I understand.” “Good.” He left. Nadia watched him go. Then looked at Panam. “Thank you, Owner.” Panam turned. “For what?” “Not allowing him to turn my evening into an advertising campaign.” Panam smiled. “Not my pet's job.” Nadia kissed her cheek. “No.” Then added: “And frankly, his company makes appalling advertisements.” Panam burst out laughing. Across the bar, Suzy was watching the evening develop with increasing fascination. Lisa approached. “Status?” “Busy.” “No shit.” “Anything serious?” “Not yet.” Lisa looked toward Panam. “She's turning people away at a respectable pace.” Suzy laughed. “That's Madame.” “Some of them aren't taking it particularly well.” “Any trouble?” “No. Just wounded egos.” Suzy considered. “Keep an eye on those.” “Already doing it.” Lisa looked toward the table where Sera sat talking with her visitor. “That one's been there a while.” Suzy followed her gaze. “Trouble?” “Actually, no.” “Interesting.” “He paid for the conversation. They've been talking about art for half an hour.” Suzy smiled. “At an art show, that's normal.” “At Lizzie's, apparently it costs five million.” Suzy laughed. “Welcome to Saturday.” Sera was now talking about collaboration. Not with the man. With Nadia. He had asked how their work differed, and Sera had found herself explaining something she'd been thinking about for weeks. “Nadia builds spaces that behave differently depending on how people occupy them,” she said. “And you?” “I tend to become interested in what happens when the viewer stops trusting the distinction between the object and its surroundings.” He nodded. “So one of you changes the space, and the other changes how it's perceived?” Sera considered. “That's rather reductive.” “I'm sure.” She smiled. “But not entirely wrong.” He laughed. “High praise.” “Don't get used to it.” They continued talking. Sera found herself forgetting the crowd. The speculation. The viral photographs. The extraordinary amount of money he'd paid simply to sit across from her. The man was interesting. He listened. He asked questions she actually wanted to answer. And, importantly, he seemed perfectly comfortable admitting when he didn't understand something. Eventually he glanced toward the bar. “May I ask something unrelated to your work?” Sera smiled. “Of course.” “Are you enjoying your evening?” She looked at him. Then laughed softly. “Yes.” He smiled. “I'm glad.” Sera considered him. “And you?” “Very much.” A pause. Then he said: “I'd like to ask Madame about spending some private time together later tonight.” Sera's expression remained thoughtful. He continued before she could answer. “But only if that's something you'd consider. I don't expect the conversation to obligate you.” She smiled. “Good.” “I rather hoped you'd say that.” Sera looked toward Panam. Then back at him. “I'd be interested in hearing what you have in mind.” His smile widened. “Then shall we speak with her?” Sera considered. “Not quite yet.” He raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” She leaned forward slightly. “You still haven't finished telling me about the installation.” He laughed. “No?” “No.” “Which part?” “The part you said you didn't understand.” He looked delighted. “Ah.” Sera smiled. “Exactly.” Mandi was watching from the bar. “Owner.” Panam didn't look up. “Yes, pet?” “Sera's smiling.” “Yes.” “She's been smiling for ages.” “Yes.” “Do you think she's going to book him?” Panam glanced toward the table. “Maybe.” Mandi considered. “He looks normal.” Panam gave her a look. “That's not a defect.” “I know!” “Do you?” “Owner, I just spent a very enjoyable hour with a woman who repairs medical equipment.” Panam smiled. “True.” Mandi leaned closer. “Normal can be fucking wonderful.” Panam's expression softened. “Yeah, pet.” Mandi grinned. “Especially when normal people are very good at unusual things.” Panam narrowed her eyes. “Mandi.” “What?” “I'm not asking.” Mandi burst out laughing. The interruption came from a man who had apparently spent most of the evening trying to obtain access to Nadia through every possible person except Panam. He had spoken to a bartender. Two Mox. A customer who happened to be standing near Nadia. And someone who claimed to know a person who had attended one of her exhibitions. None of these strategies had worked. Eventually he approached Madame herself. “Madame Panam.” Panam turned. “Yes?” “I've been trying to arrange a meeting with Nadia.” “Have you?” “For nearly an hour.” Panam smiled. “Interesting. This is the first time you've spoken to me.” He blinked. “Well, I was told—” “That I'm the person you need to speak to?” “Yes.” “And yet you didn't.” Silence. Mandi made a suspicious coughing noise. Dalia looked away. The man cleared his throat. “I'd like to make an offer.” “For what?” “Nadia's company.” “What kind of company?” “A private evening.” Panam nodded. “Where?” “My apartment.” “Just you?” “Yes.” “For how long?” “Several hours.” “Anything specific you're looking for?” He hesitated. Then described his expectations. Panam listened. Nadia, standing nearby, listened too. When he'd finished, Panam asked: “What's your offer?” “Six million.” Panam waited. He looked confused. “Is that acceptable?” “For what?” “The evening.” Panam shook her head. “Six million wouldn't even cover the initial conversation and the arrangement you've described.” His expression tightened. “That's outrageous.” “Then we're done.” He stared. “Madame, I'm trying to negotiate.” “So am I.” “You could at least make a counteroffer.” Panam considered. “No.” “Why not?” “Because I don't think my pet would enjoy spending an evening with someone who's already angry about having to speak to her as a person.” He flushed. “That isn't fair.” Panam turned toward Nadia. “Pet?” Nadia looked up. “Yes, Owner?” “Interested?” Nadia studied the man. Then smiled politely. “No, thank you.” Panam nodded. “There you go.” The man looked from one woman to the other. Then left. Mandi waited exactly three seconds. “Owner?” “Yes?” “That was fucking beautiful.” Panam sighed. “Thank you, pet.” Nadia accepted a glass of water. She hadn't realized how much talking she'd done. Not until she briefly stopped. The club was noisy. The atmosphere warm. And the sheer number of people who suddenly believed they had an opinion about her personal life was extraordinary. She took a drink. Then looked toward Sera. Still talking. Still smiling. Nadia smiled too. Panam noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “That's never nothing.” Nadia laughed. “I like seeing her happy.” Panam looked toward Sera. Her expression softened. “Yeah.” “And I like that you're having fun.” Panam snorted. “Fun?” Nadia looked at her. “Owner, you've just spent an hour telling very wealthy people to fuck off without actually using the words.” Panam considered. “That is pretty entertaining.” Nadia laughed. “Exactly.” Panam put an arm around her. Nadia leaned into it. For a while they simply watched the room. Another interested visitor approached. This time, a woman. She was dressed simply, with no obvious attempt to demonstrate wealth. Dark trousers. Comfortable boots. A jacket with a small embroidered design near the shoulder. She stopped beside Panam. “Excuse me.” Panam turned. “Yes?” “I'm interested in speaking with Nadia.” Panam studied her. “About her art?” “Partly.” “Partly?” The woman smiled. “I'd like to meet her as a person too.” Nadia looked over. The woman met her eyes. Smiled. Then returned her attention to Panam. No staring. No elaborate declaration of admiration. No attempt to use Nadia's fame as conversational leverage. Panam tilted her head. “Have you seen her work?” “Yes.” “Which pieces?” The woman described two installations. Not the famous one everyone had suddenly begun mentioning. Two smaller works. Both from earlier in Nadia's career. Nadia's expression changed. “You saw those?” The woman turned. “Yes.” “Where?” She named the exhibition. Nadia laughed. “Oh, hell.” The woman grinned. “Good memory?” “Mostly.” “Mostly?” Nadia looked at Panam. Then back at the woman. “That exhibition had a spectacularly unreliable projection controller.” The woman's smile widened. “I know.” Nadia stared. “You know?” “I was working on the technical team.” Silence. Then Nadia began laughing. “Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “What?” Nadia looked at her. “Owner, we lost an entire projection sequence twenty minutes before opening.” The woman nodded. “Twenty-two.” “You remember?” “Very clearly.” “Why?” “Because somebody had installed a replacement interface that wasn't actually compatible with the controller.” Nadia stared. Then pointed at her. “THAT WAS YOU?” The woman burst out laughing. “No! I was the person who fixed it!” Nadia's eyes widened. “Oh!” She stopped. Thought. Then began laughing harder. “OH, FUCK!” Panam looked between them. “What am I missing?” Nadia was laughing too hard to answer. The woman grinned. “Apparently we've met before.” “Briefly,” Nadia managed. “And under less glamorous circumstances.” Nadia put down her water. “Less glamorous? I was about thirty seconds away from throwing the fucking controller through a window.” The woman laughed. “I remember.” Panam looked at her pet. Then at the visitor. Then smiled. “Well.” From the far end of the bar, Dalia noticed Nadia's expression. “Darling.” Mandi looked over. “What?” “Nadia appears to have found somebody interesting.” Mandi turned. Watched. Then grinned. “Oh, look at that.” Vega leaned closer. “Another collector?” Dalia smiled. “Doesn't look like it.” Deja studied the woman. “Technical background, perhaps.” Mandi frowned. “How the fuck can you tell?” Deja smiled. “Look at her hands.” Mandi looked. Then looked at Deja. “Pet, you are getting disturbingly good at this.” “Thank you.” Dalia laughed. Nova considered the scene. “Whatever she's saying, Nadia seems delighted.” Vega grinned. “Good.” Mandi raised her glass. “To fucking interesting customers.” Dalia tapped it with hers. “And the occasional functioning brain.” Panam was still listening to the two women compare memories of the disastrous exhibition. Apparently the replacement controller had been installed by a technician who had ignored three warnings. The system had failed. The woman now standing in front of Panam had diagnosed the problem. Rewired the relevant connection. Recovered the projection sequence. And saved the opening. Nadia remembered being immensely grateful. She did not remember the technician's name. The woman found this hilarious. “I'm wounded.” Nadia laughed. “I was slightly busy!” “So was I.” “You had tools!” “You had a very expensive collection of artwork threatening to become decorative furniture.” Panam burst out laughing. Nadia covered her face. “Oh, fuck.” The woman grinned. “I told you it would be memorable.” Nadia lowered her hands. “You did.” “Apparently I was wrong.” “You absolutely were not.” They looked at each other. Something changed. Not dramatically. Just enough. Panam saw it immediately. She was becoming quite good at recognizing that particular expression. The woman looked back at her. “Madame?” “Yes?” “I believe I'd like to make a proper inquiry.” Panam smiled. “About Nadia?” “Yes.” “Good.” She glanced toward her pet. Nadia was still smiling. Panam's own smile widened. “Then let's hear it.” Across the room, Sera's gentleman rose to refill his glass. Sera remained seated. Content. Curious. And rather pleased with how the conversation had developed. He returned. Sat down. Then smiled. “Where were we?” Sera considered. “You were explaining why you hated the third projection.” “I didn't hate it.” “You used the word aggressive.” “It was aggressive.” Sera laughed. “That's not necessarily criticism.” “I know.” “Good.” He leaned back. “I'm beginning to think you're enjoying arguing with me.” Sera smiled. “Oh, I absolutely am.” Behind the bar, Suzy surveyed the evening. A queue still waited outside. Lisa's reinforced security arrangement was holding. The usual professionals were working and enjoying themselves. And Madame Panam had apparently found two genuinely interesting prospects buried beneath an avalanche of expensive idiocy. Suzy reached for her whiskey. Then noticed Mandi watching Nadia. The orange-haired menace had an expression Suzy knew far too well. The one that meant somebody else's romantic prospects were about to become everybody's business. Suzy narrowed her eyes. “Mandi.” Mandi turned. “Yes, sweetheart?” “Don't.” Mandi stared. “I HAVEN'T FUCKING DONE ANYTHING!” “Yet.” Vega began laughing. Nova hid her smile. Dalia raised her glass. “An excellent distinction.” Mandi looked at them all. Then at Suzy. Then toward the two artists. And finally back at Panam, who was listening carefully to Nadia's prospective customer. Her grin returned. “Oh, this is going to be a fucking good night.” Suzy sighed. “That's what I'm afraid of.” --- ## Chapter 17 — The Woman Who Fixed the Light “Then let's hear it.” Madame Panam folded her arms and regarded the woman standing opposite her. Nadia was still smiling. That was encouraging. Not conclusive, obviously. Nadia smiled at all sorts of things. Art, interesting technical questions, Panam's terrible jokes, Sera's considerably better ones, and occasionally at somebody else's misfortune when the somebody in question had thoroughly earned it. But this was different. There was recognition in her expression. Not celebrity recognition. The other kind. Two people remembering an unexpectedly shared piece of history. The woman looked at Nadia. “Before we start, I should probably introduce myself properly.” Nadia laughed. “That would be helpful.” “Tove.” “Nadia.” “I know.” “Oh, fuck off.” Tove burst out laughing. Panam raised an eyebrow. Nadia pointed at her. “She knows exactly what she's doing.” “Apparently,” Panam said. Tove offered her hand. Nadia took it. They shook. And neither released quite as quickly as the gesture required. Panam noticed. Of course she noticed. She had become exceptionally good at noticing things like that. “So,” Panam said, “Tove.” “Yes, Madame?” “You've worked with my pet before.” “Briefly.” Nadia snorted. “She saved an exhibition.” Tove looked at her. “An exhibition that somebody nearly destroyed by ignoring the installation manual.” “Three installation manuals,” Nadia corrected. Tove laughed. “Three?” “We provided three.” “Then I admire your optimism.” Panam smiled. “Sounds like quite an evening.” Nadia groaned. “Owner, you have no idea.” “I'm beginning to.” Tove turned back toward Madame. “I'd like to spend some time with Nadia tonight. Properly, this time. Without defective equipment threatening to set either of us on fire.” Nadia burst out laughing. “That wasn't actually going to happen!” Tove raised an eyebrow. “You didn't see the power distribution panel.” Nadia stopped. “What?” Tove smiled. “Later.” “Oh, you absolute bitch.” Panam laughed. “Okay. Now I'm interested.” They found a reasonably quiet place at the bar. Not because Tove had asked for privacy. Because there were several questions Panam intended to have answered before anybody began discussing money. And she wasn't having them shouted over the music. “What are you looking for tonight?” she asked. Tove considered. “An actual conversation first.” “With Nadia.” “Yes.” “About art?” “Among other things.” “And afterward?” Tove looked at Nadia. “Possibly more time together. Privately. If we're both interested.” Panam nodded. “Fair.” She studied Tove. “Have you followed Nadia's career?” “Some of it.” “Some?” Tove smiled. “I work in technical systems. Occasionally I get distracted by the work that pays my bills.” Nadia laughed. “An appalling character flaw.” “Terrible.” “What do you do now?” Nadia asked. “Own part of a company that maintains environmental systems, projection installations and specialized exhibition equipment.” Nadia's expression changed. “Wait. You started your own company?” “With two colleagues.” “When?” “About three years after your controller tried to murder me.” Nadia covered her mouth. “Oh, fuck.” Tove grinned. “It was a formative experience.” Panam looked between them. “So you two have a history involving attempted mechanical homicide.” “Alleged,” Nadia said. “Documented,” Tove replied. “Unproven!” “I still have the service report.” Nadia began laughing again. Panam leaned back. Oh, she liked this woman. She liked her quite a lot. But liking someone wasn't the same as approving a booking. “Let me ask something,” Panam said. Tove looked at her. “Of course.” “Were you coming here tonight to meet Nadia?” “No.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “Really?” “I came because a friend recommended the club. I didn't know Nadia was working here.” Nadia smiled. Tove continued. “Then I saw her and remembered that exhibition. I thought it might be nice to say hello.” “Nice?” “Possibly more than nice.” Panam smiled slightly. “Ah.” Tove laughed. “Madame, I'm trying to be respectful.” “Keep doing that. It's working.” Panam explained the conversation arrangement. Five million eddies. No guarantee of anything afterward. Nadia's consent required before it began. Any subsequent booking negotiated separately, with its own boundaries and price. Tove listened. Then nodded. “Understood.” “Any questions?” “One.” “Go ahead.” Tove glanced at Nadia. “Have I already accidentally used part of the conversation?” Nadia burst out laughing. Panam grinned. “No.” “Good.” “Those were my questions.” “Excellent. I was beginning to worry I'd run up quite a bill.” “You're about to.” Tove laughed. “Fair enough.” Panam looked toward Nadia. “Pet?” “Yes, Owner?” “Would you like to spend some time talking with Tove?” Nadia's answer came without hesitation. “Absolutely.” “Anything you want to establish first?” Nadia considered. Then smiled at Tove. “One condition.” Tove raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” “You have to tell me what happened to that power distribution panel.” Tove laughed. “Agreed.” Panam shook her head. “Jesus Christ.” The payment was completed. Five million eddies. Confirmed. Panam nodded toward a quieter table along the edge of the main room. “Enjoy yourselves.” Nadia kissed her cheek. “Thank you, Owner.” Panam smiled. “Have fun, pet.” Tove settled into her chair and looked across the table. Nadia smiled. “Well?” “Well what?” “The power distribution panel.” Tove sighed dramatically. “You really want to know?” “Yes.” “It's a terrible story.” “Excellent.” Tove leaned forward. “Somebody had bypassed a protective circuit.” Nadia stared. “What?” “Not accidentally. Deliberately.” “WHY?” “Apparently it had been causing intermittent shutdowns.” Nadia blinked. “Because something was wrong.” “Precisely.” “So somebody decided to remove the thing that detected the problem?” Tove nodded. Nadia leaned back. Looked toward the ceiling. Then lowered her face into her hands. “Oh, for FUCK'S sake.” Tove began laughing. “That's approximately what I said.” Nadia looked up. “Please tell me you documented everything.” “Photographs, diagnostic logs, the original wiring configuration and the attempted repair.” “Oh, thank God.” “And a very strongly worded report.” Nadia grinned. “How strongly?” “Enough that somebody called me unprofessional.” Nadia laughed. “That's practically a medal.” “I thought so.” They raised their glasses. “To professionals,” Nadia said. Tove smiled. “And the terrible things we occasionally have to survive.” The conversation wandered. Naturally. They talked about the exhibition first. The opening. The ridiculous last-minute repair. The strange satisfaction of watching a room full of people admire an installation without knowing how close it had come to disaster. Then other exhibitions. Tove's company. Nadia's move to Night City. The differences between designing a work and keeping it functioning after the artist had walked away. Nadia found that especially interesting. “You know,” she said, “most people who work with my installations ask what the equipment is supposed to do.” Tove nodded. “Reasonable question.” “You ask what happens when it doesn't.” “Also reasonable.” Nadia smiled. “It changes how you look at the work.” “Of course.” “How?” Tove considered. “An installation isn't just what the artist imagined. It's also the thing that actually exists in the room.” Nadia studied her. Tove continued. “If the equipment is unreliable, the audience doesn't experience your intention. They experience uncertainty about whether the fucking thing is broken.” Nadia laughed. “Which occasionally is my intention.” “Then you'd better make sure it isn't actually broken.” Nadia stared. Then began laughing so hard she had to put down her glass. “Oh, you are GOOD.” Tove grinned. “Professionally?” “In several ways, I suspect.” The words escaped before Nadia had quite decided whether she intended to say them. Tove's smile changed. Only slightly. But definitely. “Well,” she said, “perhaps we'll find out.” Nadia held her gaze. “Perhaps.” At the bar, Panam was enduring another wealthy gentleman. He had introduced himself with three titles. Panam remembered none of them. That was deliberate. “Madame,” he said, “I understand your artists have been commanding rather extraordinary sums.” Panam nodded. “They've had some interesting offers.” “Excellent.” He smiled. “I'm prepared to make a substantial one.” “For whom?” “Nadia.” “What arrangement?” “A private dinner.” Panam nodded. “Where?” “My residence.” “Who else?” “Several business associates.” Panam's expression remained pleasant. “How many?” “Perhaps six.” “No.” The man blinked. “Madame—” “No.” “You haven't heard the amount.” “Don't need to.” “Surely—” Panam sighed. “Listen carefully.” He stopped. “My pet isn't a dinner-table trophy you can rent to impress your colleagues.” “That isn't—” “Then why does her presence require six business associates?” He hesitated. Panam waited. Nothing. She smiled. “That's what I thought.” Mandi had observed the entire conversation. She approached wearing an expression of almost unbearable innocence. “Owner?” “Yes, pet?” “Can I ask something?” Panam sighed. “Go ahead.” “How many titles did that guy have?” “Three.” “Jesus.” “Don't.” “Did any of them include professional fucking idiot?” Panam closed her eyes. Vega laughed so suddenly she nearly spilled her drink. Nova put a hand over her mouth. Dalia turned away. Deja stared very intently at the bar. Panam opened her eyes again. “Mandi.” “Yes, Owner?” “I'm going to make you apologize to somebody one of these days.” Mandi grinned. “Sure, Owner.” “You don't believe me.” “Not for a fucking second.” Panam burst out laughing. Tove wasn't watching the other customers. She wasn't watching the crowd around the entrance either. Nadia had noticed. In fact, she hadn't looked toward the increasingly enthusiastic collection of people trying to catch glimpses of the famous artist at all. Instead, she'd spent the last twenty minutes listening to Nadia describe her newest collaborative work with Sera. “Wait,” Tove said. Nadia stopped. “What?” “The structural frame. Is it carrying the projection equipment?” “Partly.” “Then how are you handling vibration?” Nadia smiled. “Very carefully.” Tove raised an eyebrow. “That sounds suspicious.” “It should.” Nadia described the mounting system. Tove listened. Asked two questions. Then a third. Nadia answered. Tove nodded slowly. “Oh, that's clever.” Nadia's smile widened. “Thank you.” “No, seriously. That's beautifully thought through.” Nadia looked at her. Something warm settled in her chest. Not because somebody had praised her. People praised her work all the time. Frequently without understanding what they were praising. This was different. Tove had found a technical choice Nadia had made deliberately, understood the problem it solved, and appreciated the elegance of the solution. Nadia rested her chin on one hand. “You know what?” “What?” “I rather like you.” Tove smiled. “I was beginning to hope so.” “Were you?” “Very much.” Nadia laughed softly. “Well, that's convenient.” They fell quiet. Not awkwardly. The kind of silence that arrived when a conversation had stopped needing constant assistance. Tove regarded Nadia. “Can I ask something personal?” “Depends on the question.” Tove nodded. “Fair.” She glanced briefly toward Panam. Then back. “Are you happy?” Nadia blinked. “That is personal.” “Yes.” Nadia considered. Really considered. Then smiled. “Very.” Tove returned the smile. “Good.” Nadia tilted her head. “Why do you ask?” “Because when I knew you before, you were obviously passionate about your work. But you seemed constantly exhausted.” Nadia laughed quietly. “I probably was.” “And now?” “Now I'm still passionate about my work.” “Good.” “But considerably less exhausted.” Tove smiled. “That sounds like an improvement.” “Among other things.” Nadia glanced toward Panam. Her owner was laughing at something Mandi had said. Nearby, Sera was still engaged in an animated conversation with her gentleman. The sight made Nadia's expression soften. Tove noticed. “Your people?” Nadia looked back. “Yes.” “You love them.” It wasn't a question. Nadia smiled. “Very much.” Tove nodded. Then picked up her glass. “To finding your people.” Nadia lifted hers. “To that.” They drank. Eventually Tove glanced toward the clock. “May I ask you something?” Nadia smiled. “You've been doing that all evening.” “A different question.” “Oh?” Tove held her gaze. “I'd like to spend some private time with you.” Nadia didn't answer immediately. Tove continued. “Not because I've paid for a conversation. That was worth the money on its own.” Nadia smiled. “Was it?” “Absolutely.” “Good.” “But I find you attractive. I enjoy talking with you. And I'd be very interested in getting to know you a little better.” Nadia rested her glass on the table. “You realize I'm still going to ask questions?” Tove laughed. “I'd be disappointed if you didn't.” “And possibly argue.” “Almost certainly.” Nadia smiled. “Then I think we should talk to Madame.” Tove rose. “Shall we?” Nadia stood beside her. “Let's.” Panam saw them approaching. One look at Nadia's face was enough. Interesting. Very interesting. “Owner?” “Yes, pet?” Nadia smiled. “Tove would like to discuss a booking.” Panam looked at Tove. “Would she?” Tove smiled. “Very much.” Panam nodded toward the bar. “Then let's discuss it properly.” They moved a short distance from the nearest customers. Panam settled her attention on Tove. “What are you proposing?” “Two hours together. Privately. Here at the club, if that's possible.” “Anything specific?” Tove explained what she hoped for. Unhurried company. Affection and intimacy if both wanted them. No photographs. No recording. No additional guests. No expectations beyond what Nadia herself chose. Panam listened. Then glanced at Nadia. Her pet looked interested. Very interested. Panam turned back. “What's your offer?” Tove considered. “Twenty million.” Panam didn't react immediately. A perfectly serious offer. Substantial. But Nadia's circumstances were unusual, and Panam wasn't treating a woman who had suddenly become internationally fascinating as though she were selling time by the meter. “Twenty-four,” Panam said. Tove raised an eyebrow. “May I ask why?” Panam smiled. “Because that's the number I'm willing to put to Nadia for the arrangement you've described.” Tove considered that. Then nodded. “Fair.” “No argument?” “Would it help?” “Probably not.” Tove laughed. “Then twenty-four million.” Panam studied her. “You understand the five million already paid was for the conversation?” “Of course.” “And this is separate?” “Yes.” “Two hours?” “Two hours.” “Privacy, no recordings, no guests, and nothing Nadia hasn't agreed to?” “Absolutely.” Panam glanced toward her pet. “Nadia?” “Yes, Owner?” “You've heard the proposal.” “I have.” “Would you like it?” Nadia looked at Tove. The woman smiled at her. No pressure. No anxious attempt to secure an answer. Just the invitation. Nadia smiled back. “Yes.” Panam's expression softened. “Any conditions of your own?” Nadia considered. “Actually, yes.” Tove raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” Nadia smiled. “I don't want to spend the entire two hours talking about electrical engineering.” Panam burst out laughing. Tove stared. Then laughed too. “That's a remarkably unfair restriction.” “I know.” “Could we negotiate?” Nadia considered. “Ten minutes.” “Fifteen.” “Twelve.” “Agreed.” Panam covered her face. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Nadia grinned. “Owner?” “What?” “We have a deal.” Panam lowered her hand. “Yes, pet. Apparently you do.” The payment was made. Twenty-four million eddies. Separate from the five-million conversation. Panam verified the transaction. Then turned to Nadia. “One last time. Everything comfortable?” “Yes, Owner.” “You want this?” “Very much.” Panam smiled. “Then enjoy yourself.” She unclipped Nadia's leash. Click. Placed it into her hand. Nadia accepted it. Then leaned forward and kissed her owner's cheek. “Thank you.” Panam kissed her forehead. “Have a wonderful time, pet.” Tove waited patiently. Nadia turned toward her. “Well?” Tove smiled. “Well?” “Are you coming?” “Oh, absolutely.” Nadia grinned. “Good.” They walked together toward the club's private working area. Mandi watched them go. Then turned toward Panam. “Owner.” “Yes, pet?” “Twenty-four million.” “Yes.” “After five million for the conversation.” “Yes.” Mandi considered. “Twenty-nine million.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “Your arithmetic is improving.” “Fuck you.” “Mandi.” “Sorry, Owner.” Vega laughed. Nova smiled. Dalia took her lollipop from her mouth. “Darling, twenty-nine million to spend an evening with an interesting woman isn't remotely unreasonable when you can afford it.” Mandi looked at her. “I know.” Dalia smiled. “Then why are you staring?” “Because they spent half the evening arguing about broken fucking equipment!” Deja considered. “A shared technical interest can be remarkably attractive.” Mandi slowly turned toward her. “Oh, don't YOU start.” Deja smiled. Dalia began laughing. Nova raised her glass. “To engineering.” Vega tapped it. “And unexpectedly interesting dates.” Mandi considered. Then raised hers. “To getting laid without the fucking machinery breaking.” Panam nearly choked on her whiskey. --- The private room was comfortable. Warm lighting. Enough space to move without feeling crowded. A proper seating area. Water within reach. No unnecessary display of luxury. Tove looked around. Then at Nadia. “Comfortable?” Nadia smiled. “Very.” “Good.” Tove removed her jacket. Nadia watched her place it carefully over the back of a chair. “Still that organized?” Tove glanced over. “You remember?” “I remember somebody sorting three boxes of salvaged components while telling six people to stop touching things.” Tove laughed. “They kept touching things.” “They were helping.” “They were making the problem worse.” Nadia considered. “True.” Tove turned toward her. For a moment they stood looking at each other. No noise from the main floor. No watching crowd. Nobody recognizing Nadia from a photograph. Just the woman she'd met during a spectacularly unfortunate exhibition opening. Tove smiled. “This is rather nicer.” Nadia laughed softly. “Considerably.” Tove held her gaze. “May I kiss you?” Nadia's expression warmed. “Yes.” The first kiss was gentle. Almost tentative. Not because either woman lacked confidence. Because the change from friendly conversation to something more intimate deserved a moment of attention. Tove's hand settled lightly against Nadia's cheek. Nadia moved closer. The second kiss lasted longer. And when they separated, Nadia was smiling. “Well.” Tove laughed softly. “Well?” “That was worth interrupting the engineering discussion.” “High praise.” “Don't get used to it.” Tove kissed her again. Nadia answered without hesitation. They settled together on the sofa. At first, conversation continued. But it had changed. Less formal. Less concerned with whether one woman would misunderstand the other's intentions. Tove was funny. Unexpectedly funny. She had a dry, understated manner that made even ridiculous stories sound almost credible until Nadia caught the glimmer in her eyes. Nadia liked that. She liked how easily the woman laughed when caught. She liked the way Tove paid attention when Nadia spoke. And she particularly liked that Tove wasn't trying to discover some secret truth behind the famous artist. She seemed perfectly content to discover the woman sitting beside her. At one point Nadia leaned against her. Tove put an arm around her shoulders. Nadia smiled. “You know something?” “What?” “I wasn't expecting this evening.” “Neither was I.” “I was expecting more ridiculous proposals.” Tove considered. “Were there many?” “Oh, God.” “That bad?” “Worse.” Tove laughed. Nadia shook her head. “You wouldn't believe some of them.” “Try me.” Nadia told her about the man who had wanted her to entertain a room full of wealthy strangers. Tove's expression changed. “He actually asked for that?” “Yes.” “Without discussing it with you?” “Yes.” Tove stared. Then shook her head. “Fucking idiot.” Nadia burst out laughing. “That's almost exactly what Owner thought.” Tove smiled. “Your owner seems to know what she's doing.” “She does.” Nadia settled closer. “And she's rather wonderful.” Tove kissed her temple. “I noticed.” The evening unfolded without hurry. They kissed often. Sometimes in the middle of a conversation. Sometimes simply because one of them looked at the other in a way that made another kiss feel inevitable. When Nadia reached for Tove's hand, Tove took it. When Tove drew her closer, Nadia followed willingly. Neither treated intimacy as something that had to proceed according to an invisible schedule. They talked about what they wanted. They listened. And when their affection deepened into lovemaking, it remained warm, mutual and unhurried, with quiet laughter and whispered reassurance whenever either needed a moment. Nadia discovered that Tove was particularly good at recognizing when a joke was welcome and when silence was better. That pleased her enormously. At one point they paused simply to hold each other. Tove brushed a stray lock of hair away from Nadia's face. “You're smiling.” Nadia laughed softly. “Am I?” “Yes.” “Good.” Tove smiled. “That seems to be a popular word tonight.” Nadia groaned. “Oh, don't you start.” “Start what?” “Never mind.” Tove laughed. Nadia kissed her. That settled the matter. Later, they lay close together beneath a light cover. Nadia rested against Tove's shoulder. The room was quiet. Comfortable. The kind of quiet neither of them felt compelled to fill. Tove brushed her thumb gently across Nadia's hand. “May I ask a question?” Nadia smiled. “Another one?” “I'm afraid so.” “Go ahead.” “Did you really remember me from that exhibition?” Nadia lifted her head. “Yes.” Tove looked faintly surprised. “After all this time?” Nadia nodded. “I remembered the woman who told everybody to get away from the equipment, crawled behind a projection frame and saved our opening.” Tove smiled. “That sounds embarrassingly heroic.” “It was.” “I was doing my job.” “So was I.” They looked at each other. Then laughed. Nadia settled back against her. “I didn't remember your name,” she admitted. “Understandable.” “But I remembered you.” Tove's arm tightened gently around her. “I'm glad.” Nadia smiled. “So am I.” They didn't spend the entire remaining time lying still. There was more conversation. More affection. Another round of laughter when Nadia discovered that Tove had kept a photograph of the disastrous controller. Not the installation. The controller. With a handwritten note attached. NEVER TRUST AN UNDOCUMENTED FIX. Nadia stared at the photograph. Then at Tove. Then burst out laughing. “YOU KEPT THAT?” “Of course.” “WHY?” “Educational material.” “YOU ABSOLUTE BITCH!” Tove laughed until she had tears in her eyes. Nadia kissed her. Then stole the photograph into her own agent with Tove's permission. “For my collection.” “Your art collection?” “My collection of evidence that humanity should occasionally be forbidden from operating machinery.” Tove nodded solemnly. “A worthy institution.” By the time their booking was drawing to its agreed close, Nadia had become thoroughly comfortable in Tove's company. Not because of the fee. Not because they'd once met. Because the woman was kind, intelligent, interesting, attentive and very easy to enjoy. Tove looked toward the time. Then back at Nadia. “Nearly finished.” Nadia nodded. “Yes.” “Thank you for tonight.” Nadia smiled. “Thank you.” “I'd like to see you again.” Nadia considered. Then smiled more broadly. “I think I'd like that too.” Tove looked pleased. “But,” Nadia added. “Oh?” “Next time, perhaps somewhere with less professional equipment to discuss.” Tove laughed. “Dinner?” “That sounds wonderful.” “A proper dinner?” “Absolutely.” “Without a service report?” Nadia considered. “Let's not make promises we can't keep.” Tove burst out laughing. They returned to the main room together. The club was still busy. Of course it was. Saturday at Lizzie's apparently had no intention of becoming quieter merely because Nadia had enjoyed a remarkably pleasant booking. Panam saw them approaching. Her expression softened immediately. Nadia was smiling. Not performing a smile. Not wearing the polished public expression she could summon for an exhibition opening. Actually smiling. Panam knew the difference. “Pet?” “Owner.” “Good evening?” Nadia glanced at Tove. Then back. “Wonderful.” Panam smiled. “Everything comfortable?” “Very.” Tove nodded. “Thank you, Madame.” Panam looked at her. “For what?” “The introduction. And the evening.” Panam smiled. “Glad you both enjoyed yourselves.” Tove looked toward Nadia. “I hope we'll meet again.” Nadia smiled. “So do I.” They exchanged a warm goodbye. Then Tove departed toward the main floor. Panam watched her go. A good customer. An interesting woman. And apparently someone whose arrival had made Nadia very happy. Not a bad Saturday. Not bad at all. Nadia presented her leash. Panam accepted it. Click. “Welcome back, pet.” Nadia leaned forward and kissed her owner's cheek. “Thank you.” Panam put an arm around her. “Come here.” Nadia settled beside her. For a moment, neither spoke. Then Panam smiled. “So.” Nadia looked up. “Yes, Owner?” “Engineering?” Nadia burst out laughing. “Oh, you have no fucking idea.” Mandi spotted them immediately. “OH!” Vega looked over. Nova turned. Dalia removed her lollipop. Deja smiled. Nadia stopped. Then slowly narrowed her eyes. “No.” Mandi grinned. “WE HAVEN'T ASKED ANYTHING!” “You were about to.” “That's not a crime.” “Debatable,” Nadia said. Dalia began laughing. Vega leaned forward. “Darling, did you have a good evening?” Nadia smiled. “Yes.” Nova's expression softened. “That's wonderful.” “Thank you.” Mandi looked between them. Then grinned. “Did she fix anything?” Nadia stared. Silence. Dalia closed her eyes. “Oh, fuck.” Vega burst out laughing. Nova covered her mouth. Panam made a strangled noise. Nadia looked at Mandi. Very slowly. Then smiled. “Actually, Mandi, yes.” Mandi blinked. Nadia continued. “She fixed a serious problem with an exhibition controller several years ago, and tonight she showed me the documentation.” Mandi stared. “What?” “Photographs too.” “WHAT?” Nadia smiled sweetly. “Would you like to see the service report?” Deja raised one hand. “I would.” Dalia collapsed against the bar laughing. Mandi looked at her. Then at Deja. Then back at Nadia. “THIS IS THE WORST FUCKING PLACE IN NIGHT CITY!” Panam finally lost the fight. She started laughing. Hard. Nadia folded her arms. Looking immensely satisfied. “Ask a stupid question, darling.” Mandi pointed at her. “You're learning from Vega!” Vega raised her glass. “Thank you, sweetheart.” Nova nodded approvingly. “An excellent teacher.” The laughter eventually subsided. Mostly. Panam ordered Nadia something to drink. Made sure she'd had water. Then gave her pet a quick, affectionate kiss. Nadia looked entirely content. Sera was still occupied with her gentleman. Their conversation had continued, and something about the way they looked at each other suggested that the evening wasn't finished. Panam watched them for a moment. Then smiled. One pet happily back from a successful booking. Another apparently approaching an interesting decision of her own. Five original pets still enjoying their professional lives. Two independent professionals enjoying theirs. And Lizzie's continuing to function despite an entire city's sudden conviction that famous artists could be purchased like unusually expensive furniture. Panam shook her head. What a fucking weekend. Nadia followed her gaze. “Sera?” Panam nodded. “Looks happy.” Nadia smiled. “She does.” “Think she'll take him?” Nadia considered. Then grinned. “Owner?” “Yes?” “If she's enjoying herself even half as much as I did tonight, I'd say that gentleman has a very promising evening ahead of him.” Panam laughed. “That's my girl.” Across the room, Sera leaned toward her companion. “There's something I'd like to ask you.” He smiled. “Go ahead.” “Earlier, you mentioned wanting some private time together.” “I did.” “Were you serious?” “Entirely.” Sera smiled. “Good.” He laughed softly. “That word seems to amuse you.” “Oh, it's a long story.” “Should I be worried?” “Probably.” He smiled. Sera glanced toward Panam. Then back at the man. “Shall we speak with Madame?” His expression brightened. “I'd be delighted.” Sera stood. He rose beside her. And together they walked toward Panam. --- ## Chapter 18 — More Than a Conversation Panam saw them approaching. Sera was smiling. That was the first thing. The second was the gentleman beside her, who looked considerably more relaxed than he had earlier in the evening. Not smug. Not triumphant. Simply happy. Panam knew that expression. She'd seen it on Nadia less than an hour ago. And before that, on several of her other pets. A good evening could do that to a person. Sera reached her first. “Owner?” “Yes, pet?” “We'd like to discuss something.” Panam glanced at the man. “Would you?” He smiled. “If you have time, Madame.” Panam looked toward the bar, where Mandi was currently attempting to persuade Vega that a malfunctioning medical diagnostic machine qualified as a legitimate romantic conversation topic. Vega was winning. Somehow. “I think I can spare a few minutes.” Sera laughed. “Thank you.” Panam touched her cheek affectionately. “Enjoyed your conversation?” “Very much.” “Good.” The man nodded. “As did I.” Panam smiled. “Then perhaps we'd better discuss what comes next.” They moved a short distance along the bar. The main floor was busy, but their position allowed them to speak without shouting. Panam looked at the gentleman. “You've already paid for your conversation with Sera.” “Yes.” “And you understand that payment doesn't include anything further.” “Perfectly.” “Good. What are you asking for?” He considered. “Two hours with her. Somewhere private here at the club, if that's possible.” Panam nodded. “And what would you like to do with those two hours?” He glanced at Sera. She smiled encouragingly. “I'd like to spend time with her without the entire city attempting to listen.” Sera laughed. “A reasonable ambition.” “And,” he continued, “if we're both comfortable, I'd very much like some affection.” Panam studied him. “Affection?” “Yes.” “Anything more specific?” He answered without becoming theatrical about it. He wanted an intimate evening with a woman he had come to like. Kissing. Closeness. The possibility of making love, if Sera wanted that too. No recording. No photographs. No additional guests. And absolutely no assumption that paying for time granted him rights over anything she didn't willingly offer. Panam listened. He seemed to understand the distinction between asking for an experience and trying to purchase control over another person. After the night's parade of entitled fools, that was becoming an unexpectedly attractive quality. “What's your offer?” “Thirty million.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “Two hours?” “Yes.” She considered. “Thirty-four.” He smiled slightly. “May I ask something?” “Go ahead.” “Is that because you think the arrangement warrants thirty-four, or because you want to see whether I'll argue?” Sera turned toward him. Then began laughing. Panam stared for a second. And laughed too. “Oh, you're a clever bastard.” “I've been accused of worse.” Panam shook her head. “Thirty-four million. For the evening you described.” He considered. Then nodded. “Agreed.” “No counteroffer?” “Would you respect me more if I made one?” “Not necessarily.” “Then I'd rather spend the time getting to know Sera.” Panam smiled. “Fair enough.” She turned to her pet. “Sera?” “Yes, Owner?” “You've heard the offer.” “I have.” “Thirty-four million. Two hours. Private company, with whatever intimacy you both agree to.” “Yes.” “Anything you'd like changed?” Sera considered. Then looked at the gentleman. “I have one request.” “Of course.” “Could we stop talking about the engineering behind my installations for a little while?” He stared at her. Then laughed. “I thought you enjoyed that.” “I did.” “Then why?” Sera smiled. “Because there are other things I'd like to discover about you.” The gentleman's expression warmed. “I'd like that.” Panam studied them. Neither was watching the money. Neither seemed particularly interested in having won a negotiation. They were looking at each other. Panam smiled. “Pet?” Sera turned. “Yes, Owner?” “Do you want this?” Sera's answer came immediately. “Very much.” “Then that's what matters.” The payment was confirmed. Thirty-four million eddies. Separate from the five million already paid for their conversation. Panam checked the arrangement, then looked toward the gentleman. “One last thing.” “Madame?” “Don't confuse Sera enjoying your company with an invitation into every other part of her life.” He nodded. “I wouldn't.” “Her art, her work, her friends—none of those come with the booking.” “I understand.” Panam considered him. Then smiled. “Good.” She turned to Sera. “Come here, pet.” Sera stepped closer. Panam unclipped her leash. Click. She placed it in Sera's hand. Then kissed her forehead. “Have a wonderful time.” Sera's expression softened. “Thank you, Owner.” The gentleman offered his hand. Sera took it. And the two walked toward the private working area. Mandi had been watching. Naturally. “Owner.” Panam sighed. “Yes, pet?” “Thirty-four million.” “Yes.” “After five million.” “Yes.” “So thirty-nine.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “Very good.” Mandi grinned. “Thank you.” “Did you have a question?” “Actually, yes.” Panam waited. Mandi leaned closer. “Have you considered charging admission just to watch you negotiate?” Vega burst out laughing. Nova nearly spilled her drink. Dalia took her lollipop from her mouth. “Darling, she already has a career.” Mandi waved a hand. “This would be a side business!” Panam closed her eyes. “Mandi.” “What?” “Don't give me ideas.” Mandi grinned. “Too late.” --- The gentleman's name was Adrian. He had introduced himself to Sera early in their conversation, without attaching a list of professional achievements to it. Now, walking beside him, she found herself realizing how little she'd asked about his ordinary life. Not his money. Not his connections. Not the collections he'd visited. Just him. “Adrian?” “Yes?” “What do you do when you're not arguing with artists?” He smiled. “I don't argue with all artists.” “Only the unfortunate ones?” “Only the interesting ones.” Sera laughed. “Convenient distinction.” “Very.” They reached the private area. Adrian glanced toward her. “Would you like to continue the conversation inside?” Sera looked at him. Smiled. “Yes.” Then added: “Although I reserve the right to change the subject.” “Entirely.” “Frequently.” “I had gathered.” She laughed. “Oh, you're learning.” The room was quieter than the main floor. The music became a distant vibration once the door closed. Warm light fell across a sofa and a low table. There were comfortable chairs, water, and enough space that nothing felt cramped. Sera looked around. Then at Adrian. “Well.” He smiled. “Well?” “We can finally hear ourselves think.” “An underrated luxury.” She laughed. “Especially tonight.” Adrian removed his jacket. Folded it over a chair. Then turned toward her. For a moment they simply looked at each other. No questions. No negotiation. No audience. Sera realized she was smiling again. Adrian noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “I'm not convinced.” She stepped closer. “I was just wondering whether you're going to spend the entire evening being so terribly polite.” He raised an eyebrow. “Would you prefer otherwise?” “Not entirely.” “Helpful.” Sera laughed. Then reached for his hand. “I think I'd like you to kiss me.” His expression softened. “I'd like that too.” He didn't rush. That pleased her. He stepped closer, touched her cheek lightly and gave her a moment to meet him. Sera did. Their first kiss was gentle. A little exploratory. She liked the warmth of his hand. The way he paused rather than assuming she wanted more immediately. The fact that he looked almost surprised when she leaned forward for a second kiss. That amused her. “What?” she whispered. He smiled. “I was hoping you'd do that.” Sera laughed softly. “Darling, you could have asked.” “I could.” “Next time?” “I'll remember.” She kissed him again. They settled on the sofa. At first, Adrian sat beside her with an almost comical amount of space between them. Sera looked down. Then at him. “Are you frightened of me?” He laughed. “Not especially.” “Then why are you over there?” “Giving you room.” She smiled. “That is very considerate.” “Thank you.” “Now come here.” Adrian laughed again. And moved closer. Sera leaned against him. His arm settled around her shoulders. Much better. They stayed like that for a while. Talking. Occasionally kissing. Sometimes falling quiet simply because neither felt a particular need to speak. Then Sera asked: “Why that installation?” Adrian looked down. “The one we discussed?” “Yes.” He considered. “You want the artistic answer or the personal one?” Sera lifted her head. “There's a difference?” “Sometimes.” “Then personal.” He was quiet for a moment. “My wife died several years ago.” Sera stilled. Adrian continued gently. “We'd visited one of your earlier exhibitions together. She loved it. I was mostly confused.” Sera's expression softened. He smiled faintly. “She spent the entire journey home explaining why that was the point.” Sera touched his hand. “I'm sorry.” “Thank you.” He looked toward the light falling across the wall. “When I saw your later installation, I remembered that conversation.” Sera waited. “I think I liked not understanding it immediately. It reminded me of her.” She held his gaze. There were many responses she could have offered. Something philosophical. Something about interpretation. Something about art surviving the people who first experienced it. Instead, she simply squeezed his hand. “I'm glad it gave you something good to remember.” Adrian smiled. “So am I.” The silence afterward was comfortable. Sera rested against him. Adrian's hand moved gently across her shoulder. After a while, she looked up. “May I tell you something?” “Of course.” “I don't want you to feel you need to explain your past to me.” He considered. “I know.” “And I don't want you to feel guilty for enjoying tonight.” His expression changed. That one reached him. He looked at her for a long moment. Then nodded. “Thank you.” Sera smiled. “I'm very good at giving unsolicited advice.” “I've noticed.” “Terrible habit.” “I'm beginning to appreciate it.” She laughed softly. Then kissed him. Not to end the conversation. Simply because she wanted to. Their next kisses were different. More familiar now. Less concerned with whether either was misreading the other's intentions. Adrian drew her closer. Sera rested one hand against his shoulder and the other over his heart. She could feel him laugh when she made a quiet joke about his excessive politeness. “You really aren't going to let that go, are you?” he asked. “Absolutely not.” “Terrible woman.” “Apparently.” He kissed her forehead. She smiled. Then her cheek. Her smile softened. Then her mouth. Sera answered with a kiss of her own, drawing him closer by the collar of his shirt. When they separated, Adrian rested his forehead lightly against hers. “Comfortable?” She laughed under her breath. “Very.” “Good.” “Though if you say that word once more, I may have to report you to Madame.” He laughed. “Noted.” Sera had spent years around artists. Brilliant people. Difficult people. Funny people. People who could make an entire evening disappear into a conversation about a single technical detail. Adrian was different from many of them. He didn't seem to need to prove he understood everything. He was content to discover. To ask. To listen. She liked that. She liked it more than she'd expected. And the attraction between them had become impossible to mistake. She kissed him again. Then drew back just enough to look at him. “Adrian?” “Yes?” “I'd like to make love with you.” He held her gaze. “I'd like that very much.” Sera smiled. “But I don't want us to stop talking afterward.” He laughed softly. “I wasn't planning to.” “Excellent.” She reached for his hand. “Then come with me.” They moved toward the bed together. The mood remained gentle, but there was nothing uncertain about their mutual interest now. Sera sat beside Adrian and drew him into another kiss. He returned it warmly. They took their time becoming comfortable with each other's closeness. A touch to the cheek, fingers linked together, an arm around the waist; small gestures gradually became familiar rather than tentative. When Sera wanted him nearer, she said so. When Adrian asked whether she was comfortable, she answered without embarrassment. Their conversation became quieter, punctuated by affectionate laughter and long pauses in which they simply held each other. Sera found herself particularly fond of the way he smiled when she surprised him. And Adrian, apparently, was becoming increasingly fond of her habit of laughing just before kissing him. “You do that every time,” he murmured. “What?” “Smile first.” Sera considered. “Am I not allowed?” “I was hoping you'd continue.” She laughed. Then kissed him again. “Very good answer.” They remained together, exchanging affection without hurry. At one point Sera rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. Adrian brushed her silver-white hair away from her face. She smiled without opening her eyes. “Careful.” “Of what?” “My hair occasionally has opinions.” He looked at the pale strands shifting against his hand. “Does it?” “Oh, yes.” “Should I be concerned?” “Only if it starts making decisions without consulting me.” Adrian laughed. Sera opened her eyes. The look of genuine amusement on his face delighted her. She had worried, briefly, that their earlier conversation might have been all they had in common. It wasn't. There was tenderness here. And humor. An ease that neither of them had expected from a chance meeting. They stayed close until their laughter quieted and the moment settled into something peaceful. Later, Sera lay beside him, her head resting against his chest. Adrian had one arm around her. Neither spoke for several minutes. The room felt wonderfully distant from Lizzie's. Sera listened to his breathing. Then smiled. “What?” he asked. She laughed. “You ask that a lot.” “You smile a lot.” “Fair.” He touched her hair lightly. “Enjoying yourself?” “Immensely.” His expression softened. “I'm glad.” She lifted her head. “And you?” “Very much.” Sera kissed his cheek. Then settled against him again. For a while, there was no need to say anything else. They eventually began talking again. Not about art. Not immediately. Adrian asked about Night City. Sera asked about places he'd traveled. They discovered a mutual fondness for certain terrible restaurants that survived entirely because the food was excellent. Adrian described a café whose proprietor treated every customer as a personal inconvenience. Sera laughed. “Why do people go there?” “The coffee.” “That good?” “Excellent.” “And the proprietor?” “An absolute bastard.” Sera began laughing again. “Wonderful.” “I can take you there sometime.” She looked at him. “Would you?” “If you'd like.” Sera considered. Then smiled. “I think I would.” The second hour passed far more quickly than either expected. They spent part of it talking. Part simply resting close together. And part rediscovering how pleasant it was to kiss someone who seemed genuinely delighted every time the opportunity arose. When Adrian glanced at the time, he sighed. “Unfortunately, I believe we've reached the end of our arrangement.” Sera looked toward the clock. Then back. “So we have.” He smiled. “Thank you.” She tilted her head. “For what?” “A lovely evening.” Sera smiled. “Thank you too.” He considered. “Would you be interested in seeing me again?” Sera didn't answer immediately. Not because she was uncertain about enjoying his company. Because she wanted to answer thoughtfully. Then she smiled. “Yes.” Adrian's expression brightened. “Really?” “Really.” “Wonderful.” “But I'd rather you didn't feel obliged to make another extravagant offer merely to ask.” He laughed. “I wasn't planning to.” “Good.” She kissed him once more. “And perhaps next time we could visit that dreadful café.” Adrian smiled. “I'd like that.” They returned to Lizzie's together. The main floor was still busy. Music. Voices. Lights. The familiar, wonderful chaos. Panam saw them immediately. Sera was smiling. Adrian too. That was enough to make Madame smile before either reached her. “Pet?” “Owner.” “Good evening?” Sera's expression warmed. “Wonderful.” Panam studied her. “Everything comfortable?” “Yes.” Adrian nodded. “Thank you, Madame.” Panam looked at him. “Enjoy yourself?” “Very much.” “Good.” He glanced toward Sera. “I hope to see you again.” Sera smiled. “I think I'd enjoy that.” They exchanged a final affectionate goodbye. Then Adrian departed. Panam watched him go. A good customer. An interesting man. And someone who had evidently made Sera very happy. She turned toward her pet. “Come here, sweetheart.” Sera stepped closer. Presented her leash. Panam accepted it. Click. “Welcome back.” Sera leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, Owner.” Panam held her for a moment. Then drew back. “Happy?” Sera smiled. “Very.” Nadia appeared almost immediately. “Darling!” Sera turned. “Nadia!” They embraced. Warmly. Without hesitation. Nadia drew back just enough to study her face. “Well?” Sera smiled. “Well what?” “Don't even try that.” Sera burst out laughing. Nadia grinned. “Good evening?” “Wonderful.” Nadia's expression softened. “I'm so glad.” Sera kissed her. Briefly. Affectionately. Panam watched them with a smile. Her two artists. Both happy. Both enjoying a life neither had expected to find quite like this. And neither remotely interested in pretending their happiness was something to be embarrassed about. Unfortunately, Mandi had also noticed. “OH, LOOK WHO'S BACK!” Vega turned. Nova smiled. Dalia removed her lollipop. Deja raised an eyebrow. Sera stopped. Looked at Mandi. Then began laughing. “Oh, no.” Mandi grinned. “OH, YES!” Vega leaned forward. “Darling, you look positively radiant.” “Thank you.” Nova smiled. “Had a lovely time?” Sera considered. Then grinned. “Very.” Dalia looked at her. “Was the gentleman as interesting in private as he was over the art discussion?” Sera smiled. “More.” Mandi leaned forward. “MORE?” “Yes.” “HOW MUCH MORE?” Sera's silver-white hair lifted slightly. Just enough. Dalia saw it. Immediately. “Oh, sweetheart.” Nadia began laughing. Vega looked delighted. Nova covered her mouth. Mandi stared. Then pointed. “THE HAIR!” Sera touched it. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Mandi burst out laughing. “THE HAIR NEVER LIES!” Panam closed her eyes. “Oh, Jesus.” The teasing continued for several minutes. Sera gave as good as she got. She had known these women far too long to retreat under friendly fire. When Vega suggested that perhaps art appreciation had become unusually strenuous, Sera asked whether Vega's own earlier two-hour booking had consisted entirely of intellectual discussion. Vega laughed. Then looked away. A tactical error. Mandi spotted it immediately. “OH!” “Don't.” “VEGA!” “Mandi!” “YOU STARTED IT!” Dalia nearly choked on her drink. Nova was laughing helplessly. Deja looked thoroughly entertained. Panam stood with her whiskey and watched the people she loved enjoying themselves. It was ridiculous. Loud. Affectionate. Frequently obscene. And very nearly perfect. Eventually the laughter softened. Sera settled beside Nadia. Panam remained close. For a few minutes, the three simply enjoyed being together. Saturday had been exhausting. Not unpleasantly. Just enormously. Two successful individual bookings for the artists. A great many rejected inquiries. More attention than any of them had expected. And an entire club working very hard to keep everything functioning. Nadia leaned against Sera. “Happy?” Sera smiled. “Yes.” “Me too.” Panam glanced at them. “Both?” “Very,” Nadia said. “Absolutely,” Sera added. Panam smiled. “Good.” Then she looked toward the crowd. More people arriving. More questions waiting. More offers. She sighed. “Oh, fuck.” Nadia laughed softly. “Owner?” “Yes?” “I believe you're going to be busy again.” Panam took a drink. “Story of my fucking life.” Suzy approached from behind the bar. “Madame.” Panam turned. “Yes?” “Someone wants to speak with you.” Panam sighed. “Of course they do.” Suzy smiled. “This one's being polite.” “That's refreshing.” “And apparently understands your arrangement with the artists.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “Both?” Suzy looked toward Nadia and Sera. Then back at Panam. “Both.” Panam went still. Nadia lifted her head. Sera looked interested. Mandi, naturally, heard everything. “BOTH?” Suzy smiled. “Apparently.” Panam considered. Then set down her whiskey. “Well.” She looked at her two artists. “Looks like Saturday isn't finished with us yet.” Nadia smiled. Sera's hair lifted slightly. And from the bar, Mandi announced: “OH, THIS IS GOING TO BE FUCKING INTERESTING.” Suzy closed her eyes. “Jesus Christ.” --- ## Chapter 19 — An Offer Worth Hearing “Both?” Panam looked at Suzy. Suzy nodded. “Both.” “Sera and Nadia.” “Yes.” “Together.” “That's generally what both means.” Panam stared at her. Suzy smiled into her whiskey. “Oh, fuck you.” “Love you too, Madame.” Behind them, Mandi was still recovering from the revelation. “BOTH!” Vega leaned against the bar. “Yes, sweetheart. We've established that.” “I KNOW!” Nova smiled. “Then perhaps stop announcing it.” Mandi turned toward her. “YOU'RE NOT CURIOUS?” “Enormously.” “THEN WHY ARE YOU SO FUCKING CALM?” Nova considered. “Practice.” Dalia nearly choked on her drink. Panam closed her eyes. “Jesus Christ.” Suzy nodded toward the far end of the bar. “She's waiting over there.” Panam opened one eye. “She?” “Woman. Well dressed. Not making a scene. Asked for you by name.” “Good start.” “She also asked whether you'd prefer to finish what you were doing before speaking with her.” Panam's other eye opened. “Really?” “Really.” Mandi looked delighted. “Oh, I like her already.” Panam glanced at her. “You haven't met her.” “Neither have you.” “Fair.” Suzy smiled. “And Panam?” “Yeah?” “She didn't ask me how much it would cost.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” “She asked whether your artists might be interested in an arrangement involving them both.” Panam looked toward Sera and Nadia. Both were listening now. Both smiling. Interesting. Very interesting. “Okay,” Panam said. “Let's meet her.” The woman stood when Panam approached. Not dramatically. Just the ordinary courtesy of acknowledging someone who had come to speak with her. She was perhaps in her fifties. Dark hair touched with silver. An elegant charcoal dress. Very little jewelry. No aggressively expensive accessories announcing that their owner had more money than good taste. Her expression was composed. And her smile, when it appeared, was warm. “Madame Panam?” “That's me.” “Thank you for coming over.” “Suzy tells me you're interested in my artists.” “Yes.” “Both of them?” “Together, if that's something they would consider.” Panam regarded her. “What should I call you?” “Margot.” “Panam.” Margot smiled. “A pleasure.” Panam gestured toward the bar. “Shall we?” “Of course.” --- They sat where conversation was possible without shouting. Not a private room. Not a special audience chamber. Just a comparatively quiet stretch of Suzy's bar. Panam studied her. “So, Margot. Tell me what you're looking for.” Margot considered. “An evening with two women whose work I've admired for some time.” “An art discussion?” “Partly.” Panam waited. Margot smiled faintly. “I'd rather not insult your intelligence by pretending that's all I'm interested in.” Panam's expression changed. Just slightly. “Go on.” “I find them both extraordinarily attractive. I also find them intelligent, talented and interesting. I would like an opportunity to enjoy their company together, privately, if the attraction is mutual.” Panam nodded slowly. “That's a considerably more straightforward answer than most I've heard tonight.” “I suspected it might be.” “Why?” Margot glanced toward the crowded club. “Because I've watched several people approach you.” Panam sighed. “Oh, fuck.” Margot laughed. “Precisely.” Panam took a drink. “Have you met either of them before?” “No.” “Seen their work?” “Yes. Both individually and together.” “Which joint installation?” Margot described it. Not with the vocabulary of someone reciting an exhibition review. With the specificity of somebody who had stood inside the installation, spent time with it, and returned to experience it again. She talked about how the projected environment changed as viewers moved through the space. How Sera's interventions altered the relationship between physical objects and their apparent positions. How Nadia's contribution made the audience's own movements part of the composition. And how the collaboration produced something that felt different from either artist's independent work. Panam listened. She wasn't an art critic. She didn't pretend to be. But she knew the difference between someone who had actually paid attention and someone who had memorized a few fashionable phrases. Margot had paid attention. A great deal of attention. “What interested you most?” Panam asked. Margot considered. “The fact that neither artist seemed to be competing with the other.” Panam smiled. “Oh?” “They each have a strong individual voice. You'd expect the combination to become crowded.” “And?” “It wasn't. It felt like a conversation.” Panam regarded her. Margot smiled. “A rather intimate one, actually.” Panam laughed. “You've definitely been paying attention.” “I try.” --- A few places down the bar, Dalia was watching. She leaned toward Mandi. “Darling.” “What?” “Interesting.” Mandi followed her gaze. Panam was listening carefully. The woman opposite her was speaking with calm confidence. Neither looked annoyed. Neither looked remotely interested in performing for the crowd. Mandi narrowed her eyes. “What do you think?” Dalia considered. “I think Madame hasn't told her to fuck off.” “That's unusual tonight.” “Exceptionally.” Deja, standing beside Dalia, tilted her head. “She appears to be discussing the artists' work.” Vega smiled. “An actual art enthusiast?” Nova studied the scene. “Possibly.” Mandi grinned. “Oh, this could be fun.” Dalia took another sip of whiskey. “Sweetheart, with our friends, that's practically guaranteed.” --- Panam returned to the practical questions. “How long are you thinking?” “Two hours, perhaps.” “Where?” “Here, if the club has suitable private accommodation.” “Just you and the two of them?” “Yes.” “No guests arriving later?” “Absolutely not.” “No cameras?” “No.” “Photographs?” “Only if they happened to want one, but I'm perfectly happy without.” Panam shook her head. “Let's make it without.” “Agreed.” “And you're not purchasing rights to their names, images or artistic work.” Margot smiled. “Madame, I'm asking for their company, not negotiating an acquisition.” Panam considered her. Then nodded. “Good.” Margot leaned back slightly. “May I ask you something?” “Go ahead.” “Have I said anything that concerns you?” Panam thought about it. “Not yet.” “That sounds cautiously encouraging.” “It is.” Margot laughed. Panam smiled. “But I need to ask one more question.” “Of course.” “Why both?” Margot didn't answer immediately. That pleased Panam. Too many people had approached her with rehearsed declarations and perfectly polished reasons that collapsed under a second question. Margot actually considered hers. “Because they're clearly close,” she said eventually. Panam waited. “And I like that.” “Explain.” Margot glanced toward the friends gathered farther along the bar. “Two people who already enjoy each other's company. Who don't have to invent a relationship for a stranger's benefit. I'd rather join an evening they're genuinely comfortable sharing than ask either to pretend she finds me irresistible.” Panam studied her. Margot continued. “I don't want to interrupt something beautiful between them. I'd like to be welcomed into it, briefly, if they choose.” Silence. Panam looked at her for a long moment. Then smiled. “That,” she said, “is a pretty fucking good answer.” Margot laughed. “Thank you.” “Don't thank me yet.” “Why?” “Because neither woman has agreed to anything.” “Naturally.” “And you'll need to speak with them before we discuss a private booking.” “I understand.” “There's a five-million-eddie conversation arrangement for each artist, provided she wants the introduction.” Margot nodded. “So ten million for a conversation with both.” “Correct.” “Separate from any subsequent offer.” “Exactly.” “And no guarantee that they'll want a private booking afterward.” “None whatsoever.” Margot considered. Then smiled. “That seems entirely reasonable.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “You're the third person tonight to say that without arguing.” “Only the third?” “It's been a long fucking evening.” Margot laughed. “I can imagine.” Panam glanced toward the others. “Let me ask them.” --- Sera looked up when Panam approached. “Owner?” “Yes, sweetheart?” Nadia turned toward her too. Panam smiled. “Someone would like to meet both of you.” Sera's eyebrows rose. “Together?” “Yes.” Nadia smiled. “Interesting.” “That's what I thought.” Panam explained. Not the money first. The woman. Her interest in their collaboration. The private two-hour arrangement she had in mind. The fact that she wanted them both because they already enjoyed each other's company. And the absence of assumptions about what either woman would agree to. Sera listened carefully. Nadia too. Then Sera asked: “She knows our work?” “Quite well, apparently.” Nadia tilted her head. “Which installation did she mention?” Panam described it. Nadia's eyes brightened. “Oh!” Sera smiled. “That one?” “Apparently.” Nadia glanced at Sera. Sera glanced back. A small exchange. Familiar. Wordless. Panam noticed. “So?” Sera considered. “I'd like to meet her.” Nadia smiled. “So would I.” Panam nodded. “Together?” “Yes, Owner,” they answered, almost simultaneously. Mandi, listening nearby, immediately made a delighted noise. “Oh, FUCK.” Panam looked at her. “Pet.” Mandi put both hands up. “NOT A WORD.” Vega began laughing. --- The conversation fee was settled. Ten million eddies. Five million for each artist. Margot made the payment without ceremony. Panam verified it and brought Sera and Nadia over. “Margot, these are my pets, Sera and Nadia.” Margot stood. “It's a pleasure to meet you both.” Sera smiled. “Likewise.” Nadia looked at her with open curiosity. “I understand you've seen our joint installation.” “Twice.” Nadia's eyebrows rose. “Twice?” Margot nodded. “The second visit was considerably more interesting.” Sera tilted her head. “Why?” “Because I knew what not to expect.” Nadia laughed. “Oh, that's a promising answer.” Panam smiled. “You three seem to have plenty to discuss.” Margot looked toward her. “Would you prefer to remain?” Panam considered. Then looked at Sera and Nadia. “Pets?” Sera smiled. “I think we'll be fine, Owner.” Nadia nodded. “Absolutely.” Panam touched each woman's cheek. “Come find me when you're finished talking.” “We will.” She turned toward Margot. “Enjoy your conversation.” Margot smiled. “I intend to.” They chose an ordinary table within the main club. Three drinks arrived. And the conversation began. Not with flirtation. With art. Nadia asked Margot what had brought her back to the installation. Margot described the first visit. A crowded opening. People talking. People photographing themselves. People explaining the artwork to companions who hadn't asked for explanations. Sera groaned. “Oh, God.” Margot laughed. “You know the type.” “Intimately.” “Then the second time I came alone.” Nadia smiled. “And?” “I discovered that half the details I'd missed were the ones that made the whole thing work.” Sera leaned forward. “Such as?” Margot described them. Nadia listened with increasing fascination. The woman wasn't merely knowledgeable. She was observant. She had noticed decisions made during the installation's construction that neither artist had expected the average visitor to register. At one point Sera looked at Nadia. Nadia looked back. Then both began smiling. Margot noticed. “Have I said something wrong?” “Quite the opposite,” Sera said. Nadia laughed. “You've just identified something we argued about for nearly three days.” Margot raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” “The transition between the second and third spatial sequences,” Nadia explained. Sera groaned. “Please don't start.” Nadia grinned. “You started it.” “I did not.” “You absolutely did.” Margot watched the exchange. Then laughed. “Oh, this is wonderful.” Sera turned toward her. “What?” “You're arguing about it again.” Nadia burst out laughing. Sera closed her eyes. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” --- At the bar, Mandi was becoming impatient. “Owner.” Panam looked up. “Yes?” “How long have they been talking?” “Twenty minutes.” “Feels longer.” “Then stop watching them.” Mandi considered. “No.” Panam sighed. “Of course not.” Dalia leaned over. “Darling, you're behaving like a spectator at a sporting event.” “I AM INVESTED.” Nova smiled. “In the outcome?” “Yes!” Vega laughed. “What outcome?” Mandi opened her mouth. Stopped. Thought about it. Then grinned. “That's what I'm trying to find out.” Panam shook her head. “You're impossible.” “Yes, Owner.” --- At the table, the conversation had shifted. Margot had asked about Nadia's move to Night City. Nadia answered openly about the city itself. The studio. The work. The unexpected freedom of being able to choose projects because they interested her. Sera talked about their collaboration. And about how much easier artistic experimentation had become when neither woman needed to justify every expensive technical decision to an anxious financial committee. Margot smiled. “That's a rare luxury.” “It is,” Nadia agreed. “And you're enjoying it?” “Enormously.” Sera nodded. “Both of us.” Margot looked between them. “You seem happy.” Sera's expression softened. “We are.” Nadia smiled. “Very.” Margot lifted her glass. “Then I'm glad.” They drank. A comfortable silence followed. Then Margot smiled. “May I be a little less academic for a moment?” Sera laughed. “Please.” Nadia leaned back. “I was beginning to wonder.” Margot looked at her. “Were you?” “Darling, you paid ten million eddies to discuss projection geometry. I was starting to worry we'd frightened you.” Margot burst out laughing. “Oh, hardly.” Sera grinned. “Good.” Margot considered both women. Then spoke plainly. “I find you beautiful.” Nadia smiled. “Thank you.” “Both of you.” Sera's smile warmed. “That's rather nice to hear.” “And I would like to spend more time with you.” Nadia tilted her head. “Together?” “Yes.” Margot paused. “But I'd like you to know that the evening we've already had was worth coming here for.” Sera studied her. Margot continued. “I haven't enjoyed discussing art with two people this much in years.” Nadia smiled. “And yet?” “And yet I find myself wondering whether we might enjoy something rather less intellectual together.” Sera began laughing. “Oh, I like you.” Margot smiled. “I'm relieved.” Nadia looked toward Sera. Then back at Margot. “Well, darling, perhaps we ought to have a conversation with Madame.” --- Panam noticed the three women approaching. Mandi noticed too. So did Dalia. And Vega. And Nova. In fact, Panam was beginning to suspect she'd need to install a privacy screen around herself merely to stop her friends from treating every negotiation as an evening's entertainment. She looked at Sera. “Pet?” “Owner.” “Enjoy yourselves?” “Very much.” Nadia nodded. “Margot is fascinating.” Panam smiled. “That's encouraging.” Margot stepped forward. “Madame, I'd like to make an offer.” Panam nodded. “Let's hear the arrangement first.” “Of course.” Two hours. A private room at Lizzie's. Margot, Sera and Nadia. No additional guests. No recording. No photography. No public acknowledgment of the booking. No later requests for introductions to their artistic or personal contacts. She wanted company, conversation, affection, and the possibility of intimacy if all three genuinely wanted it. Panam listened. Then turned to her pets. “Sera?” “Yes, Owner?” “Interested in that sort of evening?” Sera smiled. “I am.” “Nadia?” “Very.” “Anything either of you wants excluded?” They talked. Properly. The women were candid about the arrangements they were comfortable sharing and the boundaries they expected Margot to respect. Margot listened as attentively as she had during the art discussion. There was no impatience. No attempt to negotiate away anything either artist considered important. When they'd finished, Panam looked toward Margot. “Any problem with those conditions?” “None.” Panam nodded. “And you understand that a booking involving two people requires two willing participants. If either changes her mind, you respect that immediately.” “Without question.” “Good.” Panam considered the proposal. Then asked: “What's your offer?” Margot set down her glass. Looked at Panam. And said: “Two hundred and sixty million eddies.” Silence. Not the sort that fell over an entire room. The music continued. People talked. Glasses clinked. Somewhere near the entrance, a customer was explaining to a Mox why he absolutely deserved priority access to Nadia. But around Panam, the conversation stopped. She looked at Margot. “Two hundred and sixty million?” “Yes.” “For the two-hour arrangement you've described.” “Correct.” Panam studied her. “Not for publicity.” “No.” “Not for a commission.” “No.” “Not for any additional privileges afterward.” “Absolutely not.” Panam considered. “Then why that amount?” Margot smiled. “Because I can afford it.” Panam waited. “And because I want to make an offer substantial enough to express how much I'd enjoy the evening, without pretending the money makes either woman obligated to accept.” Panam tilted her head. Margot continued. “I've had the privilege of acquiring some extraordinary things in my life, Madame. But I'm not trying to acquire these women.” Sera smiled. Nadia's expression softened. “I'd like to spend two wonderful hours in their company. If they want the same thing, the money is simply my offer for that arrangement.” Panam regarded her. Then glanced toward the two artists. Both were smiling. Not at the number. At Margot. That mattered. More than the offer. Much more. --- Mandi was standing a few steps away. Her mouth was open. Vega looked at her. Then at Dalia. Dalia looked positively delighted. Deja raised an eyebrow. Nova took a slow drink. Mandi finally found her voice. “...WHAT?” Panam closed her eyes. “Mandi.” “NO, OWNER, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?” Vega began laughing. Panam opened her eyes. “Pet, we're negotiating.” “TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY FUCKING MILLION!” Margot turned. She looked at Mandi. Then smiled. “Is that a problem?” Mandi stared at her. Opened her mouth. Closed it. Margot waited. Mandi tried again. “...No?” Dalia immediately collapsed into laughter. Vega joined her. Nova covered her mouth. Deja smiled. Margot looked at Panam. “Your colleagues are entertaining.” Panam sighed. “You have no idea.” Panam returned her attention to the offer. “Two hundred and sixty million. Two hours. The conditions we've discussed.” “Yes.” “And the earlier ten million remains a separate payment for the conversation.” “Of course.” Panam studied Margot. She could counter. She could test how far the woman was willing to go. She could suggest another number simply because the first was already extraordinary. But that wasn't what this was about. There was no universal price to protect. No established rate she had to defend. Just three adults considering an arrangement they might enjoy. Margot's offer was astonishingly generous. And nothing about it required Panam to manufacture an argument. She nodded. “I'm prepared to accept that offer, provided both my pets agree.” Margot smiled. “Thank you.” Panam looked toward Sera. “Pet?” Sera met her eyes. “Yes, Owner?” “Do you want this booking?” Sera glanced at Margot. Then at Nadia. Her smile widened. “Yes.” Panam nodded. “Nadia?” Nadia looked at Margot. Then at Sera. And laughed softly. “Oh, absolutely.” Panam smiled. “Any concerns?” “None,” Sera answered. Nadia shook her head. “Not one.” “Then we have an agreement.” Margot completed the payment. Panam verified it. Two hundred and sixty million eddies. Confirmed. She looked at the figures for a moment. Then at Margot. Then back at the figures. “Jesus fucking Christ.” Margot laughed. “Is everything all right?” “Perfectly.” “You look surprised.” Panam smiled. “I am.” “By the amount?” “Partly.” “What else?” Panam considered. “By finally meeting somebody tonight who seems to understand what she's actually asking for.” Margot's expression warmed. “Then I'm pleased.” Panam looked toward Suzy. Caught her attention. Raised two fingers. Then approached her briefly to confirm that a suitable private working room was available for the full agreed period. Suzy checked. It was. The booking could proceed without interfering with the club's other arrangements. Lisa's team would maintain the usual boundaries around the private area. No special celebrity procession. No changes to the club's rules. Just a properly arranged booking. Panam returned. “Everything's ready.” Margot smiled. “Wonderful.” Then Panam turned to Sera. “Come here, sweetheart.” Sera stepped closer. Panam kissed her cheek. “Still happy?” “Very, Owner.” “Then have yourself an incredible evening.” Click. Panam unclipped her leash and placed it in Sera's hand. Sera smiled. “Thank you.” Nadia approached next. Panam held her gaze. “Pet?” “Yes, Owner?” “Everything comfortable?” “Yes.” “Excited?” Nadia laughed. “Enormously.” Panam grinned. “That's my girl.” Click. She unclipped Nadia's leash too. Placed it into her hand. Then kissed her forehead. “Enjoy yourself.” Nadia leaned closer. “Love you, Owner.” Panam's expression softened. “Love you too.” Margot watched the exchange without interrupting. When Panam turned toward her, she smiled. “They're extraordinary women.” Panam looked at Sera. Then Nadia. Then back. “Yeah.” Her smile widened. “They fucking are.” The three women prepared to leave. But Sera hesitated. Turned toward Panam. “Owner?” “Yes?” “Are you all right?” Panam blinked. “Of course.” Sera smiled. “You look a little stunned.” Panam considered. Then laughed. “Well, two hundred and sixty million is a pretty fucking remarkable offer.” Nadia grinned. “Even for you?” “Even for me, pet.” Margot smiled. “Was it excessive?” Panam looked at her. Then laughed again. “Margot, sweetheart, I think we've established that you can afford to be excessive.” “True.” “And that my girls genuinely want to spend the evening with you.” Margot glanced at them. Both smiled. “Yes.” Panam nodded. “Then go enjoy yourselves.” --- Mandi waited until the three women were beyond ordinary hearing distance. Then turned very slowly toward Panam. “Owner.” Panam sighed. “Yes, pet?” “I have a question.” “Of course you do.” “Are we still in Night City?” Panam blinked. “What?” “Because I think the fucking economy just exploded.” Vega burst out laughing. Nova leaned against the bar. Dalia raised her whiskey. “Darling, I believe the economy is doing rather well.” Mandi pointed at her. “DON'T YOU START.” Deja considered. “The transaction was entirely voluntary.” “THAT DOESN'T MAKE IT LESS INSANE!” Panam put both hands over her face. “Oh, Jesus.” Mandi turned toward Suzy. “SUZY!” Suzy looked up. “What?” “DID YOU HEAR THAT?” Suzy nodded. “Unfortunately.” “TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY MILLION!” “Yes, Mandi.” “FOR TWO HOURS!” “Yes, Mandi.” Mandi stared. Suzy stared back. Then Suzy smiled. “Want another drink?” Mandi considered. “...Yes.” “Thought so.” --- A little later, the laughter softened. Panam stood with her whiskey, watching the club. Her pets were happy. Her friends were entertained. The booking had been arranged properly. And somewhere beyond the main floor, Sera and Nadia were preparing to spend two private hours with a woman who had made an extraordinary offer for no reason beyond genuinely wanting their company. Panam smiled. Not because of the money. Though she'd be lying if she said the number wasn't impressive. But because the two artists had looked so thoroughly delighted by the prospect. That mattered more. Dalia approached. “Madame?” Panam turned. “Yes?” “Quite an evening.” Panam laughed. “No shit.” Dalia lifted her glass. “To your girls.” Panam smiled. “To all of them.” They drank. Then Dalia glanced toward Mandi, who was still attempting to explain the transaction to Vega using increasingly elaborate hand gestures. Dalia smiled. “I think you've broken her.” Panam followed her gaze. Mandi was now holding up both hands. “THAT'S THIRTEEN MILLION EVERY SIX MINUTES!” Vega was laughing too hard to answer. Nova looked away. Deja was trying very hard not to join in. Panam closed her eyes. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Dalia leaned closer. “Darling?” “What?” “Maybe we should let her keep calculating.” “Why?” Dalia grinned. “She's quiet when she's concentrating.” Panam started laughing. --- The private room door closed behind Margot, Sera and Nadia. The club's music faded into a distant murmur. Margot looked around. Then turned toward the two artists. For the first time that evening, she appeared just a little uncertain. Not about the money. About the moment. Sera noticed. “Margot?” “Yes?” “Nervous?” Margot considered. Then smiled. “A little.” Nadia laughed softly. “That's rather sweet.” “Is it?” “Very.” Margot looked between them. “I've spent most of tonight trying to avoid making assumptions.” Sera smiled. “A commendable ambition.” “And now?” Margot spread her hands. “Now I'm alone with two very beautiful women, and I'm rather hoping neither of you regrets agreeing to this.” Nadia looked at Sera. Sera looked back. Then both began smiling. Sera stepped forward first. “Margot?” “Yes?” “Would you like to know something?” “Of course.” “We're here because we want to be.” Nadia moved beside her. “And because we like you.” Margot's expression softened. “I'm glad.” Sera offered her hand. Margot accepted it. Nadia took the other. The three stood together for a moment. Then Nadia grinned. “And now, darling, perhaps we can stop discussing money.” Margot laughed. “Oh, I'd like that very much.” Sera smiled. “Excellent.” She glanced at Nadia. Then back at Margot. “Shall we get comfortable?” Margot's smile became warmer. “Yes.” And, with neither artist in any particular hurry to let go of her hands, they moved farther into the room together. --- ## Chapter 20 — Three Women, No Audience “Comfortable?” Margot asked the question with a hint of amusement. Sera looked around the room. Then at Nadia. Then back at Margot. “Oh, darling. You're going to have to be more specific.” Margot laughed. “Fair.” They had moved away from the door, but nobody had quite decided what to do next. Three women. One comfortable room. Two hours. And rather a lot of anticipation. Nadia glanced at the sofa. Then at the bed. Then at the two women beside her. “Well,” she announced, “I suggest we begin by sitting down like civilized people.” Sera raised an eyebrow. “Are we civilized?” “Occasionally.” Margot smiled. “Should I be concerned?” “Not unless you expected us to remain civilized for the entire evening.” Margot's laugh came quickly. “Oh, I think we're going to get along beautifully.” Nadia grinned. “Excellent. First problem solved.” She crossed to the sofa, kicked off her shoes, and made herself comfortable. Sera followed. Margot remained standing a moment longer. Nadia looked up. “Darling?” “Yes?” “You can sit down.” “I know.” “Then why are you standing there?” Margot considered. “Because I've just spent the evening negotiating a rather extraordinary arrangement with a formidable woman, and now I'm suddenly uncertain whether I'm supposed to take the initiative.” Sera laughed. “Oh, that's adorable.” Margot raised an eyebrow. “Adorable?” “Very.” Nadia patted the cushion between them. “Come here. We'll work it out together.” Margot looked at the space. Then at their expectant faces. “Oh, hell.” She sat. Both artists immediately moved closer. Margot began laughing. “Apparently that was the correct answer.” “Excellent deduction,” Nadia said. For a little while, they simply talked. Not about the money. Not about booking procedures. And, at Nadia's insistence, not about projection controllers. Margot told them about a disastrous exhibition opening she'd attended in Paris, where an automated sculpture had mistaken a very important collector's expensive hat for an obstruction. Sera listened with growing delight. “What did it do?” “Attempted to remove it.” Nadia blinked. “From his head?” “Unfortunately.” Sera burst out laughing. “Oh, God.” “The collector was furious. The artist was delighted. The curator looked as though she was reconsidering every decision she'd ever made.” Nadia put a hand over her mouth. “And the sculpture?” “Continued trying to remove the hat.” That finished them. All three were laughing. Eventually Sera managed: “Please tell me someone stopped it.” “Oh, yes.” “Who?” “The collector's wife.” Nadia groaned. “Of course.” “She took off the hat, placed it on the floor, and informed the sculpture that it could have the fucking thing.” Sera folded against Margot laughing. Margot put an arm around her. Nadia was wiping tears from her eyes. “That's magnificent.” “It was the best part of the exhibition.” “Was the sculpture any good?” Sera asked. Margot considered. “Not especially.” They collapsed into laughter again. When the laughter settled, Margot found herself with Sera leaning against one shoulder and Nadia comfortably close on the other. It felt unexpectedly natural. She hadn't been entirely certain it would. She'd admired both women for years. Found them attractive for considerably longer than she'd intended to admit. And after hearing about their unusual professional arrangements, she'd wondered whether an introduction might be possible. But there had been a moment, before approaching Madame Panam, when she had nearly decided against it. Nadia noticed her expression changing. “What are you thinking?” Margot looked at her. “Something rather foolish.” “Wonderful. Those are our specialty.” Sera smiled. “Speak for yourself.” Nadia turned. “Darling, you once spent three days rearranging an installation because one particular shadow offended you.” “It was the wrong shadow.” “Of course it was.” Margot laughed. Then looked down at her hands. “I nearly didn't approach Madame.” Both women turned toward her. “Really?” Sera asked. “Yes.” “Why?” Margot considered. “Because I didn't want to become another wealthy stranger demanding your attention.” Nadia's expression softened. “Oh.” “I'd watched some of the people trying to reach you tonight.” Sera groaned. “An extraordinary collection.” “Precisely.” “And you were worried we'd think the same of you?” “A little.” Nadia reached for Margot's hand. “You asked. You listened. And you let us decide.” Sera nodded. “That makes rather a difference.” Margot smiled. “I hoped so.” Nadia squeezed her hand. “And now you're here.” “Yes.” “Because we wanted you here.” Margot looked at her. Then at Sera. Both were watching her with warmth that had nothing to do with the offer she'd made. Something in her chest loosened. “Thank you.” Sera leaned closer. “Darling, perhaps we should stop thanking one another and enjoy the evening.” Margot laughed. “An excellent suggestion.” Sera kissed her first. Not as a performance. Not because Margot had purchased two hours and somebody needed to begin delivering them. Simply because she'd been wanting to kiss her for quite some time. Margot turned toward her. Their lips met gently. The kiss lasted a moment. Then another. When Sera drew away, Margot was smiling. “Well.” Sera raised an eyebrow. “Well?” “I've been thinking about doing that since we started talking about your installation.” Sera laughed. “Really?” “Yes.” “And you waited?” “I was trying to behave.” Nadia made an appreciative sound. “Oh, darling, that must have been exhausting.” Margot laughed. “You have no idea.” Sera touched Margot's cheek. “Would you like another?” “Very much.” Sera obliged. This time Margot met her with considerably less hesitation. Nadia watched for a moment. Not from a distance. She remained beside them, one hand resting comfortably over Margot's. She loved seeing Sera happy. Loved the way her lover's face softened when someone pleased her. And Margot had already managed that several times tonight. When the kiss ended, Nadia leaned closer. “Well?” Margot turned. “Yes?” “Are you planning to leave me out?” Margot laughed. “Not for a second.” “Excellent.” Nadia kissed her. Margot answered warmly. Then, when Nadia drew back, Margot looked between the two artists. “Oh, you're both absolutely terrible.” Sera grinned. “Compliment?” “Enormous compliment.” Nadia smiled. “Then we're off to an excellent start.” They moved from the sofa only when the cushions became thoroughly inadequate for three women attempting to sit comfortably together. “This,” Nadia announced, “is a design failure.” Margot looked around. “The sofa?” “Yes.” “It appears perfectly respectable.” “For two people.” Sera raised an eyebrow. “Darling, I believe you've identified the problem.” Nadia laughed. “Exactly.” Margot glanced toward the bed. Then back. “An alternative has been provided.” Nadia considered. “So it has.” Sera stood and offered Margot her hand. “Come along.” Margot accepted. Nadia rose beside them. And all three crossed the room without letting go of one another. At the edge of the bed, Margot paused. Sera noticed. “Everything all right?” Margot nodded. “Very.” “Sure?” “Yes.” Nadia touched her arm. “Darling, there's no need to hurry.” Margot smiled. “I know.” “And absolutely no obligation to do anything simply because we're here.” “I know that too.” Sera watched her. Margot laughed softly. “I'm not worried about the arrangement. I'm simply having a rather wonderful time, and I'd hate to spoil it by becoming absurdly self-conscious.” Nadia smiled. “Too late.” Margot blinked. “What?” “You're already being absurdly self-conscious.” Sera burst out laughing. Margot stared. Then laughed too. “Oh, you dreadful woman.” Nadia grinned. “Come here.” Margot did. Nadia kissed her cheek. Then her mouth. And Margot stopped worrying about whether she looked ridiculous. They settled together on the bed. Sera on one side. Nadia on the other. Margot between them, initially looking almost suspicious of her own good fortune. Nadia noticed. “Still thinking?” “Unfortunately.” “What about?” Margot glanced between them. “Whether I should have negotiated for a longer evening.” Sera began laughing. “Oh, darling.” Nadia grinned. “That would have been an entirely different conversation.” “I imagine.” “And Madame would have enjoyed it immensely.” Margot smiled. “I rather think she enjoys negotiations in general.” “Only when people aren't idiots,” Sera said. Nadia laughed. “Which considerably limits her opportunities.” Margot closed her eyes. “Oh, God.” Sera touched her cheek. “Margot?” “Yes?” “Can we make one agreement?” “Of course.” “No more thinking about what you should have negotiated.” Margot looked at her. Sera smiled. “We're here. We like you. We have time.” Nadia moved closer. “And we intend to enjoy it.” Margot's expression softened. “Agreed.” They discovered that Margot had a remarkably mischievous sense of humor once she stopped behaving like a guest at a formal reception. She also had the delightful habit of answering teasing remarks with such perfect seriousness that Nadia occasionally needed a moment to realize she'd been outmaneuvered. Sera enjoyed watching that happen. Especially when Nadia attempted to recover. “You're enjoying this far too much,” Nadia accused. Margot smiled. “I am.” “Shameless.” “An accusation coming from you?” Sera burst out laughing. Nadia stared. Then grinned. “Oh, I really do like you.” Margot reached for her hand. “I'm very glad.” And the next kiss belonged entirely to Nadia's own initiative. Their affection developed its own easy rhythm. A kiss shared with Sera. A whispered joke from Nadia. Margot drawing both women closer, then laughing when they simultaneously attempted to rearrange the pillows. Sera's fingers found Nadia's. A familiar gesture. Unconscious. Margot noticed. She'd seen the same quiet understanding during their art conversation. Now, close enough to witness it without an audience between them, she understood something she hadn't quite recognized before. These women didn't merely collaborate. They knew one another intimately. They could read a glance. Anticipate a reaction. Recognize when the other was joking, or becoming serious, or simply wanted to be held. And neither seemed remotely concerned that the presence of a third woman might diminish that familiarity. If anything, they seemed delighted to share it. Margot looked toward Sera. Then Nadia. “May I tell you something?” Nadia smiled. “Of course.” “I think I understand your installation a little better now.” Sera groaned. “Oh, not the fucking installation.” Margot burst out laughing. “No, listen!” Nadia was already laughing. Margot continued. “You both create something that neither would have made alone.” Sera's expression changed. Margot glanced between them. “And yet neither of you disappears into it.” For a moment, nobody spoke. Then Nadia smiled. “That,” she said quietly, “is rather beautiful.” Sera reached for Margot's hand. “Yes.” Margot looked almost embarrassed. “Sorry. I didn't mean to turn this into another art discussion.” Sera smiled. “Darling, I think we'll forgive you this one.” Nadia leaned forward and kissed her. “Definitely.” The next stretch of the evening was quieter. Not silent. These three women were never going to remain silent for especially long. But quieter. Their closeness grew more familiar as they learned one another's preferences for affection, when to make a joke, and when a simple look was enough. Margot discovered that Sera could go from outrageous teasing to genuine tenderness without the slightest warning. Nadia discovered that Margot's composure concealed a surprisingly playful woman. And Sera discovered that watching Nadia charm another woman was every bit as delightful as she'd expected. There were moments when all three laughed. Moments when two exchanged a kiss while the third watched with a fond smile. And moments when they simply rested together, letting their shared warmth say what conversation didn't need to explain. At one point Margot brushed a pale strand of hair away from Sera's face. It shifted. Margot blinked. Sera saw her expression. Then started laughing. “Oh, no.” Margot looked at the hair. Then at Sera. “Did that just—” “Yes.” Nadia immediately began laughing. Margot stared. “Your hair moved.” Sera covered her face. “It does that.” “On its own?” “Sometimes.” Margot looked delighted. “Oh, that's wonderful.” Nadia kissed Sera's cheek. “She's pleased.” Sera groaned. “Please don't encourage it.” Margot smiled. “Darling, I wouldn't dream of doing anything else.” Eventually the room settled into a comfortable quiet. Sera lay curled against Margot. Nadia rested nearby, their hands linked. Nobody was concerned about the next conversation. Or the next joke. Or the fact that the woman who had made an extraordinary offer at the bar now seemed most interested in enjoying the simple pleasure of being close to two people who liked her. Margot looked down at Sera. “Happy?” Sera opened her eyes. “Very.” Then looked toward Nadia. “And you?” Nadia smiled. “Immensely.” Margot breathed out. “Good.” Sera raised her head. “Oh, no.” Margot blinked. “What?” “That word.” Nadia started laughing. Margot looked between them. “What have I done?” “Nothing,” Nadia managed. “Then why are you laughing?” Sera shook her head. “It's a long story.” Margot narrowed her eyes. “Does it involve Madame?” “Among other people.” “Am I going to hear it?” Nadia grinned. “Probably.” Margot sighed theatrically. “Oh, wonderful.” Sera kissed her. And that, for the moment, was the end of the discussion. --- Later, with their agreed time drawing closer to its end, Nadia was the first to notice the clock. “Oh.” Margot looked toward her. “What?” “We're almost out of time.” Margot glanced at the display. Then sighed. “So we are.” Sera lifted her head. “Already?” “Apparently.” She looked toward Margot. “Enjoy yourself?” Margot considered. Then smiled. “Extraordinarily.” Nadia's expression softened. “I'm glad.” Margot looked from one artist to the other. “I know this is going to sound ridiculous.” Sera raised an eyebrow. “After tonight?” Margot laughed. “Fair point.” “Go on.” “I'd like to see you both again.” Nadia smiled. “That doesn't sound ridiculous.” “Together?” Sera glanced at Nadia. Nadia looked back. A familiar exchange. Then Sera smiled. “I think that would be lovely.” Margot's expression brightened. “Really?” Nadia laughed. “Really.” Margot shook her head in pleased disbelief. “Well.” Sera raised an eyebrow. “There it is again.” “What?” “Your well.” Margot laughed. Nadia leaned closer. “Darling, I suspect you're going to have to become accustomed to us.” Margot smiled. “I'd rather like that.” --- They didn't rush the final minutes. There was no sudden attempt to squeeze something else into the booking simply because the clock had become visible. Instead, they remained close. They talked a little. Shared a last affectionate kiss. Then another, because Nadia insisted the first had been insufficiently enthusiastic. Margot laughed. Sera informed Nadia that she was becoming impossible. Nadia pointed out that Sera had known this for quite some time. Nobody disputed it. Eventually they rose. Clothes were straightened. Shoes recovered. Hair attended to, with varying degrees of success. Margot looked at the two artists. For a moment, the polished woman who had arrived at Lizzie's earlier in the evening seemed almost shy. “Thank you.” Sera stepped closer. “Margot.” “Yes?” “You're very welcome.” Nadia hugged her. “And thank you.” Margot returned the embrace. “Shall we?” Sera smiled. “Let's.” --- The main floor was still alive with music. Saturday had apparently decided that the night could continue indefinitely. It was a terrible decision. And one that Lizzie's customers enthusiastically supported. Panam looked up as the three women returned. She saw Sera first. Then Nadia. Then Margot. All smiling. All comfortable. All looking like people who had enjoyed one another's company rather more than they'd anticipated. Panam smiled. “Well.” Mandi, standing nearby, immediately turned. “Oh, FUCK.” Panam pointed at her. “Not yet.” “I DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING!” “You were going to.” Mandi considered. Then grinned. “Fair.” Margot approached Madame. “Panam.” “Margot.” “Thank you for arranging the evening.” Panam smiled. “Everyone happy?” Margot looked toward Sera and Nadia. Both smiled back. “Very.” Panam nodded. “Good.” Margot laughed softly. “I believe that was one of the most enjoyable evenings I've had in a very long time.” Panam's expression warmed. “Glad to hear it.” She glanced at the artists. “Pets?” Sera smiled. “Wonderful, Owner.” Nadia nodded. “Absolutely.” “Everything comfortable?” “Perfectly,” Sera said. Nadia grinned. “And extraordinarily entertaining.” Margot laughed. “Oh, I think we all contributed to that.” Panam smiled. “Then that's what I like to hear.” Margot turned toward the two artists. “Until next time?” Sera smiled. “I'd like that.” Nadia nodded. “So would I.” They exchanged affectionate goodbyes. Margot kissed each woman on the cheek. Then stepped back. She looked at Panam. “Madame?” “Yes?” “Your pets are extraordinary.” Panam smiled. “I know.” Margot laughed. Then, with a final warm look toward the two women, made her way back toward the main club. No publicity. No announcement. No extraordinary performance for the crowd. Just a woman leaving after a very enjoyable evening. Sera approached Panam first. Presented her leash. Panam accepted it. Click. “Welcome back, sweetheart.” Sera leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, Owner.” Nadia came next. Her smile was particularly bright. Panam laughed. “Oh, look at you.” Nadia raised an eyebrow. “What?” “Happy?” “Very.” “Good.” Nadia began laughing. “Owner, you really must stop using that word.” Panam stared. Then laughed too. “Jesus Christ.” Nadia presented her leash. Click. Panam kissed her forehead. “Welcome back, pet.” Nadia leaned against her for a moment. “Love you.” “Love you too.” Sera moved closer. Panam put an arm around both women. For a while, all three simply enjoyed the reunion. Then— “SO!” Mandi. Naturally. Panam closed her eyes. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Mandi appeared beside them. Vega followed. Nova too. Dalia wandered over with Deja. A suspiciously well-timed gathering. Sera looked at them. Then started laughing. “No.” Mandi grinned. “YES.” Nadia folded her arms. “You haven't asked anything yet.” “EXACTLY.” Vega leaned closer. “Wonderful evening, darlings?” Sera smiled. “Yes.” Nadia nodded. “Enormously.” Nova's expression softened. “That's lovely.” Dalia studied them. Then smiled around her lollipop. “Well, sweetheart, I believe that answers the question.” Mandi looked offended. “WHAT QUESTION?” “Whether they enjoyed themselves.” “I HAD MORE QUESTIONS!” Deja nodded. “Several, apparently.” Mandi pointed at her. “DON'T.” Panam was laughing now. Hard enough that she had to put down her whiskey. Mandi eventually managed to recover. Mostly. She looked toward Sera. Then Nadia. Then Panam. Her expression became thoughtful. “Owner.” Panam sighed. “Yes, pet?” “Can I ask one serious question?” The entire group went quiet. Vega raised an eyebrow. Nova looked interested. Dalia slowly removed her lollipop. Panam studied her. “One.” Mandi nodded. “Two hundred and sixty million.” “Yes.” “For two hours.” “Yes.” “Plus ten million for the conversation.” “Correct.” Mandi considered. Then looked at Sera and Nadia. Both were smiling. She hesitated. For a moment, the joke she'd been preparing disappeared. Instead she asked: “Was it worth it?” Sera looked at Nadia. Nadia looked back. Then both turned toward Mandi. Sera smiled. “For us?” Mandi nodded. Nadia's expression warmed. “Absolutely.” Sera slipped her hand into Nadia's. “We met a wonderful woman.” Nadia nodded. “And had a wonderful evening.” Mandi looked at them. Then slowly smiled. A genuine smile. No performance. No exaggerated outrage. Just pleasure at seeing two people she loved so happy. “Good.” Panam's expression softened. Then Dalia leaned closer. “Darling?” Mandi glanced at her. “What?” “You're using that word now.” Silence. Mandi stared. Vega burst out laughing. Nova followed. Deja looked delighted. Sera covered her mouth. Nadia leaned against Panam, helpless with laughter. Mandi looked around. Then threw both hands into the air. “OH, FUCK ALL OF YOU!” And this time, even Panam couldn't stop laughing. --- Later, as the crowd continued moving around them, Panam stood with Sera and Nadia close beside her. The two artists were tired. Pleasantly so. Their laughter had softened. The extraordinary evening was settling into memory. Panam looked toward the club's entrance. Then toward the friends gathered around the bar. She could hardly remember when she'd last seen so many people so completely unconcerned about tomorrow. Perhaps that was the real luxury. Not the sums people offered. Not the remarkable arrangements. Not even the freedom to accept or decline them. But being surrounded by people who knew they were loved, and who could enjoy their lives without asking whether they had earned the right. Panam kissed Sera's temple. Then Nadia's. Both women leaned against her. For a moment, she closed her eyes. And smiled. Saturday wasn't quite over. But it had already become one hell of a night. --- ## Chapter 21 — Last Call for Common Sense “Three hundred and thirty-eight million.” Panam stopped. Closed her eyes. And sighed. “Mandi.” The orange-haired menace was staring at her agent. “THREE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-EIGHT FUCKING MILLION.” Vega looked over. “Oh, she's still doing it.” Nova smiled. “Apparently.” Dalia took the menthol lollipop from her mouth. “Darling, have you considered taking up accounting professionally?” Mandi looked offended. “I CAN FUCKING COUNT!” Deja tilted her head. “Eventually.” Vega dissolved into laughter. Mandi turned toward her. “YOU TOO?” Deja smiled serenely. “I was merely acknowledging your persistence.” Panam looked at Suzy. Suzy looked at Panam. Neither woman spoke. Then Suzy reached beneath the bar, produced a fresh glass and began pouring whiskey. Panam watched. “For me?” “For both of us.” “Good.” Suzy handed her the glass. “Because if she calculates the hourly average one more time, I'm charging her rent for the barstool.” Mandi immediately looked up. “IT'S ACTUALLY—” “MANDI!” Seven voices. Almost simultaneously. Silence. Mandi stared around the group. Then slowly lowered her agent. “Hostile fucking workplace.” Panam took a drink. “Finally. Peace.” The silence lasted eleven seconds. Nadia looked at Sera. Sera looked back. Both began laughing. Panam turned. “What?” “Nothing, Owner,” Sera managed. Panam narrowed her eyes. “Don't.” Nadia put a hand over her mouth. That made things considerably worse. Panam looked between them. “Oh, for fuck's sake. What?” Sera leaned against Nadia. “We were just remembering something Margot said.” Panam waited. Nadia attempted to compose herself. Failed. Then finally managed: “She asked whether our collaboration always involved this much arguing.” Panam blinked. “And?” Sera smiled sweetly. “I told her it depended on the project.” Nadia began laughing again. Panam looked suspicious. “What did you tell her?” Nadia grinned. “That sometimes we argue for three days over a lighting transition.” “That's true.” “Yes.” “And?” Sera's smile became positively angelic. “And that sometimes we agree immediately.” Panam stared at her. Then slowly put down her glass. “Oh, you two are enjoying yourselves.” “Immensely, Owner,” Nadia said. Panam shook her head. “Jesus Christ.” Mandi leaned forward. “WAIT. WHAT DID YOU—” “No,” Panam said. “But—” “No.” “I JUST—” “Pet.” Mandi stopped. Panam looked directly at her. “Let the women have their memories.” Mandi considered. Then, surprisingly, smiled. “Okay, Owner.” Vega blinked. Nova raised an eyebrow. Dalia studied her. “Darling?” “What?” “Are you feeling quite well?” Mandi grinned. “Fuck off.” “Ah. There she is.” At the entrance, Lisa was dealing with the final stages of the evening's crowd management. The queue had changed character. Earlier, it had been full of hopeful customers convinced that arriving at Lizzie's was the first step toward obtaining access to one of the two famous artists. Now, many of those people had apparently discovered that money and enthusiasm did not grant them automatic access to other human beings. Some had stayed to enjoy the club. Some had gone home. And a particularly determined few had continued waiting in the belief that some extraordinary opportunity might materialize through sheer stubbornness. Lisa approached the nearest Mox. “How many?” “Still around forty outside.” “Waiting to get in?” “Some of them.” “And the others?” The Mox looked faintly embarrassed. “One wants a photograph of Nadia.” “No.” “Two are asking whether Sera will come out.” “No.” “And there's a man who wants to know whether the artists' bookings have finished.” Lisa stared. “What?” “He says he doesn't want an appointment. Just wants to know whether they're finished.” Lisa closed her eyes. “Tell him their private lives are none of his fucking business.” “Already did.” “Good.” “He asked whether I was authorized to say that.” Lisa opened her eyes. “Oh, really?” “Yes.” Lisa smiled. “Did you tell him?” “I said I was authorized to throw him out if he kept bothering the staff.” Lisa considered. Then nodded. “Excellent.” --- Inside, Suzy was studying the operational damage. Not physical damage. Remarkably, the club itself had survived. Nobody had destroyed the furniture. Nobody had started a riot. And nobody had tried to physically abduct one of the artists, which counted as a considerable success given the collection of spectacular idiots who had visited during the evening. But the bar had been working at an exceptional pace. Additional security. More customers. More complaints. More questions. More people who seemed to believe I know somebody important was a compelling argument for disregarding Mox rules. Suzy rubbed her forehead. Panam noticed. “Rough night?” Suzy looked at her. “Madame.” “Yes?” “Next time you decide to bring two famous artists into my club, give me a fucking warning.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “I did.” “You said they were coming to work.” “They did.” “You didn't say half of Night City would decide to attend.” Panam considered. “Fair.” Suzy took a drink. “Then again…” Panam waited. Suzy looked across the room. People laughing. Workers relaxing between bookings. Customers enjoying themselves. The additional Mox moving through the club with the easy confidence of people who knew their work had mattered. She smiled. “Wasn't a bad night.” Panam laughed. “No shit.” Suzy raised her glass. “To surviving Saturday.” Panam touched hers against it. “Barely.” --- Nadia had found a comfortable place beside Sera. Their shoulders touched. Nadia was pleasantly tired. The sort of tired that came after too many conversations, too much laughter, and rather more excitement than she'd anticipated when she'd first woken that morning. Sera brushed a strand of hair away from Nadia's cheek. “Happy?” Nadia smiled. “Very.” “Good.” Nadia raised an eyebrow. Sera groaned. “Oh, no.” “You said it.” “I know.” “You've been infected.” Sera laughed. “Apparently.” Nadia settled against her. For a while they watched the others. Mandi had started another argument with Vega. Nova was contributing occasional remarks that made the argument worse while maintaining a perfectly innocent expression. Deja was listening. Dalia was enjoying herself far too much. And Panam was speaking with Suzy near the bar. Nadia's smile softened. “What?” Sera asked. “Nothing.” “That's never nothing.” Nadia laughed quietly. “I like this.” Sera followed her gaze. “The chaos?” “All of it.” Sera smiled. “So do I.” Nadia watched Mandi throw both hands into the air. Something about arithmetic. Probably. “She does realize none of us needs the money?” Sera laughed. “Oh, absolutely.” “Then why is she so fascinated?” Sera considered. “Because Mandi is perfectly capable of understanding financial independence and still being delighted when somebody does something spectacularly ridiculous.” Nadia smiled. “An admirable philosophy.” “Very.” They fell quiet again. Then Nadia rested her head against Sera's shoulder. “I'm glad I came to Night City.” Sera's expression softened immediately. She kissed Nadia's hair. “So am I, darling.” --- Mandi's argument had reached a critical stage. Vega was winning. This was not unusual. The subject, however, was. “I'm telling you,” Mandi insisted, “it's not the amount!” Vega raised an eyebrow. “Really?” “Yes!” “Then why have you been calculating it for an hour?” Mandi stopped. Nova smiled. A dangerous smile. “Oh, I think I understand.” Mandi turned. “What?” Nova leaned forward. “It's because you enjoy being surprised.” Mandi blinked. “What?” “Someone does something outrageous, and suddenly your entire evening becomes more interesting.” Mandi considered. Vega grinned. “And you love making a production out of it.” “I DO NOT!” Dalia burst out laughing. Deja looked at her owner. Then at Mandi. Then quietly said: “An interesting position.” Mandi pointed. “DON'T.” Nova smiled. “Darling, you practically announced Margot's booking to the entire bar.” “THAT WAS DIFFERENT!” “How?” “BECAUSE—” Mandi stopped. Looked at them. Then slowly smiled. “Oh, fuck you.” Vega laughed. “There we go.” Mandi lifted her glass. “Fine. I like outrageous things.” Dalia raised hers. “Darling, we've known that for years.” Panam approached in time to hear the end. “What's outrageous?” Mandi immediately brightened. “OWNER!” Panam stopped. “Oh, God.” “Can I ask a question?” “No.” Mandi blinked. Panam smiled. “I'm getting better at this.” Vega began laughing. Mandi stared. Then put a hand over her heart. “Cruel.” Panam kissed her forehead. “Love you too, pet.” Mandi softened. Only a little. Then grinned again. “Seriously, though.” Panam sighed. “What?” “Are Sera and Nadia actually going to spend tomorrow doing this again?” Panam glanced toward the two artists. They looked over. Sera smiled. Nadia raised an eyebrow. “Why wouldn't we?” Nadia asked. Mandi considered. “Because this has been completely fucking insane?” Sera laughed. “True.” “And you're exhausted!” “A little,” Nadia admitted. “And everybody keeps throwing ridiculous amounts of money at you!” Sera smiled. “Also true.” “And you're both apparently having the time of your lives!” Nadia looked at her. Then smiled warmly. “Yes, Mandi.” Mandi stared. Nadia continued. “That's rather the point.” For a moment, Mandi said nothing. Then she began smiling too. “Fuck.” Panam looked at her. “What?” Mandi laughed. “Nothing, Owner.” --- Suzy approached carrying a small stack of information from the evening's operational reports. Lisa joined her. Panam looked at them. “Something wrong?” “No,” Lisa said. Suzy shook her head. “Actually, everything's holding together.” Panam smiled. “Good.” Suzy glanced toward the group. “Just wanted to check what you're planning for tomorrow.” Panam considered. “Working.” Suzy closed her eyes. “Of course.” Mandi started laughing. Panam shrugged. “We're having fun.” “I can see that.” “And the girls want to continue.” Suzy looked toward Sera and Nadia. “Both?” Nadia smiled. “Absolutely.” Sera nodded. “Yes.” Suzy sighed. “Fine.” Lisa looked at her. “Boss?” “What?” “The extra security?” Suzy considered. Then looked at Panam. Then at the artists. Then at the door. Then back at Lisa. “Keep enough people on standby. We can adjust the floor team if things calm down.” Lisa nodded. “Already thinking the same.” “And no exceptions to capacity.” “Obviously.” “No special access for people with expensive suits.” Lisa smiled. “Especially those.” Suzy looked toward Panam. “And Madame?” “Yes?” “If anybody asks whether they can reserve the entire fucking club to meet your artists, tell them no.” Panam laughed. “Gladly.” Mandi raised one hand. Suzy pointed at her. “Don't.” Mandi lowered it. “Fucking mind readers.” --- The evening began winding down in stages. Not dramatically. Lizzie's didn't suddenly become quiet. That would have required the collective cooperation of several hundred people, and Night City had never displayed much talent for collective cooperation. But the flow changed. Fewer new customers. More finished drinks. Workers completing their final appointments. Friends gathering their belongings. The particular looseness of a night that had already spent its best energy and was now preparing to become a story people would tell tomorrow. Panam noticed the shift. So did Dalia. They exchanged a glance. Dalia smiled. “Darling.” “Yes?” “I believe it's nearly time to collect our respective disasters.” Panam looked toward Mandi. She was trying to persuade Nova that the club should commission a commemorative painting of Margot's booking confirmation. Nova was laughing too hard to answer. Panam sighed. “Yeah.” Dalia glanced toward Deja. Her pet was standing quietly beside her, looking perfectly composed. Dalia raised an eyebrow. “Although some of us are better behaved.” Deja smiled. “Thank you, Owner.” Panam looked at Mandi again. Then back at Deja. “Can I borrow yours?” Dalia burst out laughing. “Absolutely not.” Panam turned toward her pets. “All right, girls.” Mandi looked up. “Owner?” “Time to start wrapping up.” Vega stretched. “Oh, thank fuck.” Nova smiled. “Tired?” “Pleasantly.” Mandi grinned. “Busy night?” Vega looked at her. “Do not.” “Didn't say anything!” “You were about to.” Mandi laughed. Panam checked on each woman in turn. Not a formal interrogation. Just the familiar little questions that came naturally after a long evening. Anyone need water? Anything uncomfortable? Anybody want food before leaving? Sera admitted she was hungry. Nadia immediately agreed. Panam looked at both of them. “Of course you are.” Sera smiled. “We've been rather busy.” Mandi opened her mouth. Panam pointed without looking. “Not. One. Word.” Mandi closed it. Dalia began laughing. Food appeared. Not a formal meal. Something easy. Enough for everyone who wanted it. The women gathered along the bar and ate while the final stretch of Saturday unfolded around them. Nadia leaned against Panam. Sera sat close on the other side. For a little while, the three remained contentedly quiet. Then Nadia asked: “Owner?” “Yes, pet?” “Have you eaten?” Panam stopped. Looked at her plate. Then at Nadia. “Some.” Sera raised an eyebrow. “How much?” “Enough.” Nadia glanced at Sera. Sera glanced back. Panam noticed. “Oh, don't you fucking start.” Nadia smiled sweetly. “Owner, we're simply concerned.” “Of course you are.” Sera nudged the plate closer. “Eat.” Panam stared. Sera smiled. “Please?” Panam looked from one woman to the other. Then laughed. “Oh, you two are fucking impossible.” Nadia kissed her cheek. “Love you too.” Panam picked up her food. “Fine.” Sera smiled. “Good girl.” Panam slowly turned. Nadia froze. Sera froze. Then Panam burst out laughing. “Oh, you are both going to pay for that.” Nadia started laughing so hard she nearly dropped her drink. At the far end of the bar, Mandi observed the exchange. Then leaned toward Dalia. “Did Sera just tell Madame to eat?” Dalia smiled. “Yes, darling.” “And Madame listened?” “Apparently.” Mandi considered. Then looked toward Deja. “Pet.” Deja turned. “Yes?” “Take notes.” Deja raised an eyebrow. “On what?” “How to survive telling Panam what to do.” Deja considered. Then smiled. “I'm not certain that lesson would apply to you.” Mandi stared. Vega burst out laughing. Nova lowered her head onto her arms. Dalia made a noise that sounded remarkably like a dying engine. Mandi pointed at Deja. “YOU LITTLE SHIT.” Deja smiled sweetly. “Thank you.” --- Eventually Lisa came to the bar. The last of the queue had dispersed. The extra Mox were rotating out of their positions. Nothing significant had gone wrong. Suzy looked almost disappointed. “That's it?” Lisa nodded. “That's it.” “No final idiot?” “Nothing worth reporting.” Suzy took a drink. “Miracles happen.” Lisa glanced toward Panam's group. The laughter was audible even over the music. She smiled. “Your friends are still here.” Suzy followed her gaze. “Unfortunately.” “Seem happy.” “They always do.” Lisa considered. “Good for them.” Suzy smiled. “Yeah.” Then she looked at Lisa. “Good work tonight.” Lisa shrugged. “That's the job.” “I know.” Their eyes met. Suzy raised her glass. Lisa smiled. And, for a moment, neither had anything further to say. --- When the friends finally prepared to leave, the process was considerably less organized than anybody had intended. Mandi couldn't find her jacket. Vega claimed she had seen it. Nova claimed Vega had hidden it. Vega denied everything. Dalia announced that Mandi would probably remember where she'd left it if she stopped talking for eleven consecutive seconds. Mandi informed Dalia that this was medically impossible. Deja found the jacket hanging exactly where Mandi had put it earlier. Mandi stared. Then looked at the others. “Sabotage.” Panam sighed. “Pet.” “Yes, Owner?” “Put the fucking jacket on.” “Yes, Owner.” Outside, Night City was still awake. Of course it was. Streetlights. Traffic. Distant music. The familiar urban noise that never entirely disappeared. But the crowd around Lizzie's had finally thinned. A few curious onlookers remained farther along the street. Nobody approached. Lisa's arrangements held. The group paused near the entrance. Panam looked toward Dalia. “Heading back to Watson?” Dalia nodded. “Yes.” “With the usual suspects?” Mandi raised one hand. “I OBJECT!” Nobody acknowledged her. Panam smiled. “Get them home safely.” Dalia grinned. “Darling, I've been attempting that for years.” Deja looked at her owner. “Without complete success.” Dalia laughed. “Quite.” Vega stretched. “I vote we go home before anybody starts calculating money again.” Mandi opened her mouth. Nova placed a hand lightly over it. “Don't.” Mandi stared. Nova smiled. “Please.” Mandi considered. Then nodded. Nova removed her hand. “Thank you, darling.” --- Panam turned toward her five pets. One by one, the working night gave way to departure. There was no need to make a performance of it. Just familiar hands and familiar movements. Mandi stepped forward first. Panam unclipped her leash. Click. Placed it in her hand. “Home safely, pet.” Mandi kissed her cheek. “Love you, Owner.” “Love you too.” Nova followed. Click. A warm kiss. Vega. Click. A whispered joke that made Panam laugh. Sera remained beside Nadia. Neither was leaving with the Watson group. Panam looked at them. Then smiled. “Ready?” Nadia nodded. “Very.” Sera leaned closer. “Definitely.” Panam unclipped their leashes for the journey. Click. Click. Both women accepted them. She kissed each on the forehead. Then drew them close. “Let's get you two home.” Nadia smiled. “Our place?” “Your studio apartment,” Panam said. “Unless either of you has a better idea.” Sera considered. “Food.” Panam laughed. “We just ate.” “More food.” Nadia nodded solemnly. “An excellent proposal.” Panam looked toward the sky. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Suzy appeared in the doorway. “Leaving?” Panam looked back. “Finally.” Suzy smiled. “Good.” “Love you too.” “Get some fucking sleep.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “That's an order?” “A recommendation.” “From whom?” “The woman who's going to have to survive you doing all this again tomorrow.” Panam burst out laughing. “Fair.” Suzy glanced toward Sera and Nadia. “Girls.” Both turned. “Yes?” “Had a good night?” Sera smiled. “Wonderful.” Nadia nodded. “Absolutely.” Suzy's expression softened. “Then I'm glad.” Mandi leaned out from behind Vega. “SUZY!” Suzy closed her eyes. “Oh, no.” “THANKS FOR THE FUCKING ENTERTAINMENT!” Suzy stared. Then smiled. “YOU PROVIDED MOST OF IT!” Mandi began laughing. Vega caught her by the arm. “Come on, menace.” “WHAT?” “Home.” “Oh.” Mandi considered. Then smiled. “Okay.” The five women heading toward Watson departed together. Mandi. Dalia. Deja. Nova. Vega. Still laughing. Still arguing. Still occasionally turning back to wave at their friends. Panam watched until they disappeared into their waiting transport. Then glanced toward Sera and Nadia. Both looked content. Tired. And entirely happy. “Ready?” Nadia slipped her arm through Panam's. Sera took the other. “Ready, Owner.” Panam smiled. “Good.” They began walking toward their own transport. Behind them, Lizzie's remained alive with the last stubborn fragments of Saturday. Ahead lay a comfortable apartment above a studio filled with art, unfinished ideas and enough technical equipment to make Nadia very happy. Panam looked at the women beside her. Her family. Not the family she'd expected. Not one she'd planned. But hers. She squeezed their arms. Sera looked up. “What?” Panam smiled. “Nothing.” Nadia laughed softly. “Owner.” “What?” “That's never nothing.” Panam shook her head. “You two are impossible.” Sera kissed her cheek. “Yes.” Nadia kissed the other. “Completely.” Panam laughed. Then pulled them both a little closer. “Love you.” Sera smiled. “Love you too.” Nadia rested her head briefly against Panam's shoulder. “Very much.” --- At the safehouse, Mandi was already halfway through recounting the evening before anyone had finished getting comfortable. “AND THEN SHE SAID TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY MILLION—” Vega groaned. “NOT AGAIN!” Nova began laughing. Deja looked toward Dalia. “Owner?” “Yes, pet?” “Would you like me to prepare coffee?” Dalia considered. Then looked toward Mandi. Still talking. Still gesturing. Still delighted. “Darling, I think we're going to need something considerably stronger.” Mandi turned. “HEY!” Dalia smiled sweetly. “Yes, sweetheart?” Mandi stared at her. Then grinned. “Make mine a double.” Nova laughed. Vega shook her head. And somewhere in Watson, five friends settled in to enjoy the thoroughly ridiculous aftermath of a Saturday none of them would be forgetting anytime soon. --- Back at Nadia's studio apartment, Panam finally sat down. Sera took one side of the sofa. Nadia the other. Both leaned against her. Nobody spoke for a while. Panam closed her eyes. Not exhausted enough to be miserable. Just pleasantly, wonderfully tired. Then Sera whispered: “Owner?” “Hm?” “Do you realize how much happened today?” Panam opened one eye. “Yes.” Nadia smiled. “Quite extraordinary.” Panam closed her eye again. “Don't.” Sera laughed softly. “We weren't going to mention the money.” “Good.” Nadia considered. Then said: “Actually, I was thinking about Tove.” Panam opened her eyes. Sera smiled. “And I was thinking about Adrian.” Panam looked from one woman to the other. Then smiled. “And Margot?” Both women laughed. “Oh, definitely Margot,” Nadia said. Panam shook her head. “What a fucking day.” Sera settled closer. “A wonderful one.” Nadia nodded. “Absolutely.” Panam put an arm around each of them. For once, the evening had nothing left to demand. No customers. No negotiations. No extraordinary offers. No crowds. Just three women, a comfortable sofa, and the satisfaction of having spent a long day doing precisely what they wanted to do. Panam kissed Sera's hair. Then Nadia's. “Sleep?” Nadia smiled. “Eventually.” Panam looked suspicious. “Eventually?” Sera laughed. “Owner, we could have a little more time together first.” Panam studied them. Then smiled. “Yeah.” She drew them closer. “I'd like that.” And Saturday finally began to surrender to the quiet. --- ## Chapter 22 — Sunday Belongs to Us Nadia woke to the smell of coffee. That was encouraging. The second thing she noticed was that somebody had opened the bedroom curtains just enough to let a narrow strip of morning light across the opposite wall. The third was that the bed contained considerably fewer women than when she'd fallen asleep. She opened one eye. Empty space beside her. Opened the other. More empty space. Nadia considered the situation. “Abandoned,” she informed the ceiling. The ceiling offered no defense. She stretched, rolled onto her back, and listened. From somewhere beyond the bedroom came a familiar voice. “Absolutely fucking not.” Panam. Nadia smiled. Then another voice. “Owner, I'm only suggesting—” “No.” “—that it might be interesting—” “Nadia has enough equipment downstairs to build a second Crystal Palace, and you're suggesting we put another projector in the kitchen?” Sera. Definitely Sera. Nadia began laughing before she'd even gotten out of bed. Oh, this was going to be a good morning. --- She found them in the kitchen. Panam was standing in front of the stove, wearing one of Nadia's oversized shirts and the expression of a woman defending civilization against an exceptionally persistent enemy. Sera sat at the counter. Barefoot. Silver-white hair falling over one shoulder. Coffee in one hand. A small design projection hovering above the counter. Nadia recognized the geometry immediately. “Oh, God.” Both women turned. Panam smiled. “Morning, sweetheart.” Sera brightened. “Darling!” Nadia approached the counter. Looked at the projection. Then at Sera. “You're designing something.” Sera smiled innocently. “Possibly.” “In my kitchen.” “It's a perfectly good kitchen.” Panam pointed a spatula at her. “Don't encourage her.” Nadia leaned closer to the projection. A suspended lattice. Several concentric curves. A structural element that looked suspiciously like a mounting assembly. She tilted her head. “Is that a projector?” Sera hesitated. Nadia turned toward Panam. “Oh, she's definitely designing a projector.” “THANK YOU.” Sera sighed. “You two are impossible.” Panam turned back to the stove. “And you are not installing projection equipment above my fucking breakfast.” Nadia grinned. “Technically, Owner, it's my kitchen.” Panam slowly turned. Nadia stopped smiling. Sera's hair rose slightly. A halo. “Oh, fuck,” Sera whispered. Panam regarded Nadia with dangerous calm. “Your kitchen?” Nadia considered. Then smiled sweetly. “Our kitchen?” Panam stared. Another second. Then she burst out laughing. “That's better.” Breakfast was already underway. Eggs. Vegetables. Toast. Something Panam was doing with potatoes that smelled entirely unreasonable. Nadia looked at the preparations. Then at Panam. “How long have you been awake?” “Long enough.” “That isn't an answer.” “It's the answer you're getting.” Sera leaned toward Nadia. “She's been up for over an hour.” Panam closed her eyes. “Traitor.” Sera smiled. “Good morning, Owner.” Nadia stepped behind Panam and wrapped both arms around her waist. Panam's expression softened immediately. “Hey.” Nadia rested her chin against her shoulder. “Hey.” “Sleep well?” “Beautifully.” “Good.” Nadia kissed her cheek. Then glanced toward the pan. “Need help?” “No.” “Want help?” “No.” “Are you going to let either of us contribute to breakfast?” Panam considered. “You can make coffee.” Nadia looked at Sera's cup. Then at the fresh pot. “Already done.” “Then sit down.” Sera raised her cup. “Welcome to my morning.” Nadia laughed. She retrieved a clean cup. Poured coffee. Took a sip. Closed her eyes. Oh. Much better. Then she remembered something. “Owner?” Panam glanced over. “Yeah?” “Do you realize what happened yesterday?” Panam stopped. Slowly lowered the spatula. And turned. “Nadia.” “Yes?” “We are not starting the fucking arithmetic again.” Sera burst out laughing. Nadia blinked. “What?” “No adding numbers. No hourly averages. No discussions about the Night City economy.” Nadia stared. Then understood. “Oh!” She began laughing. Panam pointed toward her. “Exactly.” “Owner, I wasn't going to talk about the money!” Panam looked suspicious. “Really?” “Really.” Sera leaned forward. “What were you going to say?” Nadia smiled. “We went to Lizzie's expecting to meet interesting people.” Panam nodded. “And?” “And we did.” Sera's expression softened. Nadia continued. “Real people. Tove. Adrian. Margot.” Panam considered. Then smiled. “Yeah.” “And every single one was someone I'd happily have met without a professional arrangement involved.” Sera nodded. “Absolutely.” Panam returned to her cooking. “Then I'd say yesterday went pretty fucking well.” Nadia raised her coffee. “To yesterday.” Sera touched her cup against it. “To yesterday.” Panam glanced over her shoulder. “Could somebody toast the person making breakfast?” Nadia laughed. “To our magnificent, terrifying owner.” Sera raised her cup higher. “Who won't let us touch the fucking stove.” Panam smiled. “Much better.” --- They ate at the kitchen table. The one overlooking the studio's upper living space. From here, Nadia could see part of the working area below through the interior glazing. Equipment covered several workbenches. An unfinished installation occupied the central floor. Projection frames waited beside a collection of components whose organization made perfect sense to Nadia and absolutely nobody else. Well. Perhaps Kiro. Occasionally Sera. And, if she'd asked nicely, Tove probably could have identified every piece without much difficulty. Nadia smiled at the thought. Panam noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Nadia laughed. “I was thinking about Tove.” Panam smiled. “The technician?” “The woman who saved my exhibition, yes.” “Interesting woman.” “Very.” Sera looked up. “Are you going to see her again?” Nadia considered. “I'd like to.” Panam nodded. “Then see her.” Nadia smiled. “You make everything sound very simple.” “Some things are.” “Not all things.” “Obviously.” Panam reached for her coffee. “But wanting to see somebody you like? That doesn't need a committee.” Sera glanced toward Nadia. “She's right.” Nadia laughed softly. “I know.” Sera had her own memories from Saturday. Adrian. His quiet humor. His genuine interest in her work. The unexpectedly tender things he'd told her. And Margot. Especially Margot. Sera smiled into her coffee. Nadia noticed. “Now it's your turn.” Sera looked up. “What?” “You're smiling.” “So?” “Suspiciously.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?” Sera considered her options. There weren't many. Both women knew her too well. “Margot was wonderful,” she admitted. Nadia's expression warmed. “She really was.” Panam looked between them. “Think she'll be back?” Sera considered. “Possibly.” Nadia smiled. “Hopefully.” Panam nodded. “Then I hope she is.” She picked up another piece of toast. “And next time perhaps Mandi won't spend half the evening calculating the value of six minutes.” That finished them. Sera burst out laughing. Nadia leaned forward against the table. “OH, GOD.” Panam shook her head. “That fucking woman.” The laughter faded gradually. Nadia looked toward the lower studio again. For a moment, she was quiet. Not unhappy. Thoughtful. Sera noticed first. “Darling?” Nadia turned. “Yes?” “What's on your mind?” Nadia considered. “Something that happened yesterday.” Panam set down her cup. “What?” “One of the customers.” Sera raised an eyebrow. “The one who wanted you at a corporate dinner?” Nadia nodded. “Among others.” Panam's expression hardened slightly. “Asshole.” Nadia smiled. “Yes.” “But?” Nadia looked down at her coffee. “He didn't want me.” Panam waited. “He wanted Nadia.” Sera considered. “The name?” “The reputation. The photographs. The artist he could display to his friends.” Panam nodded slowly. “Yeah.” Nadia looked toward the studio. “And for years, that's been part of my professional life. People wanting the name. The work. The prestige of knowing me.” Sera reached for her hand. Nadia accepted it. “But yesterday was different,” Nadia continued. “Because some of those people seemed to believe that being interested in my public identity meant they were entitled to the rest of me.” Panam's jaw tightened. “They aren't.” “I know.” “And they don't get to find out where you live, who you love, or what you do when you're not working.” Nadia smiled. “No.” Panam regarded her. “Did somebody make you uncomfortable?” Nadia shook her head. “Not in any way I couldn't handle.” “That's not what I asked.” Nadia held her gaze. Then softened. “I know.” A pause. “Some of it was unpleasant. Mostly because the assumptions were so ridiculous. But I never felt trapped.” Panam relaxed a little. Nadia continued. “Because you were there.” Sera squeezed her hand. “And because I knew I could refuse.” Panam's expression softened. “Always, sweetheart.” Nadia smiled. “I know.” Sera glanced toward the studio. Then toward Panam. “There's something else.” Panam looked at her. “What?” “People are beginning to treat our collaboration as though it means we're interchangeable.” Nadia sighed. “Yes.” Panam frowned. “Interchangeable?” Sera nodded. “One woman asks for me, hears I'm not interested, and immediately asks whether Nadia might be available instead.” “Like choosing another drink,” Nadia said. Panam made a face. “Yeah. I noticed.” Sera smiled. “And you handled it beautifully.” Panam shrugged. “Wasn't complicated.” Nadia laughed. “Owner, you told a woman that neither of us was a consolation prize.” “Because you're not.” Sera leaned across the table and kissed her cheek. Panam smiled. Then narrowed her eyes. “What?” “Nothing.” “Don't start.” Nadia kissed her other cheek. Panam looked from one woman to the other. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Sera laughed. Nadia smiled. “Love you, Owner.” Panam sighed. Then pulled them both closer. “Love you too.” Breakfast eventually ended. Not because the conversation had run out. Because Nadia had eaten everything on her plate and Sera was attempting to steal the last of Panam's potatoes. Panam intercepted her. “Pet.” Sera froze. “Yes, Owner?” “Those are mine.” Sera considered. “Are they?” Panam stared. Sera smiled. “Would you like to reconsider the ownership arrangement?” Nadia immediately began laughing. Panam looked at her. “Don't encourage this.” Nadia raised both hands. “I'm staying out of it.” “Liar.” “Completely.” Sera slowly withdrew her fork. Panam regarded her. Then pushed the remaining potatoes toward her. Sera brightened. “Thank you!” Panam shook her head. “Unbelievable.” Nadia smiled. “You were going to give them to her anyway.” “Shut up.” The studio's main floor was quiet when Nadia descended the stairs. That was one of her favorite things about Sunday mornings. Not the silence itself. The possibilities inside it. Yesterday's unfinished work remained where she'd left it. Several translucent structural elements stood in a loose arrangement beneath the overhead equipment rails. A projection assembly rested on a padded workbench. The central installation had not yet reached the point where she was prepared to call it anything. It was still an idea made partly physical. Nadia loved that stage. The moment when something had stopped being imaginary but had not yet decided what it wanted to become. She approached the workbench. Considered the arrangement. Then moved one component a few centimeters. Stopped. Looked again. Moved it back. “Fuck.” Sera's voice came from behind her. “Wrong?” Nadia turned. Her lover was standing at the foot of the stairs. Coffee in hand. Silver-white hair spilling over a loose shirt. Nadia smiled. “Not wrong.” “Then?” “Not right enough.” Sera laughed. “Oh, I know that feeling.” They stood side by side studying the unfinished installation. Sera tilted her head. “Interesting.” Nadia glanced at her. “What?” “The relationship between the two outer structures.” Nadia nodded. “That's what's bothering me.” “Too symmetrical?” “Possibly.” Sera considered. “What happens if you change the lighting?” Nadia smiled. “Which lighting?” Sera grinned. “Oh, darling.” Nadia began laughing. “Here we go.” --- They spent the next twenty minutes discussing something that would have bored most of Night City into unconsciousness. Structural balance. Projected depth. Movement. The way light could make two identical objects appear to occupy entirely different positions. Sera suggested a change. Nadia disagreed. Sera explained. Nadia reconsidered. Then suggested something else. Sera rejected it. Both laughed. And then, without warning, they arrived at an idea neither had originally proposed. Nadia stopped. Sera stopped. They looked at the structure. Then at each other. “Oh,” Nadia said. Sera smiled slowly. “Oh, indeed.” Nadia looked toward the control station. “Try it?” Sera grinned. “Absolutely.” --- Panam found them ten minutes later. The central installation was projecting a complex shifting arrangement of light across the working floor. Two structural frames moved slowly. The projection seemed to pass through them. Then around them. Then, from one particular viewing position, to become part of the empty space between them. Panam stopped halfway down the stairs. Watched. And forgot what she'd been about to say. Nadia noticed first. “Owner?” Panam didn't answer immediately. Sera turned. Then smiled. “Well?” Panam descended the remaining stairs. Looked at the installation. Walked a little to one side. Stopped. Walked back. “Okay.” Nadia tilted her head. “Okay?” Panam pointed. “What the fuck is it doing?” Sera smiled. “Which part?” “The part where the light looks like it's inside the frame.” Nadia's expression brightened. “Oh!” Panam looked between them. “What?” Nadia grinned. “That's exactly what we were trying to achieve.” Panam stared at the installation. Then at Nadia. Then at Sera. “You two are fucking terrifying.” Both artists burst out laughing. Panam spent several minutes examining the work. Not pretending to understand the engineering. Not asking questions designed to impress either woman. She simply looked. When something confused her, she asked. When she liked something, she said so. And when Nadia began explaining a technical problem, Panam listened until the explanation exceeded her available patience. Then she raised one hand. “Stop.” Nadia stopped. Panam pointed toward the structure. “Does it work?” “Yes.” “Is it safe?” “Yes.” “Are you happy with it?” Nadia considered. “Mostly.” Panam nodded. “Then keep going.” Sera laughed. Nadia looked at Panam. Then smiled. “That's your artistic critique?” “Absolutely.” “Very concise.” “I'm talented.” Nadia stepped closer and kissed her. Panam smiled against her mouth. “See?” Sera shook her head. “Oh, she's insufferable.” Panam grinned. “Love you too.” A little later, Nadia's agent chimed. She glanced at the display. Then smiled. “Oh.” Sera looked over. “What?” “Lena.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “Everything all right?” “Absolutely. She's confirming when she can come by.” Sera brightened immediately. “Today?” Nadia nodded. “Apparently.” Panam looked suspicious. “Come by for what?” Nadia stared at her. Then smiled. “Oh, Owner.” Panam closed her eyes. “No.” “You haven't heard the idea.” “I know you.” Sera began laughing. Nadia continued. “Lena and I have been discussing something.” “That sentence never ends cheaply.” Nadia grinned. “Fortunately, money isn't the problem.” Panam sighed. “Of course it isn't.” Sera leaned forward. “Tell her.” Nadia looked delighted. Panam glanced between them. “Oh, Jesus. You're both involved.” Nadia brought up a preliminary design. Not an installation. Not exactly clothing either. Panam examined the projection. A dress. Or the beginnings of one. Elegant. Sculptural. Built around movement rather than simply following the body's outline. The fabric appeared to contain several overlapping layers. Panam tilted her head. “Okay.” Nadia smiled. “Interested?” “That's a dress.” “Very observant.” Panam pointed at her. “Don't.” Sera laughed. Nadia continued. “Lena has been showing me how she approaches clothing as a physical system.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “A physical system.” “Yes.” “Not fashion?” “Fashion is part of it. But the interesting questions are structural.” Sera nodded enthusiastically. “How fabric moves, where the load falls, what holds its shape, how quickly it can change configuration.” Panam stared. Then slowly turned toward Nadia. “Oh, no.” Nadia smiled innocently. “What?” “Fast-drop.” Sera burst out laughing. Nadia spread her hands. “Well…” Panam closed her eyes. “OF COURSE.” Nadia grinned. “Owner, you can't possibly be surprised.” “I'm not surprised. That's the fucking problem.” Sera leaned against the workbench, laughing. Nadia continued. “Lena's technique is fascinating.” “I'm sure.” “And I've been thinking about whether some of the principles I use in installations might translate into clothing.” Panam opened one eye. “Such as?” “Controlled movement. Structural transformation. Materials that behave differently depending on how they're arranged.” Panam considered. Then looked at the dress again. It was beautiful. Even in preliminary form. And Nadia was clearly excited. That mattered. She sighed. “Okay.” Nadia smiled. “Okay?” “Show me what you're thinking.” Sera immediately straightened. “Oh, this is going to be fun.” Panam pointed toward her. “And you are not installing a projector in the dress.” Sera froze. Nadia froze. Panam stared. “Oh, for FUCK'S sake.” Both artists collapsed into laughter. When they'd recovered, Nadia explained the actual concept. Not a projector. Not a walking light show. A dress designed with the same attention to controlled movement that she gave her installations. Something elegant when standing still. Different when dancing. Something that could transform quickly without becoming mechanically awkward. And, because Lena was involved, the fast-drop mechanism would be integrated into the design rather than added as an afterthought. Panam listened. Then looked at Nadia. “You want to wear it?” Nadia smiled. “Very much.” “To Lizzie's?” “Possibly.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “Possibly?” Nadia laughed. “I haven't decided.” “And Lena?” “She thinks it might be interesting.” Panam sighed. “That woman is a terrible influence.” Sera grinned. “An excellent influence.” “On you two? Terrible.” Nadia kissed her cheek. “Owner, you love her.” “I do.” “Then don't complain.” Panam considered. “I'm perfectly capable of both.” Nadia confirmed the visit. Lena would arrive later that morning. She had some fabric samples, preliminary construction ideas and a few questions about the effect Nadia wanted. Panam looked at the time. Then toward the studio. Then at the two artists. “Okay.” Sera smiled. “Yes, Owner?” “Before Lena gets here, somebody needs to explain something.” Nadia raised an eyebrow. “What?” “Are we turning this studio into a clothing workshop?” Nadia considered. “Temporarily?” Panam stared. Sera's hair began rising. Nadia grinned. Panam looked at the ceiling. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Her agent chimed before either artist could say anything else. Suzy. Panam answered. “Morning.” “Madame.” “You sound cheerful.” “I haven't started drinking yet.” Panam laughed. “What's up?” “Sunday.” “Excellent observation.” “Fuck you.” “Love you too.” Suzy sighed. “Lisa and I are sorting tonight's security.” Panam's expression became businesslike. “Crowd?” “Too early to tell. We're planning for another busy evening.” “Fair.” “The twelve extra Mox from yesterday were worth having.” “Absolutely.” “We're not necessarily keeping all twelve on the floor tonight, but Lisa wants enough people available if it turns into another circus.” Panam nodded. “Good call.” “And nobody gets special access.” “Obviously.” “No private booking discussions through the staff.” “Agreed.” “And no customer gets to reserve either artist remotely.” Panam smiled. “Wouldn't dream of it.” Suzy was quiet for a moment. Then asked: “Both girls still planning to work?” Panam glanced toward Sera and Nadia. Both were watching her. She smiled. “I'll ask them.” “Fair.” She lowered the connection just enough to address them. “Pets?” “Yes, Owner?” Sera asked. “Suzy wants to know whether you're still interested in tonight.” Nadia smiled. “Absolutely.” Sera nodded. “Very much.” Panam returned her attention to Suzy. “They're in.” Suzy sighed. “Of course they are.” Panam laughed. “Problem?” “No. Just means I'd better have Lisa's people ready.” “Probably.” Suzy considered. “Enjoy your morning, Madame.” Panam looked at the unfinished installation. Then the dress projection. Then the two artists. Both smiling. “Oh, I'm trying.” Suzy laughed. “Good luck.” The connection ended. Nadia studied Panam. “Everything all right?” “Yeah.” “Security?” “Lisa's handling it.” Sera smiled. “Excellent.” Panam looked toward the workbench. “Which means the two of you can spend the day doing whatever absurd artistic thing you've planned, and tonight we'll see what Lizzie's has in store for us.” Nadia considered. “Owner?” “Yes?” “Do we have to accept any bookings?” Panam turned. Looked at her. Then smiled. “Of course not.” “Even if somebody offers something completely ridiculous?” “Especially then, if you don't want it.” Sera nodded. “That's what makes this fun.” Panam looked at her. “Exactly.” Nadia smiled. “Then I'm looking forward to tonight.” Panam put an arm around her. “So am I.” The morning settled into an easy rhythm. Nadia returned to the dress projection, trying to decide which part of the design she actually wanted Lena to solve. Sera offered suggestions. Several were useful. Two were ridiculous. One involved a light-responsive surface that Nadia found genuinely interesting. Panam forbade them from attempting to incorporate it before Lena had even arrived. Neither promised anything. Which worried her considerably. Eventually she retreated to the living area and made another round of coffee. When she returned, Sera and Nadia were standing together in front of the projection. Arguing. Affectionately. Passionately. About something Panam couldn't understand without a technical dictionary and at least three hours of instruction. She watched them. Silver-white hair beside Nadia's familiar silhouette. Two women utterly absorbed in a shared problem. Both happy. Both free to spend their Sunday morning arguing about a dress that didn't even exist yet. Panam smiled. Then quietly placed the coffee on the workbench. Nadia noticed. “Owner?” “Yeah?” “Thank you.” Panam touched her cheek. “For what?” Nadia looked around the studio. At the work. At Sera. At Panam. At the home she'd built here. Then smiled. “For all this.” Panam's expression softened. She glanced toward Sera. Sera was watching them. Smiling. Panam drew both women into her arms. “Come here, you two.” They did. For a moment, nobody spoke. No customers. No audience. No absurd offers. No one trying to decide what either artist was worth. Just three women holding one another in a room full of unfinished ideas. Then Sera lifted her head. “Owner?” “Hm?” “I have one small suggestion.” Panam closed her eyes. “Oh, God.” Nadia began laughing. Sera smiled sweetly. “It's about the dress.” “Of course it fucking is.” “Wouldn't it be interesting if—” “No.” “You haven't heard it!” “I know.” Nadia leaned against Panam, laughing. Sera folded her arms. “Hostile creative environment.” Panam opened her eyes. Looked at both women. Then started laughing too. The door chime sounded. All three looked toward the entrance display. Lena. Standing outside with a large garment case, several smaller bags and the expression of a woman who had already been thinking about fabric construction for most of the morning. Nadia brightened. “Oh!” Sera's hair rose. Panam stared at the bags. Then at the two artists. “Oh, fuck.” Nadia laughed and headed toward the stairs. Sera followed. Panam remained where she was for a moment. Looked at the unfinished installation. Then at the projected dress. Then at the coffee. She shook her head. “Sunday.” A pause. Then she smiled. “What a fucking family.” And went to let Lena in. --- ## Chapter 23 — The Dress That Refused to Behave Lena had brought three garment cases. Two large bags. A narrow equipment case. And coffee. Panam took one look at the collection occupying Nadia's entrance hall. Then looked at Lena. “Moving in?” Lena smiled. “Not unless you've started offering studio space.” “Don't give Nadia ideas.” From behind her, Nadia called: “Too late!” Panam closed her eyes. Lena laughed. “Good morning to you too.” Sera appeared beside Nadia, silver-white hair already beginning to lift with excitement. “Lena!” “Hello, trouble.” “Which one of us?” Lena looked between the two artists. Then smiled. “Yes.” Nadia burst out laughing. Panam stepped aside. “Come in before somebody starts designing a fucking extension to the building.” Lena collected one bag. Panam reached for another. “Need help?” “Please.” She handed Panam the narrow equipment case. Panam examined it. “What's in here?” “The reason this dress might actually work.” Nadia's eyes brightened. “Oh!” Panam looked at her. Then at the case. Then back at Lena. “Should I be worried?” “Only if you're planning to wear it without listening to the instructions.” Panam considered. “Fair.” The main studio had been cleared. Mostly. One of Nadia's unfinished installations still occupied the center of the floor, but several worktables had been moved aside to provide a fitting area. Lena surveyed the space. Then stopped. Looked at the overhead projection equipment. Looked at Sera. Then at Nadia. “No.” Neither artist had spoken. Nadia blinked. “What?” “No projectors in the dress.” Sera looked offended. “I haven't suggested anything!” “Yet.” “That's terribly unfair.” Lena smiled. “Am I wrong?” Sera considered. Then grinned. “Not entirely.” Panam laughed. “Thank you.” Nadia folded her arms. “For the record, my concept doesn't require an active projection system.” Lena turned. “Excellent.” “Although—” “No.” Nadia sighed. “Everyone's become terribly authoritarian.” Panam looked at her. “You threatened to put a projector in the kitchen before breakfast.” “That was Sera!” Sera raised one hand. “Allegedly.” Lena put down her bag. “Oh, we're going to have a wonderful morning.” She opened the first garment case. Inside lay a partially constructed evening gown. Nadia stopped smiling. Not because she disliked it. Because the preliminary design she'd been examining as a projection had suddenly become an actual object. Fabric. Seams. Weight. Structure. Something that could be touched. Lena carefully lifted it free. The outer material was a deep charcoal-blue, almost black until the light caught it. Then another color appeared. A faint metallic blue. Not glitter. Not a reflective coating. Something woven into the fabric itself. Nadia stepped closer. “Oh.” Sera joined her. “Oh, that's beautiful.” Lena smiled. “It's a starting point.” Nadia looked at her. “You've already made this much?” “The base structure, yes. The measurements you sent were enough to prepare the foundation. I wasn't going to bring three bags of loose fabric and spend the entire day explaining what a seam looks like.” Panam laughed. “Thank fuck.” Lena glanced at her. “Somebody appreciates practical planning.” “Desperately.” Nadia reached toward the fabric. Stopped. Looked at Lena. “May I?” Lena smiled. “It's your dress, darling.” Nadia touched the material. Ran her fingers slowly across the surface. Then turned it slightly toward the light. The color shifted. Not dramatically. But unmistakably. She turned it back. The effect disappeared. “Oh, you clever woman.” Lena's smile widened. “Thought you'd like that.” Sera moved around the garment. “It's directional.” “Yes.” “The threads?” “Different reflectivity depending on the angle. The darker fibers absorb most of the light. The lighter ones become visible when the fabric changes orientation.” Nadia looked up. “So movement changes the apparent color.” “Exactly.” Sera grinned. “And the viewer can't quite tell why.” Lena raised an eyebrow. “Sound familiar?” Nadia began laughing. “Oh, that's evil.” “Thank you.” “Compliment,” Nadia assured her. “I assumed.” Panam examined the dress. It was undeniably beautiful. Elegant without looking fragile. Interesting without announcing that somebody had invested a ridiculous amount of money into making it interesting. She liked that. Then she noticed the construction around the shoulders. “Wait.” Lena looked over. “What?” “What's holding it together?” “A number of things.” “That sounds reassuringly vague.” Lena laughed. “Come here.” Panam approached. Lena turned part of the bodice inside out. A series of narrow reinforcing bands became visible. Small concealed fastening points. An arrangement of overlapping seams that looked considerably more complicated than the dress appeared from outside. Panam studied it. “Okay.” Nadia leaned closer. “That doesn't look like an ordinary fastening system.” “It isn't.” Lena smiled. “That's the fast-drop structure.” She placed the dress on a fitting mannequin. Adjusted the shoulders. Smoothed the fabric. Then stepped back. “First rule,” she said, “the dress has to work as a dress.” Nadia nodded. “Of course.” “No, I mean really work. Walking. Sitting. Dancing. Turning around. Someone brushing past you. Reaching for a glass. Getting into a car.” Panam smiled. “Thank you.” Lena continued. “If the thing opens because somebody catches a seam on a chair, it's not elegant. It's defective.” Sera considered. “Even if the result is entertaining?” Lena looked at her. “Especially if the result is entertaining.” Nadia laughed. Panam pointed toward Lena. “I like her.” “I noticed,” Sera said. Lena touched the fastening system. “Second rule. The release must be deliberate. You shouldn't be able to trigger it accidentally.” She demonstrated the concealed mechanism. Two small movements. Made in a particular sequence. Then one controlled release. The dress loosened. The structured outer layers separated from their supporting points and fell neatly into Lena's waiting hands. Nadia stared. Sera's hair lifted. Panam blinked. “Oh.” Lena smiled. “That's the idea.” Nadia looked at the fabric pooled neatly in Lena's hands. Then at the mannequin. Then back. “May I see that again?” Lena laughed. “Of course.” She reset the mechanism. Checked the seams. Repeated the release. The dress fell just as cleanly. Sera leaned closer. “How are you preventing the fabric from catching?” “Load distribution.” Nadia smiled. “Now we're talking.” Lena continued. “The outer layers aren't hanging from one point. The weight is shared across several supports. When the release disengages, the supports let go together.” “And the lower sections?” “Cut to fall away rather than tighten.” Nadia considered. “So no loops around the legs.” “Exactly.” Sera tilted her head. “Could you make the release more visually dramatic?” Lena looked at her. “Why?” Sera smiled. “Because I'm an artist.” “That isn't an answer.” “It's usually enough.” Nadia burst out laughing. Panam leaned against the workbench. “Oh, this is going to be good.” Lena reset the gown once more. Then crossed her arms. “All right, Nadia. Tell me what you actually want.” Nadia looked surprised. “I thought we were discussing that.” “We're discussing how to build it. That's different.” Nadia considered. Lena nodded toward the gown. “What should someone feel when they see you wearing it?” That stopped her. Sera looked interested. Panam remained quiet. Nadia approached the mannequin. Studied the dress. Then turned slightly toward the studio windows. “Movement,” she said eventually. Lena waited. “Not movement as decoration. I want the dress to look different depending on whether I'm standing still or walking.” “Different how?” Nadia thought about it. “I don't want it to reveal everything about its construction at once.” Sera smiled. “Oh.” Nadia continued. “When I'm standing still, I want a clear silhouette. Almost architectural. But when I move, I want the fabric to become something else.” Lena nodded. “Something fluid?” “Not exactly.” Nadia moved her hands, searching for the idea. “Something that makes you reconsider what you just saw.” Sera's smile widened. Panam looked at her. “You understood that?” “Perfectly.” “Of course you did.” Nadia turned toward Lena. “I want someone to look at the dress twice.” Lena considered. Then smiled slowly. “Now that's something I can design.” They began experimenting. Lena had brought several fabric samples. Some were soft. Some structured. Some reflected light beautifully but moved terribly. One looked magnificent until Nadia attempted to turn while holding it against her waist. The material twisted. Caught against itself. And refused to settle. Nadia stared. Lena shook her head. “No.” Sera tilted her head. “Could we make that intentional?” Lena looked at her. “You want the dress to tangle?” “No. I want the movement to stop unexpectedly.” “On purpose?” “Yes.” Lena considered. Then smiled. “That would be an interesting installation.” Sera brightened. “Exactly!” “But a terrible evening gown.” Sera sighed. “Fine.” Panam laughed. “Progress.” The next material was more promising. A narrow panel of directional fabric. Soft enough to move freely. Structured enough to retain a clean line when still. Lena attached it temporarily to the gown. Nadia stepped aside. Sera adjusted the studio lighting. Panam immediately looked at her. “Nothing permanent.” Sera smiled innocently. “Just the room lights, Owner.” “That's what worries me.” Nadia approached the mannequin. Viewed the gown from the front. Then moved around it. The new panel changed appearance as her viewing angle shifted. A narrow dark line became a broad metallic surface. Then disappeared again. Nadia stopped. “Oh.” Lena watched her face. “Better?” Nadia nodded slowly. “Much.” Sera moved beside her. Studied the result. Then smiled. “Wait.” Panam groaned. “No.” Sera ignored her. “Lena, what if the panels don't all follow the same direction?” Lena tilted her head. “Explain.” Sera gestured toward the gown. “One section catches the light when she turns left. Another when she turns right.” Nadia's eyes widened. “Oh!” Lena considered. Then looked at the samples. Then back at the dress. “Hm.” Panam stared at all three. “Oh, fuck.” An hour later, the gown had become considerably more interesting. And the studio considerably less organized. Fabric samples lay across two worktables. One mannequin stood beside a portable fitting mirror. A second had been recruited for testing. Lena's portable equipment occupied a corner. Nadia was studying the gown from different angles while Sera adjusted the lighting and Lena pinned a temporary panel into place. Panam watched from a chair. Coffee in hand. She had initially intended to help. Then Lena had given her a very specific job. “Make sure these two eat something before they forget how.” Panam had considered the assignment. Then accepted. Somebody had to defend civilization. --- “Turn it.” Lena stepped back. Nadia rotated the mannequin. The dress caught the light. A metallic blue appeared along one side. Then disappeared. Sera moved closer. “Again.” Nadia turned it back. A second panel caught the light from a different angle. Sera smiled. “There.” Lena considered. “Almost.” Nadia looked over. “What's wrong?” “The balance.” She pointed. “The left side changes more dramatically than the right.” Sera studied it. “That's true.” Nadia considered. “Is that necessarily a problem?” Lena looked at her. “Do you want symmetry?” “No.” “Then perhaps not.” Nadia grinned. Lena continued. “But I want the asymmetry to look deliberate.” Sera nodded. “Agreed.” Panam lifted her cup. “Question.” All three turned. “Does it still open properly?” Silence. Lena looked at the dress. Then at Panam. Then smiled. “Excellent question.” Nadia blinked. “Oh.” Sera laughed. Panam pointed at the gown. “Because I seem to remember somebody explaining that the whole fucking point was a controlled release.” Lena nodded. “Exactly.” She approached the mannequin. Checked the temporary seams. Then activated the mechanism. The outer garment loosened. One panel dropped cleanly. Another followed. The third— Caught. Hung briefly from a fastening point. Then fell sideways. Lena stared. Nadia stared. Sera stared. Panam took a drink. “Found something.” Lena examined the offending panel. “Too much weight on one side.” Nadia nodded. “The asymmetry.” “Exactly.” Sera considered. “Could the attachment point move?” Lena looked at her. “Possibly.” Nadia approached. “What if we redistribute the weight without changing the visible silhouette?” Lena smiled. “Now you're thinking like a designer.” Nadia grinned. “Dangerous.” “Extremely.” Panam shook her head. “I'm witnessing the birth of a monster.” Sera laughed. “Another one?” Panam looked at her. “Don't encourage her.” Sera smiled. “Too late, Owner.” The correction took another hour. Not because anyone lacked the technical ability. Because every change affected something else. Move one fastening point and the fabric hung differently. Adjust the weight and the movement changed. Change the angle of a panel and the optical effect weakened. Nadia found the process fascinating. Lena found it professionally challenging. Sera found it delightful. Panam found it an excellent reason to order lunch. When the food arrived, Lena was still working. Panam put a container beside her. “Eat.” Lena looked up. “In a minute.” Panam folded her arms. Lena looked at her again. Panam said nothing. Lena sighed. “Fine.” Nadia began laughing. Sera grinned. “Owner's very persuasive.” Panam turned toward her. “And you.” Sera blinked. “What?” “Food.” “I was just—” “Sera.” She took a container. “Yes, Owner.” Nadia quietly reached for her own before Panam could address her. Panam smiled. “Good girl.” Nadia grinned. “Learning from experience.” Lena watched them. Then shook her head affectionately. “Christ, I missed you lunatics.” Lunch brought a welcome interruption. They sat around the cleared end of the worktable. Nadia explained a recent idea for a new installation. Lena described a particularly infuriating commission she'd rejected because the client wanted a gown that changed shape without moving any fabric. Sera immediately asked whether the client had considered optical projection. Lena slowly turned toward her. Sera stopped. “Oh.” Panam started laughing. “You just couldn't help yourself.” Sera grinned. “Professional reflex.” Lena sighed. “Apparently.” Nadia leaned toward her. “Did you actually turn down the commission?” “Yes.” “Because of the concept?” “Because the client wanted something impossible and refused to accept that the physical world had opinions.” Panam raised her glass. “To the physical world.” Lena touched hers against it. “And its fucking opinions.” After lunch, Lena returned to the gown. This time, she asked Nadia to try on the preliminary construction. Not the finished dress. Not even the finished outer shell. Just enough of the foundation to assess fit and movement. Nadia stepped behind the fitting screen. Lena checked the adjustments she'd prepared. Sera remained nearby, watching with professional curiosity. Panam leaned against the workbench. “Need anything?” Nadia called back: “A less complicated body?” Lena laughed. “Your body's fine. It's the dress that's complicated.” “Reassuring.” “That's why we do fittings.” A moment later, Nadia stepped out. The gown wasn't complete. Several sections were temporarily fastened. One panel remained unfinished. But the basic silhouette was there. And it was striking. Panam straightened. “Oh.” Nadia stopped. Looked at her. “Owner?” Panam didn't answer immediately. She walked around her. Slowly. Studying the fit. The way the fabric fell. The subtle changes in color as Nadia moved. Then she smiled. “Fuck.” Nadia laughed. “Positive?” “Very.” Sera grinned. “She's speechless.” Panam looked at her. “Not quite.” Lena smiled. “Walk.” Nadia obeyed. She crossed the studio. Turned. Walked back. The dress moved beautifully. The fabric didn't cling awkwardly. The panels followed her body without appearing to drag. And the directional weave produced the effect Nadia had wanted. Stillness gave it one form. Movement another. Sera watched with growing excitement. “Oh, darling.” Nadia glanced over. “What?” “Turn again.” She did. The blue shimmer passed across the dress like a moving shadow. Sera's hair rose. A little. Then more. Panam noticed. “Sera.” “Yes, Owner?” “Your hair.” Sera touched it. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Lena burst out laughing. Nadia looked delighted. “Is that a positive review?” Sera grinned. “Enthusiastically positive.” Lena stepped closer. “Now sit.” Nadia blinked. “What?” “Sit down.” She looked toward a chair. Then at Lena. “Really?” “Unless you intend to stand for the entire evening.” Panam nodded approvingly. “Excellent point.” Nadia sat. The fabric settled around her. One panel shifted awkwardly across her knee. Lena noticed immediately. “Hm.” Nadia looked down. “Oh.” “Exactly.” Lena crouched beside the chair. Adjusted the material. Marked the position. Then stood. “Again.” Nadia rose. Sat. Stood. Walked. Turned. Reached for an imaginary drink. Panam watched with fascination. Not at the dress itself. At Lena. Every movement revealed another tiny question. Every tiny question produced an adjustment. No grand artistic declaration. No unnecessary drama. Just someone who knew her craft well enough to recognize problems before they became embarrassing. Panam smiled. “Lena?” “Yes?” “You're fucking good at this.” Lena glanced over. Then smiled. “I know.” Nadia laughed. “Oh, I love that answer.” The real test came later. Lena had completed enough of the release system to demonstrate it on the fitted gown. Nadia stood in the center of the fitting area. The others watched. Lena checked the fastenings. Then checked them again. “Comfortable?” Nadia nodded. “Very.” “Nothing pulling?” “No.” “Any place where the fabric feels trapped?” Nadia moved carefully. “Not that I can feel.” Lena nodded. “Good. We're testing the release now.” Panam crossed her arms. “Are you sure it's ready?” “Ready for a controlled test.” “Difference?” Lena smiled. “A very important one.” She explained the concealed release movements to Nadia. Demonstrated them once without activating the mechanism. Then stepped back. “Your turn.” Nadia looked toward Sera. Sera was practically vibrating. Panam grinned. “Don't look at her. She'll encourage anything.” Sera looked offended. “Owner!” Nadia laughed. Then took a breath. Performed the release. And the dress opened. Cleanly. The outer structure loosened in one smooth movement and fell away around her, leaving the separate fitted garment she'd worn beneath the test construction undisturbed. Nothing caught. Nothing twisted. Nothing remained hanging from a fastening point. For half a second, nobody spoke. Then Sera threw both hands into the air. “YES!” Nadia stared down at the fabric. Then looked at Lena. “Oh, you magnificent woman.” Lena smiled. “That's one successful test.” Panam burst out laughing. “Only one?” “Of course.” “How many do you need?” “As many as it takes.” Nadia looked delighted. Panam sighed. “I'm beginning to understand why you and Nadia get along.” They tested it again. Then again. Then with Nadia walking. Then after sitting. Then after several turns. One test revealed a minor problem. Another exposed a seam that needed reinforcing. Lena corrected both. Nadia helped. Sera observed, asked questions and occasionally offered an idea that made Lena stop and reconsider the construction. Eventually the gown worked reliably. And, just as importantly, it looked beautiful while doing so. Lena stepped back. Examined the result. Then smiled. “There.” Nadia turned toward the mirror. The completed silhouette was extraordinary. Dark charcoal-blue. Subtle metallic movement. A shape that looked almost impossibly clean when she stood still. Then she turned. And the fabric changed. Not mechanically. Not electrically. Simply through movement and light. Nadia stared at her reflection. Then smiled. “Oh, Lena.” Lena stepped beside her. “Happy?” Nadia nodded. “Very.” Sera moved to her other side. “It's perfect.” Lena shook her head. “Not quite.” Both artists turned. “What?” “It still needs the final finishing work.” Nadia looked surprised. “How much?” “Not a lot. But enough that I don't want you wearing it to work tonight.” Panam immediately nodded. “Excellent.” Nadia laughed. “Owner!” “What?” “I'm not arguing.” “Good.” Sera grinned. “Yet.” Lena began carefully packing the gown. Nadia watched. A little reluctantly. Lena noticed. “Darling, it'll be worth waiting for.” “I know.” “And I don't want you discovering an unfinished seam halfway through an evening at Lizzie's.” Nadia laughed. “Neither do I.” “Exactly.” She secured the dress inside its garment case. Then paused. Looked at Nadia. “Nadia?” “Yes?” “Can I ask you something?” “Of course.” Lena considered. “Why this dress?” Nadia blinked. “What do you mean?” “Why now?” The studio became quieter. Not uncomfortable. Just thoughtful. Nadia looked toward the garment case. Then toward the windows. Beyond them lay Night City. The city that had become her second home. The city that had suddenly decided to pay extraordinary attention to her personal life. She considered the question. Then smiled faintly. “Because people have spent the entire weekend looking at me.” Lena nodded. “Yes.” “Photographs. Speculation. Questions about who I am, what I do, who I spend my time with.” Panam's expression softened. Sera remained quiet. Nadia continued. “And yesterday I realized something.” “What?” Lena asked. “I don't mind being seen.” She glanced toward Sera. Then Panam. “I've been an artist for years. People looking at my work has always been part of my life.” Lena nodded. “But that's different from being watched,” Nadia said. Panam straightened slightly. Nadia looked at the gown. “I wanted something that reminded me there's still a difference.” Lena studied her. Nadia smiled. “A dress that changes when I move. Not when someone else decides it should.” Silence. Then Sera reached for her hand. Nadia accepted it. “And the fast-drop?” Lena asked gently. Nadia laughed softly. “That's the best part.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” Nadia smiled. “Everyone can admire the dress.” She looked toward the garment case. “But I decide when it comes off.” For a moment, nobody spoke. Then Lena smiled. Slowly. Warmly. “Oh, darling.” Sera's hair lifted. Panam's expression softened into something fierce and affectionate. She stepped closer. Put an arm around Nadia. And kissed her temple. “That's my girl.” Nadia leaned against her. Lena nodded toward the garment case. “Then I'm going to make absolutely certain it works exactly when you want it to.” Nadia smiled. “Thank you.” “No surprises.” “Except the ones I choose.” Lena grinned. “Exactly.” --- The afternoon had moved considerably farther along than anyone expected. The studio was full of evidence. Fabric samples. Temporary fastenings. Testing notes. A discarded panel that Sera was examining with suspicious interest. Panam noticed. “Sera.” Her lover looked up. “Yes, Owner?” “Put it down.” “It's scrap!” “I know.” “Perfectly good scrap.” Panam sighed. Lena laughed. “She can keep that piece.” Sera brightened. “Really?” “Absolutely. I want to see what you do with it.” Panam stared at Lena. “Traitor.” Lena grinned. “Professional curiosity.” Nadia burst out laughing. “Oh, she's one of us.” Panam looked toward the ceiling. “God help me.” They cleaned the working area together. Or attempted to. Nadia sorted the components. Lena repacked her equipment. Sera kept finding interesting scraps. Panam made certain nobody forgot to eat again before the evening. Eventually Lena closed the last case. “There.” Nadia looked at her. “All finished?” “For today.” “When will the dress be ready?” Lena considered. “After I've completed the finishing work and checked the release again. I'll let you know.” Nadia nodded. “No rush.” Lena smiled. “That's what I like to hear.” Sera tilted her head. “Could we perhaps make another one later?” Panam stopped. Very slowly turned. “No.” Sera looked at her. “Owner—” “No.” Nadia smiled. “I was actually thinking—” “ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT.” Lena began laughing. “Oh, this is magnificent.” At the entrance, Lena collected her bags. Nadia hugged her first. “Thank you.” Lena held her. “My pleasure.” Sera came next. “Wonderful work.” “Thank you, trouble.” Panam embraced Lena last. A little longer. When they separated, she smiled. “Seriously. Thank you.” Lena's expression warmed. “For the dress?” “For understanding what she wanted.” Lena glanced toward Nadia. Then nodded. “That's the job.” Panam smiled. “Yeah.” Lena picked up her case. “And Panam?” “Yes?” “Don't worry.” “About what?” “I'll make sure the dress behaves.” Panam laughed. “It's the woman wearing it I'm worried about.” From behind them, Nadia called: “I CAN HEAR YOU!” Lena burst out laughing. Panam grinned. “I know!” After Lena left, the studio felt strangely quiet. Not empty. Just different. The creative whirlwind had moved on, taking most of its equipment with it. Nadia stood looking at the cleared fitting area. Sera approached. “Well?” Nadia smiled. “Well what?” “Happy?” “Very.” Sera slipped an arm around her waist. “I thought so.” Panam came up behind them. Looked at the two artists. Then at the space where the gown had stood. “Okay.” Both turned. Nadia raised an eyebrow. “Okay?” Panam nodded. “I admit it.” Sera smiled. “Admit what, Owner?” “That dress is fucking gorgeous.” Nadia laughed. “Oh!” Panam continued. “And the movement thing…” She gestured vaguely. “The way it changes when you turn.” Nadia smiled. “Yes?” “That's actually pretty fucking amazing.” Sera grinned. “High praise.” Panam looked at her. “Don't ruin it.” Nadia stepped closer. Wrapped her arms around Panam. And kissed her. Panam smiled against her mouth. Sera joined them. For a moment, the three stood together in the quiet studio. Then Panam drew back. “Right.” Nadia tilted her head. “What?” “Time.” Sera glanced toward the clock. “Oh.” Panam nodded. “Exactly.” Nadia smiled. “Lizzie's?” “Eventually. First we eat, get ourselves ready, and remember that we are capable of leaving this studio without taking half its equipment.” Sera looked offended. “I've never—” Panam pointed toward the scrap panel still tucked under her arm. Sera looked down. Then smiled. “Oh.” Nadia began laughing. Panam shook her head. “Unbelievable.” They headed upstairs together. Nadia paused on the landing. Looked back toward the studio. The dress was gone for finishing. The installation remained unfinished. Several new ideas had appeared during the day. And somewhere in her mind, another project was already beginning to form. She smiled. Panam noticed. “Nadia.” “Yes, Owner?” “Don't.” Nadia blinked. “What?” “Whatever you're thinking.” Sera started laughing. Nadia looked between them. Then grinned. “I was just thinking how wonderful it is to have friends who understand my work.” Panam's expression softened. “Oh.” Nadia continued. “And how wonderful it is that I can spend an entire Sunday making something beautiful without worrying whether it will sell.” Sera smiled. Panam put an arm around her. “Yeah.” Nadia leaned against her. “That's rather extraordinary.” Panam kissed her hair. “Then enjoy it, sweetheart.” Nadia smiled. “I intend to.” They continued upstairs. Then Sera said: “Owner?” Panam sighed. “What?” “Do you think Lena would consider helping us design matching—” “No.” “YOU HAVEN'T HEARD THE IDEA!” Nadia burst out laughing. Panam looked toward the ceiling. “Sunday.” A pause. Then she started laughing too. “Jesus fucking Christ, I love you two.” Sera kissed her cheek. “Love you too, Owner.” Nadia kissed the other. “Even when you're terribly unreasonable.” Panam grinned. “Especially then.” And somewhere downstairs, Nadia's unfinished installation continued holding its curious arrangement of light and shadow, waiting patiently for the next time three exceptionally inventive women decided that ordinary reality needed a little improvement. --- ## Chapter 24 — The Trouble With Sitting Down Sunday evening arrived at Lizzie's with one encouraging development. There wasn't a queue stretching halfway down the street. Only a relatively ordinary crowd of people hoping to get inside. Suzy Q considered this an improvement. Lisa remained suspicious. “Don't trust it,” she said. Suzy looked toward the entrance. “It's a queue, Lisa.” “Yesterday started with a queue.” “Yesterday started with two artists deciding to become the most expensive women in Night City.” Lisa considered. “Fair.” Suzy took a drink. “Besides, I think half the people who were here yesterday are still recovering.” “From what?” “Disappointment, mostly.” Lisa laughed. Then her agent chimed. She glanced at the display. Looked up. “Oh.” Suzy noticed. “What?” “Madame's arriving.” Suzy closed her eyes. “Of course she fucking is.” --- Panam arrived with Sera and Nadia. Both artists looked remarkably refreshed. That alone made Suzy suspicious. “You two slept?” Sera smiled. “Beautifully.” Nadia nodded. “Eventually.” Panam looked at her. Nadia looked back. Both began laughing. Suzy stared. “Oh, don't tell me.” Panam grinned. “Wasn't going to.” “Thank Christ.” Lisa smiled. “Evening, ladies.” “Lisa,” Sera said warmly. Nadia embraced her. “Everything under control?” “For the moment.” Panam glanced toward the club. “Security?” “Staffed, briefed, and prepared for stupidity.” “Excellent.” Suzy shook her head. “I swear to God, that should be our official operating procedure.” Panam laughed. “Works for us.” A little later, the five women from Watson arrived. Mandi entered first. Of course. Neon-orange hair. Black contacts. A figure-hugging outfit. And an expression suggesting she'd spent the journey preparing several spectacularly inappropriate remarks. Vega followed. Nova beside her. Then Dalia, pink dreads swaying, mirrored emerald lenses catching the club lights, a menthol lollipop tucked into one corner of her mouth. Deja walked beside her owner, looking impossibly elegant in green. Mandi spotted Panam. “OWNER!” Panam looked up. “Oh, Jesus.” Mandi approached. “Ready for round two?” Panam looked at her. “Are you?” Mandi grinned. “FUCK YES.” Vega sighed. “She's been like this all afternoon.” Nova smiled. “She has.” Dalia removed her lollipop. “Darling, at one point she suggested we start taking bets on tonight's offers.” Panam slowly turned toward Mandi. “Pet.” Mandi blinked. “What?” “No betting on customers.” “I WASN'T GOING TO—” Deja raised an eyebrow. “You proposed a spreadsheet.” Mandi stared at her. “TRAITOR.” Dalia began laughing. Panam shook her head. “Welcome back, girls.” The collars and leashes were settled into their familiar arrangement. Panam had her five pets. Dalia had Deja. Everyone knew the rules. And everyone knew that the right to say no remained entirely their own. Mandi looked around the club. Then leaned toward her owner. “Anything interesting?” Panam glanced at Sera and Nadia. “Ask those two.” Mandi's eyes widened. “ALREADY?” Sera started laughing. “No, darling. We haven't booked anything.” Nadia smiled. “We've barely arrived.” Mandi considered. Then grinned. “Good.” Panam narrowed her eyes. “Why good?” “Because I want to have some fucking fun before you two bankrupt another corporation.” Nadia burst out laughing. Vega leaned against the bar. “Oh, sweetheart.” Mandi turned. “What?” “You've been trying to spend the entire weekend measuring everybody else's fun in eddies.” Mandi opened her mouth. Stopped. Then looked toward Panam. “Owner?” “Yes?” “Can I make a request?” Panam raised an eyebrow. “Depends.” “Tonight, I want somebody interesting.” Panam smiled. “Then find somebody interesting.” Mandi grinned. “Excellent.” And headed toward the bar. He arrived twenty minutes later. Not alone. Not exactly. He came in with two friends, exchanged a few words with them, then separated from the group and ordered whiskey. Mandi noticed him because he wasn't watching the artists. He wasn't watching the crowd. He was watching the bartender prepare a drink for someone else. Not with the impatient expression of a man waiting for service. With appreciation. The bartender finished, placed the glass on the counter, and turned. The man smiled. “Nicely done.” The bartender raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” “The finish. You didn't rush it.” She smiled. “Used to work behind a bar?” “Years ago.” “Where?” “A place you've probably never heard of.” “Try me.” He named it. The bartender stopped. Then laughed. “Holy shit. That place?” He smiled. “That place.” Mandi leaned closer. “Oh, now I'm curious.” The man turned. Looked at her. Then smiled. “Dangerous habit.” Mandi grinned. “Darling, you have absolutely no idea.” His name was Rafael. He was older than Mandi had expected. Not elderly. Simply a man who'd clearly lived long enough to stop being impressed by people who announced their importance. Dark hair with silver beginning at the temples. A comfortable jacket. Well-kept hands. And a face that seemed permanently close to smiling. Mandi liked him immediately. Which was suspicious. She preferred to make men work at least a little harder for that privilege. “So,” she said, “what happened to the bar?” Rafael laughed. “Which one?” “The legendary establishment that apparently made our bartender reconsider her entire professional career.” “Oh, that.” Mandi raised an eyebrow. “Yes. That.” “It closed.” “Tragic.” “Not particularly.” “Really?” “The owner was a prick.” Mandi burst out laughing. “Oh, I like you.” Rafael smiled. “You've known me thirty seconds.” “Twenty-eight.” “Then your standards are refreshingly efficient.” Mandi grinned. “Usually.” They talked. Not for five minutes. Not for the obligatory exchange of names and prices before somebody hurried toward a private room. For long enough that Vega eventually noticed. And that was saying something. Vega leaned toward Nova. “Look.” Nova followed her gaze. Mandi was laughing. Not performing. Actually laughing. Rafael had apparently said something particularly outrageous, and Mandi was trying to respond while holding onto the edge of the bar. Nova smiled. “Oh.” Vega raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.” Dalia glanced over. Studied the man. Then Mandi. Then smiled slowly. “Well, well.” Deja followed her owner's gaze. “Something promising?” Dalia returned the lollipop to her mouth. “Possibly, darling.” Rafael wasn't looking at Mandi as though he'd acquired something merely because she'd chosen to speak with him. That pleased her. He also didn't keep glancing at the famous artists across the room. That pleased her considerably more. Eventually he looked at her collar. Then at the leash attached to it. He smiled. “So.” Mandi raised an eyebrow. “So?” “Am I correct in thinking that if I wanted more than a conversation, I should speak with Madame Panam?” Mandi's grin widened. “Oh, you're paying attention.” “I try.” “Excellent habit.” “Usually.” She tilted her head. “What would you want?” Rafael studied her. Then smiled. “More time with you.” Mandi laughed. “Specific.” “I thought I'd begin with the important part.” “And after that?” He leaned a little closer. “An evening we'd both enjoy.” Mandi considered. “Darling, that's a wonderful ambition. But you're going to have to do better.” Rafael laughed. “Fair.” He took another sip of whiskey. Then answered her properly. By the time Panam joined them, Mandi had a very definite smile on her face. Panam recognized it. Oh, yes. She knew that smile. It usually meant her pet had found something particularly entertaining. “Evening,” Panam said. Rafael turned. “Madame.” “Rafael, I'm told.” “Yes.” “Panam.” “A pleasure.” Panam glanced at Mandi. “Pet?” “Yes, Owner?” “Interested?” Mandi smiled. “Very.” Panam nodded. Then turned toward Rafael. “All right. What are we discussing?” The negotiation was straightforward. Rafael wanted two hours with Mandi. Privately. He described the sort of intimate encounter he was hoping for, including a particular preference that Mandi, judging by her expression, shared enthusiastically. Panam listened. Asked several questions. Mandi answered for herself. There was nothing uncertain about her interest. In fact, Panam had to suppress a laugh at the enthusiasm with which her orange-haired troublemaker clarified what she did and didn't want. Rafael listened to every word. No interruptions. No presumptions. And when Mandi finished, he looked at her. “Understood.” Mandi grinned. “Good.” Panam glanced toward her. “Pet.” “Yes, Owner?” “Anything else?” Mandi considered. Then smiled sweetly. “Only that I'd prefer a gentleman who knows the difference between confidence and carelessness.” Rafael nodded. “A very important distinction.” Panam watched him. Then smiled. “Now. The offer?” Rafael proposed eighty thousand eddies for the two hours. Panam considered it. “Make it ninety.” He smiled. “Agreed.” Mandi raised an eyebrow. “Not even going to argue?” Rafael looked at her. “Would you like me to?” She laughed. “Fuck no.” “Then we're making excellent progress.” The payment was confirmed. Panam looked toward Mandi. “Pet?” “Yes, Owner?” “Do you want this booking?” Mandi held her gaze. Her answer was immediate. “Absolutely.” “Any concerns?” “None.” Panam smiled. “Then come here.” Mandi stepped closer. Panam kissed her forehead. “Have fun.” Mandi grinned. “Oh, I fucking intend to.” Click. Panam unclipped the leash and placed it in Mandi's hand. Rafael offered his arm. Mandi looked at it. Then at him. “Oh, darling.” He raised an eyebrow. “What?” “Are you always this polite?” “Not always.” “Good.” She took his arm. “Because I can be an absolute menace.” Rafael smiled. “I'd gathered.” And they headed toward the private working area. Vega watched them go. Then turned toward Nova. “Well.” Nova smiled. “Well, indeed.” Dalia leaned against the bar. “That,” she said, “looked promising.” Panam laughed. “You have no idea.” Dalia raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” Panam took a sip of whiskey. Then smiled. “Let's just say Mandi knows exactly what she wants tonight.” Dalia considered. Then grinned. “Darling, she's not alone.” --- Inside the private room, Mandi stopped near the sofa. Turned toward Rafael. And examined him with theatrical seriousness. He waited. Finally she nodded. “Excellent.” Rafael raised an eyebrow. “Have I passed an inspection?” “Preliminary.” “Should I be nervous?” “Depends.” “On?” “Whether you're as entertaining in private as you were at the bar.” Rafael smiled. “I'll do my best.” Mandi grinned. “Good answer.” He removed his jacket. Placed it over a chair. Then turned toward her. For a moment, neither moved. Mandi noticed his expression. Amusement. Interest. A little anticipation. And none of the frantic urgency she disliked in men who seemed convinced they needed to prove something. She stepped closer. “Rafael?” “Yes?” “I'm going to ask you something.” “Go ahead.” “Are you always this calm?” He considered. “Not particularly.” “Really?” “Really.” “Then why now?” Rafael smiled. “Because I'm enjoying myself.” Mandi blinked. Then laughed. “Oh, you clever bastard.” She kissed him first. No hesitation. No elaborate ceremony. Just a hand against his cheek and a kiss she'd been considering since their conversation at the bar. Rafael returned it warmly. When they drew apart, Mandi studied him. Then nodded. “Not bad.” He laughed. “High praise.” “Don't get cocky.” “Wouldn't dream of it.” She smiled. “Liar.” “Possibly.” Mandi kissed him again. Longer this time. And when his arms settled around her, she drew closer without being asked. It felt good. Very good. He was warm. He was attentive. And, perhaps most importantly, he seemed perfectly content to let the evening develop at a pace they both enjoyed. They spent the first part of their time discovering one another. Not biographies. Not life stories. The small things that mattered when two adults wanted to feel comfortable together. How close to stand. Whether a joke would be welcomed. When a touch was inviting. When to pause. Mandi found Rafael's sense of humor unexpectedly delightful. He found her complete lack of verbal restraint equally entertaining. At one point, she looked up at him and grinned. “You know, most men who've met me for ten minutes are either trying to impress me or wondering if I'm going to eat them alive.” Rafael considered. “Are you?” Mandi blinked. “Am I what?” “Going to eat me alive.” She burst out laughing. “Oh, FUCK.” He smiled. “Should I be concerned?” Mandi shook her head. “Darling, you're enjoying this far too much.” “Considerably.” She kissed him. “Good.” As their intimacy deepened, Mandi was candid about what she wanted. There were no coy hints. No expectation that Rafael should somehow divine her preferences from a glance. She told him. He listened. And when something mattered, they checked with each other before continuing. Mandi appreciated that. She'd experienced enough disappointing encounters to know that enthusiasm alone wasn't the same thing as understanding. Rafael knew it too. They found a rhythm in which neither had to pretend. Mandi could be bold. Demanding. Playfully outrageous. And still enjoy the reassurance of being treated with genuine care. Rafael could be confident without turning the encounter into a contest. They spent their private time enjoying the affection and intimacy they'd both chosen, with Mandi's laughter giving way at intervals to quieter, unguarded pleasure. When she eventually rested against him, eyes closed and breathing gradually settling, she was smiling. Not politely. Not professionally. The broad, thoroughly satisfied smile of a woman who had just had an exceptionally good time. Rafael brushed an orange strand away from her cheek. “All right?” Mandi opened one eye. “Darling.” “Yes?” “Ask me that again and I may propose marriage.” He laughed. “Should I be worried?” “Terrified.” “Noted.” She kissed his cheek. Then settled closer. A little later, Mandi lifted her head. Studied him. Then began grinning. Rafael noticed immediately. “Oh, no.” “What?” “That expression.” Mandi laughed. “What expression?” “The one that suggests you're planning something.” She looked offended. “I am a perfectly respectable professional.” Rafael regarded her. Mandi held his gaze. One second. Two. Then both began laughing. “Oh, fuck,” she said. He smiled. “Exactly.” By the end of their agreed time, Mandi had discovered three things. First, Rafael's calm confidence was not an act. Second, she enjoyed the man's company almost as much as his attentiveness. And third— She was going to have to sit down very carefully when she returned to the bar. That last realization made her laugh. Rafael looked at her. “What?” “Nothing.” He raised an eyebrow. “Suspicious.” Mandi smiled. “Just thinking about my friends.” “Good friends?” “The best.” “Then why the expression?” Mandi considered. “Because the merciless fuckers are going to notice everything.” Rafael began laughing. “Everything?” “EVERYTHING.” He smiled. “Well, perhaps they'll be pleased you enjoyed yourself.” Mandi stared at him. Then burst out laughing. “Oh, you sweet summer idiot.” They returned together. Rafael looked pleasantly relaxed. Mandi looked— Well. Vega spotted her first. Stopped talking. Slowly turned toward Nova. Nova followed her gaze. Then smiled. “Oh.” Dalia looked over. Removed her lollipop. And immediately began laughing. Deja raised an eyebrow. “Something amusing, Owner?” Dalia grinned. “Watch.” Mandi approached the bar. Saw an empty stool. Considered it. Then placed one hand lightly on the counter. Lowered herself onto the seat with extraordinary care. Paused. Breathed out. And smiled. Silence. Vega stared. Nova covered her mouth. Dalia slowly leaned forward. “Oh, darling.” Mandi looked up. “What?” Vega's grin was magnificent. “Comfortable?” Mandi narrowed her eyes. “Don't.” Nova smiled sweetly. “Anything wrong with the stool?” “FUCK OFF.” Dalia began laughing so hard she had to put down her drink. Deja glanced at Mandi. Then at the stool. Then said, with immaculate politeness: “Perhaps a cushion?” That finished them. Vega collapsed against Nova. Dalia was nearly helpless. Mandi stared at Deja. “YOU LITTLE SHIT.” Deja smiled. “Only trying to help.” Panam approached. Looked at Mandi. Then at the others. Then back at Mandi. “Oh, Jesus.” Mandi pointed at her. “OWNER.” “Yes, pet?” “Don't.” Panam looked at the stool. Then at Mandi's expression. And began laughing. “Oh, sweetheart.” “NO.” Panam shook her head. “Good evening?” Mandi tried to look dignified. Failed. Then smiled. A large, impossibly pleased smile. “Fucking spectacular.” Panam's expression softened. “Happy?” Mandi nodded. “Very.” “Everything comfortable?” “Absolutely.” Panam looked toward Rafael. He smiled. “She was wonderful company.” Mandi turned. “Oh, darling.” Rafael smiled back. “Thank you for a memorable evening.” Mandi's expression warmed. “Likewise.” They exchanged a kiss. Then Rafael departed, leaving Mandi watching him go with a smile she made absolutely no attempt to conceal. Panam accepted Mandi's leash. Click. “Welcome back, pet.” Mandi leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Love you, Owner.” Panam smiled. “Love you too.” Then glanced toward the stool. Mandi saw it. “DON'T YOU FUCKING START.” Panam burst out laughing. Dalia waited until Rafael had disappeared into the crowd. Then moved closer. Very casually. Far too casually. Mandi noticed. “Oh, no.” Dalia smiled. “Darling.” “No.” “I haven't asked anything.” “You're about to.” Dalia took her lollipop from her mouth. Looked toward the crowd. Then back at Mandi. “Who was the gentleman?” Mandi stared. Vega's grin returned immediately. Nova straightened. Deja looked interested. Panam closed her eyes. “Oh, this is going to be good.” Mandi leaned back. Carefully. Dalia noticed. Of course she noticed. Her smile widened. “Oh, sweetheart.” Mandi pointed at her. “Not. One. Fucking. Word.” Dalia leaned closer. Her emerald lenses flashed in the club lights. “Then just tell me his name.” Mandi narrowed her eyes. “Why?” Dalia smiled sweetly. “Professional curiosity.” Vega began laughing. Nova looked delighted. Deja glanced at her owner. Then said quietly: “An entirely plausible explanation.” Mandi stared at all of them. Then slowly grinned. “Oh, you absolute bitch.” Dalia laughed. “Darling, that isn't an answer.” Mandi considered. Then glanced toward the part of the club where Rafael had disappeared. Her grin became positively wicked. “Rafael.” Dalia nodded slowly. “Rafael.” “Yes.” “Interesting.” Mandi raised an eyebrow. “Very.” Dalia returned the lollipop to her mouth. Smiled. Then picked up her whiskey. “Well, sweetheart.” Mandi waited. Dalia's smile widened. “I do believe Sunday might become rather enjoyable.” Mandi threw back her head and laughed. “OH, YOU FUCKING MENACE.” Panam looked toward the ceiling. “Jesus Christ.” And from farther along the bar, Suzy Q called: “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU PEOPLE DOING NOW?” Vega answered before anybody else could. “COMPARING NOTES!” Suzy stopped. Looked at them. Then closed her eyes. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” --- Sera and Nadia had been watching the spectacle with considerable amusement. Nadia leaned toward Sera. “Your friends are extraordinary.” Sera smiled. “Our friends.” Nadia looked at her. Then smiled too. “Yes.” Sera squeezed her hand. Nadia glanced toward Mandi, who was now telling Vega precisely how many inappropriate questions she was refusing to answer. Vega was asking more. Nova was helping. Dalia looked positively dangerous. Deja was pretending innocence with increasingly poor results. And Panam was laughing hard enough to attract attention from the other end of the bar. Nadia smiled. “I love this family.” Sera leaned against her. “So do I.” Then Panam turned toward them. “Pets?” Both looked up. “Yes, Owner?” Panam smiled. “Enjoying yourselves?” Sera nodded. “Very.” Nadia grinned. “Immensely.” Panam glanced around the club. The evening was still young. Her artists were interested in working. Mandi had returned from an extraordinarily enjoyable booking. Dalia appeared to have developed plans of her own. And Night City, judging by the people approaching the bar, wasn't remotely finished offering surprises. Panam smiled. “Good.” She picked up her whiskey. “Because I've got a feeling Sunday is only getting started.” --- ## Chapter 25 — An Appetite for Life “She's been smiling for twenty minutes.” Vega glanced toward the orange-haired woman at the bar. “Twenty-three.” Nova raised an eyebrow. “You counted?” “No. I asked Deja.” Deja looked up from her drink. “I estimated.” Dalia smiled around her menthol lollipop. “Darling, an entirely respectable application of scientific methodology.” Mandi turned. “I CAN HEAR YOU FUCKERS.” “Excellent,” Vega said. “We were beginning to worry about your hearing.” “MY HEARING IS FINE.” “And your ability to sit down?” Mandi's expression became murderous. Dalia began laughing. “Oh, sweetheart. She got you.” “YOU'RE ALL GOING TO HELL.” Nova lifted her glass. “Then we'll have excellent company.” Panam watched the exchange from a comfortable distance. Her pet was happy. Thoroughly, outrageously happy. The sort of happy that made her friends absolutely unbearable. Panam smiled into her whiskey. She wouldn't have changed a fucking thing. “Madame?” Panam turned. The woman who had approached her was tall, dark-haired, and dressed with the practical elegance of someone accustomed to working long hours. Nothing about her appearance demanded attention. Her eyes, however, were bright with amusement. “Evening,” Panam said. “Simone.” “Panam.” “I hope I'm not interrupting.” Panam glanced toward Mandi, who was now defending her sitting posture with increasingly elaborate profanity. “Actually, your timing's excellent.” Simone followed her gaze. A slow smile appeared. “Friends of yours?” “Unfortunately.” Simone laughed. Panam liked that. “What can I do for you?” “I'd like to meet one of your artists.” “Which one?” “Sera.” Panam studied her. “Know her work?” “Yes.” “Know her personally?” “No.” “Then what interests you?” Simone considered. “I came because of her work. But I've been watching her laugh with her friends for the past ten minutes.” Panam glanced across the bar. Sera was leaning against Nadia, laughing at something Mandi had said. Her silver-white hair had begun forming a faint halo. Panam smiled. “And?” Simone looked back. “I think I'd rather meet the woman than the reputation.” A promising answer. Not sufficient. But promising. Panam explained the terms. Five million eddies for a conversation, provided her pet wanted to accept the introduction. Nothing else included. No private booking. No promise of further attention. No assumption that the conversation would lead anywhere. Simone listened without interrupting. “Understood.” “And if she decides she's not interested?” “Then I'll thank her for the conversation.” Panam nodded. “Stay here.” She returned to her artists. “Pet?” Sera looked up immediately. “Yes, Owner?” “Someone would like to meet you.” Sera smiled. “Oh?” “Simone. She's interested in your work, but apparently your laugh convinced her to come over.” Nadia grinned. “Oh, that's promising.” Sera laughed. Panam touched her cheek. “Would you like to meet her, sweetheart?” Sera looked toward Simone. Their eyes met across the bar. Simone smiled. Sera returned it. “Yes, Owner.” “Sure?” “Absolutely.” Panam nodded. “Then we'll arrange it.” --- Simone made the payment. Five million eddies. Panam checked the confirmation. Then she turned toward her pet. “Come here, sweetheart.” Sera approached. Panam touched her cheek affectionately. “Enjoy yourself.” “I intend to, Owner.” Panam reached for the leash clasp. Click. She unclipped it from Sera's collar and placed the leash in her hand. Sera accepted it with a smile. Panam kissed her forehead. “Go have your conversation, pet.” “Thank you, Owner.” Only then did she bring the two women together. “Simone, this is my pet.” Sera stepped forward and offered her hand. “Sera. A pleasure.” Simone took it. “The pleasure's mine.” Panam looked at them. “Have fun, you two.” Simone smiled. “We'll certainly try.” They found a comparatively quiet table within the public part of the club. Sera settled into a chair, resting her neatly gathered leash beside her. Simone sat opposite. For a moment, they regarded each other with open curiosity. Then Sera smiled. “So. My laugh?” Simone blinked. “Excuse me?” “Owner tells me you were interested in my laugh.” Simone began laughing herself. “Oh, Christ.” “Don't be shy. I've heard worse opening lines.” “I wasn't trying to use it as an opening line.” “Then that's rather unfortunate, because it worked.” Simone looked at her. Then smiled. “Well, that simplifies things.” Sera leaned forward. “Doesn't it just?” --- Simone was a chef. A real one. She owned three restaurants, still worked regularly in one of their kitchens, and had developed a passionate hatred of suppliers who considered close enough an acceptable description of food quality. Sera was fascinated. “You own three restaurants and still cook?” “Whenever they'll let me.” “Let you?” “My kitchen managers occasionally accuse me of interfering.” “Do you?” “Constantly.” Sera burst out laughing. Simone grinned. “And you?” “What about me?” “Do you interfere with your installations after they're finished?” Sera considered. “Only when they annoy me.” “How often is that?” “More often than is professionally respectable.” Simone nodded. “Then we understand each other.” They talked about work. Not prestige. Not reviews. The actual business of making something. Simone described the satisfaction of getting a difficult sauce exactly right. Sera described the equally satisfying moment when an installation finally behaved as she'd imagined. Both admitted they sometimes enjoyed the technical problems almost as much as the finished results. “Almost?” Simone asked. Sera laughed. “Fine. Occasionally more.” “That's better.” “And you?” “Oh, absolutely. I once spent an entire afternoon trying to rescue a dish that should have been thrown away.” “Did you succeed?” “Yes.” “Was it worth it?” “Not remotely.” Sera laughed so hard that her hair lifted. Simone noticed. Stopped. Looked again. “Did your hair just move?” Sera closed her eyes. “Oh, fuck.” Simone stared. Then began smiling. “Oh, that's magnificent.” “Please don't encourage it.” “Does it do that often?” “Only when it feels like publicly betraying me.” Simone burst out laughing. The conversation moved from kitchens to art, then to the people who believed expertise meant never admitting uncertainty. Simone told her about a customer who'd demanded a dish that was both entirely traditional and unlike anything anyone had ever eaten. Sera groaned. “Oh, one of those.” “You've met them?” “Darling, they visit exhibitions.” Simone laughed. “The customer eventually asked whether I understood her vision.” “What did you say?” “I told her I understood every individual word. It was the arrangement that concerned me.” Sera nearly fell out of her chair. “Oh, you absolute bastard!” Simone grinned. “I've been called worse.” “Did she leave?” “No. She ordered the chef's menu.” “And?” “Loved it.” Sera wiped a tear from her eye. “Of course she fucking did.” Across the club, Nadia watched them. Panam noticed her expression. “Pet?” Nadia turned. “Yes, Owner?” “Something interesting?” Nadia smiled. “She's made Sera laugh so hard her halo appeared twice.” Panam glanced over. “Only twice?” “Three times, actually.” Panam laughed. Nadia leaned against her. “She seems interesting.” “Thought so.” “And Sera likes her.” “Certainly looks that way.” Nadia watched her lover lean toward Simone, apparently preparing another outrageously inappropriate remark. Her smile softened. “I'm glad.” Panam slipped an arm around her. “Me too, sweetheart.” --- At the table, Simone set down her glass. “Sera?” “Yes?” “May I say something rather direct?” Sera smiled. “Please. Direct is wonderfully refreshing.” “I didn't come here expecting only to discuss art.” “I suspected.” “And I find you extremely attractive.” Sera's expression warmed. “Thank you.” Simone held her gaze. “I'd like to spend time alone with you, if you're interested.” “Privately?” “Yes.” Sera considered her for a moment. Then smiled. “I rather like that idea.” Simone's answering smile was immediate. “Good.” Sera laughed. “Darling, I should warn you about that word.” “What word?” “Good.” “Why?” “It's becoming something of an occupational hazard among my friends.” Simone raised an eyebrow. “Should I stop saying it?” “Oh, absolutely not. I want to see how long it takes before one of them notices.” Simone laughed. They finished their conversation without hurrying. Simone asked whether Sera had enjoyed herself. “Immensely.” “Would you like to speak with Madame?” Sera looked at her. Then smiled. “Yes. I think I would.” They returned to Panam together. Sera stepped forward first, holding out her leash. Panam accepted it. Click. The clasp fastened to her collar again. “Welcome back, pet.” Sera smiled. “Thank you, Owner.” “Enjoy your conversation?” “Very much.” Panam glanced at Simone. “Something else on your mind?” Simone smiled. “Very much so.” Panam laughed. “Let's hear it, then.” Simone wanted two hours. A private working room at Lizzie's. Just the two of them. No additional guests. No recordings. No photographs. She wanted affection, intimacy and an opportunity to enjoy the company of a woman she was finding increasingly difficult to stop smiling at. Panam listened. Then turned toward her pet. “Sweetheart?” “Yes, Owner?” “Is that what you want too?” Sera looked at Simone. Then nodded. “Yes.” “Anything you'd like to clarify?” Sera considered. “Only that I don't want her to think this means she has to entertain me every second.” Simone raised an eyebrow. “Really?” Sera smiled. “You're very funny, darling. But I rather like you when you're quiet too.” Simone's expression softened. “Thank you.” Panam studied them. Then nodded. “And the offer?” “Twenty-nine million,” Simone said. Panam considered. “For the two hours we've discussed?” “Yes.” “Separate from the five million already paid for conversation.” “Entirely separate.” Panam glanced toward her pet. Sera was smiling. Not watching the numbers. Watching Simone. That settled more than any negotiation could. Panam nodded. “Accepted, subject to my pet's agreement.” Simone smiled. “Thank you, Madame.” Panam turned. “Pet?” “Yes, Owner?” “Do you want this booking?” “Absolutely.” “Any reservations?” Sera looked toward Simone. Then back. “Not a single one.” The twenty-nine million eddies were confirmed. Panam reached for Sera's leash. “Come here, pet.” Sera stepped closer. Panam kissed her forehead. “Have a wonderful time.” Sera's smile widened. “Oh, I intend to.” Click. Panam unclipped the leash. Placed it in Sera's hand. Then looked toward Simone. “Look after each other.” Simone nodded. “We will.” Sera offered her hand. Simone accepted it. And they walked toward the private working area together. --- The moment the door closed behind them, the noise of Lizzie's became a distant vibration. Simone looked around. Then at Sera. “Well.” Sera grinned. “There it is again.” “What?” “That expression.” Simone blinked. “I haven't said anything.” “Exactly. You look like you're about to explain something terribly important.” Simone laughed. “I was actually wondering whether I could kiss you.” Sera's smile softened. “Oh.” “Is that terribly important?” “Very.” “And?” Sera stepped closer. “And I was wondering when you'd ask.” Simone touched her cheek. Sera covered the hand with her own. Their first kiss was gentle. Warm. A little exploratory. When they separated, Simone was smiling. Sera noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “Liar.” Simone laughed. “I've been wanting to do that for the better part of an hour.” Sera leaned closer. “Darling.” “Yes?” “You could have saved us both a great deal of anticipation by saying so earlier.” “I was trying to behave.” “Terrible habit.” Simone laughed. Sera kissed her again. They settled on the sofa. Close enough that neither had to reach far to touch the other. Simone's hand rested at Sera's waist. Sera leaned against her. For a while, they talked about ordinary things. Not the famous artist. Not the successful chef. Just two women getting to know each other. Simone had a fondness for old books. Sera loved finding peculiar objects in secondhand shops. Both had a habit of collecting things that were nearly useless but impossible to leave behind. Simone described a chipped ceramic bowl she'd owned for twenty years. Sera raised an eyebrow. “Why keep it?” “My mother gave it to me.” “Oh.” “And it's the perfect size for olives.” Sera burst out laughing. “Of course.” Simone smiled. “Sentimental and practical.” “An excellent combination.” Their next kiss came without either formally suggesting it. Simone leaned closer. Sera met her. The familiar ease they'd found at the bar was returning, but warmer now. Less concerned with making each other laugh. More comfortable with the quiet between jokes. Simone brushed her thumb across Sera's cheek. Sera closed her eyes for a moment. “That feels nice,” she murmured. Simone smiled. “Then I'll remember it.” Sera opened her eyes. “You're very attentive.” “Occupational habit.” “Oh?” “In a kitchen, noticing the small things usually prevents disaster.” Sera laughed. “Darling, please tell me you're not comparing kissing me to rescuing a sauce.” Simone looked scandalized. “Of course not.” “Good.” “Sauces are much more temperamental.” Sera stared at her. Then collapsed into laughter. “Oh, you fucking menace.” Simone kissed her forehead. “Apparently.” They moved to the bed when the sofa became inconvenient for sitting so closely together. Sera left her leash beside her folded jacket. Simone offered her hand. Sera took it. There was no particular urgency. No need to turn the evening into a performance. They had time. And they wanted to spend it together. Simone sat beside her. Sera drew her close. Their kisses became longer. More familiar. When Simone's hand settled against her bare waist, Sera breathed in softly and leaned into the touch. Simone paused. Sera looked at her. “What?” “Just checking.” Sera smiled. “Darling, if I want you to stop, I'll tell you.” “I know.” “And if I want something?” “Tell me that too.” Sera kissed her. “Excellent.” They discovered that they shared a preference for affection that didn't require either woman to become particularly solemn. Simone could make Sera laugh with a few whispered words. Sera could return the favor with a single raised eyebrow. But between the laughter came quieter moments. Simone's hand lingering against Sera's back. Sera brushing her lips against Simone's cheek. The comfortable warmth of their bodies close together. And the growing pleasure of finding that affection was not something either needed to coax reluctantly from the other. Sera rested a hand against Simone's shoulder. Felt her relax. Smiled. “Better?” Simone nodded. “Much.” Sera kissed her. Then drew her into a closer embrace. For a while, the woman who spent her days commanding a kitchen full of people was perfectly content to stop organizing anything at all. Sera found that she liked Simone's quietness. Not because she had stopped being funny. But because the silence felt easy. Simone stroked her hair. It shifted against her fingers. Both women paused. Sera closed her eyes. “Oh, fuck.” Simone began laughing. “Your hair really does have opinions.” “Unfortunately.” “About me?” Sera opened one eye. Then smiled. “Apparently very favorable ones.” Simone kissed her cheek. “I'm honored.” Sera drew her closer. “Don't let it go to your head.” “I'll try.” Their intimacy continued without hurry. A kiss. A pause to look at one another. A touch answered by a pleased sigh. Sera had always liked people who could be both affectionate and completely themselves. Simone was proving exceptionally good at that. When Sera's pleasure deepened, she stopped trying to make a joke out of every little thing. She held Simone close, breathing unevenly, then laughed softly in surprise at how thoroughly the woman had disarmed her. Simone kissed her forehead. Sera opened her eyes. Looked at her. Then whispered: “Oh, you wonderful woman.” Simone smiled. “Enjoying yourself?” Sera drew her into another kiss. “Immensely.” The warmth between them continued to build, their small discoveries becoming a shared rhythm. Sera's pleasure eventually crested in an unguarded cry, her arms tightening around Simone before she relaxed into her embrace. Simone stayed close, holding her through the moment. Sera rested against her. Then lifted her head. Her expression was positively mischievous. “Darling?” “Yes?” “I believe it's your turn to stop thinking about work.” Simone laughed. “I wasn't thinking about work.” “Excellent. Then we're already making progress.” Sera kissed her. Not teasing this time. Simply affectionate. Simone answered warmly. The pleasure of being close to Sera had already made her forget most of the carefully composed remarks she'd been preparing all evening. Now she stopped preparing them altogether. She let herself be held. Let herself enjoy the unhurried kisses and affectionate caresses Sera offered. And when her own pleasure finally overtook her, she clung to Sera with a breathless laugh that became a soft, astonished sigh. For a while, neither woman spoke. Then Simone rested her forehead against Sera's. “Fuck.” Sera opened her eyes. Smiled. “An eloquent review.” Simone laughed. “I'm a chef.” “And?” “Words aren't my best medium.” Sera considered. Then kissed her. “Darling, I think you've communicated beautifully.” --- They lay together afterward. Simone had one arm around Sera. Sera rested against her shoulder. The distant pulse of music from the club reminded them that the rest of Night City was still carrying on with its evening. Neither particularly cared. Simone traced a gentle line across Sera's hand. “You know something?” Sera smiled without opening her eyes. “Dangerous opening.” “I didn't expect to like you this much.” Sera opened one eye. “Oh?” “I expected somebody interesting.” “Reasonable.” “Somebody beautiful.” “Flatterer.” “Possibly somebody difficult.” Sera laughed. “Almost certainly.” Simone smiled. “But I didn't expect to find somebody so easy to be with.” Sera went quiet. Then lifted her head. Her expression had softened. “That's a rather nice thing to say.” “I meant it.” Sera kissed her cheek. “I'm glad.” After a while, Simone glanced at the clock. They still had time. Plenty of it. She looked down at Sera. “Would you like to stay here for a while?” Sera smiled. “Very much.” “Good.” Sera burst out laughing. Simone stared. “What?” “That fucking word.” “Oh, Christ.” Sera grinned. “Don't worry. It's contagious.” Simone kissed her forehead. “Then I'll take my chances.” --- Back at the bar, Nadia watched the private working area's entrance for a moment. Panam noticed. “Pet?” Nadia turned. “Yes, Owner?” “Missing somebody?” Nadia smiled. “A little.” Panam slipped an arm around her. Nadia leaned into it. “But mostly I'm imagining how much she's laughing.” Panam considered. “Knowing our girl?” Nadia nodded. “Exactly.” Panam smiled. “Then I hope Simone's as funny in private as she was out here.” Nadia laughed. “Oh, I suspect she is.” Across the bar, Mandi was loudly denying that she needed a cushion. Vega was insisting she had never suggested such a thing. Deja was very quietly informing Dalia that she could, in fact, arrange one. Nova had stopped attempting to hide her laughter. And Suzy was looking toward the group with the resignation of a woman who knew perfectly well that ordering them to behave would only make matters worse. Nadia surveyed the scene. Then looked at Panam. “Owner?” “Yes, sweetheart?” “Do you think tonight will be quieter than yesterday?” Panam followed her gaze. Mandi was now threatening to throw a bar napkin at Vega. Dalia was applauding. Deja had apparently decided to help. Panam took a long drink of whiskey. Then smiled. “Not a fucking chance.” Nadia burst out laughing. And somewhere beyond the main floor, Sera remained comfortably curled against Simone, enjoying the quiet remainder of an evening neither woman had expected to become quite so memorable. --- ## Chapter 26 — The Woman Who Never Bluffed “Is she coming back?” Panam glanced toward Mandi. “Who?” “Your other artist.” Panam followed her gaze toward the private working area. “Eventually.” “Having fun?” “Presumably.” Mandi considered. Then grinned. “Good for her.” Panam looked at her pet. “Feeling generous tonight?” “Owner, I am the fucking embodiment of generosity.” Vega nearly spilled her drink. Nova turned away, laughing. Dalia removed her lollipop. “Darling, that may be the single most extravagant lie you've told this weekend.” Mandi looked offended. “EXCUSE ME?” Deja tilted her head. “Would you prefer us to rank them?” Panam burst out laughing. Mandi stared. Then pointed at Deja. “You.” Deja smiled. “Yes?” “I'm watching you.” “An enjoyable pastime, I hope.” Dalia leaned against the bar, laughing helplessly. “Oh, sweetheart. She's getting better.” Panam shook her head. “Jesus Christ. All of you.” Then somebody spoke beside her. “Excuse me, Madame?” The woman standing nearby looked as though she had walked into Lizzie's entirely by accident. That was Panam's first impression. Her second was that the appearance was deliberate. The woman wore a dark tailored jacket, a simple shirt and a pair of comfortable trousers. No conspicuous jewelry. No dramatic styling. Her dark hair was cut short, and she had an expression of quiet amusement. Not a nervous woman. Not an arrogant one either. Just someone perfectly accustomed to finding herself in unfamiliar surroundings and deciding whether she liked them. “Evening,” Panam said. “Evening. I'm Cleo.” “Panam.” “I know.” Panam raised an eyebrow. Cleo smiled. “That sounded terrible, didn't it?” “A little.” “I've spent half the evening deciding whether to come over, and apparently that's the best introduction I could manage.” Panam laughed. “Could've been worse.” “Oh?” “You could've opened with an offer.” Cleo looked thoughtful. “Ah. People have been doing that?” “You have no fucking idea.” “Then I'll try something revolutionary.” “What's that?” Cleo smiled. “I'll ask a question.” Panam considered. “Go ahead.” “Would your pet Nadia be interested in meeting me?” Panam studied her. “Possibly.” Cleo nodded. “Fair answer.” “What brings you here?” “Curiosity.” “About her work?” “Somewhat.” “About her reputation?” “Not particularly.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “Then what?” Cleo considered. “I saw an interview with her a while ago. The interviewer kept trying to get her to explain what her work meant.” Panam smiled faintly. “Sounds familiar.” “She finally told him that if she could explain the entire installation in three sentences, she probably wouldn't have spent six months building it.” Panam laughed. “That sounds like my pet.” “I thought she was marvelous.” “And?” “And I've been curious ever since.” Panam waited. Cleo smiled. “Also, she's beautiful. I see no particular reason to pretend otherwise.” Panam nodded. “Refreshingly straightforward.” “I try.” There was something about Cleo that Panam liked. She didn't seem impatient. She wasn't surveying the club in search of somebody more important. She'd asked a question and appeared entirely willing to accept whatever answer she received. Still, Panam had learned not to confuse a pleasant introduction with a suitable customer. “What do you do, Cleo?” “Play cards.” Panam blinked. “For fun?” “For a living.” “Oh.” Cleo smiled. “Does that concern you?” “Depends how good you are.” “Quite.” Panam laughed. “Confident.” “Professionally necessary.” “Poker?” “Among other things.” Panam considered. “So you spend your days trying to figure out what other people are thinking.” Cleo nodded. “Sometimes.” “And you're here because you're curious about somebody.” “Yes.” “Can't read her from across the room?” Cleo's smile widened. “Madame, the most interesting people are the ones I can't.” Panam grinned. “Now that's a good answer.” She returned to Nadia. Her pet was watching Vega attempt to explain something to Mandi. Judging by Mandi's expression, it involved the consequences of drinking too much whiskey while making financial calculations. Panam touched Nadia's shoulder. “Pet?” Nadia turned immediately. “Yes, Owner?” “Someone wants to meet you.” Nadia smiled. “Oh?” “Cleo. Professional card player.” Nadia's eyebrows rose. “Really?” “Apparently.” “What does she want?” “To talk. She knows a little about your work, but mostly she's curious about you.” Nadia considered. “Interesting.” Panam nodded toward the other end of the bar. “That's her.” Nadia looked over. Cleo met her eyes. Then offered a small smile and a raised glass. Nadia smiled back. “Oh, she's rather attractive.” Panam laughed. “Thought you might notice.” Nadia turned toward her owner. “Yes, please.” “Sure, pet?” “Very.” Panam smiled. “Then let's arrange it.” The conversation arrangement was explained face-to-face. Five million eddies. One conversation with Nadia, provided she wished to continue. No private room included. No expectation of anything afterward. Cleo listened, then nodded. “Understood.” “And if my pet decides she'd rather return to her friends?” “Then that's her decision.” Panam watched her. Cleo smiled. “Madame, I'm a professional gambler. I understand perfectly well that paying to participate doesn't entitle me to win.” Panam stared for a moment. Then laughed. “Oh, I like that.” “Good.” “Don't push your luck.” “Wouldn't dream of it.” The five million were confirmed. Panam checked the payment. Then turned toward Nadia. “Come here, sweetheart.” Nadia approached. Panam touched her cheek. “Have a wonderful conversation, pet.” Nadia smiled. “Thank you, Owner.” Panam reached for the clasp. Click. She unclipped Nadia's leash and placed it in her hand. Nadia accepted it. Panam kissed her forehead. “Enjoy yourself.” “I intend to.” Only then did she bring the women together. “Cleo, my pet.” Nadia extended her hand. “Nadia.” “Cleo. A pleasure.” Their hands met. Cleo smiled. “I have a confession.” Nadia raised an eyebrow. “Already?” “I'm not particularly good at talking about art.” Nadia considered. Then grinned. “Oh, thank fuck.” Panam burst out laughing. They settled at a small table within the public club. Nadia placed her gathered leash beside her. Cleo ordered another drink. For a while, they simply looked at one another. Then Nadia smiled. “So. Cards.” Cleo nodded. “Cards.” “Professionally.” “Yes.” “Isn't that terribly stressful?” “Sometimes.” “And you enjoy it?” “Immensely.” Nadia considered. “What part?” Cleo smiled. “People.” “Not the money?” “The money is useful.” “But?” “The interesting part is discovering what people do when they think nobody understands them.” Nadia tilted her head. “Oh.” Cleo leaned back. “People are fascinating when they're trying to appear predictable.” Nadia smiled. “And what do you do when somebody genuinely is predictable?” “Usually lose interest.” “Terrible.” “Very.” Nadia considered. Then asked: “Are you trying to read me?” Cleo smiled. “I was.” “And?” “I've decided to stop.” “Why?” “Because you look far too entertained by the idea.” Nadia burst out laughing. It was an unexpected pleasure. Nadia was accustomed to people asking questions about her work. Some interesting. Some tedious. Some so obviously designed to impress her that she occasionally wondered whether the questioner had ever seen an installation in person. Cleo didn't do that. She asked about things Nadia enjoyed. Things that annoyed her. What she'd been like before becoming an artist. What surprised her about Night City. And Nadia discovered that she liked answering. Not because Cleo was particularly flattering. Because she was genuinely listening. At one point Nadia asked: “Doesn't it bother you when someone beats you?” Cleo considered. “Depends how.” “Oh?” “If they play well, no.” “And if they bluff?” Cleo smiled. “Especially then.” Nadia raised an eyebrow. “Really?” “A good bluff is an art form.” Nadia laughed. “Oh, darling. Careful. You're approaching a discussion about art.” Cleo groaned. “Damn it.” They talked about the extraordinary social conventions of competitive card games. The ridiculous things people did to intimidate one another. The astonishing amounts some players spent on accessories they believed were lucky. Nadia listened in fascination. “One man brought a chair?” “His own chair,” Cleo confirmed. “To a tournament?” “Yes.” “Why?” “Because he'd won seventeen consecutive games sitting in it.” Nadia stared. Then began laughing. “Did it work?” “No.” “What happened?” “He lost the first match.” Nadia folded forward. “Oh, that's magnificent.” Cleo smiled. “Then he accused the organizers of moving the chair.” Nadia laughed harder. “Had they?” “No.” “Are you sure?” Cleo considered. “Reasonably.” Nadia wiped her eyes. “Oh, you're dreadful.” “Professionally.” The conversation began changing without either woman announcing it. A question would lead to a joke. The joke to another question. Occasionally one would pause simply to enjoy looking at the other. Nadia noticed first. Or thought she did. Cleo had an interesting smile. A little crooked. A little dangerous. And almost always accompanied by the impression that she was considering a remark she might or might not make. Nadia leaned forward. “What?” Cleo blinked. “What?” “You're thinking something.” “Frequently.” “About me?” Cleo smiled. “Possibly.” Nadia grinned. “Darling, you're a terrible liar.” Cleo laughed. “That's a deeply offensive accusation.” “Professionally?” “Absolutely.” Nadia reached across the table and lightly touched her hand. “Then try the truth.” Cleo glanced at their hands. Then met her eyes. “I'd very much like to kiss you.” Nadia's smile softened. “Oh.” Cleo raised an eyebrow. “Unexpected?” “Not entirely.” “Unwelcome?” “Quite the opposite.” Across the club, Panam glanced toward their table. Nadia was smiling. Cleo was smiling. Their hands were resting together. Panam smiled too. Vega noticed. “Interesting?” Panam looked over. “Looks that way.” Nova followed her gaze. “Oh, she's enjoying herself.” Mandi leaned forward. “WHO?” “Pet,” Panam warned. “What?” “Don't start.” Mandi looked toward Nadia. Then grinned. “Oh, THAT looks promising.” Dalia smiled around her lollipop. “Darling, do you ever stop matchmaking?” Mandi looked offended. “I AM NOT MATCHMAKING.” Deja considered. “Merely providing unsolicited commentary?” “EXACTLY.” A pause. Then Mandi turned. “HEY!” Back at the table, Cleo was becoming less interested in discussing other people. “I'd like to ask Madame about a private booking,” she said. Nadia regarded her. “Would you?” “Yes.” “What would you want?” Cleo answered thoughtfully. “Time alone with you. Affection. Perhaps more, if it's something we'd both enjoy.” Nadia nodded. “And why?” Cleo smiled. “Because I like you.” “That's all?” “Isn't that enough?” Nadia considered. Then smiled. “Actually, darling, it's an excellent beginning.” Cleo laughed. “Good.” “And perhaps a little more honesty?” Cleo raised an eyebrow. “About what?” Nadia leaned closer. “I'm finding you rather difficult not to kiss.” Cleo's smile changed. “Oh.” Nadia grinned. “Exactly.” They returned to Madame. Nadia held out her leash. Panam accepted it. Click. “Welcome back, pet.” Nadia smiled. “Thank you, Owner.” “Enjoy yourself?” “Enormously.” Panam looked at Cleo. “And you?” “Very much.” “Then what can I do for you?” Cleo smiled. “I'd like to arrange some private time with your pet.” Panam nodded. “Let's discuss it.” The terms were clear. Two hours. A private working room at Lizzie's. No guests. No recordings or photography. No implied entitlement to future meetings. Cleo wanted affectionate company, and the possibility of intimacy if Nadia was equally interested. Nadia spoke for herself throughout. She liked Cleo. She wanted to spend more time with her. And she wasn't interested in pretending that their attraction was merely theoretical. Panam listened. Then turned toward Cleo. “Offer?” “Twenty-six million.” “Two hours?” “Yes.” “Separate from the five million already paid.” “Entirely.” Panam considered. “Twenty-eight.” Cleo smiled. “Madame.” “Yes?” “Are you bluffing?” Panam stared. Then began laughing. “Oh, you clever bitch.” Cleo's grin widened. “Professional curiosity.” Panam shook her head. “Twenty-eight million.” Cleo considered. Then nodded. “Agreed.” “No counteroffer?” “I wanted to know whether you'd smile.” Panam laughed again. “Jesus Christ.” Nadia was laughing too. “Oh, I like her.” Panam looked at her pet. “I fucking noticed.” The twenty-eight million were confirmed. Panam checked the payment, then looked at Nadia. “Pet?” “Yes, Owner?” “Do you want this booking?” Nadia smiled. “Very much.” “Everything comfortable?” “Yes.” “Anything you'd like changed?” “Not a thing.” Panam nodded. Then beckoned. “Come here, sweetheart.” Nadia approached. Panam kissed her forehead. “Have a wonderful time.” Nadia's expression warmed. “Thank you, Owner.” Click. Panam unclipped the leash. Placed it into Nadia's hand. Then touched her cheek. “Enjoy yourself, pet.” Nadia smiled. “Oh, I intend to.” Cleo offered her hand. Nadia accepted it. And they left the bar together. The private room was pleasantly quiet. Cleo looked around. Then at Nadia. “May I admit something?” Nadia laughed. “Darling, you seem to be making a habit of it.” “I've been thinking about kissing you for the past half hour.” Nadia smiled. “And you haven't?” “We were having a conversation.” “Oh, how terribly professional.” Cleo laughed. “An unfortunate character flaw.” Nadia stepped closer. “Perhaps we should correct it.” Cleo touched her cheek. “Perhaps.” Then she kissed her. Nadia liked the kiss immediately. Not because it was especially dramatic. Because Cleo seemed to enjoy it as much as she did. There was a brief moment of anticipation. The warmth of a hand against her cheek. A small shared smile. Then the kiss. And when they separated, Cleo looked almost surprised. Nadia noticed. “What?” Cleo smiled. “I think I've been considerably more distracted than I realized.” Nadia laughed softly. “By me?” “Entirely.” “Oh, darling.” Nadia slipped her arms around her. “Then perhaps you should stop trying to concentrate.” Cleo grinned. “An excellent suggestion.” They moved to the sofa. Nadia set her leash beside her belongings. Cleo sat close. Their conversation continued, but now it included affectionate touches and occasional kisses. Nadia found herself studying Cleo's expression. The little changes. The amused tilt of her mouth. The way her eyes softened when she stopped trying to think of something clever to say. Cleo noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “Liar.” Nadia laughed. “Oh, now you're accusing me?” “Professionally.” “Of course.” Cleo took her hand. “Tell me.” Nadia considered. “I rather like the way you look at me.” Cleo's smile softened. “Do you?” “Yes.” “Why?” Nadia leaned closer. “Because you look as though you're actually seeing me.” Cleo held her gaze. Then kissed her. This time neither made a joke afterward. The evening grew warmer. Cleo had a calm confidence Nadia appreciated. She didn't hurry. Didn't attempt to predict every response. When Nadia wanted a kiss, she asked for one. When she wanted to be held, Cleo drew her close. And when Cleo wanted something, she was perfectly willing to say so. Nadia liked that too. At one point Cleo brushed a hand across Nadia's back. Nadia closed her eyes briefly. “Oh.” Cleo smiled. “Nice?” “Very.” “Then I'll remember.” Nadia laughed softly. “You really are observant.” “Occupational hazard.” “Darling, if you start analyzing my reactions like a poker game, I shall be forced to behave unpredictably.” Cleo leaned closer. “That sounds delightful.” Nadia burst out laughing. Eventually they moved to the bed. Neither was uncertain about wanting to be there. Nadia sat beside Cleo, held her gaze for a moment, then drew her into a long kiss. Cleo answered with equal warmth. The laughter between them softened. Their hands remained linked as they settled close together. Nadia felt Cleo's fingers move gently against her back and leaned into the affection with an appreciative sigh. “Still comfortable?” Cleo asked. Nadia smiled. “Immensely.” “Good.” Nadia raised an eyebrow. “Oh, darling. That word appears to be spreading.” Cleo looked puzzled. “What word?” “Never mind.” Nadia kissed her. “I'll explain later.” They took their time. There was no need for the evening to become a demonstration of expertise. Cleo wasn't trying to win. Nadia wasn't trying to impress. They wanted one another's company, and that made the small discoveries unexpectedly satisfying. The way Cleo smiled when Nadia kissed her cheek. The pleased sound Nadia made when Cleo drew her closer. Their occasional laughter when one attempted to say something clever and found herself thoroughly distracted instead. Nadia rested her forehead against Cleo's. “Can I tell you something?” Cleo smiled. “Of course.” “I haven't thought about my work for the past twenty minutes.” Cleo raised an eyebrow. “Should I be flattered?” “Enormously.” “Then I'm delighted.” Nadia kissed her. “And I'm not even going to apologize.” Their kisses became more lingering. Their embraces closer. Cleo's tenderness surprised Nadia more than her confidence had. She had expected the humor. The sharp observations. The easy teasing. She hadn't expected the gentleness with which Cleo brushed her hair aside or the way she seemed to notice exactly when Nadia wanted to be held rather than spoken to. Nadia responded with affection of her own, touching Cleo's cheek and drawing her into another kiss. The warmth between them deepened into lovemaking, and for a while the outside world became wonderfully unimportant. There were quiet words between them. An occasional breathless laugh. Moments when Nadia closed her eyes and held Cleo closer, allowing herself to enjoy the tenderness without trying to explain it. When her pleasure finally overwhelmed her, Nadia gave a startled little cry and clung to Cleo, laughing softly as she recovered. Cleo kissed her forehead. Nadia opened her eyes. Looked at her. Then smiled with such delighted disbelief that Cleo began laughing too. “Oh, you absolute menace,” Nadia whispered. Cleo raised an eyebrow. “Compliment?” “Enormous.” Nadia drew her close again. This time she was the one offering comfort and affection, taking pleasure in seeing Cleo's composure become something softer and more vulnerable. Cleo laughed when Nadia whispered a teasing remark. Then went quiet as Nadia kissed her. Her hands settled against Nadia's shoulders. She drew a long breath. And eventually, when her own pleasure crested, she held Nadia close with a sudden unguarded intensity. For several moments afterward, she said nothing. Then she opened her eyes. Looked at Nadia. And began laughing. Nadia raised an eyebrow. “What?” Cleo shook her head. “Oh, fuck.” Nadia grinned. “An articulate assessment.” Cleo laughed again. “I'm usually much better with words.” “Apparently not tonight.” “Apparently.” Nadia kissed her cheek. “Good.” They remained together afterward. Cleo lay with one arm around Nadia. Nadia rested against her, pleasantly tired. Neither seemed inclined to move. Eventually Cleo spoke. “I'm going to admit defeat.” Nadia opened one eye. “Oh?” “Yes.” “In what?” “Reading you.” Nadia smiled. “You gave up trying hours ago.” “I know.” “Then why announce it now?” Cleo considered. “Because I've discovered that I enjoy being surprised.” Nadia's expression softened. “Oh.” Cleo kissed her forehead. “And you've been a wonderful surprise.” Nadia lifted her head. Looked at her. Then smiled. “Darling, that's one of the nicest things anybody's said to me this weekend.” They spent the remainder of their time together without hurrying. Sometimes talking. Sometimes kissing. Sometimes enjoying the quiet. Cleo told Nadia about a tournament where she'd been eliminated by an elderly woman who'd spent the entire game complaining about the chairs. Nadia laughed. “What happened to her?” “She won.” “The tournament?” “Everything.” Nadia stared. Then burst out laughing. “Oh, that's magnificent.” Cleo smiled. “I bought her a drink afterward.” “And?” “She told me I should stop thinking so much.” Nadia laughed harder. “Oh, darling.” Cleo looked down at her. “Yes?” “I think she was absolutely right.” Cleo considered. Then smiled. “So do I.” Eventually the clock reminded them of the outside world. Nadia looked at it. Then sighed. “Oh.” Cleo followed her gaze. “Already?” “Apparently.” Cleo considered. “I'd like to see you again.” Nadia smiled. “Would you?” “Yes.” “Privately?” “Preferably without twenty people trying to decide whether I'm bluffing.” Nadia laughed. “Oh, I think that can be arranged.” Cleo smiled. “Good.” Nadia kissed her. And this time neither objected to the word. They returned to the club together. Panam noticed immediately. Her pet was smiling. Cleo looked equally pleased. Panam greeted them warmly. “Everything all right?” Nadia nodded. “Wonderful, Owner.” Cleo smiled. “An extraordinary evening.” Panam looked between them. Then nodded. “Glad to hear it.” Cleo turned toward Nadia. “Until next time?” Nadia smiled. “I'd like that.” They exchanged an affectionate goodbye. Cleo touched Nadia's cheek once more. Then departed with a smile that was considerably less composed than when she'd arrived. Panam watched her go. Then turned toward her pet. “Come here, sweetheart.” Nadia stepped closer. Presented her leash. Click. “Welcome back, pet.” Nadia kissed Panam's cheek. “Thank you, Owner.” “Happy?” Nadia grinned. “Very.” Panam smiled. “Then that's all I need to know.” Sera had returned from her own booking while Nadia was away. Her leash was already reattached. She spotted Nadia approaching and immediately brightened. “Darling!” Nadia laughed. “Sera!” They embraced. Sera drew back just enough to study her face. “Well?” Nadia raised an eyebrow. “Well what?” “Oh, don't you dare.” Nadia grinned. “Wonderful evening.” Sera's expression warmed. “I'm so glad.” Nadia kissed her. Then leaned closer. “And yours?” Sera smiled. “Extraordinary.” They exchanged a look. A familiar one. Then both began laughing. Panam watched them. Her two artists. Both home. Both happy. And, for the moment, thoroughly uninterested in the rest of the city's opinions. Mandi noticed. Naturally. “OH, LOOK!” Panam closed her eyes. “Oh, Christ.” Mandi was pointing toward the artists. “THEY'RE BOTH BACK!” Vega leaned against the bar. “Excellent observation, sweetheart.” Nova smiled. “Very perceptive.” Dalia removed her lollipop. “Darling, perhaps we should give her a certificate.” Deja considered. “For basic visual recognition?” Mandi stared at her. Then began laughing. “YOU FUCKING LITTLE MENACE.” Deja smiled. “Thank you.” Panam stood beside her pets, watching the club. The evening was moving steadily onward. Sera and Nadia had both completed their separate Sunday bookings. Mandi had enjoyed herself spectacularly. Nova and Vega were trading increasingly improper jokes. Dalia was watching the entrance with a thoughtful expression that suggested she hadn't entirely abandoned the idea of meeting Rafael herself. And Deja remained beside her owner, looking serenely innocent. Panam smiled. It had been a remarkable weekend. An exhausting one. A wonderful one. And, despite everything, she was finding that she didn't particularly want it to end. Suzy approached. “Madame.” Panam looked up. “Yes?” “Enjoying your evening?” Panam glanced toward the friends gathered around the bar. Then smiled. “Very much.” Suzy followed her gaze. Mandi was laughing. Sera's halo had appeared again. Nadia was kissing her cheek. Vega and Nova were trying to make Dalia lose her composure. Deja appeared to be helping. Suzy sighed. “Jesus fucking Christ.” Panam laughed. “Yeah.” She raised her whiskey. “One hell of a Sunday.” Suzy touched her glass against it. “You have no fucking idea.” And for once, Panam decided not to ask what she meant. --- ## Chapter 27 — Seven Hundred and Fifty Million Reasons “Pet.” Nadia looked up. “Yes, Owner?” “Come here a minute.” Nadia left Sera's side and approached Panam, who had claimed a quieter section of the bar. Panam held out a glass of water. Nadia smiled. “Oh, thank you.” “Drink.” “Yes, Owner.” Panam watched until she'd taken several sips. Then she touched Nadia's cheek. “How are you feeling?” “Wonderful.” “Physically?” Nadia considered. “Pleasantly tired. Nothing uncomfortable.” “Need anything?” “Perhaps something to eat.” Panam smiled. “Thought so.” Nadia laughed. “You know me far too well.” “I'm getting there.” Panam drew her into a hug. Nadia accepted it gladly, resting her head against her owner's shoulder. For a while, neither spoke. Then Panam kissed her forehead. “Had a good time with Cleo?” Nadia smiled. “A genuinely wonderful time.” “Anything you want to talk about?” “Not really. She was attentive, funny, and surprisingly tender.” Panam's expression softened. “I'm glad, sweetheart.” Nadia hugged her a little tighter. “And I enjoyed being with her.” “That's what matters.” Sera had already received much the same attention upon returning from Simone. A long embrace. Water. A chance to sit quietly beside Panam without immediately being interrogated by the others. And a small plate of food, because Panam knew perfectly well that an evening's enthusiasm could make her pet forget about dinner. Now, when Sera approached them, Panam opened her free arm. “Come here, pet.” Sera slipped into the embrace. Nadia smiled. “Hello, darling.” “Hello, trouble.” Panam kissed Sera's temple. “Still feeling all right?” “Beautifully, Owner.” “Hungry?” Sera considered. “A little.” Nadia began laughing. Panam sighed. “Of course.” She waved toward Suzy. “Can we get something for these two?” Suzy looked at the artists. Then at Panam. “Again?” Panam grinned. “They're growing girls.” Sera burst out laughing. Nadia nearly dropped her water. Suzy closed her eyes. “Jesus Christ.” --- A few places farther along the bar, Mandi had discovered that remaining silent was considerably more difficult than she'd originally anticipated. Especially when Vega kept looking at the way she sat. “Stop it.” Vega raised an eyebrow. “Stop what?” “LOOKING AT ME.” Nova smiled. “Darling, you are rather conspicuous.” “I'M SITTING.” “Carefully,” Dalia observed. Mandi turned. “YOU.” Dalia slowly removed her lollipop. “Yes, sweetheart?” “I'm going to fucking get you.” Dalia smiled. “Promises, promises.” Deja leaned toward her owner. “Would you like me to fetch the cushion now?” Mandi stared. Then threw both hands into the air. “OH, FUCK ALL OF YOU!” Panam looked over. Her orange-haired pet was laughing even as she protested. Good. Her girls were all right. That made everything else considerably easier. Suzy returned with the food. And a rather suspicious expression. Panam noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Suzy glanced toward the entrance. “It's just been a remarkably quiet half hour.” Panam smiled. “Don't jinx it.” “Too late.” “Why?” Suzy looked toward the doorway again. “There's a gentleman who's been standing over there for ten minutes trying to decide whether to approach you.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “Another artist enthusiast?” “Doesn't seem interested in either artist.” “Oh?” “He's been watching you.” Panam considered. Then looked toward the entrance. And saw him. The man was handsome. Not the polished, aggressively expensive kind of handsome that Night City's corporate social circuit seemed to manufacture by the hundreds. Something quieter. Dark hair with a little silver at the temples. A well-cut jacket that had clearly been chosen for comfort rather than spectacle. Good boots. Not new. Panam noticed those first. Then the way he stood. Relaxed. Balanced. Like somebody who'd spent a great deal of time on uneven ground. He noticed her looking. Smiled. And approached. “Madame Panam?” “That's me.” “Tomas.” “Evening.” “I hope I'm not interrupting.” Panam glanced toward the two artists enjoying their food. “Not particularly.” Tomas smiled. “Good.” He hesitated. Then glanced at the whiskey in her hand. “Would you mind if I asked you something?” “Go ahead.” “Do you actually enjoy driving in the Badlands?” Panam stopped. Looked at him. Then slowly smiled. “Oh?” “That's an interesting opening line.” Tomas laughed. “I was afraid it might sound ridiculous.” “Depends what you mean.” He considered. “Some people like the Badlands because they're romantic about the idea of open country. Others because they've never had to spend six hours fixing something in a dust storm.” Panam's expression changed. Just slightly. “Which kind are you?” “The second.” She raised an eyebrow. “Really?” “Unfortunately.” “What broke?” “First time?” Panam grinned. “First time.” “A cooling line.” “Vehicle?” “Old utility truck. Heavily modified. Somebody had thought relocating the cooling assembly beneath the chassis was an excellent idea.” Panam winced. “Oh, fuck.” Tomas smiled. “Exactly.” “And?” “It worked beautifully on a clean road.” Panam began laughing. “Oh, Jesus.” “Three hours into the Badlands, it had collected enough debris to qualify as geological research.” That finished her. Panam laughed so hard she had to put down her glass. Tomas looked relieved. “I take it you understand.” “Darling, I understand perfectly.” They moved a little farther along the bar. Not into a private room. Just a place where two people could talk without leaning over half a dozen friends. Panam asked him about the truck. He told her. Not in the irritating manner of somebody reciting specifications to impress a woman. He talked about what they'd done wrong. What they'd tried. What had failed. And how they'd eventually made the machine reliable. Panam challenged a couple of his decisions. He accepted one criticism immediately. Argued the other. She liked that. “So you kept the original intake?” “For a while.” “Bad idea.” “It was.” “Then why?” “Because the replacement wasn't available for another three days.” Panam considered. “And you drove it anyway?” “Only far enough to discover that I'd made a terrible decision.” She laughed. “Jesus Christ.” Tomas smiled. “An educational experience.” He worked in corporate logistics now. Fleet reliability. Vehicle systems. Transport networks. A job that involved a great deal of money and a deeply unreasonable number of people who believed a report could repair a truck. Panam found that particularly entertaining. “So you're a corpo.” Tomas smiled. “Guilty.” “Management?” “Yes.” “Oh, fuck.” He laughed. “I get that reaction quite often.” “Bet you do.” “Usually from my own mechanics.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “Do you listen to them?” “When I'm being sensible.” “And the rest of the time?” “I regret it.” Panam grinned. “That's probably the most convincing thing you've said.” Sera noticed them first. “Owner's having fun.” Nadia followed her gaze. Panam was laughing. Not politely. Not the controlled amusement she sometimes used when a prospective customer was attempting to be charming. Actually laughing. Nadia smiled. “Oh.” Sera leaned closer. “Interesting.” “Very.” Mandi looked over. “Who?” Vega sighed. “Oh, here we go.” Mandi studied the man. Then Panam. Then narrowed her eyes. “Hang on.” Nova smiled. “What?” “OWNER'S FLIRTING.” Dalia glanced toward the bar. Considered. Then smiled around her lollipop. “Well, darling.” Mandi turned. “WHAT?” “I believe you might actually be right.” Panam had reached the same conclusion. Not about flirting. That part was obvious enough. About Tomas. She liked him. Really liked him. More than she'd expected. He wasn't pretending to understand the Badlands. He knew what it meant to keep a machine running when the nearest repair shop was several hours away. And he was perfectly comfortable laughing at his own mistakes. After a while, Tomas put down his glass. “Madame?” “Yeah?” “Can I ask you a rather different question?” Panam studied him. “Go ahead.” “Do you ever accept bookings yourself?” She went still. Not because the question offended her. Because he'd asked it with such genuine uncertainty. “Sometimes.” Tomas nodded. “I wasn't sure.” “I don't advertise.” “I gathered.” “And I don't have a rate.” He smiled. “I wasn't going to ask for one.” Panam considered. “Then what were you going to ask?” “Whether you might enjoy spending an hour with me.” Panam studied him. “One hour?” “Yes.” “Doing what?” Tomas smiled. “Some conversation. Some affection. Perhaps something more intimate, if we both want it.” “And if I don't?” “Then we enjoy the conversation.” She raised an eyebrow. “That's a lot of uncertainty for a man who works in logistics.” Tomas laughed. “I'm off duty.” Panam smiled. “Good answer.” He took another sip of whiskey. Then added: “Besides, I haven't enjoyed talking to somebody this much in quite a while.” Panam considered that. She could say the same. Which was unusual. She liked men. Liked interesting people generally. But Tomas had managed to interest her without asking about her stable, her reputation, or the extraordinary amounts of money changing hands around her. He'd asked about driving. And somehow, here they were. “There's something you need to understand,” Panam said. Tomas nodded. “Go ahead.” “I'm not a regular booking option.” “I understand.” “You can't buy my attention whenever you feel like it.” “I wouldn't expect to.” “And if I accept tonight, it doesn't establish a price for next time.” “Understood.” Panam watched his expression. Nothing impatient. Nothing calculating. Just attention. She liked that too. “All right,” she said. “What would you offer?” At that precise moment, Rogue walked into Lizzie's. Suzy spotted her immediately. Stopped polishing a glass. And grinned. “Well, look what the fucking cat dragged in.” Rogue approached the bar. “Evening, Suzy.” Suzy leaned forward. “What brings you here? Sex?” Rogue didn't hesitate. “Of course.” Suzy burst out laughing. “Oh, you magnificent bitch.” Rogue smiled faintly. “Whiskey.” “Already pouring.” Suzy slid a glass across the bar. Rogue accepted it. Took a sip. Then glanced toward the familiar voice a few places away. Panam. Interesting. And a handsome man who seemed to be negotiating something with her. Even more interesting. Rogue made no attempt to interrupt. She simply remained where she was, enjoying her whiskey. Close enough to hear the conversation. Panam was watching the man. Tomas had apparently reached a decision. “I'd offer seven hundred and fifty million eddies.” For a moment, Panam said nothing. Neither did Rogue. Neither did Suzy. Then Panam blinked. “I'm sorry?” Tomas met her eyes. “Seven hundred and fifty million. For one hour together, under whatever reasonable boundaries we agree upon.” Panam stared. Rogue very slowly lowered her glass. Suzy looked toward the ceiling. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Panam studied Tomas. “Seven hundred and fifty million?” “Yes.” “For an hour?” “Yes.” She took a breath. Then laughed once. Not dismissively. In genuine astonishment. “Jesus fucking Christ.” Tomas smiled. “I realize it's an unusual offer.” “Unusual?” Panam stared at him. “Darling, unusual doesn't even begin to fucking cover it.” Rogue leaned against the bar. “Well.” Panam turned. Saw her. And blinked again. “Rogue?” Rogue raised her whiskey. “Evening.” Panam stared. Then started laughing. “Oh, this just gets fucking better.” Tomas looked between them. “Friends?” Rogue smiled. “Something like that.” Panam shook her head. “Long story.” Rogue glanced at Tomas. Then at Panam. “Don't let me interrupt.” Panam considered. “Oh, you're enjoying this.” “Immensely.” Suzy leaned closer. “Rogue, she has absolutely no idea.” Rogue took another sip. “Oh, I think I have a fairly good idea.” Panam sighed. “Jesus Christ.” Then she turned back to Tomas. “Seven hundred and fifty million.” “Yes.” “Your own money?” “Yes.” “Not a corporate expense account somebody else is going to discover tomorrow?” Tomas laughed. “No.” Panam held his gaze. “Because I won't have some fucking employee discovering their retirement fund disappeared into my account.” His expression became serious. “It's mine, Madame. Entirely. And I can afford it.” Panam considered. Then nodded. “Okay.” She studied him for another moment. “Why?” Tomas raised an eyebrow. “Why the offer?” “Yes.” He considered. “Because I think you're extraordinary.” Panam smiled faintly. “Flattery.” “Partly.” “Go on.” “Because I can afford it. And because I'd rather make an offer that doesn't ask you to measure your time against what other people pay.” Panam frowned slightly. “My time isn't for sale just because the number's big.” “I know.” “Do you?” Tomas nodded. “Yes. I wouldn't be asking if I thought the money could make you want something you didn't.” Panam looked at him for a long moment. Then he added: “I'd rather spend an hour with a woman who's enjoying herself than an entire night with one who wishes she were somewhere else.” Rogue smiled into her whiskey. Suzy glanced at her. Rogue murmured: “Smart man.” Panam leaned back. “You know, I could say no.” “Of course.” “And then what?” Tomas considered. “Then I'll thank you for the conversation and probably ask whether you know somewhere I can get the suspension on my old truck properly rebuilt.” Panam burst out laughing. “Oh, you absolute bastard.” He grinned. “Was that the wrong answer?” “Actually, it might be the best fucking answer you've given me.” She wanted him. That was the interesting part. Not the money. Not the fact that he could throw an astronomical amount at a single hour without blinking. She liked him. She liked his calm humor. His familiarity with the Badlands. The way he could discuss mechanical problems without pretending she needed an explanation of every basic principle. And she found him attractive. Quite attractive. Panam looked toward Rogue. Rogue raised an eyebrow. “Well?” Panam smiled. “Thinking.” “Dangerous habit.” “Fuck you.” Rogue laughed. “Later.” Suzy closed her eyes. “Oh, Jesus.” Panam turned back to Tomas. “One hour.” “Yes.” “Private.” “Absolutely.” “No recordings. No photographs. No third parties.” “Agreed.” “No corporate nonsense. No public stories afterward.” “Of course.” “And we're both free to decide what we actually want to do during that hour.” Tomas nodded. “That's what I'd prefer.” Panam considered. Then smiled. “Okay.” Tomas looked at her. “Okay?” “I'm interested.” His expression softened. “Really?” Panam laughed. “Oh, don't look so fucking surprised.” “I admit I was hoping.” “Well, congratulations.” She leaned slightly closer. “Because now I'd like to find out whether you're as interesting when you're not talking about trucks.” Tomas laughed. “I'll do my best.” “Better.” They confirmed the arrangement. Seven hundred and fifty million eddies. One hour. A single, private agreement. No established rate. No promise of another booking. Nothing beyond what the two adults had mutually chosen. Panam watched the payment confirmation appear. Then disappear. She stared at the empty space where it had been. “Holy fuck.” Tomas laughed. “Everything all right?” Panam looked at him. Then grinned. “Oh, sweetheart. You have no fucking idea.” At the far end of the bar, Mandi had noticed Rogue. That alone would have been exciting. Then she'd noticed Panam's expression. Then Suzy's. Then Rogue's almost imperceptible smile. Something had happened. Something enormous. She leaned toward Vega. “What the fuck is going on?” Vega looked over. “No idea.” Nova studied the group. “Madame appears to be rather surprised.” Dalia followed her gaze. Then noticed Rogue. A slow smile spread across her face. “Oh.” Mandi turned. “What?” Dalia removed her lollipop. “Darling, I believe our evening has just become considerably more interesting.” Deja looked toward Rogue. Then back at her owner. “An acquaintance?” Dalia smiled. “A very good one.” Panam approached her friends. Still smiling. A little dazed. But smiling. Mandi immediately stepped forward. “OWNER!” Panam looked at her. “Yes, pet?” “WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?” Panam considered. Then grinned. “I accepted a booking.” Silence. Vega blinked. Nova raised an eyebrow. Sera lifted her head. Nadia stared. Dalia slowly lowered her glass. Mandi looked as though somebody had just hit her with a heavy object. “YOU WHAT?” Panam smiled. “A booking.” “For you?” Nadia asked. “For me.” Sera's halo began forming. “Oh!” Mandi grabbed the edge of the bar. “HOW MUCH?” Panam closed her eyes. “Mandi.” “OWNER.” “Don't.” “HOW. FUCKING. MUCH.” Panam looked at her. Then smiled sweetly. “Seven hundred and fifty million.” Mandi didn't move. Didn't speak. Didn't even blink. Vega stared. Nova's mouth opened slightly. Sera's halo rose another few centimeters. Nadia looked from Panam toward the man waiting respectfully at the bar. Dalia stared at Panam. Then began laughing. Not quietly. Not politely. A full, delighted, utterly helpless laugh. Deja looked at her owner. Then at Panam. Then back. “I'm sorry?” Panam grinned. “Seven hundred and fifty million. One hour.” Mandi finally spoke. Very softly. “...What?” Vega turned toward her. Then began laughing. “Oh, sweetheart.” Mandi stared at Panam. “...Seven hundred and fifty?” “Yes.” “...Million?” “Yes.” “...For an HOUR?” “Yes.” Mandi opened her mouth. Closed it. Looked at Dalia. Looked at Nova. Looked at Vega. Then turned back. “I—” Nothing. Panam stared. Then burst out laughing. “Oh, my fucking God.” Dalia was nearly crying. Vega leaned against the bar. Nova looked positively delighted. Sera had buried her face against Nadia's shoulder. Mandi stood motionless. For the first time all weekend, the orange-haired menace had run out of words. Panam looked toward Suzy. “Did you see that?” Suzy nodded solemnly. “Yes.” Panam smiled. “Worth every fucking eddie.” Eventually Mandi recovered enough to point toward Tomas. “WHO THE FUCK IS THAT?” Panam grinned. “A gentleman who likes cars.” Silence. Then Vega began laughing again. Nova covered her face. Dalia slid down onto the nearest stool. Mandi stared. “CARS?” Panam nodded. “Cars.” “SEVEN HUNDRED AND FIFTY MILLION FOR TALKING ABOUT FUCKING CARS?” Panam considered. “Among other things.” Mandi looked toward the ceiling. “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.” Rogue approached just in time to hear it. “Having fun?” Mandi turned. Saw her. And nearly screamed. “ROGUE!” Rogue smiled. “Hello, trouble.” Dalia looked up. “Darling.” Rogue nodded toward her. “Dalia.” Her gaze returned to Mandi. “Still working?” Mandi stared. Then looked at Panam. Then Rogue. Then Panam again. “WHAT IS HAPPENING TONIGHT?” Panam was laughing too hard to answer. Eventually she wiped her eyes and took a breath. “Okay. Girls.” Her pets looked toward her. “I'm going to be away for an hour.” Sera straightened. “Yes, Owner?” “Everybody comfortable?” They nodded. Panam looked toward Dalia. “Darling?” Dalia had finally recovered enough to stop laughing. “Madame?” “Could I ask you a favor?” “Of course.” “Would you look after my pets while I'm away?” Dalia glanced toward the five women. Then back. “With their agreement.” Panam smiled. “Obviously.” She asked them individually. Mandi first. “Pet?” Mandi was still staring at her. “...Yes, Owner?” “Comfortable staying with Dalia for an hour?” Mandi blinked. Then grinned. “ABSOLUTELY.” Nova agreed with a smile. Vega kissed Panam's cheek. Sera slipped her hand into Nadia's. Both artists were perfectly happy with the arrangement. Panam looked at each of them. “Water, food, rest. Nobody has to accept another booking tonight. If you need anything, tell Dalia.” “Yes, Owner,” Sera said. Nadia nodded. “Have a wonderful time.” Panam smiled. “Oh, I fucking intend to.” Mandi opened her mouth. Panam pointed. “Don't.” Mandi closed it. Then grinned. Dalia accepted temporary care of the five pets, joining their leashes to the one she already held for Deja. She checked with the women as they settled comfortably around the bar. No confusion about ownership. No permanent change. Just friends looking after one another while Panam enjoyed herself. Rogue watched the exchange. Interesting. Very interesting. Panam noticed her expression. “What?” Rogue smiled. “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” “Go enjoy your hour.” Panam narrowed her eyes. “Rogue.” “Yes?” “What are you planning?” Rogue took a sip of whiskey. “Wouldn't dream of planning anything.” Dalia began laughing again. Panam stared at both women. Then shook her head. “Oh, fuck.” --- Tomas was waiting where she'd left him. Panam approached. “Ready?” He smiled. “Very.” “Good.” She offered her hand. He accepted it. As they headed toward the private working area, Panam glanced at him. “One thing.” “Yes?” “If you turn out to be one of those men who thinks horsepower is a substitute for personality, I'm going to be deeply disappointed.” Tomas laughed. “I'll try not to.” “And if you quote acceleration figures at me while we're kissing, I'll throw you out.” He considered. “Even accurate ones?” Panam stopped. Looked at him. Then burst out laughing. “Oh, you absolute fucking bastard.” Tomas smiled. “Too soon?” “Much.” “Noted.” She squeezed his hand. And they continued toward the private rooms together. Rogue watched them disappear. Then slowly turned toward the bar. Mandi had finally recovered her ability to speak. Unfortunately for everyone else. “SEVEN HUNDRED AND FIFTY MILLION!” Vega groaned. “Not again.” “ONE FUCKING HOUR!” Nova began laughing. Dalia looked entirely too amused. Deja had adopted the expression of somebody watching a remarkably entertaining scientific experiment. Rogue approached. Set down her whiskey. Then looked at Mandi. Looked at Dalia. And smiled. “Working?” Mandi stopped. Dalia's expression changed. Just slightly. She recognized that smile. Oh, yes. She knew it very well. “Darling,” Dalia said slowly. Rogue raised an eyebrow. “Yes?” “What are you thinking?” Rogue considered. Then smiled. “Something rather expensive.” Mandi blinked. Looked at Rogue. Then at Dalia. Then back. “Oh, FUCK.” Rogue lifted her glass. “Precisely.” And Sunday evening, which had already shattered every reasonable expectation, prepared to become considerably more ridiculous. --- ## Chapter 28 — Worth the Wait The Queen of the Afterlife was waiting for two women. That wasn't unusual. What was unusual was that both women were standing right in front of her, laughing, perfectly willing to spend time with her—and temporarily unavailable for entirely legitimate professional reasons. Rogue found the situation rather entertaining. Mandi found it infuriating. “YOU'RE ENJOYING THIS.” Rogue took another sip of whiskey. “Yes.” “YOU COULD AT LEAST PRETEND OTHERWISE.” “Why?” Mandi opened her mouth. Stopped. Then turned toward Dalia. “She's being impossible.” Dalia smiled around her menthol lollipop. “Darling, have you met Rogue?” Rogue raised her glass. “Thank you.” “Not a compliment.” “I'll take it anyway.” Mandi looked toward the ceiling. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Dalia had six leashes gathered comfortably in her hand. One belonged to Deja, her own pet. The other five belonged to Madame Panam's girls, temporarily entrusted to Dalia while their owner enjoyed an extraordinarily expensive private booking. Mandi. Nova. Vega. Sera. Nadia. All present. All perfectly content with the arrangement. And all finding Rogue's arrival rather interesting. Especially Sera. She knew Rogue. Knew her history with Ace and Mai. Knew the Friday arrangement that had become such an enjoyable part of their lives. And she knew exactly why the older woman was smiling at Mandi and Dalia like that. Sera leaned toward Nadia. “Oh, this is going to be entertaining.” Nadia followed her gaze. Rogue had just said something that made Mandi threaten to pour whiskey over her head. Dalia was laughing. Nadia smiled. “You think she's here for those two?” Sera glanced at her. “Darling, I'd be astonished if she weren't.” Nadia's smile widened. She knew perfectly well who stood beneath those two familiar covers. The revelation back at the safehouse hadn't made Mandi or Dalia strangers; it had simply given Nadia a new appreciation for the extraordinary acting skills of people she already knew. “Then she's picked an excellent evening.” Sera laughed softly. “Oh, she certainly has.” Nadia glanced toward the private-room corridor. “And Panam?” Sera smiled. “Having her own adventure.” “Seven hundred and fifty million eddies.” “Apparently.” Nadia shook her head. “Jesus Christ.” Sera slipped her hand into Nadia's. “Quite.” Rogue watched Dalia rearrange the leashes as Nova moved closer to Vega. Nothing complicated. Just the practiced attention of somebody who knew exactly where her companions were and whether they were comfortable. Rogue appreciated competence. Always had. “You've acquired quite a responsibility,” she observed. Dalia looked down at the leashes. “Temporarily, darling.” “Still.” “Oh, everyone's behaving beautifully.” Mandi made an offended noise. Rogue looked at her. “Present company excepted?” “FUCK YOU.” Rogue smiled. “Friday.” Dalia nearly lost her drink. Mandi stared at Rogue. Then threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, you magnificent bitch.” Rogue's expression softened. For a moment she reached across and touched Mandi's hand. “It's good to see you.” Mandi's grin changed. Lost a little of its theatrical outrage. “Yeah,” she said. “You too.” Dalia leaned closer. “And me, darling?” Rogue turned toward her. “Especially you.” Dalia raised an eyebrow. “Oh, now that's dangerously charming.” “I have my moments.” “Several, actually.” Mandi looked between them. “HELLO? STILL HERE.” Rogue didn't turn. “I noticed.” They knew each other too well for formalities. Rogue had no need to manufacture attraction. Mandi and Dalia had no need to pretend they hadn't spent many happy hours with her before. And none of them needed to confuse tonight's professional circumstances with their private arrangement. Rogue glanced toward Dalia's hand. “Madame's still occupied.” “Indeed.” “And you're looking after her girls.” “Yes.” Rogue nodded. “Then we'll talk business when she gets back.” Mandi grinned. “Business?” “Business.” “Rogue…” “Yes?” “You know we don't charge you for Fridays.” Rogue held her gaze. “I know.” “Then why—” “Because it's Sunday.” Dalia laughed softly. Mandi narrowed her eyes. “That is not a fucking explanation.” “No,” Rogue agreed. “It isn't.” She took a drink. “But I think you'll like the proper one.” At the far end of the bar, Suzy noticed Rogue's empty glass. “Another?” Rogue glanced up. “Please.” Suzy poured. Then looked toward Dalia. Then Mandi. Then back at Rogue. “You three planning something?” Rogue smiled. “Yes.” Suzy closed her eyes. “Oh, Christ.” “Relax. We're waiting for Madame.” Suzy opened one eye. “Professionally?” “Entirely.” Suzy studied her. Then smiled. “Oh, this I want to see.” Mandi leaned toward Dalia. “Why does everybody keep saying that?” Dalia slipped her lollipop back into her mouth. “Because, sweetheart, everybody knows you.” --- Meanwhile, inside one of Lizzie's private rooms, Panam had discovered that Tomas was dangerously good at making her forget the time. And the money. Especially the money. Seven hundred and fifty million eddies had brought them to this room. But it wasn't what made her want to stay. Tomas was sitting beside her on the sofa, one arm resting comfortably along its back. His jacket hung over a chair. Panam had already removed hers. Somewhere between a conversation about a badly designed cooling assembly and another about the virtues of reliable suspension, they'd stopped pretending the evening was primarily about vehicles. Panam had kissed him. Tomas had kissed her back. And the second kiss had made both of them considerably less interested in continuing their discussion. Now Tomas was looking at her with an expression she liked very much. “What?” she asked. He smiled. “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” “I was thinking.” “Dangerous.” “That I probably shouldn't tell you another story about a broken truck.” Panam laughed. “Probably not.” “Even a particularly good one?” She leaned closer. “Sweetheart, if you've got something more interesting in mind, now would be an excellent fucking time.” Tomas smiled. Then kissed her. Panam had never been especially interested in pretending she was shy. She knew what she wanted. Usually said so. And when Tomas drew her closer, she went willingly. Their next kiss lasted longer. His hand settled against her back. Hers rested against his chest. She liked the warmth of him. The way he didn't rush. The easy confidence that had been so attractive at the bar. When they separated, Tomas smiled. “Still interested?” Panam stared. Then laughed. “Oh, darling.” “Yes?” “I accepted your booking because I wanted to be here.” “I know.” “And I've been kissing you because I enjoy it.” His smile widened. “I'd gathered.” “So perhaps,” she said, moving closer again, “you should stop asking whether I'm interested and let me demonstrate.” Tomas laughed softly. “An excellent suggestion.” Panam kissed him. And this time she had absolutely no intention of returning to the subject of cooling systems. They rose from the sofa together. Panam reached for his hand. “Come on.” Tomas smiled. “Where?” She glanced toward the bed. Then back at him. “Darling, you're a clever man. Work it out.” He laughed. “Oh, I think I can manage that.” “Good.” She drew him closer for another kiss. Then caught the front of his shirt between her fingers. “This comfortable?” “Mostly.” “Mostly?” He glanced down. “I'm beginning to suspect it might be unnecessary.” Panam burst out laughing. “Oh, you're learning.” Tomas helped her out of the shirt she'd been wearing beneath her jacket. Not with the awkward haste of someone trying to reach a destination. He stopped when she caught his wrist. Looked at her. Panam smiled. “Nothing wrong.” “Then?” “Just wanted to look at you.” His expression softened. “Oh.” She kissed him. Then released his wrist. He smiled. “Should I return the favor?” “Please do.” They continued helping each other undress, their movements interrupted by kisses, occasional laughter and Tomas's discovery that Panam's boots were significantly less cooperative than the woman wearing them. He regarded the second boot with deep suspicion. “Military hardware?” Panam laughed. “Close.” “Explains a lot.” “Having trouble?” “I've rebuilt engines with fewer fasteners.” She threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, fuck you.” He looked up. “Working on it.” Panam stared at him. Then laughed even harder. “You absolute bastard.” When they finally settled together on the bed, the joking quieted. Not because anything had become solemn. Because neither particularly wanted to interrupt the moment. Panam touched Tomas's face. He kissed her palm. That small gesture pleased her more than she'd expected. “Hey,” she murmured. “Hey.” “You still happy you came over to talk to me?” Tomas smiled. “More than I can adequately explain.” “Try.” He considered. “I like you, Panam.” She held his gaze. “Yeah?” “Very much.” Her expression softened. Then she smiled. “Well, sweetheart.” She kissed him. “I like you too.” At their first joining, Panam caught her breath and held him close, asking him to stay still for a moment. Tomas did. He rested his forehead against hers, and she felt him smile as they took in that first rush of closeness together. “Okay?” he whispered. Panam opened her eyes. Her smile was unguarded. “Oh, fuck yes.” He laughed softly. She kissed him. Then, only when they were both ready, they began finding their rhythm. It wasn't perfectly smooth at first. There was an awkward moment. A laugh. A brief adjustment. And Panam discovered that Tomas was every bit as attentive here as he'd been during their conversation. When she wanted him to slow down, he listened. When he hesitated, she drew him close again. Neither needed to perform confidence. They could simply enjoy each other. Panam had expected affection. Attraction. Probably a very enjoyable hour. She hadn't expected to be laughing quite so much. At one point Tomas whispered something about his legendary inability to follow his own advice. Panam stared at him. Then laughed against his shoulder. “Jesus Christ. Now?” “Terrible timing?” “Fucking catastrophic.” “Sorry.” “Don't you dare apologize.” She kissed him. Hard enough to silence whatever remark he'd been preparing next. When she drew back, he was smiling. “Effective.” “I'm talented.” “I've noticed.” The humor didn't diminish their tenderness. If anything, it made the quieter moments easier. Panam liked the way Tomas looked at her when he wasn't trying to find something clever to say. He liked her complete absence of pretense. She didn't pretend to be delicate. Didn't hide her enjoyment. Didn't treat affection as something that needed to be earned through elaborate declarations. When a moment pleased her, she let him know. And when Tomas found himself overcome by the intimacy between them, Panam held him close rather than making a joke. His expression changed. She noticed. “Hey.” He looked at her. She brushed her thumb across his cheek. “I'm here.” He smiled. “I know.” “Then quit thinking.” Tomas laughed softly. “Yes, ma'am.” Panam grinned. “Oh, that's fucking dangerous.” --- They continued together, more comfortable now, the little interruptions becoming part of their shared experience rather than obstacles to it. There was nothing for Panam to prove. She'd already chosen to be here. And Tomas had made it abundantly clear that he wanted the woman, not some legendary experience his money entitled him to demand. When pleasure finally overwhelmed her, Panam held him tightly, her breath catching before she let out a low, astonished laugh. Tomas stayed close while she recovered. She opened her eyes. Looked at him. Then smiled. “Holy fuck.” He laughed. “Positive?” “Sweetheart, if you need to ask, I've seriously underestimated your intelligence.” Tomas kissed her forehead. Panam drew him close again. “Come here, you.” His own moment came afterward, when their affection had settled into something slower and quieter. Panam held him as the tension left his face and his composure gave way to an expression of uncomplicated happiness. When he finally relaxed beside her, he was smiling. For several moments neither spoke. Then Tomas said: “Well.” Panam opened one eye. “Oh, don't you fucking start.” He laughed. “I was only going to say—” “I know.” “You do?” “Something flattering, probably.” “Quite flattering.” “Then save it.” “For when?” Panam smiled and kissed his cheek. “When you can say it without sounding like a man writing a performance review.” Tomas burst out laughing. They stayed together for a while afterward. Panam rested against him, one leg comfortably tangled with his beneath the covers. Tomas gently brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face. She caught his hand. Kissed it. Then settled again. The room was quiet. The club's music seemed very far away. Panam found herself enjoying the absence of demands. For once, she wasn't responsible for the evening's negotiations. Or the five women she'd entrusted to Dalia. Or the next person approaching the bar. Someone else was looking after them. And she had allowed herself to enjoy one hour entirely for herself. It was a rare luxury. Not the money. The freedom. Tomas glanced at her. “Panam?” “Hm?” “Can I tell you something?” She opened one eye. “Depends.” He smiled. “I'm very glad I asked about the Badlands.” Panam began laughing. “Oh, Jesus.” “I am.” “You offered seven hundred and fifty fucking million eddies because we talked about a truck.” Tomas considered. “Well.” She raised an eyebrow. “Careful.” He smiled. “Strictly speaking, the truck was only how we started talking.” Panam looked at him. “And?” “And I discovered that you're someone I'd have liked to meet even if we'd never discussed money.” Her expression softened. For a moment she didn't say anything. Then she kissed him. “That's a considerably better answer.” Tomas hesitated. “Would it be inappropriate to say I'd enjoy seeing you again?” Panam considered. “No.” “Good.” “But don't mistake tonight for a standing arrangement.” “I wouldn't.” “And I'm not promising another booking.” “Understood.” She studied him. Then smiled. “Although I might be interested in hearing what you eventually did about that cooling assembly.” Tomas laughed. “Darling, that story gets considerably worse.” Panam grinned. “Oh, fuck.” “Interested?” She kissed him. “Unfortunately.” --- When they eventually got dressed, neither was in a hurry. Panam found her shirt. Tomas recovered his jacket. One boot was discovered beneath the sofa, where it had apparently migrated during the earlier struggle. Panam looked at it. Then at Tomas. “You lost my fucking boot?” He raised an eyebrow. “I believe the boot escaped.” She laughed. “Coward.” “Me or the boot?” “Both.” He smiled. “Fair.” Before they left, Tomas offered her a glass of water. Panam accepted it. Took a long drink. Then looked at him. “Thank you.” “For the water?” “For the evening.” His expression warmed. “Thank you too.” They shared one final kiss. No promise that money could turn into ownership. No assumption that their pleasant encounter granted access to each other's lives. Just two people who'd genuinely enjoyed one another. Tomas took her hand. “Ready?” Panam smiled. “Yeah.” She squeezed his fingers. “Let's go.” --- Back at the bar, Rogue had just finished explaining to Mandi why the Afterlife's latest argument over whiskey allocations was not, in fact, an international emergency. Mandi remained unconvinced. “YOU CAN'T JUST RUN OUT OF GOOD WHISKEY.” Rogue looked at her. “We didn't.” “THEN WHAT WAS THE PROBLEM?” “Someone complained that the selection was inadequate.” Dalia tilted her head. “Darling, who?” Rogue named the man. Dalia stared. Then burst out laughing. “Oh, that absolute prick.” Rogue smiled. “Exactly.” Mandi shook her head. “I'd have thrown him out.” “Eventually,” Rogue said, “we did.” Sera, listening nearby, laughed. “Good.” Nadia glanced at her lover. Then toward Rogue. She'd been enjoying the evening immensely. Not just because she was comfortable with the people around her, but because she understood so much more of their shared history now. The outrageous jokes weren't random. The affectionate insults weren't hostility. And the way Rogue looked at Mandi and Dalia carried years of familiarity. Nadia looked at Sera. A small smile passed between them. Neither needed to explain anything. “Owner!” Sera's voice changed instantly. Panam had appeared at the entrance to the main floor, Tomas beside her. Nadia turned. Then smiled. “Oh!” Mandi looked up. Saw her owner. Then grinned. “OH, LOOK WHO'S BACK!” Vega laughed. Nova raised an eyebrow. Dalia turned toward the returning couple. Deja smiled. And Rogue, very sensibly, remained seated. There was no reason to interrupt a reunion. Panam approached the group. Tomas accompanied her as far as the bar. “Madame,” he said warmly. Panam turned. “Tomas.” “I had a wonderful time.” She smiled. “Me too.” He kissed her cheek. She returned the affection. Then he stepped away. No announcement. No theatrical farewell. Just a warm goodbye between two adults. Panam watched him disappear into the crowd. Her smile lingered. Then Sera was hugging her. “Owner!” Panam laughed. “Hey, sweetheart.” Nadia joined them. “Welcome back.” Panam drew both artists close. “Miss me?” Sera smiled. “Of course.” Nadia kissed her cheek. “Very much.” Panam held them for a moment. Then Sera drew back. Looked carefully at her owner's face. “Would you like some water?” Panam blinked. Then laughed softly. “Actually, yeah.” Nadia immediately reached for a fresh glass. “Here.” “Thank you, pet.” Panam drank. Sera touched her hand. “Everything all right?” Panam looked at her. The concern was genuine. Not curiosity about the booking. Not an attempt to extract amusing details. Just care. Panam's expression softened. “Everything's wonderful, sweetheart.” Sera smiled. “I'm glad.” Nadia slipped an arm around her waist. “Want to sit down?” Panam considered. “Yeah.” Mandi immediately cleared a comfortable place. “OWNER. HERE.” Panam looked at the seat. Then at Mandi. Then grinned. “Sweetheart, aren't you the one who needs the comfortable seating?” Mandi stared. Vega began laughing. Nova covered her mouth. Dalia nearly dropped her lollipop. Mandi pointed at Panam. “YOU TOO?” Panam sat down laughing. “Oh, I fucking love you.” Dalia approached once Panam had settled. “Madame.” Panam looked up. “Darling.” “Your girls.” Panam smiled. “How were they?” “Beautifully behaved.” Mandi made an offended noise. Dalia ignored it. “They've eaten. Everyone's had water. Sera and Nadia have been resting. Nova and Vega are perfectly content.” “And Mandi?” Dalia considered. “Loud.” Panam burst out laughing. “Excellent.” Mandi crossed her arms. “HOSTILE FUCKING MANAGEMENT.” Rogue smiled into her whiskey. Dalia began handing the five attached leashes back to their owner. No theatrical ceremony. No change of ownership. Just the end of a temporary arrangement. Panam gathered them one by one, greeting each pet with the affection that came naturally. Nova kissed her cheek. Vega hugged her. Mandi made a spectacular show of announcing that she had survived the ordeal. Panam kissed her forehead. “Brave girl.” “THANK YOU.” Sera leaned against her shoulder. Nadia took her hand. Deja remained beside Dalia, her own leash exactly where it belonged. Panam looked around at her five. Then at Dalia. “Thank you.” Dalia smiled. “My pleasure, darling.” “Seriously.” “I know.” Their eyes met. Panam smiled. “You're good at this.” Dalia laughed. “Darling, I have excellent teachers.” --- Rogue allowed Panam a few minutes. Long enough for her to drink her water. Long enough to be hugged by her girls. Long enough to settle back into the affectionate chaos of the bar. Then she approached. Panam spotted her. “Oh, God.” Rogue raised an eyebrow. “What?” “You're still here.” “Yes.” “Waiting for something?” Rogue smiled. “Two people, actually.” Panam followed her gaze. Mandi. Dalia. Both watching Rogue with expressions that were entirely too pleased. Panam looked back. Then slowly began smiling. “Oh.” Rogue nodded. “Oh.” Panam leaned forward. “Seriously?” “Very.” Mandi looked delighted. Dalia took her lollipop from her mouth. Sera watched the exchange with unmistakable amusement. She knew exactly what Rogue wanted. Had known almost from the moment the fixer arrived. Nadia caught Sera's eye. Both smiled. Rogue looked toward Panam. “I'd like to discuss a booking.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “Yours?” “Yes.” “For whom?” Rogue glanced toward Mandi. Then Dalia. “Both.” Panam's smile widened. “Together?” “Together.” Mandi made a small, delighted noise. Dalia laughed softly. Rogue looked back toward Panam. “And before you ask, yes. I know exactly what I'm requesting.” Panam considered her for a moment. Then laughed. “Rogue, sweetheart, I don't doubt that for a fucking second.” Rogue leaned against the bar. “There's no hurry.” Panam glanced at her. “Good.” “I'd rather we discuss it properly.” “Obviously.” “And I'd like both women to decide for themselves.” Panam smiled. “Then let's hear what you've got in mind.” Rogue looked toward Mandi. Then Dalia. Neither woman had stopped smiling. She returned her attention to Panam. And, with the calm confidence of somebody who'd spent decades negotiating deals that changed people's lives, said: “First, I want to make one thing clear.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “Go ahead.” Rogue smiled. “Friday has nothing to do with this.” Mandi's grin became enormous. Dalia slowly began laughing. Rogue continued. “Friday is personal. Tonight they're working.” Panam nodded. “And?” “And tonight,” Rogue said, “I'd like to book two professionals who happen to mean a great deal to me.” For a moment, Panam simply looked at her. Then she smiled. Not because she expected an extraordinary number. Because she understood. “Oh, Rogue.” Rogue raised her whiskey. “Yes?” Panam laughed softly. “You sentimental old bitch.” Rogue smiled. “Don't spread it around.” Mandi stepped closer. “Rogue?” “Yes, trouble?” “Are you seriously going to pay us?” “Yes.” “Even though—” “Yes.” Mandi stared. Then began laughing. “Oh, you absolutely magnificent woman.” Dalia leaned closer. “Darling, I think I love you a little more every minute.” Rogue looked at her. “You're supposed to be negotiating.” Dalia smiled. “Who says I'm not?” That made Rogue laugh. Panam shook her head. “Jesus fucking Christ.” She looked toward Suzy. Suzy had been listening just long enough to recognize the gathering storm. “Oh, no.” Panam grinned. “Oh, yes.” Suzy stared at Rogue. Then at Mandi. Then Dalia. Then back. “HOW MUCH TROUBLE ARE YOU THREE PLANNING?” Rogue considered. Smiled. And answered: “That depends on what Madame says.” Panam began laughing. Mandi looked ready to explode with delight. Dalia slipped her lollipop back into her mouth. And Sera, who knew her beloved friends far too well to mistake any of this for a casual booking, leaned against Nadia and whispered: “Oh, darling. This is going to be magnificent.” Nadia smiled. “I think you're right.” Rogue set down her whiskey. Looked at Panam. Then at the two women she'd come to see. “All right,” she said. “Let's talk terms.” And for the first time that evening, the Queen of the Afterlife was ready to make her offer. --- ## Chapter 29 — What She Came For “All right,” Rogue said. “Let's talk terms.” Panam regarded her over the rim of her whiskey glass. “I'm listening.” “Two hours. Both women. Together.” Mandi grinned. Dalia slowly removed her lollipop. Panam glanced between them. “Private room?” “Obviously.” “No recording?” Rogue raised an eyebrow. “Panam.” “I'm doing my job.” “Then do it properly.” Panam smiled. “Gladly.” She looked toward Dalia. “Darling, there's something we need to settle before this goes any further.” Dalia tilted her head. “Oh?” “Mandi's my pet. You're not.” “An excellent observation.” “And you normally handle your own bookings.” “Quite.” Panam leaned a little closer. “Since Rogue wants both of you together, would you like me to negotiate the joint booking?” Dalia considered. Then glanced at Rogue. Rogue looked amused. Mandi looked as though somebody had offered her front-row seats to the most entertaining argument in Night City. Dalia smiled. “You may, Madame.” Panam nodded. “Thank you.” “On one condition.” Panam laughed. “Of course.” Dalia held up one finger. “Separate accounts.” “Obviously.” “Separate payment records.” “Yes.” “And I want the allocation established before anything is transferred.” Panam's smile widened. “Sweetheart, I'll be so fucking careful with the money you'll think I've become an accountant.” Dalia stared at her. Then smiled. “Oh, darling. Now that I'd pay to see.” Rogue laughed. Mandi leaned against the bar. “WHY AM I NOT SURPRISED THAT THIS HAS TURNED INTO A FUCKING FINANCE MEETING?” Dalia glanced at her. “Because, sweetheart, you've known me for years.” Panam turned back toward Rogue. “Right. Two hours with Mandi and Dalia. What are you actually asking for?” Rogue considered the two women. Both were watching her. Both smiling. And both knew her well enough to recognize when she was being serious. “Private company. Affection. Intimacy, if we're all still interested once we're alone.” Mandi laughed. “IF?” Rogue looked at her. “Yes, if.” “Rogue, sweetheart, you've already spent half the evening making us wait.” “Then another five minutes won't kill you.” Dalia began laughing. Mandi stared. “YOU ARE SUCH A FUCKING BITCH.” “Missed you too.” Panam shook her head. “Jesus Christ. Can we finish the discussion?” Rogue gestured toward her. “Please.” They discussed the boundaries properly. No additional guests. No photographs. No recordings. No public disclosure of anybody's private identity or arrangements. Two hours, with the understanding that none of the three women was obligated to do anything she didn't want. Rogue wanted their company, not control over them. And while all three clearly anticipated enjoying themselves, they were perfectly comfortable keeping that distinction explicit. Panam looked at Mandi. “Pet?” “Yes, Owner?” “You interested?” Mandi grinned. “Owner, I have spent years being interested in that woman.” Panam laughed. “I know. I'm asking about tonight.” “FUCK YES.” “Anything you want changed?” “Only the part where we're still standing at the bar.” Dalia laughed. Panam turned toward her. “And you, darling?” Dalia smiled around her lollipop. “Very interested, Madame.” “Comfortable with the arrangement?” “Entirely.” “Any conditions of your own?” Dalia regarded Rogue thoughtfully. “One.” Rogue raised an eyebrow. “Go ahead.” “No discussing Afterlife business in bed.” Rogue stared. Mandi burst out laughing. “OH, FUCK!” Rogue considered. “Fair.” Dalia smiled. “Wonderful.” “Unless it's particularly interesting.” “Rogue.” “Fine.” Panam covered her face. “Oh, you three are going to be fucking impossible.” She looked toward Rogue. “Offer?” Rogue set down her whiskey. Then answered with perfect composure. “Seven hundred million eddies.” For a moment, nobody spoke. Panam blinked. Dalia stopped moving. Mandi stared. Then— “SEVEN HUNDRED FUCKING MILLION?” Rogue nodded. “For both of you.” Mandi pointed at her. “YOU KNOW YOU GET FRIDAYS FOR FREE!” Rogue smiled. “Yes.” “AND YOU'RE OFFERING SEVEN HUNDRED MILLION?” “Yes.” “FOR TWO HOURS?” “Yes.” “WHY?” Rogue regarded her with an expression that was unexpectedly gentle. “Because Friday is personal.” Mandi fell quiet. Rogue glanced toward Dalia. “Tonight you're working.” Dalia's smile softened. “And?” “And I'd like to book two professionals who happen to mean a great deal to me.” She paused. “On their terms. At a price I choose to offer.” Panam watched Mandi. Her pet had stopped smiling quite so theatrically. Dalia too. For a moment, the three women seemed to have forgotten the extraordinary number entirely. Rogue looked from one to the other. “Is that a problem?” Mandi answered first. “No.” Dalia shook her head. “Not remotely, darling.” Rogue smiled. “Then we're making progress.” Panam leaned back. “Seven hundred million. Both women together. Two hours.” “Correct.” “Not seven hundred million each.” “Correct.” “And this doesn't establish a future rate for either of them.” “Obviously.” Panam considered. Then turned toward Dalia. “Darling?” “Yes, Madame?” “Equal allocation?” Dalia looked at Mandi. Mandi nodded. “Works for me.” Dalia smiled. “Three hundred and fifty million each.” Panam nodded. “Two independent payment records. Mandi's side and yours. No ambiguity.” Dalia's smile became positively radiant. “Oh, Madame. You're speaking my language.” Panam grinned. “Don't get used to it.” Rogue completed the payment. Seven hundred million eddies. Panam verified the transaction and the separately recorded three-hundred-and-fifty-million allocations. Dalia checked her side. Twice. Panam watched. Then raised an eyebrow. “Happy?” Dalia considered. “There's one thing.” Mandi groaned. “OF COURSE THERE IS.” Dalia ignored her. “Your records show the allocation correctly. Mine does too. But I want to verify the transaction reference matches.” Panam looked at her. Then began laughing. “Oh, sweetheart.” Rogue smiled. “Told you she was worth waiting for.” Dalia looked delighted. “Thank you, darling.” Panam brought up the reference. Dalia checked it. Nodded. Then smiled. “Perfect.” Mandi threw both hands into the air. “THANK FUCK!” Panam turned to her pet. “Come here, sweetheart.” Mandi approached. Her exuberance softened when Panam touched her cheek. “Still want this?” “Very much, Owner.” “Then have a wonderful evening.” Panam kissed her forehead. Mandi smiled. “Love you.” “Love you too, pet.” Click. Panam unclipped her leash and placed it in her hand. Mandi accepted it. Then leaned forward and hugged her owner. Panam held her a little longer than usual. “Comfortable after your earlier booking?” Mandi nodded. “Absolutely.” “No aches or anything you want to rest?” Mandi's grin returned. “Owner, Rogue's going to be terribly disappointed if I spend the next two hours discussing my fucking medical condition.” Panam laughed. “Answer the question, menace.” “I'm fine. I want to go. And I'll tell them if I need a break.” Panam studied her. Then smiled. “That's my girl.” Rogue turned toward Dalia. “Well?” Dalia raised an eyebrow. “Well what, darling?” “Ready?” Dalia smiled. “Almost.” Mandi stared. “ALMOST?” “Yes, sweetheart.” “WHAT NOW?” Dalia touched the leash attached to Deja's collar. “My pet.” Rogue looked toward the elegant green-haired woman waiting beside the bar. “Of course.” Panam nodded. “Need me to look after her?” Dalia considered. “Perhaps. But first I'd like to ask her.” Deja had been enjoying the negotiations with an expression of immaculate composure. It fooled absolutely nobody who knew her. Dalia approached. “Pet?” Deja turned. “Yes, Owner?” “Rogue has booked me for the next two hours.” Deja smiled. “I gathered.” “Would you be comfortable staying with Madame while I'm away?” “Of course.” Panam stepped closer. “Happy to have you, sweetheart.” Deja nodded. “Thank you, Madame.” Dalia touched her cheek. “If you need anything, ask her. I'll be back afterward.” “Yes, Owner.” Mandi was practically vibrating. Rogue waited patiently. Dalia smiled. “There. All arranged.” “FINALLY,” Mandi announced. Rogue laughed. “Patience, trouble.” “PATIENCE IS OVERRATED.” And the three women began walking toward the private rooms. They'd gone perhaps six steps when Dalia stopped. Not abruptly. Just enough that Rogue noticed. “Something wrong?” Dalia had turned her head. Across the bar, somebody was approaching Deja. A woman. Attractive, confident, carrying herself with the easy assurance of someone who knew what she wanted but wasn't accustomed to demanding it. Dalia watched her exchange a few words with Deja. And then— Oh. Deja smiled. Not her usual polite smile. Not the pleasant professional expression she offered people she had no particular interest in. Something different. Something unmistakable. Dalia knew that expression. Very well. “Oh, darling.” Rogue followed her gaze. Then smiled. “Interesting?” Dalia's expression became positively wicked. “Very.” Mandi turned. “WHAT NOW?” Dalia looked at her. “My pet appears to have developed an interest.” Mandi stared toward the bar. Saw Deja. Saw the woman. Saw Deja's face. Then threw her head back. “OH, FOR FUCK'S SAKE!” Rogue began laughing. “Well. We can't have her missing an opportunity.” Mandi stared at Rogue. “WE'RE FINALLY GOING TO OUR ROOM!” Rogue took her hand. “Sweetheart, I've waited this long. I can wait another five minutes.” Dalia smiled sweetly. “Possibly ten, darling. You know how I feel about financial arrangements.” Mandi made a noise of theatrical despair. Rogue's laughter became utterly uncontrollable. --- The woman beside Deja introduced herself as Odette. She had dark auburn hair, warm brown eyes and the sort of smile that suggested she had already decided the evening was going rather well. Dalia approached with Rogue and Mandi following. Deja saw her owner coming. Her expression changed. Just slightly. Dalia nearly laughed. Oh, yes. She knew. “Pet?” “Yes, Owner?” “Having an interesting conversation?” Deja's smile became positively radiant. “Very.” Odette turned. “Am I interrupting something?” Dalia smiled. “Not at all, darling. I'm Dalia.” “Odette. A pleasure.” Dalia nodded toward Deja. “I understand you've been talking with my pet.” “Yes.” “And?” Odette looked at Deja. Then smiled. “I'd like to spend some private time with her, if she's interested.” Dalia raised an eyebrow. Deja's eyes answered before her mouth did. “Oh, darling,” Dalia murmured. Mandi made a muffled noise behind Rogue's shoulder. Rogue glanced back. “Behave.” “I AM.” “Barely.” Odette explained what she had in mind. Ninety minutes together. Private company, affection and the possibility of intimacy if both women wanted it. No recordings. No additional guests. Nothing beyond the boundaries Deja herself accepted. Dalia listened carefully. Then turned to her pet. “Interested, sweetheart?” Deja didn't hesitate. “Very, Owner.” “Any concerns?” “None.” “Anything you'd like clarified?” Deja considered Odette. Then smiled. “Only that she understands I have a rather dry sense of humor.” Odette laughed. “I'd already gathered.” Dalia smiled. “Then I believe we're making progress.” She turned toward Odette. “Your offer?” “Two hundred and forty thousand for the ninety minutes.” Dalia considered. A good offer. A clear arrangement. And, judging by Deja's expression, a customer her pet was thoroughly delighted to have met. “Accepted,” she said. “Provided my pet still wants the booking.” Deja nodded. “Absolutely.” The payment was confirmed. Dalia checked it. Once. Then again. Mandi looked toward the ceiling. Rogue quietly began laughing. Dalia turned to Deja. “Come here, sweetheart.” Deja approached. Dalia kissed her cheek. “Have a wonderful time.” “I intend to, Owner.” Dalia reached for her leash. Click. The clasp opened. She placed the leash in Deja's hand. Then touched her cheek again. “And if you're finished before I am, go to Madame. I've arranged for her to look after you until I return.” Deja nodded. “Thank you, Owner.” “Water, food, somewhere quiet if you want it. Don't rush yourself.” Deja's expression softened. “I know.” Dalia smiled. “Of course you do.” Odette offered her hand. Deja accepted it. And the two women headed toward the private rooms together. Dalia watched them go. Then turned. Rogue was smiling. Mandi was staring at her. “Well?” Dalia asked. Mandi slowly raised one finger. “Are.” A pause. “We.” Another. “FINALLY.” Dalia's smile widened. “Darling, I believe we are.” Rogue offered an arm to each woman. “Shall we?” Mandi stared at her. Then burst out laughing. “Oh, you absolute fucking queen.” Rogue smiled. “Comes with the job.” Dalia took one arm. Mandi the other. And at last, all three set off together. Sera watched them disappear. Then leaned against Nadia. “Oh, those three.” Nadia smiled. “Happy for them?” “Immensely.” “Even with that extraordinary offer?” Sera laughed softly. “Darling, I know what their Fridays are like. The money's practically incidental.” Nadia considered. Then smiled. “That's rather wonderful.” Sera nodded. “It is.” --- Panam joined them with a fresh glass of water. “Everybody settled?” Nadia smiled. “Yes, Owner.” Sera nodded. “And Deja found herself a booking.” Panam laughed. “I noticed.” “She looked very pleased.” “Yeah.” Panam glanced toward the private-room corridor. Then shook her head affectionately. “What a fucking family.” --- Inside their private room, Rogue closed the door. The noise of Lizzie's faded. Mandi stood in the center of the room, looked around, then turned toward Rogue. “Well.” Rogue raised an eyebrow. “Well?” “Seven hundred fucking million.” Dalia groaned. “Oh, sweetheart.” Mandi looked at her. “What?” “We have finally reached our private room.” “Yes?” “And you're still discussing the money.” Mandi considered. Then grinned. “FINE.” She looked toward Rogue. “Come here, you magnificent bitch.” Rogue laughed. And did. Mandi kissed her. Not tentatively. Not with the nervous curiosity of strangers wondering whether the attraction was mutual. She knew Rogue. Knew her smile. Knew the little amused sound she made when somebody caught her by surprise. And knew that Rogue was perfectly capable of returning an outrageous kiss with interest. When they separated, Mandi was grinning. “Missed you.” Rogue touched her cheek. “Missed you too.” Dalia approached. “And me?” Rogue turned. “Especially you.” Dalia laughed. “Flatterer.” “Frequently.” “Terrible woman.” “So I've been told.” Dalia slipped her arms around Rogue and kissed her. Slowly. Affectionately. With none of the uncertainty that had characterized the artists' first meetings with their weekend customers. Rogue drew her closer. And when the kiss ended, Dalia smiled. “Oh, darling.” Rogue raised an eyebrow. “Yes?” “This really was an excellent idea.” They didn't immediately move toward the bed. There was no need. Instead, Rogue removed her jacket and dropped it over a chair. Dalia set her lollipop aside. Mandi watched both women with enormous amusement. “What?” Rogue asked. “Nothing.” “Liar.” Mandi laughed. “I was just thinking that this is the first time I've ever seen you pay seven hundred million eddies to do something you already know you enjoy.” Rogue considered. “That's true.” “AND?” “And?” “WAS IT WORTH IT?” Rogue looked at Mandi. Then Dalia. Both smiling. Both waiting. She stepped closer. Took a hand from each. And said quietly: “Every eddie.” Mandi's grin softened. For a moment she stopped performing. “Oh, Rogue.” Dalia squeezed her hand. Rogue smiled. Then Mandi ruined the tenderness by announcing: “WELL, FUCK. NOW I WANT TO KISS YOU AGAIN.” Rogue burst out laughing. “Then do it.” It was Rogue who suggested they get comfortable. Mandi raised an eyebrow. “Comfortable?” Rogue's eyes flicked toward her. Then toward the bed. Mandi stared. “Oh, fuck off.” Dalia began laughing. Rogue smiled. “I didn't say anything.” “YOU THOUGHT IT.” “Possibly.” Mandi shook her head. “You two are never going to let me live down Rafael, are you?” Dalia touched her cheek. “Not for several years, sweetheart.” “FUCK.” Rogue laughed. Then kissed her. That helped considerably. --- The first fastenings were undone between kisses. Rogue's blouse came loose beneath Dalia's patient fingers. Mandi offered assistance, promptly became distracted by kissing Rogue's neck, and earned a thoroughly amused look from both women. “Helpful,” Rogue murmured. “THANK YOU.” Dalia shook her head. “Darling, she's trying.” “Very.” Mandi grinned. “Fuck both of you.” Rogue raised an eyebrow. “That's the general idea.” Dalia burst out laughing. They moved gradually from standing together to sitting on the edge of the bed. Mandi's outfit had a particularly inconvenient fastening. Rogue studied it. Then looked at her. “Who designed this?” Mandi shrugged. “Someone with a sense of humor.” Dalia leaned over. “Allow me.” Mandi stared. “You know how it works?” “Of course.” “HOW?” Dalia smiled sweetly. “Sweetheart, I helped you choose it.” Rogue began laughing. Mandi closed her eyes. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” A moment later, the fastening released. Mandi looked down. Then at Dalia. Then grinned. “Marry me.” Dalia laughed. “Darling, you're already married.” Rogue shook her head. “And here I thought we were supposed to be behaving professionally.” Mandi burst out laughing. “THAT SHIP SAILED YEARS AGO.” Their remaining clothes came away without hurry. A jacket folded over a chair. Shoes placed aside. A blouse set down and promptly forgotten. Dalia's pink dreads and emerald lenses remained exactly as familiar to Rogue as they'd been at the bar; her face-mesh stayed in place, part of the carefully maintained identity Rogue knew so well. Nothing about being alone required Dalia to become somebody else. Rogue appreciated that. Mandi had never been particularly inclined to hide her delight. And Dalia, who could be every bit as outrageous when she chose, seemed determined to make Rogue laugh at least once for every piece of clothing that disappeared. Eventually Rogue caught her hand. “Dalia.” “Yes, darling?” “You're doing that deliberately.” “Of course.” “Trying to distract me?” Dalia smiled. “Is it working?” Rogue kissed her. Then looked into her mirrored lenses. “Not nearly enough.” They settled together. Rogue between her two familiar companions. Mandi close on one side. Dalia on the other. For a moment, nobody spoke. Then Rogue reached for their hands. “Both comfortable?” Mandi nodded. “Very.” Dalia smiled. “Absolutely.” Rogue looked from one to the other. “And both still want this?” Mandi's expression softened. “Yes.” Dalia touched Rogue's cheek. “Very much, darling.” Rogue smiled. “Then come here.” Their intimacy began with familiar affection rather than haste. Rogue kissed Mandi, and Dalia moved closer, resting a hand against Rogue's shoulder until she turned to meet her too. They took time to find a comfortable place for all three. A pillow was rearranged. Someone laughed. Mandi accused Rogue of stealing the best side of the bed. Rogue informed her that being Queen of the Afterlife came with certain privileges. Dalia suggested that those privileges ought to be reviewed. Mandi immediately volunteered to chair the committee. Rogue kissed her before the proceedings could begin. The committee never recovered. When their affection became more intimate, the change was mutual and deliberate. They were three women who knew one another well enough to speak plainly and listen carefully. There was no guessing game about whether someone was comfortable. No need to turn the evening into a competition. At the first newly intimate touch, Mandi caught her breath and went still for a moment. Rogue paused with her. Dalia brushed a reassuring kiss against her cheek. “You all right, sweetheart?” Mandi opened her eyes. For once, her answer was soft. “Oh, fuck yes.” Rogue smiled. “Then we're in no hurry.” Mandi looked at her. Then at Dalia. And laughed under her breath. “God, I love you two.” Dalia kissed her. “We know, darling.” Only then did the three settle into the easy, shared rhythm that came from familiarity, trust and genuine affection. There was laughter. Of course there was. Mandi was incapable of remaining solemn for very long, and Rogue could destroy her composure with a single perfectly timed remark. Dalia was no better. But there were quieter moments too. Moments when one of them simply held another close. When an unexpected tenderness made somebody forget what she'd been about to say. When Rogue looked at her companions and found herself wondering, not for the first time, how she'd become lucky enough to have these two impossible women in her life. Mandi noticed her expression. “What?” Rogue shook her head. “Nothing.” Dalia smiled. “Oh, darling. That's never nothing.” Rogue laughed softly. “No.” She drew them closer. “It's not.” --- As their time together unfolded, each woman's enjoyment showed differently. Mandi was gloriously expressive, laughing when something delighted her and becoming unexpectedly quiet whenever emotion caught up with the joke. Dalia's composure gave way in smaller increments: a held breath, a softened smile, an affectionate grip on a familiar hand. Rogue, who spent so much of her professional life looking completely unshakeable, allowed herself the rare pleasure of not having to manage anything. They shared closeness and pleasure without the need for an audience, or for anybody to prove how extraordinary the evening was. They already knew. When the intensity finally subsided, Mandi lay between them, smiling so broadly that Dalia began laughing merely from looking at her. “What?” Mandi demanded. “Nothing, sweetheart.” “BULLSHIT.” Rogue kissed her forehead. “She's right.” Mandi looked at Rogue. Then Dalia. Then threw back her head. “Oh, you absolute fucking monsters.” The afterglow belonged to all three. Nobody hurried toward the clock. Rogue rested against the pillows with one arm around Mandi. Dalia lay close enough to hold both their hands. For a while, conversation gave way to a wonderfully companionable silence. Then Mandi lifted her head. “Rogue?” “Yes?” “Can I ask something?” “Always dangerous.” Mandi grinned. “Was this different from Friday?” Rogue considered. Then smiled. “Yes.” “How?” Rogue glanced toward Dalia. Then back at Mandi. “Because tonight I got to watch you two do something you love.” Mandi blinked. Rogue continued. “Work. Choose your own arrangements. Set your own boundaries. And enjoy yourselves.” Dalia's expression softened. Rogue smiled. “Friday is ours. Tonight was yours too.” For a moment neither younger woman spoke. Then Dalia leaned forward and kissed Rogue. “Oh, sweetheart.” Mandi joined them. And the next few minutes were considerably less interested in conversation. Eventually Rogue glanced toward the clock. They still had a little time. Mandi noticed. “Don't.” Rogue raised an eyebrow. “What?” “Start being responsible.” Dalia laughed. “Darling, somebody has to.” “NOT YET.” Rogue smiled. “All right.” Mandi settled closer. “Five more minutes.” Rogue kissed her temple. “Ten.” Dalia smiled. “An excellent counteroffer.” Mandi closed her eyes. “Oh, fuck. Please don't start negotiating again.” Rogue laughed. And held them both. When the agreed time finally drew to its close, they got dressed together. Slowly. With occasional interruptions. Rogue found Mandi's troublesome fastening considerably easier the second time. Mandi looked impressed. “Practice?” Rogue smiled. “Experience.” Dalia laughed. “Darling, that's an understatement.” Mandi slipped into her shoes. Then regarded the other two. “Can I say something?” Rogue looked up. “Go ahead.” Mandi smiled. A small, genuine smile. “I really missed this.” Dalia's expression warmed. Rogue approached her. Put a hand against her cheek. “So did I, trouble.” Dalia joined them. For a moment, they held one another. No jokes. No prices. No professional roles requiring anyone's attention. Just Rogue, Ace and Mai, beneath the familiar covers and the old affection that existed long before tonight. Then Mandi stepped back. Grinned. “AND YOU FUCKERS ARE STILL COMING ON FRIDAY.” Rogue burst out laughing. “Wouldn't miss it.” --- Back at the main bar, Panam was checking on her pets. Deja's appointment was still underway. Dalia had entrusted her care to Panam for the duration, and Panam intended to take that responsibility as seriously as she took her own stable. Sera and Nadia sat together, sharing something that looked suspiciously like a dessert intended for one person. Nova and Vega were talking quietly. The club had begun settling toward the end of its Sunday rush. Suzy approached. “Madame.” Panam looked up. “Yes?” “Your friend's still in one of my rooms.” Panam smiled. “Rogue?” “Who else?” Panam laughed. “Should be finishing soon.” Suzy considered. “Seven hundred million.” “Yeah.” “For Mandi and Dalia.” “Yeah.” Suzy shook her head. “Jesus fucking Christ.” Panam grinned. “Pretty much.” The private-room door opened. Rogue emerged first. Dalia followed. Then Mandi. All three smiling. Not performing for anyone. Not advertising what had happened. Just looking like people who'd enjoyed a wonderful evening together. Panam saw them. And smiled immediately. “Well.” Mandi grinned. “OWNER!” Panam laughed. “Welcome back, sweetheart.” Mandi approached, holding out her leash. Panam accepted it. Click. Then she drew her pet close. Kissed her forehead. Held her. And felt Mandi relax into the embrace. “Good time?” Mandi nodded. “Fucking wonderful.” “Feeling all right?” “Very.” “Need anything?” Mandi considered. “Water. Maybe food. And possibly a medal.” Panam burst out laughing. “A medal?” “For surviving you lot.” “Oh, sweetheart.” She kissed Mandi's cheek. “I'll arrange the water.” “And the medal?” “Don't push your luck.” Dalia stood beside Rogue, looking positively radiant. Panam turned toward her. “Darling?” “Yes, Madame?” “Everything all right?” “Beautifully.” “Want something to drink?” Dalia smiled. “Water first, perhaps.” Panam nodded. “Coming up.” Rogue looked between them. Then smiled. “Look at you two.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “What?” “Taking care of everybody.” Dalia laughed. “Darling, it's a terrible habit.” Rogue smiled. “One of your better ones.” Sera approached Rogue. “Enjoy yourself?” Rogue looked at her. Then smiled. “Very much.” Sera grinned. “Thought so.” Rogue raised an eyebrow. “Did you?” “Oh, darling.” Sera's silver-white hair lifted slightly. “You have no idea.” Rogue laughed. “Pretty sure I do.” Nadia joined them. She knew exactly who had returned with Rogue, and there was no need for anybody to explain the familiar ease among them. She smiled warmly. “Wonderful evening?” Rogue considered. Then nodded. “Yes.” Sera slipped an arm around Nadia. “I'm glad.” Mandi had found a comfortable seat. Panam had brought water. Dalia was drinking hers nearby. Rogue stood close enough to remain part of the conversation without interrupting the owner's aftercare. And for a few moments, the evening felt almost peaceful. Then Mandi looked up. “OWNER.” Panam sighed. “Yes, pet?” “Can I ask one question?” “One.” Mandi pointed toward Rogue. “DOES SHE GET A LOYALTY DISCOUNT NEXT FRIDAY?” Silence. Then Rogue began laughing. Dalia nearly choked on her water. Sera folded against Nadia. Nova and Vega turned just in time to see Panam put both hands over her face. “Oh, for FUCK'S sake.” Mandi threw back her head. “THAT'S A NO, THEN!” And Lizzie's erupted in laughter one more time --- ## Chapter 30 — What Money Couldn't Buy “You look disgustingly pleased with yourself.” Rogue glanced at Suzy. “Do I?” “Yes.” “Interesting.” Suzy set a fresh glass of water in front of her. “Seven hundred million eddies, two beautiful women, and now you're standing in my bar looking like the fucking Queen of Night City.” Rogue raised an eyebrow. “I'm the Queen of the Afterlife.” “That's not a denial.” Rogue smiled. “No.” Suzy shook her head. “Unbelievable.” “Which part?” “All of it.” Rogue considered. Then glanced toward the friends gathered farther along the bar. Mandi was laughing at something Vega had said. Dalia stood nearby, her pink dreads catching the shifting lights. Panam had one arm around Nadia, while Sera leaned against her other shoulder. And there, just beyond them, Deja was sitting with a glass of water and a smile so content that Rogue couldn't help noticing. Rogue looked back at Suzy. “I've had a wonderful evening.” Suzy snorted. “Yeah. That much is fucking obvious.” Deja had finished her appointment while Rogue's booking was underway. Panam had welcomed her back, checked that she was comfortable, made sure she had water and something to eat, and kept her company until Dalia returned. Now Deja was watching her owner approach. Dalia saw that particular smile immediately. “Oh, darling.” Deja stood. “Yes, Owner?” “Come here, sweetheart.” Deja moved into her arms without hesitation. Dalia embraced her warmly. No audience required. No performance. Just the familiar pleasure of being reunited. She kissed Deja's cheek. “Enjoy yourself?” Deja's smile widened. “Immensely.” Dalia drew back just enough to examine her expression. “You certainly look it.” “Odette was wonderful.” “Oh?” “Intelligent. Considerate. Very funny.” Dalia raised an eyebrow. “Funny?” Deja nodded. “A dangerously dry sense of humor.” Dalia laughed. “Good heavens. Another one.” Deja's composure fractured. She began laughing too. Panam approached with Deja's leash. “Darling.” Dalia turned. “Madame.” “Your girl was an absolute delight.” Dalia smiled. “I should certainly hope so.” Panam handed the leash to her. “She's had water, eaten a little and had time to rest. She said she's comfortable, but I thought you'd want to check for yourself.” “Of course.” Dalia took her pet's hand. “Sweetheart?” “Yes, Owner?” “Anything you need? Somewhere quieter? More time to yourself?” Deja considered. Then smiled. “Actually, I'd rather stay with you.” Dalia's expression softened. “Oh, darling.” She kissed her forehead. “Then that's exactly what we'll do.” Deja leaned against her. Panam smiled and stepped away, leaving the two women their moment together. Mandi watched from a nearby seat. Then leaned toward Rogue. “That's disgustingly cute.” Rogue looked at her. “Jealous?” Mandi blinked. Then grinned. “FUCK NO. I'm just deciding whether to make it worse.” Rogue put a hand on her shoulder. “Let them have a minute.” Mandi looked toward Deja, who was now telling Dalia something that made her laugh. Her grin softened. “Yeah.” A pause. “Okay.” Rogue squeezed her shoulder. And Mandi, for once, let the moment remain untouched. --- A little later, the friends had gathered comfortably along the bar. Not for another booking. Not to negotiate anything. Simply because nobody was quite ready to go home. Mandi had been supplied with a cushioned seat. She had accepted it with exaggerated dignity and informed the entire group that any further commentary would be treated as a declaration of war. Vega naturally interpreted that as an invitation. Nova supported her. Deja contributed one perfectly timed remark. Dalia laughed so hard she nearly lost her lollipop. Panam watched them with open affection. Rogue stood beside her. “Your girls seem happy.” Panam glanced over. “They are.” “And you?” Panam looked at her. Then smiled. “Yeah.” Rogue studied her for a moment. “A real smile.” Panam laughed. “Don't sound so fucking surprised.” “Not surprised.” “Then?” “Pleased.” Panam looked toward her five pets. Then toward Tomas's empty place at the bar. For a moment her smile softened. “So am I.” --- Lisa arrived with a tired expression and an empty coffee cup. Suzy spotted her. “Please tell me it's over.” Lisa considered. “The queue's gone.” “Wonderful.” “The extra Mox are finishing their shifts.” “Even better.” “And one man tried to convince security that he should be admitted because he was personally responsible for funding several major cultural institutions.” Suzy stared. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Lisa nodded. “I asked which institutions.” “And?” “He wouldn't say.” Panam looked over. “Probably because they don't exist.” Lisa smiled. “That's what I thought.” Suzy shook her head. “What did you do?” “Told him the club wasn't accepting cultural donations at the door.” Rogue laughed. Suzy stared at Lisa. Then grinned. “God, I love you.” Lisa lifted her empty cup. “Coffee?” Suzy reached for the pot. “On the house.” Nadia watched the exchange with amusement. “Your friends are extraordinary,” she told Panam. Panam glanced toward Suzy and Lisa. “Those two?” “All of them.” Panam smiled. “You're included in that, pet.” “I should hope so.” Sera moved closer. “And me?” Panam looked at her. “Oh, sweetheart. Especially you.” Sera smiled. Nadia pretended to look offended. “Favoritism.” Panam laughed. “Absolutely.” Sera reached around Panam and took Nadia's hand. “Don't worry, darling. I'll share.” Nadia regarded her. “How generous.” “Exceptionally.” Panam shook her head. “You two are fucking impossible.” Nadia leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Yes, Owner.” Sera kissed the other. “Completely.” Rogue had been listening. She looked toward the artists. Then at Panam. “Quite a weekend.” Panam sighed. “That's one way of describing it.” “Enjoyable?” “Very.” “Exhausting?” “Fuck yes.” Rogue smiled. “Worth repeating?” Panam considered. Then looked toward Sera and Nadia. They were laughing together, Nadia describing something about the dress she'd designed with Lena that afternoon. Sera's hair rose slightly as she argued about a detail. Panam smiled. “Ask me after I've slept.” Rogue laughed. “Fair.” The conversation drifted toward the weekend's strangest moments. Mandi insisted that the most extraordinary part had been Margot's joint booking. Vega disagreed. Nova nominated Panam's own astonishing offer. Deja quietly suggested that Mandi's reaction to that offer had been considerably more memorable than the amount itself. “YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T BRING THAT UP AGAIN!” Deja looked at her. “Did I?” Mandi stopped. Thought about it. Then narrowed her eyes. “No.” Deja smiled. “How fortunate.” Dalia collapsed against Rogue, laughing. Rogue put an arm around her. “Your pet's developing quite a talent.” Dalia wiped her eyes. “Darling, she's always had it. She's simply getting bolder.” Deja looked pleased. “Thank you, Owner.” Mandi threw both hands into the air. “UNBELIEVABLE.” Nova patted her shoulder. “Sweetheart, after this weekend, I'm not sure anything qualifies as unbelievable anymore.” That prompted a more thoughtful silence. Not because the figures had lost their absurdity. They hadn't. But because the women standing at the bar had spent years reaching a place where money no longer determined what they could choose. Panam had security. Rogue had the Afterlife and everything she'd built through decades of hard decisions. The others had found their own freedoms, their own work, their own ways of living. Nobody here was struggling to pay rent. Nobody needed to accept a customer to survive. They worked because they wanted to. And when they didn't want to, they didn't. Rogue looked toward Mandi. “You had fun tonight?” Mandi smiled. “Fucking spectacular fun.” “Thought so.” Dalia leaned closer. “And you, darling?” Rogue turned toward her. “Very much.” “Excellent.” Mandi grinned. “YOU LOOK IT.” Rogue raised an eyebrow. “Should I be concerned?” “Absolutely.” Dalia laughed. “Oh, sweetheart. She's going to be unbearable about this.” Rogue smiled. “Going to be?” That finished Dalia. Panam watched them. Then glanced at her agent. The balance from Tomas's booking was still there. Seven hundred and fifty million eddies. A number that would have changed her life beyond recognition not so very long ago. Now? She thought about Tomas. About laughing with him. About the pleasure of spending an hour in the company of a man who understood the difference between a machine that looked impressive and one that actually worked. Those memories meant something. The number, by itself, didn't. She looked at the friends around her. An idea occurred to her. A thoroughly ridiculous idea. Panam smiled. Rogue noticed. “Oh, no.” Panam looked up. “What?” “That expression.” “What expression?” “The one you wear when you've decided to do something expensive.” Panam laughed. “Look who's fucking talking.” Rogue lifted her glass. “Fair.” Panam glanced at the people around them. Then back at Rogue. “Actually, I've been thinking.” “Dangerous.” “About the money.” Rogue waited. Panam smiled. “I don't need another seven hundred and fifty million.” Rogue's expression became interested. “No.” “And I know a few people I'd enjoy sharing it with.” Rogue studied her. Then slowly smiled. “Of course you do.” Panam looked suspicious. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Rogue took a sip of whiskey. “You really do love taking care of your people.” Panam looked toward Sera, Nadia, Mandi, Nova and Vega. Then toward Dalia and Deja. “Yeah.” Her smile softened. “I fucking do.” Rogue touched her shoulder. “Then enjoy it.” Suzy chose that moment to approach. “All right, you beautiful disasters.” Everyone looked up. Mandi grinned. “THAT'S US!” “Unfortunately,” Suzy replied. Vega began laughing. Suzy rested both hands on the bar. “I love you all. You've been wonderful for business. You've also turned my club into the most expensive fucking circus in Night City.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “Compliment?” “Mostly.” “Good.” Suzy pointed at her. “And you need sleep.” Panam laughed. “Yes, Mom.” “Fuck off.” Rogue smiled into her whiskey. Suzy continued. “Lisa's people are finishing the last rotation. The floor's returning to normal. And I'd like one evening in which nobody offers a quarter-billion for anything.” Nadia raised one finger. Suzy immediately pointed at her. “Don't.” Nadia lowered it, laughing. “I wasn't going to!” “That's what worries me.” Sera leaned against her lover. “Oh, Suzy.” “What?” “We've had a wonderful weekend.” Suzy's expression softened despite herself. “I know, sweetheart.” Sera smiled. “Thank you for having us.” Nadia nodded. “Really. Thank you.” For a moment Suzy's irritation disappeared completely. Then she waved one hand. “Oh, get the fuck out of here before you make me sentimental.” Departure took less time than Saturday. Not because Mandi was suddenly organized. She wasn't. But everybody had learned to anticipate her. Vega retrieved her jacket before she could misplace it. Nova found her bag. Deja quietly checked that nobody had left anything important behind. Dalia made certain all her belongings were where they should be. And Rogue looked at the operation with considerable amusement. “Efficient.” Dalia smiled. “Darling, somebody has to be.” Mandi stared. “YOU PEOPLE ARE TALKING LIKE I'M A FUCKING DISASTER.” A pause. Nobody answered. Mandi looked around. Then began laughing. “OH, FUCK ALL OF YOU.” Panam gathered her five pets close for a final check before they separated for the night. Mandi was still smiling, although the day's adventures had finally begun catching up with her. Panam noticed. “Sweetheart, ready for home?” “Very.” “Want anything before you leave?” Mandi considered. “Sleep.” Panam smiled. “Excellent choice.” Vega volunteered that she intended to sleep until noon. Nova pointed out that she said that nearly every Sunday night. Vega responded that hope was a beautiful thing. Panam laughed and kissed them both on the cheek. She turned to Sera and Nadia. “Pets?” Both looked up. “Yes, Owner?” “Anything either of you needs?” Nadia smiled. “A comfortable bed.” Sera nodded enthusiastically. “And absolutely no alarm.” Panam regarded them. “Deal.” Sera leaned against her. “Love you.” Panam kissed her forehead. “Love you too, sweetheart.” Nadia joined the embrace. “Me too.” Panam held them both. For a moment, the three were quiet together. Rogue watched from beside Dalia. She was familiar with that sort of affection. Not every family looked like a family from the outside. And some of the best ones she'd known had been built out of people who'd found one another under thoroughly improbable circumstances. Mandi stepped close. “Hey.” Rogue looked down. “Hey, trouble.” Mandi smiled. “Glad you came.” Rogue's expression warmed. “Me too.” Dalia moved beside them. “And next time, darling, perhaps you'll warn us before deciding to become quite so extravagantly generous.” Rogue considered. “No.” Dalia laughed. “Oh?” “Wouldn't be nearly as much fun.” Mandi grinned. “FUCKING KNEW IT.” Rogue kissed each woman's cheek. Then held them both for a moment. No need for a speech. No need for another explanation. Just affection. “Rogue?” Panam approached. Rogue turned. “Yes?” “Breakfast tomorrow.” Rogue raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” “At the safehouse.” “An invitation?” “Obviously.” Rogue considered. “What time?” Panam told her. Rogue smiled. “I'll be there.” Mandi overheard. “WAIT. BREAKFAST?” Panam sighed. “Yes, pet.” “WITH FOOD?” Dalia slowly turned. “Darling, what exactly did you think breakfast involved?” Mandi looked at her. Then grinned. “DEPENDS WHO'S SERVING.” Rogue laughed. Panam covered her face. “Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.” A little later, Panam was standing beside the waiting transports. Rogue had already headed back toward the Afterlife. Mandi, Nova, Vega, Dalia and Deja were preparing to return to Watson. Sera and Nadia remained with Panam. Dalia came over for one final hug. Panam embraced her. “Thank you again for looking after my girls.” Dalia smiled. “Any time, darling.” “Seriously.” “I know.” Panam looked at her for a moment. Then grinned. “And your accounts?” Dalia's expression became angelic. “Perfectly balanced, Madame.” Panam burst out laughing. “Of course they fucking are.” Mandi leaned out of the transport. “OWNER!” Panam turned. “Yes, pet?” “LOVE YOU!” Panam smiled. “Love you too, sweetheart!” “AND THANKS FOR THE MOST INSANE FUCKING WEEKEND OF MY LIFE!” Panam laughed. “YOU'RE WELCOME!” Vega pulled Mandi back inside. The door closed. Nova was laughing. Dalia waved. Deja smiled. And the transport departed. Panam watched it go. Then looked toward Sera and Nadia. Both were smiling. “Ready, girls?” Nadia slipped an arm around her waist. “Very, Owner.” Sera took her other arm. “Let's go home.” --- The studio apartment was quiet when they arrived. Blessedly quiet. Nadia removed her shoes and stood for a moment in the middle of the living room. Sera watched her. “Darling?” Nadia looked around. Then smiled. “I still love coming home to this place.” Sera's expression warmed. “I'm glad.” Panam set down her jacket. “Food?” Nadia laughed. “Owner!” “What?” “We ate at the club.” “Hours ago.” Sera considered. “She's not wrong.” Nadia stared at them. Then shook her head. “Oh, you two.” Panam grinned. “Sandwiches?” Nadia sighed. Then smiled. “Sandwiches.” They ate in comfortable clothes, sitting close together on the sofa. Nobody discussed projected lighting. Nobody tried to redesign a dress. Nobody calculated hourly rates. For a little while, they simply enjoyed the silence. Then Nadia rested her head against Panam's shoulder. “Owner?” “Yeah?” “Were you happy tonight?” Panam looked at her. Really looked. Then smiled. “Yeah, sweetheart.” Nadia's expression softened. “I'm glad.” Panam glanced toward Sera. Her pet was watching with the same quiet affection. Panam laughed softly. “You two really aren't going to let me get away with looking after everybody else and forgetting myself, are you?” Sera smiled. “Absolutely not.” Nadia kissed her cheek. “Never.” Panam drew them close. “Good.” Sera burst out laughing. Nadia groaned. “Oh, that fucking word.” Panam smiled. “I'm keeping it.” --- Much later, after the lights were low and the studio had settled into the particular silence that came only when even Night City seemed briefly distant, Panam checked the arrangements for the following morning. Breakfast delivery. Watson safehouse. A spread large enough to feed an unreasonable number of people. Coffee. Fresh bread. Hot food. Fruit. Pastries. Enough choices that nobody could reasonably complain. And, knowing her friends, enough food that several would complain anyway. Panam reviewed the order. Added a few more things. Then laughed to herself. Ridiculous. Perfect. She confirmed it. Sera appeared in the doorway. “Owner?” Panam looked up. “Yes, pet?” “Coming to bed?” “Yeah.” Sera glanced at the order confirmation. Then smiled. “Oh?” Panam grinned. “Breakfast.” “How much?” “Too much.” Sera laughed. “Wonderful.” Panam stood and put an arm around her. Together they headed toward the bedroom, where Nadia had already claimed the most comfortable pillows. Panam looked at her two artists. Both sleepy. Both happy. Both looking forward to a morning surrounded by the people they loved. Then she thought of the idea she'd had at the bar. The money. The ridiculous amount. The pleasure of sharing something extravagant with people who wouldn't have expected it and certainly didn't need it. Panam smiled. Tomorrow. They'd discuss that tomorrow. For now, she slipped beneath the covers. Nadia immediately moved closer. Sera settled on her other side. Panam kissed them both. “Love you, girls.” Nadia smiled sleepily. “Love you, Owner.” Sera reached for her hand. “Very much.” Panam closed her eyes. And Sunday, at long last, was over. --- ## Chapter 31 — Breakfast of Champions Monday morning began with a delivery manifest. More precisely, it began with Mai staring at a delivery manifest and wondering whether Panam Palmer had finally lost whatever remained of her mind. “ACE!” From the bedroom came a muffled answer. “WHAT?” “Come here, sweetheart.” “IS SOMETHING WRONG?” Mai looked at the screen again. “That depends on your definition of wrong.” Ace appeared in the doorway wearing an oversized shirt, bare feet, and a look of mild suspicion. Mai handed her the manifest. Ace read. Scrolled. Read some more. Then looked up. “Holy fuck.” “Quite.” “Did she order breakfast for the whole fucking building?” “Apparently just us.” Ace scrolled farther. “THERE'S A CHOCOLATE FOUNTAIN!” “Yes, darling.” “AT BREAKFAST!” “So I've gathered.” Ace stared at her wife. Then grinned. “I FUCKING LOVE THAT WOMAN.” Mai kissed her forehead. “I know. Now put some clothes on. You're helping me carry this lot upstairs.” By the time Iris and Brenda emerged from their bedroom, the first delivery had arrived. Mai had collected it at the street entrance rather than admitting the couriers into the building. Ace was coming upstairs carrying two insulated containers when Brenda spotted her. “What's that?” “BREAKFAST!” Brenda looked at the containers. “That's a lot of breakfast.” “FIRST DELIVERY!” “First?” Iris appeared beside her wife. “How many are there?” “Four,” Mai said. Iris considered. “Four deliveries?” “Yes.” “Coordinated?” “Unfortunately.” Brenda's face lit up. “Oh, this is going to be magnificent.” Mai pointed toward the kitchen. “You two can help.” Iris nodded. “Of course.” Brenda grinned. “Kitchen logistics. My favorite kind of operation.” Iris looked at her. “Since when?” “Since breakfast became a military campaign.” It took several trips. The deliveries contained fresh bread, pastries, hot breakfast dishes, fruit, vegetables, coffee, juices, sweet things, savory things, and an assortment of items whose purpose Ace felt obliged to investigate personally. The chocolate fountain arrived last. Brenda stopped in front of it. “Oh.” Mai didn't even turn around. “No.” “I haven't said anything.” “You were about to.” Brenda examined the machine. “It's a beautiful piece of equipment.” “Brenda.” “I'm appreciating the engineering.” “Appreciate it without taking anything apart.” Iris caught her wife's hand. “Come on. There's coffee.” Brenda allowed herself to be led away. Then looked back over her shoulder. “Still think I could improve it.” Mai closed her eyes. “Of course you do.” --- Rogue arrived first. The lower entrance announced her approach, and Mai opened the upper armored door when the bell rang. Rogue stepped inside. She took one look at the table. Stopped. Then looked at Mai. “Palmer?” “Entirely.” Rogue gave a short laugh. “Christ.” “Good morning to you too, darling.” Rogue removed her jacket. “Where's the coffee?” Mai pointed toward the kitchen. “Fresh.” “Excellent. Something sensible.” Ace emerged from behind an enormous tray of pastries. “ROGUE!” “Morning, trouble.” “LOOK WHAT PANAM ORDERED!” Rogue glanced toward the food. “I have eyes.” “ISN'T IT AMAZING?” “It's an expensive argument against portion control.” Ace laughed and threw her arms around Rogue. Rogue caught her, gave her a firm squeeze, and kissed the top of her head. “Had some sleep?” “YES!” “How much?” “ENOUGH!” Rogue looked toward Mai. “Translation?” “Not enough.” “Thought so.” Ace grinned. “YOU TWO ARE NO FUN.” Rogue gave her a dry look. “Funny. That wasn't your opinion yesterday.” Ace's mouth fell open. Then she burst out laughing. “OH, YOU BITCH!” “Language, sweetheart.” “YOU STARTED IT!” Rogue went to get her coffee, looking entirely satisfied with herself. Kiro arrived a little later. She was greeted by two kisses, one from Ace and one from Mai, before noticing the breakfast spread. “Wow.” Ace beamed. “RIGHT?” Kiro's gaze found the chocolate fountain. She stopped. Mai noticed immediately. “No.” Kiro looked at her. “What?” “Whatever you're thinking.” “I was thinking about chocolate.” “Were you?” “Mostly.” Mai raised an eyebrow. Kiro sighed. “Fine. The pump's interesting.” From the other side of the room, Brenda looked up. “THANK YOU!” Iris put her mug down. “Oh, no.” Kiro and Brenda exchanged a look. Mai pointed at both of them. “Neither of you touches that machine.” Rogue, seated comfortably with her coffee, observed the exchange. “I'm starting to understand why Palmer didn't order a fountain that dispenses whiskey.” Mai looked at her. “Please don't give them ideas.” --- The next arrival was Reyes. Or so the entrance display suggested. Mai smiled when she saw the identification. “Reyes is here.” Ace glanced up. “GOOD!” The upper doorbell rang. Mai went to open it. Reyes stood outside, looking thoroughly pleased with herself. “Morning.” “Good morning, darling.” “Got room for one more?” Mai gestured toward the enormous breakfast. “Several, apparently.” “Good.” Reyes stepped aside. Someone stood behind her. Someone smiling with the particular satisfaction of a woman who had spent considerable effort arranging a surprise and knew it was going to work. “Hello, darlings.” Mai froze. Ace turned. For one glorious second, neither woman moved. Then— “ELISA?!” Elisa laughed. “Surprise!” Ace reached her first. “Oh, you magnificent little shit!” Elisa opened her arms. Ace caught her around the waist, drew her close, and kissed her. Not a quick greeting. Not the polite affection of friends who hadn't seen each other for a while. A long, delighted kiss between lovers who knew each other well. Elisa's fingers slid into Ace's hair. Ace's arms tightened around her, and when their lips finally parted, both women were smiling. “YOU COULD HAVE FUCKING TOLD US!” Elisa laughed. “And spoil that expression? Never.” Ace kissed her again. “You are SO getting away with this.” “I was rather counting on it.” Mai approached them. “Elisa, sweetheart.” Elisa turned. Her smile changed, becoming softer without losing any of its delight. “Oh, Mai.” She reached for Mai, who drew her into her arms. Their kiss was slower than Ace's, warm and lingering. Elisa rested one hand against Mai's cheek while the other settled at the back of her neck. Mai held her close, letting the greeting last as long as they both wanted. When they finally parted, Elisa remained in her arms. “I've missed you.” Mai brushed a strand of hair away from Elisa's face. “And we've missed you, darling.” Elisa smiled. “I hoped I might surprise you.” “Oh, sweetheart. You succeeded spectacularly.” Elisa kissed her once more. Then Ace slipped an arm around both women. “HEY. DON'T FORGET ME.” Elisa turned toward her. “As if I could.” She kissed Ace again. Mai laughed quietly and held them both. For a moment, the three women were perfectly content to remain exactly where they stood. Reyes finally cleared her throat. “Just so you know, I could have charged admission for that.” Ace looked up. “YOU SHOULD HAVE!” Elisa laughed. “Reyes!” “What? It was a damn good surprise.” Rogue watched from her chair. “Nice work.” Reyes grinned. “Thank you.” --- Elisa's security arrangements had been handled before the two women arrived. Whatever coordination had been necessary was finished elsewhere, away from the safehouse. Here, Elisa was simply a woman enjoying the company of people she loved. And enjoying it very thoroughly. Ace took one of her hands. Mai took the other. “COME ON,” Ace said. “YOU HAVE TO SEE THE BREAKFAST!” Elisa glanced toward the table. Stopped. Then looked at Mai. “Did Panam buy a restaurant?” Mai sighed. “Darling, that is a very reasonable question.” The next arrival came only moments later. The display announced Panam, Shammy and Nadia. Ace looked up. “OH, FUCK YES!” Elisa laughed. “Do you always greet everyone like that?” Ace grinned. “ONLY PEOPLE I LOVE!” Mai glanced at her. “You said something similar about the pastries.” “I LOVE THEM TOO!” Rogue lifted her coffee. “Hard to argue with that logic.” Mai opened the upper armored door. Panam stood outside wearing a grin that could only mean trouble. Shammy stood beside her, silver-white hair shifting faintly in the morning light, with Nadia close at her other side. “Morning!” Panam announced. Mai folded her arms. “Panam.” “Mai.” “Have you seen what you've done to our kitchen?” Panam looked past her. A magnificent quantity of breakfast occupied every useful surface. Her grin widened. “Oh, that's fucking beautiful.” Mai stared. Panam stared back. Then Mai stepped aside. “Come in, you menace.” “Love you too.” Shammy entered— And Mai immediately wrapped her arms around her. “Hello, sweetheart.” Shammy's face lit up. “Mai!” They kissed. Shammy bent into Mai's embrace, her long arms drawing her lover close. Mai smiled against her lips, holding her with the effortless familiarity of someone welcoming home a part of herself. Shammy's hair rose into a soft halo. Then Ace arrived. “MY TURN!” Shammy laughed. “Ace!” Ace reached up, Shammy bent toward her, and their kiss was every bit as enthusiastic. “Missed you,” Ace murmured. Shammy touched her cheek. “I missed you too.” Mai slipped an arm around Shammy's waist. Ace held her from the other side. The three stayed together for a while, oblivious to the audience. Panam watched them with an affectionate smile. Nadia leaned against her. “Your pet seems happy.” Panam glanced at Shammy. “Yeah.” A pause. “She's home.” Ace finally noticed Panam watching. “HEY!” Panam narrowed her eyes. “What?” “YOUR TURN!” “Oh, no.” “Oh, yes,” Mai said. Shammy extended a hand. “Come here, sweetheart.” Panam gave all three a suspicious look. Then surrendered. Ace caught her first. Shammy wrapped an arm around her waist. Mai kissed her cheek. Panam found herself in the middle of an affectionate conspiracy. “Fuck's sake. I leave you people alone for one night…” Nadia laughed. “Owner, you knew exactly what would happen.” “Apparently I forgot.” “Unlikely,” Mai said. Panam looked at her. “You're enjoying this.” “Immensely.” Then Nadia saw Elisa. She stopped smiling at the joke. Not because anything was wrong. Because something was suddenly much more interesting. “Elisa.” Elisa turned. Her expression softened. “Oh, Nadia.” They crossed the room toward each other. Elisa reached out. Nadia took her hand and drew her close. Then they kissed. For a long time. Elisa's arms circled Nadia's shoulders, and Nadia held her securely at the waist. Their greeting was affectionate, familiar and entirely unhurried. Both remembered the wonderful booking they had shared the previous weekend, when Elisa had been working under her Bea identity. They remembered the laughter, the attraction, the care they had shown each other, and the pleasure of discovering how naturally they fit together. That had been another weekend, another evening. This morning they had no appointment to keep, no fee to negotiate and no reason to pretend their affection had ended with the booking. When they finally separated, Elisa rested her forehead against Nadia's. “I really have missed you.” Nadia smiled. “I know.” “Do you?” “Yes.” “How?” Nadia kissed her again. “Because I missed you too.” Elisa laughed softly and held her closer. Across the room, Ace watched with a grin that threatened to split her face. “OH, I LOVE THIS.” Mai caught her around the waist. “Darling, give them a moment.” “I AM GIVING THEM A MOMENT!” “You're narrating it.” “ENTHUSIASTICALLY!” Elisa laughed against Nadia's lips. Nadia turned her head slightly. “Some things never change.” Elisa smiled. “Thankfully.” Then they kissed again. --- Panam watched the two artists and Elisa with amused resignation. “Well, fuck.” Shammy glanced toward her. “What?” “I bring two women to breakfast, and one of them gets stolen before she even sees the food.” Nadia looked over, still holding Elisa close. “I'm right here, Owner.” “Yeah, I noticed.” Elisa smiled at Panam. “Good morning.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “Morning. Enjoying yourself?” “Enormously.” “Figures.” Shammy reached Nadia and Elisa, resting a hand on each woman's shoulder. She looked at their happy faces. Her halo rose a little higher. Panam pointed at her. “And don't you start.” Shammy looked genuinely puzzled. “Start what?” “That thing you do when you're delighted by everybody.” Shammy considered. Then smiled. “I'm delighted by everybody.” Panam sighed. “Yeah. I know.” With the reunions finally completed, Mai attempted to get everyone seated. It was not easy. Elisa had acquired two extremely affectionate lovers. Nadia had acquired an extremely affectionate Elisa. Ace had acquired an audience. Brenda and Kiro had acquired a shared interest in the chocolate fountain. And Panam seemed far too pleased with the chaos she'd unleashed to do anything useful about it. Mai surveyed the room. Then raised her voice. “ALL RIGHT. EVERYBODY EATS. NOW.” Silence. Ace snapped to attention. “YES, MA'AM!” Rogue got up from her chair. “Finally. Someone willing to take charge.” Panam protested. “Hey! I organized this!” Mai looked at her. “Yes, darling. That's why I'm taking charge.” Reyes burst out laughing. Panam threw up her hands. “Fucking unbelievable.” And the breakfast began. --- For the first ten minutes, there was surprisingly little conversation. Mostly because everyone was eating. Ace had filled her plate with enough food to make Iris question the structural integrity of the table. Brenda had immediately noticed that the hot dishes included several things she had never seen served at breakfast before. Reyes was studying Panam. Panam noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “That's bullshit.” Reyes smiled. “I'm just wondering what possessed you.” Panam looked around at the breakfast. “Seemed like a good idea.” “A good idea?” “Yep.” “You ordered enough food to feed half Watson.” “Then nobody's going hungry.” Reyes considered that. Then nodded. “Can't argue with the logic.” Rogue glanced at her. “You can. It's just pointless.” --- Elisa sat between Ace and Mai. She had managed to acquire a plate, a coffee, and the undivided attention of both women. Ace had been telling her about the weekend. In considerable detail. “And THEN Rogue showed up—” Rogue didn't look up. “Careful.” “WHAT?” “I can hear you.” “GOOD!” Elisa laughed. “And what happened when Rogue showed up?” Ace's grin widened. Mai calmly spread something onto a piece of toast. “Darling, perhaps we should allow Rogue to decide how much of her private business she wants discussed over breakfast.” Rogue raised her cup slightly. “Thank you, Mai.” Ace looked betrayed. “YOU'RE ALL CONSPIRING AGAINST ME.” Elisa kissed her cheek. “Poor darling.” “THANK YOU!” Then Elisa kissed her properly. Ace forgot whatever complaint she'd been constructing. Mai watched them with affectionate amusement. “Remarkably effective.” Elisa smiled. “I've had some practice.” Across the table, Nadia was watching Elisa. Elisa caught her eye. Their smiles met halfway across the table. Panam noticed. She looked from Nadia to Elisa. Then at Shammy. “Are they going to keep doing that?” Shammy considered. “Probably.” Panam sighed. “Thought so.” Nadia turned toward her. “Owner?” “Yeah?” “Would you prefer we stop?” Panam looked genuinely offended. “Fuck no.” Nadia smiled. “Good.” Panam pointed at her. “Just don't let Ace turn it into another running commentary.” “TOO LATE!” Ace announced. Panam closed her eyes. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Brenda finally decided that breakfast had become insufficiently educational. “So, Panam.” “No.” “I haven't asked anything.” “Don't need to.” Brenda grinned. “Seven hundred and fifty million eddies.” Panam put down her fork. “Jesus Christ.” “For one hour.” Reyes leaned back. “Here we go.” Brenda continued. “I want to know one thing.” “Of course you do.” “Was Tomas really that good with machines?” Panam blinked. Then grinned. “Yeah. He was.” Brenda slapped the table. “I FUCKING KNEW IT!” Ace nearly choked laughing. Iris gently moved Brenda's coffee out of striking range. Panam shook her head. “He actually knew what he was talking about. Proper maintenance, transport systems, mechanical tolerances. Didn't pretend to know shit he didn't.” Brenda regarded her with open admiration. “You found a man who could talk engines.” “Apparently.” “And paid you three-quarters of a billion eddies.” “He did.” Brenda leaned back. “That's the most Panam fucking thing I've ever heard.” Even Panam laughed. Shammy reached for her hand. “I'm glad you had such a wonderful time, sweetheart.” Panam glanced at her. The laughter softened. “Yeah.” She squeezed Shammy's hand. “So am I.” Nadia kissed Panam's cheek. Panam regarded her two artists suspiciously. “Don't.” Nadia smiled. “I didn't say anything.” “You're both saying plenty.” Shammy laughed. Her hair lifted. Reyes turned toward Ace. “And how was your weekend?” Ace froze with a fork halfway to her mouth. “Oh, NO.” Reyes smiled. “Oh, yes.” Mai looked up. “Darling, I suspect she's thinking about Rafael.” Ace stared at her wife. “BETRAYAL!” Elisa leaned closer. “Rafael?” Ace looked between them. Then grinned. “FUCKING WONDERFUL.” That was enough to set Brenda laughing. Reyes nodded appreciatively. “Good for you.” Ace pointed at her. “AND THAT'S ALL YOU'RE GETTING.” Rogue raised an eyebrow. “First sensible thing you've said all morning.” “ROGUE!” “What?” “YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE NICE TO ME!” “Since when?” Ace opened her mouth. Then laughed. “FAIR!” Kiro had been enjoying the exchange. Until Mai turned toward her. “And you, sweetheart?” Kiro looked up. “Me?” “How was Odette?” Kiro stopped smiling. Reyes slowly turned. “Odette?” Ace leaned forward. “OH, THIS IS GOOD.” Kiro considered her options. Then sighed. “She was excellent company.” Mai smiled. “So I gathered.” “Very clever. Very funny. Extremely considerate.” Reyes looked interested. “And?” Kiro glanced at her. “And I had a wonderful time.” Brenda pointed at her. “YOU'RE BLUSHING.” “I am not.” “YOU ARE!” Kiro looked toward Mai. “Help.” Mai took a sip of coffee. “Oh, darling. I'm afraid you're on your own.” Ace threw both hands in the air. “WELCOME TO MY WORLD!” The teasing continued. Panam's extraordinary offer. Mandi's adventures. Deja's successful booking with Odette. The astonishingly wealthy patrons who had spent the weekend pursuing conversations and private appointments with Sera and Nadia. And the increasingly absurd amount of attention their artwork was receiving. Elisa listened with obvious interest. She had known both artists before the weekend's spectacle, and hearing about the extraordinary developments delighted her. “So the art forums are still speculating?” she asked. Nadia nodded. “Relentlessly.” “Have either of you responded?” Shammy smiled. “No.” “Not even to the more outrageous theories?” “Especially not those,” Nadia replied. Elisa laughed. “Excellent.” Rogue nodded. “Finally. Someone who understands that silence is worth money.” Panam looked toward the artists. “Tell that to the idiots who keep trying to buy explanations.” Nadia grinned. “We're not selling explanations, Owner.” “Good.” Shammy leaned against Panam. “Not when imagining them is so much more fun.” The conversation drifted into other directions. Iris and Brenda discussed something from Brenda's workshop. Reyes and Kiro quietly traded remarks that occasionally made one or both of them laugh. Elisa was telling Mai about an installation she'd seen recently. Ace was pretending not to listen while stealing pieces of pastry from Elisa's plate. Elisa caught her hand. “Darling.” Ace looked innocent. “WHAT?” “That's the third.” “QUALITY CONTROL.” “You have your own.” “YOURS TASTES BETTER.” Mai kissed Elisa's temple. “Welcome to married life, sweetheart.” Elisa looked at Ace. Then Mai. Then smiled. “I can see the advantages.” Eventually Panam leaned back in her chair. She'd been thinking about something since the previous evening. Something Rogue had already heard her mention. The money. The seven hundred and fifty million eddies Tomas had paid her. A ridiculous sum. Not unwelcome. Certainly not unearned. But money she didn't particularly need. She looked around the table. At the people laughing and arguing and stealing food from one another. Then she looked toward Rogue. Rogue noticed her expression. “Oh, hell.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “What?” “You're about to do something expensive.” Panam grinned. “Maybe.” Rogue sighed into her coffee. “Of course you are.” “Hey,” Panam said. Ace looked up. “MORE FOOD?” “No.” “DISAPPOINTING.” “Can you shut up for a minute?” Ace considered. “PROBABLY NOT.” “Try.” Mai put an affectionate hand on her wife's arm. “Go on, darling.” Panam glanced around the table. “Remember what Tomas paid me?” Reyes snorted. “Hard to forget.” “Seven hundred and fifty million.” Brenda grinned. “Still an absolutely magnificent number.” “Yeah. Well. I've been thinking about it.” Mai's expression sharpened. Panam noticed. “Don't start calculating yet.” Mai smiled. “Wouldn't dream of it.” “Bullshit.” “Entirely.” Panam took a breath. “I don't need the money.” Rogue watched her. Neither did anyone else in the room. That was the point. Panam continued. “And I'd rather do something I actually enjoy with it.” Ace grinned. “BUY A TANK?” “NO.” “JUST ASKING!” “I'm giving it to you.” Silence. Brenda slowly lowered her fork. “What?” “All of you,” Panam said. Reyes stared. “Panam.” “What?” “That's three-quarters of a billion eddies.” “Very good. You can count.” “Don't be a smartass.” Panam grinned. “Too late.” Elisa tilted her head. “All of us?” “Everybody at this table except me.” Mai looked around. Ace. Herself. Shammy. Iris. Brenda. Kiro. Reyes. Elisa. Nadia. Rogue. Ten people. She looked back at Panam. “Equal shares?” Panam smiled. “Exactly.” Mai considered. “Seventy-five million each.” “Yep.” Ace's mouth fell open. Then— “HOLY FUCK!” Panam laughed. “There she is.” Elisa watched Panam with thoughtful curiosity. “May I ask why?” Panam shrugged. “Because I want to.” “That's an answer,” Elisa said. “But I'm curious about the equal division.” Panam looked at her. “I'm not assigning a price to friendship.” Elisa considered. Then smiled. “Fair enough.” Reyes leaned back. “You know none of us actually needs this.” “Yeah,” Panam replied. “That's the fucking beauty of it.” Rogue took another sip of coffee. “You're a lunatic, Palmer.” “Probably.” “I respect it.” Panam grinned. “High praise.” “Don't get used to it.” Mai leaned forward. “One thing, darling.” Panam looked toward her. “What?” “This is entirely unconditional?” “Mai.” “I'm asking.” Panam sighed. “No obligations. No strings. No favors owed. No bullshit. It's a gift.” Mai nodded. “Then thank you.” Panam's expression softened. “Yeah. You're welcome.” Shammy reached for her hand. Panam looked at her. “What?” “Nothing.” “That expression means something.” Shammy smiled. “I love you.” Panam stared at her for a moment. Then laughed quietly. “Love you too, sweetheart.” Nadia leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, Owner.” Panam looked between the two artists. “You're making this very difficult.” Nadia smiled. “How?” “By being fucking adorable.” Ace pointed triumphantly. “SHE SAID IT!” “ACE!” Panam opened the transfer interface. Mai moved beside her to check the figures. Ten recipients. Ten equal payments. €$75,000000 each. Total: €$750,000000. Every recipient was present. No omissions. No duplicates. Mai nodded. “Everything balances.” Panam grinned. “That's what I wanted to hear.” She confirmed the transfers. A few moments later, ten agents chimed around the table. Ace stared at hers. Then looked up. “OH, FUCK.” Brenda began laughing. Kiro was already calculating what the money might buy. Reyes shook her head in disbelief. Iris looked at Panam with affectionate astonishment. Elisa studied the confirmation for a moment, then put it away. Shammy leaned against Panam. Nadia squeezed her hand. And Rogue? Rogue looked at the transfer. Then at Panam. “Let me get this straight.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?” “You took seven hundred and fifty million from one customer, decided you didn't need it, and gave the whole fucking lot away before finishing breakfast.” “Pretty much.” Rogue considered. Then smiled. “That's one way to avoid getting bored.” Ace was still staring at her agent. Then she looked at Rogue. Then Panam. Then back at Rogue. A terrible grin spread across her face. “WAIT.” Mai closed her eyes. “Oh, darling.” “ROGUE!” Rogue looked up. “What?” “YOU SPENT SEVEN HUNDRED MILLION YESTERDAY!” “Yes.” “AND NOW YOU GOT SEVENTY-FIVE MILLION BACK!” Brenda started laughing before Ace even finished. Ace threw her arms wide. “IT'S A FUCKING CASHBACK PROGRAM!” The room erupted. Reyes doubled over. Kiro hid her face against Reyes's shoulder. Panam nearly spilled her coffee. Elisa leaned against Mai, laughing helplessly. Rogue waited. Calmly. Then she looked straight at Ace. “Listen carefully, trouble.” Ace grinned. “YES?” “If you ever describe my private life as a loyalty scheme again, I'm charging you for every bottle you drink at the Afterlife.” Ace considered. Then grinned wider. “WORTH IT.” Rogue shook her head. “Fucking menace.” Mai slipped an arm around her wife. “She's rather magnificent, though.” Rogue glanced at her. “Never said otherwise.” --- After that, the breakfast gradually became quieter. Not silent. Never silent. But the kind of comfortable noise that belonged to people who knew one another well enough not to perform. Brenda and Iris shared a plate of pastries, arguing about something so minor that neither could keep a straight face. Reyes and Kiro had moved closer together, Kiro occasionally leaning against Reyes while they talked. Rogue had found another coffee. Elisa sat with Ace on one side and Mai on the other, enjoying kisses whenever the conversation gave them a convenient opening. Nadia joined them briefly, and Elisa welcomed her with another affectionate kiss. No one made a fuss. They were among friends. Shammy came to sit with Ace and Mai a little later, and Elisa shifted comfortably to make room. For a while, the four women stayed close together. Ace resting against Shammy. Mai holding Elisa's hand. Shammy's arm around both her lovers. Elisa smiling quietly at the easy familiarity surrounding her. Panam watched from across the room. She smiled. Nadia noticed. “Owner?” “Yeah?” “Happy?” Panam looked around again. Then at Nadia. “Yeah.” Nadia kissed her cheek. “Good.” Panam snorted. “You and Shammy are going to be unbearable about this, aren't you?” “Probably.” “Fuck's sake.” Nadia laughed and leaned against her. Eventually Rogue stood. “Right. I've got an empire to run.” Ace looked up. “ALREADY?” Rogue glanced at the clock. “Some of us have work.” Panam gave her an amused look. “You just got seventy-five million for showing up to breakfast.” “Exactly. Best-paid breakfast I've attended all year.” Ace laughed and came over. Rogue accepted her hug. “Stay out of trouble.” “NO PROMISES.” “Didn't expect any.” Mai joined them. Rogue embraced her too. “Thanks for breakfast, sweetheart.” Mai smiled. “Thank Panam.” “I already did.” “And?” “She remains a lunatic.” Mai laughed. “Indeed.” Rogue turned toward Panam. “See you around.” Panam grinned. “You know where to find me.” “Unfortunately.” Then Rogue looked around at the room one last time. At the food. The laughter. The women who had made a thoroughly outrageous weekend even more outrageous. “Try not to break anything.” Brenda looked offended. “WE HAVEN'T BROKEN ANYTHING!” Rogue raised an eyebrow. “Give it time.” And with that, she headed toward the exit. Mai went to open the upper armored door for her. A moment later, the Queen of the Afterlife was on her way back to the kingdom she had no intention of abandoning. The others lingered. Elisa, in particular, seemed in no hurry whatsoever. She sat between Ace and Mai, holding both their hands, looking entirely content. Nadia came over. Elisa smiled up at her. “Hello again.” Nadia laughed. “Hello.” Elisa pulled her gently closer and kissed her. A long, affectionate kiss that ended with both women smiling. “I'm glad you came,” Nadia murmured. Elisa touched her cheek. “So am I.” Ace leaned against Mai. “THIS HAS BEEN A FUCKING EXCELLENT BREAKFAST.” Mai kissed her forehead. “Indeed, sweetheart.” Shammy joined them, slipping naturally into the familiar embrace of her Triad. For a moment, none of them spoke. They didn't need to. --- Across the room, Panam was watching the last of the breakfast being cleared. There were still enough leftovers to feed several more people. She looked toward Mai. “Okay. Maybe I ordered a little too much.” Mai turned. “A little?” Panam grinned. “Fine. A lot.” “Darling, we have food for days.” “Good. Saves you cooking.” Mai considered that. Then nodded. “Actually, that's a fair point.” Panam blinked. “Wait. You agree with me?” “Don't get used to it.” Reyes laughed. Kiro raised a hand. “Can I ask something?” Mai looked at her. “If it's about the chocolate fountain, no.” Kiro lowered her hand. Brenda sighed dramatically. “Oppressive household.” Iris caught her wife's hand. “Come on, genius.” “Where?” “Away from the machinery.” Brenda grinned. “Romantic.” “Necessary.” Panam watched them go. Then looked toward Shammy and Nadia. Her two artists were laughing with Elisa, Ace and Mai. Comfortable. Happy. Surrounded by people who loved them. Panam thought about the money she'd given away. Seven hundred and fifty million eddies. Gone. And somehow, she felt richer. She shook her head at the thought. “Fucking ridiculous.” Nadia looked over. “What was that, Owner?” Panam grinned. “Nothing.” Shammy's halo rose. Panam pointed at her. “Don't.” Shammy smiled. “I didn't say anything.” “You were thinking it.” “Possibly.” Ace looked up. “THINKING WHAT?” Panam closed her eyes. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” The safehouse erupted into laughter again. And Monday morning, against all reasonable expectations, continued to be absolutely wonderful.