## Chapter 1 — The Call Mai answered on the third pulse. “Elisa.” There was a tiny pause on the other end. Not surprise. Recognition. The sort that carried enough familiarity now that Elisa could hear the smile without needing to see it. “Hi.” “You sound suspicious.” “I said one word.” “You said my name suspiciously.” Mai laughed softly. “Good morning to you too.” Elisa leaned farther back into the chair and looked through the wide window beside her without really seeing anything beyond it. Her schedule was open. Actually open. Not theoretically open while six assistants tried to turn empty space into meetings. Not technically free while somebody stood three meters away waiting to remind her that an expensive social obligation was apparently not a meeting. Open. Thursday afternoon through Tuesday evening. Five days. Almost six, depending on how dishonest she became about Tuesday. It had taken her less than ten minutes to decide what she wanted to do with them. It had taken her considerably longer to admit why. “So,” she said. Mai waited. Elisa narrowed her eyes at nothing. “You’re doing that thing.” “What thing?” “The thing where you know I called for a reason and refuse to help.” “I answered the phone.” “Heroically.” “Thank you.” Elisa smiled despite herself. There it was. She had missed this. Not merely Mai. Not merely Ace. The rhythm. The absolute certainty that saying something stupid would be caught, examined, sharpened, and returned before it had time to hit the floor. She tucked one leg beneath herself. “I have time off.” “How much?” “Thursday through Tuesday.” This time the pause was real. “That much?” “Yes.” “And you survived the negotiations?” “Barely. Several people may have been emotionally harmed.” “I’m sure they'll recover.” “I’m not.” Mai laughed again. Elisa let that sound sit for a second. Then she said, more quietly, “I was wondering if I could come over.” The tone on the other end changed at once. Not dramatically. Mai was rarely dramatic when something mattered. But the humor softened. “To the Safehouse?” “Yes.” “For the weekend?” Elisa hesitated. “Long weekend.” “How long?” “I was thinking Thursday afternoon until Tuesday.” “That is not a weekend.” “It contains a weekend.” “So does a month.” “Mai.” “I’m listening.” Elisa rubbed a thumb across the side of her cup. The answer should have been easy. She had been to the Safehouse before. She knew Ace. She knew Mai. She knew what it felt like to sit with them without anything being bought or arranged or negotiated. That distinction mattered more than she had expected it to. Mandi and Dalia had been how she first met them. Professional. Expensive. Deliberate. Wonderful. But Ace and Mai were something else now. Different names because they were different layers. Different expectations because the relationship underneath had changed. Elisa understood that difference perfectly well. Maybe that was exactly why she had spent the last several minutes talking around it. “I miss you.” Mai did not answer immediately. Elisa looked down into her coffee. “And Ace,” she added. Still nothing. “And Shammy.” A beat. “And the Safehouse.” There. Done. Except apparently not. Mai’s voice came back warm and entirely too knowing. “Anything else?” Elisa closed her eyes. “You are an awful person.” “I’m Korean. It’s cultural.” “That is absolutely not how that works.” “I know.” “You’re enjoying this.” “A little.” Elisa exhaled through her nose. She knew exactly what Mai was waiting for. Which was infuriating. Mostly because Elisa had known before calling that she would eventually say it. “I miss Bea.” Silence. Elisa opened one eye. “Don’t.” “I didn’t say anything.” “You made a silence.” “I have several.” “That one was smug.” Mai lost the fight and laughed. Elisa pointed accusingly at a woman who was not in the room. “I knew it.” “I’m sorry.” “No, you’re not.” “No.” Another laugh reached her. Then Mai asked, “You miss working?” There was no judgment in the question. That mattered. Elisa thought about it seriously before answering. “Yes.” Not the clothes alone. Not the transformation. Not even the absurdity of moving through Lizzie’s while people who would have recognized Elisa instantly looked directly at Bea and saw only Bea. She missed that, certainly. But there was more. The strange clarity of being useful in a completely different way. Reading someone. Choosing. Agreeing. Refusing. Talking. Learning what another person wanted without letting their wanting become authority. The atmosphere at Lizzie’s. The Mox. Suzie Q behind the bar. The endless flow of conversations that began as business and occasionally became something far stranger or funnier. And, yes, the work itself. Elisa had never been embarrassed by enjoying that. She saw no reason to begin now. “I liked it,” she said. “A lot.” “I know.” “And I’ve been thinking about it.” “I know that too.” “You do not know everything.” “No.” Mai allowed just enough pause. “Only most things.” “Fuck you.” “Better.” Elisa laughed. There was another tiny shift in the call, almost too subtle to name. Homeward. That was the closest word she had for it. Not home. The Safehouse was not hers. She knew that. She had no desire to claim something that belonged to other people simply because she felt comfortable there. But it had become a place where she could arrive without needing to perform the version of herself expected by people who knew her wealth before they knew anything else. A place where Ace would steal food off her plate without caring what the plate cost. Where Mai could make her blush with one sentence and then calmly ask whether she wanted more coffee. Where Shammy could say almost nothing for twenty minutes and still somehow be entirely present. Where everyone had enough impossible lives that Elisa's own barely registered as unusual. She missed it. Really missed it. “So,” Mai said, “Thursday?” “If that works.” “It works.” Elisa sat up straighter. “That easy?” “You called and asked whether you could visit people who like you.” “When you say it like that, it sounds suspiciously simple.” “It is.” “That feels wrong.” “You spend too much time with corpos.” “I am a corpo.” “You spend too much time with other corpos.” “Better.” Mai made a small sound of agreement. “Thursday afternoon. We’ll arrange the inbound handoff.” Elisa immediately understood who _we_ meant. “Reyes?” “Probably. Ace will contact her.” “Okay.” “And Tuesday?” Elisa thought about her schedule. “Evening. I’ll need to be handed back to my own security then.” “Same manager?” “Yes.” There was no reason for the question to be funny. None. Mai nevertheless produced a very small sound. Elisa stared at the phone. “What was that?” “What was what?” “That.” “I breathed.” “No.” “I do that occasionally.” “That was not breathing.” “Elisa.” “You’re hiding something.” “I am constantly hiding things.” “That is not reassuring.” “It wasn’t supposed to be.” Elisa considered interrogating her. Then decided against it. For several reasons. First, Mai was nearly impossible to interrogate recreationally. Second, Ace would be worse. Third, if they were hiding something genuinely important, Elisa trusted them. And fourth— Curiosity was not ownership. She had learned that long before meeting them, and the lesson had only become more useful since. If something belonged to them, they would tell her when they wanted to. If it affected her, they would tell her before it needed to. That was enough. “For the record,” Elisa said, “I noticed.” “I know.” “And I’m choosing not to ask.” “I know that too.” “Still smug.” “Very.” Elisa rolled her eyes. “Is Shammy around Thursday?” There was a pause. “Probably earlier. I’m not sure about the evening yet.” “Okay.” Again, no interrogation. She wanted to see Shammy. That did not create an obligation for Shammy to reorganize her life around Elisa’s visit. “How is everyone?” “Ace is pretending not to listen to this conversation.” Elisa sat upright. “What?” A second voice came faintly through the call. “I am not.” Elisa burst out laughing. “Ace!” “I’m making coffee.” “You are absolutely listening.” “I can hear you because Mai refuses to use headphones like a civilized person.” “I am holding the phone normally.” “Exactly.” Elisa grinned. “Hi.” Ace’s voice came closer. “Hi, menace.” “That’s rich coming from you.” “I’m much smaller. Therefore legally less dangerous.” “That is not law.” “It should be.” Mai said, “You’re going to encourage her.” “I missed her.” “I heard that,” Ace said. Elisa smiled. “I know.” Something in her chest loosened. Simple. Unexpectedly simple. No formal invitation. No carefully coordinated social protocol. No assistant drafting polite language between people who already knew exactly what they meant. She had called. They wanted her there. That was all. Then Ace asked, far too casually, “So are we getting Elisa or Bea?” Elisa’s smile widened. “Thursday?” “Yeah.” “Elisa.” “Good.” A beat. “After that?” Elisa leaned back again. “Depends.” “On?” “How much trouble you’ve caused since I was last there.” Silence. A different kind this time. Elisa slowly lowered the cup. “Oh, no.” Mai said, “What?” “That silence.” Ace said nothing. Elisa pointed at the phone again. “That was a guilty silence.” “I was drinking coffee.” “No, you weren’t.” “You can’t prove that.” “I don’t have to.” Mai sighed. “Elisa.” “Yes?” “You may want to update your expectations.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why?” “No reason.” “Mai.” “A few things have changed.” “How many?” Another silence. Elisa stared. “Mai.” Ace coughed. It sounded suspiciously like laughter. Elisa sat very still. “What the hell did you people do?” “Nothing,” Ace said. Mai answered at exactly the same time. “A few things.” Elisa covered her face with one hand. “There are days I understand why Reyes drinks.” Ace immediately said, “She’d hate that sentence.” “Good.” Mai laughed. Elisa dropped her hand. “Fine. Thursday afternoon. Elisa first.” “Correct.” “Friday?” “We’ll see.” “That is ominous.” “Only if you’re boring.” “I hate you.” “No, you don’t.” That one landed too easily to fight. Elisa smiled. “No,” she admitted. “I really don’t.” For a moment none of them said anything. It was comfortable. That might have been the part Elisa had missed most. Then Ace ruined it. “So should we warn Lizzie’s?” Elisa’s eyebrows climbed. “Warn them?” Mai said, “Ace.” “What?” Elisa leaned toward the phone. “Warn them about what?” “Nothing.” “Ace.” “See you Thursday.” “ACE.” The call ended. Elisa stared at the blank display. Slowly, very slowly, she lowered the phone. Then she looked at the empty room around her. A smile began at one corner of her mouth. Five days. Ace. Mai. Shammy. The Safehouse. Lizzie’s. And Bea. Apparently with updates. Elisa picked up her coffee. “Fuck.” She took a drink. Then, after another second: “This is going to be fun.” --- ## Chapter 2 — Shammy Chooses Panam Panam answered on the first pulse. “Hey.” Shammy smiled before she meant to. “Hey.” There was background noise on Panam’s end. A cupboard closing. Something metallic touching a counter. Water running for a second. Not the Aldecaldos. Not a garage. Not open desert. City apartment. Shammy leaned one shoulder against the wall and let the sound settle. “You’re home.” “Technically.” “That sounds convincing.” “I’ve been here eleven minutes.” “Ah.” “Long enough to become emotionally attached to the fridge.” Shammy’s hair lifted faintly at the temples. “Deep relationship.” “Very.” “Healthy?” “No.” “Good.” Panam snorted. There was the unmistakable sound of something being opened. A bottle, maybe. Shammy glanced toward the Safehouse living area. Ace was somewhere deeper inside. Mai was currently dealing with the consequences of having answered Elisa’s call. Which, judging by Ace’s laughter, were already considerable. Shammy had heard enough of it to know the important part. Thursday through Tuesday. Elisa. Probably Bea after that. And Lizzie’s. Which meant one particular thought had arrived almost immediately. Not obligation. Not arrangement. Want. Simple enough. Shammy tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. It floated away again almost at once. “Busy tonight?” Panam went quiet for half a second. Then: “Depends who’s asking.” “Very funny.” “You called me.” “Yes.” “Suspiciously.” Shammy’s hair lifted a little more. “You’ve been talking to Mai.” “No.” “Then Ace.” “No.” “Then Reyes.” “No.” “Then you’ve become unbearable independently.” “That one.” Shammy laughed under her breath. Panam let the silence sit. No pressure. That was one of the things Shammy liked about her. Panam could be incredibly direct. Brutally direct. Sometimes offensively direct. But when something mattered, she knew the difference between waiting and pushing. Shammy looked down. “I was thinking about coming over.” “Tonight?” “Yes.” Another tiny pause. Different this time. Warmer. “Good.” That answer landed lower than words usually did. Shammy’s hair responded first. A subtle lift. Almost static. She touched it absently. “Good?” “Yeah.” “Very articulate.” “I can make it complicated if you need me to.” “No.” “Then good.” Shammy smiled. There was another cupboard sound. Panam moving. Doing something practical while talking. Probably because staying still on the phone was physically impossible for her. “Elisa’s coming back,” Shammy said. “To Night City?” “To the Safehouse.” Panam stopped moving. “When?” “Thursday afternoon.” “For how long?” “Tuesday evening.” A low whistle. “That’s not a visit.” “She has time off.” “That still sounds suspicious.” “She misses everyone.” Panam’s voice softened. “Yeah?” “Yeah.” “And Bea?” Shammy blinked. Then smiled wider. “You know her too well.” “I’ve met her.” “Once.” “Enough.” Shammy’s hair gave another faint amused lift. “She misses Bea.” Panam laughed. “That part I believe immediately.” Shammy pushed away from the wall. “There’ll probably be work.” “At Lizzie’s?” “Almost certainly.” “Mm.” That particular sound carried several things. Recognition. Interest. Assessment. Madame. Shammy noticed the shift because by now she knew it. Panam still sounded like Panam. She always did. But there was a slightly different stillness when Lizzie’s work entered the conversation. Not performance. Responsibility. Who was there. Who wanted what. Who had eaten. Who had worked too long. Who was taking another booking because they wanted it and who was taking one because they had not noticed they were tired yet. Shammy’s hair eased again. She liked that too. Probably more than she was supposed to admit. “So,” Panam said, “you’re coming here before Elisa arrives?” “Yes.” “Because?” Shammy raised an eyebrow. “You need a reason?” “No.” “Then why ask?” “Wanted to hear you say it.” There it was. Shammy’s hair rose in a soft halo around the sides of her head. She closed her eyes. “You’re impossible.” “Still waiting.” “You know why.” “Probably.” “Panam.” “Shammy.” Silence. Shammy could hear the smile now. She hated that. Not really. “I want you.” The apartment on the other end became very quiet. Shammy’s own expression softened. There was no embarrassment in saying it. Not anymore. Maybe there had been once. Long ago. Back when wanting someone required examination. Definition. Placement. Comparison. Now it could simply exist. Panam answered in a lower voice. “Then come here.” The static in Shammy’s hair eased. Not disappeared. Settled. Decision made. Pressure gone. “Okay.” “When?” “Soon.” “That means nothing.” “Twenty minutes?” “Better.” “You have food?” “Yes.” “Actual food?” “Fuck you.” “That was not an answer.” “I have food.” “Something other than beer?” “I am hanging up.” Shammy smiled. “You’re not.” “No.” Another beat. Then Panam said, “Bring yourself.” Shammy’s hair reacted before her face did. A soft lift. Warm. Visible even in the reflection of the dark screen on the wall. She stared at herself for one second. “Traitor.” “What?” “Nothing.” Panam immediately understood anyway. “Your hair?” “No.” “Shammy.” “No.” Panam laughed. That laugh did absolutely nothing to improve the situation. The silver-white strands around Shammy’s temples lifted again. “Stop.” “I’m not doing anything.” “That’s worse.” “Twenty minutes.” “Yes.” “Door’s open.” “You should not say that in Night City.” “You know what I mean.” “I do.” “Good.” The call ended. Shammy stood there for another moment. Quiet. Then she touched the side of her head. Her hair floated slightly into her fingers. “Embarrassing.” “It absolutely is.” Shammy turned. Ace was leaning against the far side of the doorway with a coffee mug. Shammy stared. “How long have you been there?” Ace took a drink. “Long enough.” “You people need hobbies.” “I have hobbies.” “Listening to private calls is not a hobby.” “I was getting coffee.” “You were already holding coffee.” Ace looked down at the mug. “That proves nothing.” Shammy pointed at her. “Not one word.” Ace’s mouth twitched. “I didn’t say anything.” “Your face did.” “Now you know how Sera feels.” Shammy’s hair lifted. Ace’s smile became dangerous. “Oh, wow.” “Don’t.” “It really does that.” “Ace.” “You said nothing.” “Ace.” “It did everything.” Shammy walked past her. Ace turned to follow. “So, Panam?” “No.” “That sounded like Panam.” “It was not.” “You called someone who sounds exactly like Panam?” “Yes.” “That seems statistically unlikely.” Shammy stopped. Ace stopped too. The height difference made the stare ridiculous. It did not make it less effective. Shammy pointed toward the kitchen. “Coffee.” Ace glanced at her mug. “I have coffee.” “More.” “That’s fair.” Ace retreated with the speed of someone who appreciated survival. Shammy continued toward the bedroom. Mai appeared from the other direction. No phone now. Just that calm look. “Panam?” Shammy stopped again. “Why does everyone know?” Mai considered. “You’re smiling.” Shammy immediately stopped smiling. Mai’s eyes dropped slightly. “And your hair is approximately one bad thought away from orbit.” Shammy looked upward as though she might somehow see it. Mai smiled. “You’re going over?” “Yes.” “Tonight?” “Yes.” “Good.” Shammy looked at her. That was all. No questioning. No implication that her leaving on the night Elisa arrived tomorrow somehow complicated the Safehouse. No attempt to rearrange people around people. Mai understood. Probably before Shammy did. “I want to,” Shammy said. “I know.” Not _that’s fine_. Not _you should_. Not permission. Just recognition. Shammy relaxed. “Did Elisa ask about me?” “Yes.” “And?” “I told her you’d probably be around earlier and might not be there in the evening.” Shammy nodded. “Okay.” “She didn’t push.” “I wouldn’t expect her to.” “Neither would I.” That mattered. Elisa’s curiosity could fill a room. Sometimes a building. But she knew where the edge of someone else’s privacy was. More importantly, she could see it without needing the boundary drawn in fluorescent paint. Shammy liked that about her. “Tell her I’ll see her before I go.” “I will.” Mai paused. Then: “Have fun.” Shammy’s eyes narrowed. Mai’s expression remained perfectly neutral. “Was that loaded?” “No.” “Are you sure?” “Yes.” The hair at Shammy’s temples lifted again. Mai looked at it. Then at Shammy. Then very carefully said nothing. Shammy pointed. “You are worse than Ace.” Mai smiled. “I know.” Twenty-three minutes later, Shammy was standing outside Panam’s apartment. She had missed the twenty-minute target by three because Ace had insisted that Shammy was not allowed to leave without taking food she did not need to Panam who already had food. Apparently this was “logistics.” Shammy suspected it was actually interference disguised as domestic competence. She lifted a hand toward the door. It opened before she touched it. Panam stood on the other side. Tank top. Loose cargo pants. Bare feet. Hair pulled back badly enough that several strands had already escaped. No armor. No jacket. No weapons visible. Just Panam. For a second neither of them spoke. Shammy felt the faint electrical lift begin around her hair again. Panam’s eyes flicked upward. Then back down. A slow smile. “Oh, that is fucking useful.” Shammy closed her eyes. “Please don’t.” “Didn’t say anything.” “You looked.” “Can’t help having eyes.” “Debatable.” Panam stepped aside. Shammy walked in. The door closed behind her. Panam took the food container from her hand. “What’s this?” “Ace.” “That explains nothing.” “It explains everything.” “Fair.” Panam put the container on the counter. Then turned back. No joke this time. No Madame. No Stable. No Lizzie’s. Just the woman Shammy had called because she wanted her. Panam reached out. Two fingers caught gently under Shammy’s chin. Shammy’s hair lifted. Panam’s thumb brushed once along her jaw. “You came.” Shammy looked at her. “Yes.” “Good.” That word again. Still enough. Shammy leaned forward. Panam met her halfway. And somewhere between the first kiss and Panam’s hand settling at her waist, the silver-white static around Shammy’s hair finally stopped trying to pretend it had no opinion at all. --- ## Chapter 3 — Inbound The handoff point was nowhere near the Safehouse. That was the point. Elisa’s security detail knew the approved transfer location. They knew Reyes. They knew the protocols. They knew when Elisa would be returned to them. They did not know where Reyes would take her afterward. Nobody involved considered that a flaw. Elisa sat in the rear of the armored vehicle while the final verification passed between two security systems that had every reason to distrust the rest of Night City and no reason to make that distrust personal. One of her people looked toward the entrance. “She’s here.” Elisa glanced through the glass. Then smiled. Reyes looked exactly like someone who had come from merc work and intended to return to it. Natural red hair pulled back hard and practical. Durable pants. Boots with actual traction. A worn jacket over equipment chosen because it worked. Weapons. Not polished for effect. Not arranged to look dangerous. Simply where they needed to be. Her eyes were already moving. Entrance. Cars. Hands. Reflections. The person across the street pretending not to watch anything. Then Elisa. The scan stopped for half a second. Warmth appeared. Small. Real. Then Reyes was reading the environment again. Elisa’s security manager stepped forward to meet her. The exchange was clean. Identity. Transfer authorization. Emergency channel. Tuesday evening return. Responsibility changed hands. Nothing about the Safehouse changed hands with it. No address. No coordinates. No route. Her manager looked at Elisa. “Tuesday evening.” “Same arrangement.” “Yes.” “Good.” Then, professionally: “Enjoy your weekend.” Elisa smiled. “I intend to.” A tiny pause. Perhaps he had learned not to ask what that meant. Smart man. She stepped out with one bag. Reyes looked at it. Then at her. “That all you brought?” “I’m experimenting with restraint.” “Should I call Victor?” “Fuck you.” “There she is.” Elisa grinned. “Hi.” Reyes’s expression softened. “Hi.” Elisa hugged her. Reyes accepted it with one arm at first, the other naturally free while the transfer completed behind them. The armored vehicle doors closed. Elisa’s security detail departed. Only after the vehicle disappeared into traffic did Reyes let the hug become less operational. Brief. Firm. Then over. “You good?” “Yes.” “You sure?” “Yes.” Reyes studied her another second. Dark brown eyes. No theatrical concern. Just the irritating competence of somebody who had known bodies before she knew gunfights. Apparently satisfied, she stepped back. “Come on.” Elisa looked around. “Where’s the car?” Reyes pointed. Elisa followed the gesture. Then looked back at her. “That?” “What’s wrong with it?” “Nothing.” “That sounded like something.” “I’m used to being kidnapped in more expensive vehicles.” Reyes stared. Elisa smiled sweetly. “Professionally transferred.” “Much better.” “Thank you.” Reyes opened the passenger door. “Get in before I reconsider.” Elisa climbed inside. The vehicle suited Reyes. Functional. Used. Clean enough. Nothing decorative that might become shrapnel or get in the way of reaching something important. Elisa buckled in. Reyes got behind the wheel. Before moving, she checked the mirrors. Then the street. Then the mirrors again. Elisa watched. “You do that every time?” “Yes.” “You know what I mean.” “Yes.” “And?” Reyes started the vehicle. “I like knowing who’s behind me.” “That sounds exhausting.” “It keeps being useful.” They pulled away. Elisa watched the transfer point disappear. Only then did she realize how complete the separation was. Her people knew where they had handed her over. They knew who had accepted responsibility. They knew how to contact her if something went wrong. They knew when she would return. They did not know where she was going. Elisa liked that distinction. Good security did not require unnecessary knowledge to feel important. For several blocks, Reyes said nothing. Elisa lasted almost thirty seconds. “So.” “No.” “I haven’t asked anything.” “That usually means you’re loading.” “Loading?” “The question.” “That is insulting.” “Is it inaccurate?” Elisa thought about it. “No.” Reyes nodded once. “Then we’re good.” The city shifted around them. Watson slowly asserted itself. Older infrastructure. Cheap signage fighting expensive implants. Businesses operating out of buildings that appeared to have survived several economic collapses through spite alone. Reyes fit into it. Not elegantly. Correctly. Elisa watched her. The red hair. The practical gear. The easy readiness. “You’re working after this.” It was not quite a question. “Yes.” “Merc job?” “Yes.” “This weekend too?” “Yes.” “So I’m not going to see much of you.” “No.” Elisa frowned. “Annoying.” “Work tends to be.” “I meant you.” “I know.” Elisa looked out the window. “I missed you.” That got a glance. Fast. Then forward. “Bad habit.” “I have several.” “Obviously.” “You missed me too.” Reyes made no reply. Elisa waited. Nothing. She smiled. “That silence counts.” “No, it doesn’t.” “It absolutely does.” “You’ve been around Ace too much.” “Probably.” Reyes took a turn. “You’re back for five days. Plenty of time for you to become unbearable.” “Thursday through Tuesday.” “That’s six days.” Elisa turned toward her. “See? You already care.” Reyes sighed. “Jesus.” Elisa laughed. Then settled. Not because she had run out of questions. That had never happened. Because there was something comfortable about being driven through Night City by someone who did not need conversation to prove they were together. A few minutes later she tried again. “So what happened at Lizzie’s?” Reyes did not even look at her. “Things.” “That is exactly what everyone keeps saying.” “Sounds accurate.” “Mai was evasive.” “Mai is good at that.” “Ace was worse.” “Ace thinks subtlety means using a smaller knife.” Elisa laughed. “You know something.” “Yes.” That answer surprised her. She turned. Reyes kept driving. “You’re just admitting it?” “You asked whether I know something.” “And?” “I know lots of things.” “That is Mai-level bullshit.” “Don’t insult me.” Elisa stared. Then laughed again. “Fine. What changed?” “No.” “Why not?” “Because watching you find out sounds funnier.” Elisa’s mouth fell open. Reyes’s face stayed perfectly neutral. “You bitch.” “There she is.” Elisa folded her arms. “Everyone has conspired against me.” “No.” “You have.” “That would require meetings.” “Fair.” Reyes checked a mirror. Elisa watched the movement. “What job?” “Mine.” “That wasn’t invasive.” “It was approaching.” Elisa considered the boundary. Then nodded. “Okay.” No offense. No second attempt. If Reyes wanted to tell her later, she would. If not, Elisa could survive without knowing. Probably. A minute passed. Then Reyes said, “Ordinary merc work.” Elisa looked over. “That was voluntarily supplied information.” “Don’t make me regret it.” “I won’t.” Another beat. “Dangerous?” Reyes gave her a flat look. Elisa raised both hands. “Right. Merc.” “Exactly.” They continued. Elisa did not try to memorize the route. She could have. Probably. Patterns came easily to her. But there was a meaningful difference between being capable of learning something and deciding it belonged to you. The Safehouse location did not need to belong to her. She knew the people who could take her there. That was enough. Eventually Reyes turned onto a street Elisa recognized only from the final approach. The building itself remained aggressively unimpressive. Old commercial frontage. Nothing inviting. Nothing advertising value. Exactly the kind of place people looked past. Reyes parked. They got out. Elisa picked up her bag before Reyes could touch it. Reyes noticed. Said nothing. At the street-level entrance, the system identified them separately. Reyes. Then Elisa. Her own standing clearance. No borrowing. No piggybacking. The hardened lower door released. They stepped inside. It closed behind them. The city fell away by one layer. The controlled stairway rose ahead. Elisa started up. Reyes moved beside her. “You know,” Elisa said, “for somebody who keeps telling me I’m safe with these people, the route to their home is very good at reminding me why.” “That’s why you’re safe with them.” “Fair.” They reached the upper landing. Second door. Different rule. No automatic opening. Elisa pressed the doorbell. A few seconds later the camera indicator changed. Reyes looked directly into it. “Don’t.” Elisa blinked. “Don’t what?” “Not you.” Ace’s voice came through the speaker. “Wow. Hostile.” Reyes closed her eyes. Elisa started laughing. “You haven’t even opened the door.” “I saw your face.” “My face is beautiful.” “Your face is annoying.” “Also true.” Mai’s voice arrived somewhere behind Ace. “Open the door.” “I’m greeting them.” “You’re irritating Reyes.” “That’s how I greet Reyes.” Reyes leaned fractionally toward the camera. “Open the fucking door, Ace.” Ace answered immediately. “See? She missed me.” The lock disengaged. The upper door opened manually. Ace stood behind it. Coffee mug in one hand. Of course. Mai just behind her. Elisa stopped. For one heartbeat. Maybe two. Ace smiled. Mai’s expression warmed. And suddenly five days did not feel excessive at all. Elisa dropped the bag. She crossed the threshold fast enough that Ace barely managed to put the mug down. The first contact was a hug. Because bodies got there before words did. Ace wrapped both arms around her. Elisa held on hard. “Hi.” “Hi.” Then Elisa pulled back just far enough to look at her. Ace’s violet eyes were already smiling. Elisa kissed her. Not a greeting peck. Not anything uncertain. A warm, familiar kiss that landed cleanly between _I missed you_ and _there you are_. Ace made a tiny surprised sound against her mouth. Then one hand settled at Elisa’s waist. The surprise disappeared. The kiss deepened by exactly the amount familiarity allowed without turning the landing into a bedroom. When Elisa finally pulled away, Ace was smiling differently. “That’s a better hello.” “I thought so.” “You could’ve warned me.” “Why?” “Fair.” Mai was standing close enough now that Elisa only had to turn. She did. Mai’s eyes flicked once to Elisa’s mouth. That was all the invitation required. Elisa caught the front of Mai’s shirt lightly and pulled her in. Mai came willingly. The kiss was different. Of course it was. Slower. More deliberate. Mai’s hand settled at the back of Elisa’s neck, thumb resting just below her ear. Elisa felt herself smile into it. Mai noticed. Naturally. When they separated, Mai stayed close. Forehead almost touching hers. “Hello.” Elisa breathed out a laugh. “That one wasn’t suspicious.” “No?” “No.” “Good.” Ace, beside them: “I feel under-greeted now.” Elisa looked over. “You got there first.” “That is not how fairness works.” Mai’s mouth curved. Elisa stared at Ace for half a second. Then reached out, caught her by the front of her shirt, and kissed her again. Shorter. Sharper. Ace looked extremely pleased with herself when Elisa released her. “Better.” “You are impossible.” “You called.” Elisa laughed. There. That. Not merely being welcomed. Being wanted. And knowing the wanting was mutual enough that none of them needed to stop and explain it. Reyes remained outside the threshold. Watching with the expression of someone who had absolutely no intention of commenting on any of this. Elisa noticed her. “So?” Reyes lifted one eyebrow. “So what?” “You’re very quiet.” “I’m practicing survival.” Ace picked her coffee back up. “Coward.” Reyes looked at her. “I’ve met you.” “Exactly.” Mai bent to pick up Elisa’s bag. Reyes shifted slightly. Still geared. Still armed. Still ready to leave. Ace noticed. “You coming in?” “No.” No hesitation. Ace’s expression changed. Work. Mai heard it too. “Straight back out?” she asked. “Yes.” “Long one?” “Probably.” Ace leaned against the doorframe. “Food?” Reyes looked at her. “What?” “You heard me.” “I’m working.” “That wasn’t the question.” Reyes narrowed her eyes. Elisa looked between them. There it was. Not coworker concern. Not generic hospitality. Something older and more personal. Reyes said, “I ate.” Ace kept looking. “When?” Reyes paused. Ace pointed. “That pause was evidence.” “Fuck you.” “Later.” Reyes’s mouth twitched despite herself. Mai stepped in before the exchange became litigation. “There’s food when you’re done if you want it.” Different tone. No demand. No management. Just available. Reyes looked at her. Then nodded once. “Thanks.” Elisa stepped closer to Reyes. “Tuesday?” “I’ll handle the outbound handoff.” “You promise?” Reyes gave her a look. “I said I would.” Which, from Reyes, was stronger than theatrics. Elisa hugged her again. This time Reyes anticipated it. Both arms. Brief squeeze. Then she stepped back. “Have fun.” Elisa smiled. “I clearly intend to.” Reyes’s eyes flicked toward Ace and Mai. “Apparently.” Elisa laughed. Ace looked scandalized. “Judgment?” “Observation.” “You’re jealous.” Reyes looked at her. “No.” Ace put one hand over her heart. “Cruel.” Mai said, “You’re enjoying this too much.” “Yes.” Reyes pointed once at Ace. “You.” Ace blinked innocently. “No.” “I didn’t say anything yet.” “I know your face.” Mai murmured, “That appears to be going around.” Reyes continued. “Try not to teach her anything worse.” Elisa objected. “Excuse me?” Ace looked deeply offended. “I would never.” Three women looked at her. Ace took a drink of coffee. “Okay. Statistically weak.” Reyes snorted. Then turned. The door remained open long enough for her to reach the stairs. Elisa watched her descend. Red hair tied back. Merc gear. Weapons. Already returning mentally to whatever waited outside. Then Ace closed the upper door. The lock engaged. Home side. Different world. Elisa turned. Mai had already picked up her bag. Ace had reclaimed her coffee. Elisa walked back toward them. Ace looked up. Elisa leaned down and kissed the corner of her mouth once. Because she could. Ace’s hand landed automatically at her hip. “Still missed me?” “Yes.” “Good.” Mai passed close enough that Elisa caught her wrist. Mai stopped. Elisa drew her in for one more quick kiss. Mai’s fingers brushed Elisa’s cheek afterward. Comfortable. Unhurried. Established. Nobody treated it like an event. That mattered almost as much as the kisses themselves. The upper floor opened beyond them with the familiar absence of fortress theater. Living space. Kitchen. Furniture people actually used. Signs of lives continuing between disasters. Home first. Elisa breathed out. Ace watched her. “You okay?” “Yes.” “Good.” Mai started toward the kitchen. “Food.” “I’m not hungry.” Ace and Mai both stopped. Turned. Looked at her. Elisa sighed. “Oh, fuck off.” Ace grinned. “Welcome back.” They moved toward the kitchen. Elisa followed. Then she noticed it. A glance between Ace and Mai. Tiny. Quick. Entirely too practiced. Elisa narrowed her eyes. “What?” Ace kept walking. “What?” “That.” Mai put the bag aside. “What?” “The look.” Ace took a drink. “No look.” “There was absolutely a look.” Mai began opening containers. “You’ve been here forty seconds.” “And already you’re lying to me.” “We’re feeding you.” “That does not make it better.” “It frequently does.” Elisa sat at the table. Ace sat opposite her. Far too innocent. Elisa pointed. “You know something.” “Yes.” The immediate answer threw her. “What?” “Many things.” “About Lizzie’s.” Ace froze for perhaps a tenth of a second. Tiny. But Elisa was watching now. Her smile widened. “Oh.” Mai put food in front of her. “Eat.” “That is a deflection.” “That is dinner.” “Dinner-shaped deflection.” Ace laughed into her coffee. Elisa looked between them. She could ask. She wanted to. Quite badly. But curiosity was not ownership. And whatever they were refusing to explain was very obviously not something dangerous to her. If it had been, they would have told her. So Elisa picked up her fork. “No.” Ace blinked. “No?” “I’m not asking.” Mai looked at her. A small approving smile. “You’ll see soon enough.” “Friday?” Ace’s grin became dangerous. “Probably.” Elisa pointed the fork at her. “That grin is why Reyes gave you a warning.” “That warning was completely uncalled for.” “Was it?” “No.” Mai sat down. Elisa took the first bite. Safehouse noise settled around her. Ace’s coffee. Mai shifting a plate. Ventilation. Distant city vibration through reinforced structure. Nothing ceremonial. Nothing arranged. Elisa reached under the table with one foot and lightly bumped Ace’s boot. Ace looked up. Elisa smiled. Ace smiled back. Thursday was still Elisa. Not client. Not Bea. Not visitor standing at polite distance. Elisa. And she was exactly where she had wanted to be. Friday could keep its secrets. For now. --- ## Chapter 4 — Back Brenda came in halfway through Elisa’s second plate. Not through the front door. From deeper inside the Safehouse. Which told Elisa immediately that she had forgotten something obvious. Brenda lived here. Not visited. Lived. There was a difference. Brenda appeared carrying a mug in one hand and something small and mechanical in the other. She stopped. Looked at Elisa. Looked at Ace. Looked at Mai. Then back at Elisa. “Oh.” Elisa smiled. “Hi.” Brenda’s face changed instantly. “Holy shit.” The mechanical thing disappeared into one pocket. The mug went onto the nearest safe surface with surprising care. Then Brenda crossed the room fast. Elisa barely had time to stand before Brenda hugged her. Warm. Immediate. Completely unceremonious. “You’re actually here.” “I’m actually here.” “For how long?” “Until Tuesday.” Brenda pulled back. “Tuesday?” “Yes.” “That’s not a weekend.” Elisa stared. “No.” Brenda blinked. “What?” “Nothing.” “No, say it.” “Everyone has said that.” Brenda grinned. “Because you’re wrong.” “I contain a weekend.” “That is not how time works.” Ace pointed at Brenda. “Thank you.” Elisa sat back down. “I regret coming.” “No, you don’t.” Mai put another small dish on the table in front of her. Elisa looked at it. “I said I wasn’t hungry.” Mai said nothing. Elisa picked up the fork. Brenda reclaimed her mug. Then noticed the bag near the wall. “You brought one bag?” Elisa stopped chewing. Ace put her face into her coffee. Mai turned away very carefully. Brenda frowned. “What?” Elisa swallowed. “I’m going to kill all of you.” Brenda brightened. “Okay, definitely back.” She dropped into the chair beside Ace. It was not guest behavior. No asking where to sit. No checking whether she was interrupting. Brenda simply joined the room because the room was also hers. There were traces of that everywhere now that Elisa actually looked. A notebook lying half-open near one side of the common room. A jacket hanging where it clearly belonged. A personal mug. A charging cable with a piece of tape marking it as somebody’s. A small pile of components on a tray that had been positioned with suspicious precision several centimeters away from the actual dining surface. Mai noticed Elisa looking. “Those are not allowed on the table.” Brenda did not look up. “They’re not on the table.” “They are touching the table.” “They’re touching the tray.” “The tray is touching the table.” “Indirect contact.” Mai turned. Brenda took a drink. Elisa looked at Ace. “Does this happen often?” “Daily.” “Hourly,” Mai corrected. Brenda pointed at her. “Exaggeration.” Mai raised one eyebrow. Brenda lowered the finger. “Occasionally hourly.” Elisa laughed. There it was again. The Safehouse rhythm. Not a social event. Not something arranged for her visit. Life already in progress. She had simply stepped into it. Then another voice came from behind her. “I heard Elisa.” Elisa turned. Iris stood at the edge of the living space. Different energy entirely. Where Brenda arrived like someone entering the middle of her own sentence, Iris arrived composed. Not stiff. Not formal. Simply controlled. She wore comfortable Safehouse clothes, not Ms. B. Real Iris. No cover performance. No corporate layer. Just the woman Elisa knew. For half a second Iris looked almost surprised. Then she smiled. And Elisa was already standing. “Iris.” “Hi.” The hug was easier than their earlier meetings had ever been. Familiar. Not hesitant. Elisa held on for a moment. Iris did too. Then Elisa pulled back. “You live here too.” Iris blinked. “That sounded accusatory.” “I knew that.” “Apparently not very convincingly.” “I remembered Brenda.” Brenda gasped. “I’m unforgettable.” Ace said, “Unfortunately.” “Fuck you.” Iris looked at Elisa. “I’m wounded.” “No, you’re not.” “Correct.” Elisa laughed. Then Iris kissed her cheek. A simple affectionate greeting. Nothing ambiguous. Nothing made larger than it was. Then Iris looked past her toward Ace and Mai. “You fed her?” Mai nodded. Elisa objected. “I fed myself.” Mai looked at the plate. Elisa looked at Mai. Then at the plate. Then back at Mai. “That was still technically me.” Ace said, “You were supervised.” “I hate this house.” Brenda leaned across the table. “No, you don’t.” Elisa looked at her. Then smiled. “No.” She really did not. Iris moved to the chair beside Brenda. Brenda immediately shifted her knee against Iris’s under the table. Tiny. Automatic. Domestic. Iris barely reacted. Only rested one hand briefly against Brenda’s leg. Elisa noticed. Not because she was trying to. Because it was there. Normal. Unperformed. That made her smile more than she expected. Brenda noticed that too. “What?” “Nothing.” “That was a smile.” “I smile.” “Suspiciously.” Ace pointed toward Brenda. “See?” Elisa groaned. “Everyone in this building is broken.” Mai replied, “You came voluntarily.” “Stop using that against me.” “No.” Iris glanced at Elisa’s bag. “One bag?” Elisa put the fork down. Slowly. Brenda covered her mouth. Ace began shaking with silent laughter. Mai closed her eyes. Elisa looked around the table. “Five adults.” Nobody answered. “Five.” Brenda looked at Iris. Iris looked at Brenda. Ace looked deeply interested in her coffee. Mai was losing. Elisa pointed at them one by one. “You’re all dead.” Brenda failed first. The laugh came out hard enough that Iris leaned away. Ace followed. Mai finally gave up. Even Iris laughed. Elisa sat in the middle of it. Annoyed. Warm. Exactly where she wanted to be. It took several minutes before the room recovered enough for actual conversation. Then the questions started. Not interrogations. Updates. How had Elisa been? Work. Social obligations. Something tedious involving people who spent too much money pretending a private dinner was not a negotiation. Brenda immediately had opinions. Iris corrected half of them. Elisa corrected the other half. Ace contributed things that were mostly unrelated. Mai somehow kept the conversation from becoming three separate arguments. At one point Brenda asked: “So why now?” Elisa looked at her. “What?” “You had time off. Why here?” The question was direct. Not loaded. Elisa considered giving a joke answer. Then decided not to. “I missed you.” Brenda stopped. Elisa continued. “All of you.” Iris’s expression softened. Ace’s did too. Mai already knew. Brenda looked suddenly less prepared than she had been for anything else that evening. “Oh.” Elisa smiled. “And I missed working.” That fixed Brenda instantly. “Oh.” Different _oh_. Ace pointed. “There it is.” Iris turned toward Elisa. “Bea?” “Yes.” Brenda’s eyes lit up. “Oh, this is going to be—” Mai said, “No spoilers.” Brenda stopped. Elisa looked at her. “Why did you stop?” “No reason.” “That was absolutely a reason.” Brenda looked at Mai. Mai looked back. Brenda made the extraordinary decision to value continued existence. “No reason.” Elisa narrowed her eyes. Iris took a drink. Far too calmly. Elisa looked at her. “You too.” “Me?” “Yes.” “I said nothing.” “That is becoming a recurring problem in this house.” Ace raised her mug. “To silence.” “No.” Brenda was visibly vibrating. Elisa stared. “What happened at Lizzie’s?” Brenda opened her mouth. Mai said her name. “Brenda.” Brenda closed it again. Elisa pointed. “That means something happened.” Iris said, “Many things happened.” “Helpful.” “You’re welcome.” Elisa looked from one face to another. Mai. Ace. Brenda. Iris. All four of them knew. All four were enjoying this. Elisa could feel the curiosity building again. Questions branching. Covers? Bookings? Something about the Stable? Whatever Madame meant. Something big enough that Reyes had also refused to explain it. She could push. She could probably get Brenda to crack in under three minutes. Possibly under one. But that would ruin it. And more importantly— they would tell her anything she actually needed to know. So she leaned back. “Fine.” Brenda looked startled. “Fine?” “Yes.” “You’re not asking?” “No.” Ace looked suspicious. “Who are you?” Elisa ignored her. “I’ll see it tomorrow.” Mai smiled. “Probably.” Brenda looked offended by the concept of delayed gratification. “But—” Iris touched her knee under the table. Brenda stopped. Elisa saw that too. Interesting. “Tomorrow,” Brenda repeated. “Tomorrow.” There was a pause. Then Brenda looked at Elisa again. “So are you working the whole weekend?” “Not Thursday.” Ace’s eyes flicked toward Mai. Tiny. Elisa saw it. Brenda saw it too. Iris definitely saw it. Elisa pointed at all of them. “No.” Nobody spoke. “Do not start.” Brenda’s mouth twitched. Elisa narrowed her eyes. “Thursday is Elisa.” Mai’s voice softened slightly. “Yes.” “Friday onward?” Elisa smiled. “Probably Bea.” Brenda grinned. “Good.” Iris looked thoughtful. “You really missed it?” “Yes.” “The work?” “Yes.” Elisa did not hesitate. She liked that she did not hesitate. “I liked choosing people.” Iris listened. “I liked the conversations. The reading. The weirdness.” Brenda said, “The sex.” Elisa looked at her. “Yes, Brenda. Also the sex.” Ace nearly inhaled coffee. Mai rubbed two fingers over the bridge of her nose. Iris turned toward Brenda. Brenda lifted both hands. “What? We were all dancing around it.” Elisa started laughing. “No, she’s right.” Brenda pointed triumphantly at Mai. “See?” Mai looked at Elisa. “You’ve been here less than an hour.” “And already corrupted.” Ace said, “Again, statistically weak.” Elisa leaned back. “I missed that too.” Brenda looked delighted. “What?” “The fact that none of you pretend adults don’t enjoy things.” That quieted the room slightly. Not awkwardly. Just enough to make the sentence land. Iris nodded once. “Fair.” Elisa looked down at her plate. Then back up. “There’s a lot of my life where people either treat sex like status, scandal, currency, or something they’re desperately trying to prove they’re too sophisticated to care about.” Brenda’s expression sharpened. Elisa continued. “Here it’s just…” She searched. Ace supplied: “Fun?” Mai glanced at her. Elisa smiled. “Yes. Sometimes.” Iris said, “Choice.” Elisa looked at her. “Yes.” That was better. Choice. The work. The covers. The intimacy. Coming here. Calling Mai. Kissing Ace at the door because she wanted to. Kissing Mai because she wanted to. Going back to Bea because she wanted to. Choice. Brenda relaxed against her chair. “Okay.” Elisa raised an eyebrow. “Okay what?” “Nothing.” “That sounded emotional.” “Fuck you.” “There she is.” Ace pointed at Elisa. “Mine.” Mai said, “Absolutely not.” Brenda pointed at Ace. “You’re the one who started that.” Iris leaned back and watched the argument develop with the serene expression of someone who knew intervention was pointless. Elisa caught her eye. Iris smiled. Elisa smiled back. Then Brenda said something outrageous enough that all attention snapped sideways. The room went loud again. Conversation folded over itself. Coffee became drinks. Food disappeared. Someone put music on low. Brenda wandered away and came back with something she had absolutely been working on despite rules about work surfaces. Mai confiscated it. Iris calmly retrieved Brenda’s abandoned mug and placed it closer to her. Ace stole food off Elisa’s plate. Elisa slapped her hand. Ace stole another piece anyway. By the time the sky outside the reinforced windows had fully surrendered to Night City darkness, Elisa had stopped tracking how long she had been there. That was another thing she had missed. Time behaved differently when no one was charging for it. Later, Iris and Brenda drifted toward their own room. Not together at first. Then Brenda stopped. Turned back. Crossed to Elisa. Another hug. This one softer. “Glad you’re here.” Elisa hugged back. “Me too.” Iris followed. She touched Elisa lightly at the shoulder. “Sleep eventually.” Elisa looked at Ace. Then Mai. Then back at Iris. “I’ll consider it.” Iris’s eyebrows rose. Brenda made a sound halfway between a laugh and a cough. Ace looked entirely too pleased. Mai remained composed. Mostly. Iris shook her head. “Good night, Elisa.” “Good night.” Brenda pointed at Ace and Mai. “Try not to break her before Friday.” Elisa said, “I can hear you.” “That was intentional.” Mai threw a napkin at her. Brenda ducked. Then she and Iris disappeared deeper into the Safehouse. The room became quieter. Not empty. Just smaller. Elisa sat between Ace and Mai. Ace close on one side. Mai on the other. No professional masks. No covers. No audience. Elisa looked from one to the other. Ace’s violet eyes. Mai’s silver hair catching the low room light. The space between them already familiar enough that she knew what it meant when neither moved away. She smiled. “So.” Ace looked at her. “So.” Mai’s hand rested lightly against Elisa’s thigh. Not demanding. Not accidental. Elisa covered it with her own. “I really did miss you.” Mai’s fingers turned beneath hers. Ace leaned closer. “We know.” Elisa looked at her. “That sounds smug.” “A little.” She kissed Ace. Slowly this time. No doorway. No greeting. No interruption. When she pulled back, Mai was still there. Waiting without waiting. Elisa turned. Kissed her too. Mai’s hand remained beneath hers. Warm. Steady. Elisa exhaled. Thursday was still Elisa. And the night was nowhere near finished. --- ## Chapter 5 — Missed You The Safehouse had quieted by degrees. Not silence. Never silence. Ventilation. Distant plumbing. The faint hum of charging equipment somewhere beyond the living area. A door closing farther down the hall. Brenda laughing once at something Iris said, then quieter voices disappearing behind their room. Home settling. Elisa remained between Ace and Mai on the couch. Not trapped. Held. Different thing. Ace had one leg folded beneath her, small body turned toward Elisa as though the rest of the room had become irrelevant. Mai sat close on the other side. Close enough that Elisa could feel the warmth of her thigh. Close enough that Mai’s hand had never really left her. It rested lightly against Elisa’s leg. Not gripping. Not directing. Simply there. Elisa had covered it with her own several minutes ago. Neither of them had moved. She looked at Ace. Ace looked back. The violet eyes were softer now. Still Ace. Still sharp. Still capable of saying something catastrophic at any moment. But softened by privacy. Elisa smiled. “What?” Ace asked it quietly. “Nothing.” “That’s suspicious.” “You people say that about everything.” “Because everything you do is suspicious.” “I called and asked if I could visit.” “Extremely suspicious.” Elisa leaned closer. “Should I leave?” Ace’s expression changed. Tiny. Immediate. “No.” There was no joke in it. Elisa felt the answer in her chest. Mai’s fingers shifted beneath her hand. A small movement. Recognition. Elisa looked toward her. Mai was watching both of them. Calm. Warm. Not detached. Never detached. Just more patient about showing exactly where she stood. Elisa turned her body slightly between them. “I really did miss you.” Ace said, “You mentioned that.” “I’m aware.” “You said it several times.” “I can stop.” “No.” Again. Immediate. Elisa smiled. “Possessive.” Ace’s eyes narrowed. “No.” Mai finally spoke. “She means greedy.” Ace looked offended. “That is completely different.” Elisa laughed. “There she is.” Ace pointed at Mai. “See what you’ve done?” Mai’s mouth curved. “I haven’t done anything.” “That’s also suspicious.” Elisa leaned over and kissed Ace before she could continue. Ace accepted the interruption instantly. No hesitation. No surprise this time. Her hand came to Elisa’s waist. Familiar placement. Familiar pressure. The kiss began soft. Stayed soft for several seconds. Then Ace shifted closer. Just enough. Elisa felt the change rather than saw it. The way Ace’s thumb pressed lightly at her side. The way her body angled inward. The way the sharpness behind the humor slowly disappeared. Elisa kissed her back more deeply. Not rushed. Not searching. Recognizing. That was the word. Recognition. A mouth she knew. Breathing she remembered. The small sound Ace made when Elisa’s hand moved behind her neck. Elisa smiled into the kiss. Ace pulled back a fraction. “What?” “Nothing.” “You smiled.” “So did you.” “I’m allowed.” “So am I.” Ace considered this. “Fine.” Then kissed her again. Elisa laughed softly against her mouth. Mai’s hand remained steady against her thigh. Present. Never demanding attention. Elisa became aware of it more with every second. When she finally broke from Ace, she did not move away. Ace stayed close. Forehead almost against hers. Elisa’s fingers remained at the back of Ace’s neck. Then Mai’s thumb moved once beneath Elisa’s hand. A slow stroke against her leg. Elisa turned. Mai was already looking at her. Elisa leaned in. Mai met her halfway. Different again. Always different. Ace kissed like momentum compressed into something careful. Mai kissed like she had already noticed every change in Elisa’s breathing and had decided to wait until Elisa noticed too. One hand came to Elisa’s jaw. Warm palm. Fingers behind her ear. Elisa let herself lean into it. The kiss deepened. Slowly. Patiently. No urgency because none was required. They had nowhere to be. No client clock. No booked hours. No schedule turning intimacy into logistics. Elisa felt that distinction with almost ridiculous clarity. Mai pulled back first. Barely. Their mouths still close. “Okay?” Elisa breathed out. “Yes.” One word. Enough. Mai kissed her again. Ace’s hand remained at Elisa’s waist. Elisa reached back without looking. Found her. Ace laced their fingers together. That made Elisa stop. Just for a second. Not because anything was wrong. Because something about the simplicity of it landed harder than expected. Mai noticed. Of course. “What?” Elisa shook her head. “Nothing bad.” Ace squeezed her fingers once. Elisa looked down at their joined hands. Then back up. “I forgot how easy this is.” Mai’s expression softened. “What?” “This.” Ace glanced around. “The couch?” Elisa laughed. “No.” Ace smiled. Mai waited. Elisa tried again. “Not having to decide what it means every five seconds.” That quieted them. Not heavily. Just enough. Ace’s thumb moved across the back of Elisa’s hand. Mai’s fingers brushed her cheek. “You don’t have to,” Mai said. “I know.” “You can if you want.” “I know.” Ace said, “You can also just be here.” Elisa looked at her. “Yes.” That was exactly it. She kissed Ace again. Short. Warm. Then Mai. Longer. Because she wanted to. The room shifted gradually around them. Conversation faded. Touch became its own language. Ace moved closer until Elisa could feel her along one side. Mai matched the space on the other. No choreography. No performance. Just three people who already knew one another well enough that positioning happened naturally. Elisa’s hand moved through Ace’s short dark hair. The faint violet sheen caught the low light when Ace tilted her head. Ace closed her eyes for half a second. Elisa watched. “You like that.” Ace opened one eye. “No.” “Liar.” “Prove it.” Elisa did it again. Ace’s expression betrayed her immediately. Mai laughed softly. Ace looked at her. “Traitor.” “I didn’t say anything.” “You laughed.” “Observation.” Elisa smiled. “Reyes is infecting everyone.” Ace made a face. Then Mai’s hand slid from Elisa’s jaw to the back of her neck. Elisa’s attention changed completely. Mai saw that too. There was something unfair about being surrounded by people who noticed everything. Elisa turned toward her again. The next kiss carried more heat. Still controlled. Still mutual. But less interested in pretending the evening was merely affectionate. Ace’s hand settled more firmly at Elisa’s waist. Elisa felt herself lean into both of them. No one rushed. That mattered. It always did. Anticipation was part of intimacy here, not something to skip on the way to the next beat. Elisa felt every small transition. The first time Ace’s forehead rested briefly against her shoulder. The way Mai’s thumb moved slowly at the base of her neck. The shift when Elisa turned enough that both women had room to stay close. The laughter when Ace nearly lost balance because she was trying to move without giving up contact. Elisa caught her automatically. Ace stared. “Not one word.” Elisa’s mouth twitched. “I didn’t say anything.” Mai said, “Your face did.” Ace looked betrayed. “You’re both awful.” Elisa kissed her. “Better?” “No.” Another kiss. “Now?” “Maybe.” Mai leaned in from the other side. “Need a second opinion?” Ace turned toward her. “That depends entirely on the methodology.” Elisa burst out laughing. The moment broke open. Not broken. Opened. Warmth. Humor. Desire without solemnity. Elisa loved that. Loved that nobody had to become another person simply because they wanted each other. Ace remained Ace. Mai remained Mai. Elisa remained herself. Eventually the couch became impractical. Not because of anything dramatic. Because three adults trying to stay close on furniture designed for two people eventually became engineering malpractice. Ace looked down. Then at Mai. Then at Elisa. “This is stupid.” Elisa nodded. “Yes.” Mai said, “Bedroom.” Ace looked at her. “See? Leadership.” Mai stood. Elisa remained sitting for one second longer. Not uncertainty. Anticipation. Mai offered a hand. Elisa took it. Ace stood beside them. For a moment the three simply faced one another. No jokes. No hurry. Elisa looked from Ace to Mai. “I want this.” Mai nodded. “So do I.” Ace’s answer came softer. “Yeah.” Choice. Clear. Mutual. No ambiguity required. Mai’s hand tightened around Elisa’s. Ace took her other hand. They walked deeper into the Safehouse together. Not procession. Not ritual. Just enough shared movement that the change in scene felt deliberate. The bedroom door closed behind them. The rest of the night did not need spectacle. It needed continuity. Clothes became less important gradually rather than vanishing between sentences. Touch moved from familiar to more intimate in increments. Kisses changed. Breathing changed. Laughter came and went. They checked one another without turning care into interruption. A hand paused. A look asked. A nod answered. Ace’s humor disappeared for stretches and returned when pressure eased. Mai’s control never became control over anyone else. It remained what it always was at its best: attention. Elisa let herself be wanted. More importantly, she wanted back. There was nothing transactional in the room. No rates. No roles. No cover names. No performance requirement. Only the accumulated history that had brought them here and the fact that none of them needed to pretend it had not changed them. At one point Elisa lay between them, breathing hard, smiling at absolutely nothing. Ace looked at her. “What?” Elisa shook her head. “I’m happy.” Ace’s expression softened instantly. No joke. Mai’s hand moved slowly along Elisa’s arm. “I know.” Elisa looked at her. “You always say that.” “Usually because I do.” “That’s annoying.” “Yes.” Ace said, “You can bite her.” Mai looked at Ace. Elisa started laughing again. “That escalated.” Ace shrugged. “Problem solving.” Mai leaned across Elisa and kissed Ace. A brief kiss. Familiar. Then looked back down. “Do not encourage her.” Elisa said, “Too late.” Mai kissed her too. And whatever remained of coherent conversation dissolved again. Later— much later— the room finally became still. Not empty stillness. Shared stillness. The kind that came only after everyone had stopped trying to arrive anywhere else. Elisa lay on her back. Mai close on one side. Ace curled partly against her on the other. One of Ace’s hands rested across Elisa’s stomach. Mai’s fingers were loosely intertwined with hers. The air had cooled. The sheets were a mess. Nobody cared. Elisa stared at the ceiling. For once, nobody said anything. The silence did not ask to be filled. Ace’s breathing slowly evened. Mai remained awake. Elisa knew without looking. “You’re still awake.” “Yes.” “So am I.” “I know.” Elisa smiled. Of course she did. Ace muttered against Elisa’s shoulder. “Stop being smug in bed.” Mai answered calmly. “I said two words.” “Smug words.” Elisa laughed quietly. Ace’s hand tightened once across her. Then relaxed. Elisa turned her head. Looked at Ace. Then Mai. The two women she had first known under different names. Different hair. Different voices. Professional smiles. Structured time. Now this. Real faces. Real silence. Nothing counted. Nothing billed. Nothing scheduled. She felt Mai’s thumb brush over her knuckles. Ace moved closer without waking fully. Elisa closed her eyes. “I really missed you.” Ace’s answer came half-muffled. “We got that.” Elisa smiled. Mai kissed her temple. “Sleep.” Elisa opened one eye. “That sounded suspiciously like an order.” “It was advice.” “Mm.” Ace murmured, “Do what she says.” “You’re asleep.” “No.” “You sound asleep.” “I’m tactical.” Elisa laughed once. Then quieted. The last thing she noticed before sleep finally took her was how natural the shape felt. Not permanent. Not claimed. Not requiring definition. Just chosen. Tonight. Together. Enough. --- ## Chapter 6 — Breakfast Elisa woke to coffee. Not the smell. The argument. “No.” Ace. Flat. Absolute. Elisa kept her eyes closed. Mai answered from somewhere beyond the bedroom. “You’ve already had two.” “That is unrelated.” “It is exactly related.” “No.” “Compelling argument.” “I’m small.” “That is not a medical exemption.” “It should be.” Elisa smiled into the pillow. There was a pause. Then Ace: “You’re oppressing me.” Mai: “Drink water.” “Cruel.” Elisa opened one eye. The bed was warm. Empty beside her now. The room still carried the soft disarray of the night before. Sheets twisted. Pillow displaced. One item of clothing on the floor that Elisa was fairly sure was hers and another that definitely was not. Her body supplied the rest of the memory enthusiastically enough. She stretched. Immediately reconsidered the ambition. “Mm.” The bedroom door opened. Ace appeared with a coffee mug. Elisa looked at her. Ace looked at Elisa. Then smiled. “Morning.” “Morning.” Ace walked over. Sat on the edge of the bed. Elisa reached for the mug. Ace moved it away. “No.” “You have two.” “I had two.” “Mai said—” “I reject hostile testimony.” Elisa leaned closer. Kissed her. Ace accepted immediately. Soft. Warm. Familiar. When Elisa pulled back, the mug was in her hand. Ace stared at it. Then at her. “You weaponized affection.” “I stole the coffee before the kiss ended.” “That is worse.” Elisa took a drink. “Good coffee.” “Monster.” Mai appeared in the doorway. Already dressed. Already functional. Entirely unreasonable at this hour. She took in the scene. Elisa holding Ace’s coffee. Ace glaring. Then Elisa’s expression. “Good morning.” Elisa narrowed her eyes. “You look awake.” “I am.” “That’s offensive.” Ace pointed. “Thank you.” Mai ignored both of them. “Breakfast.” Elisa looked down at herself. “Dress code?” “Clothes.” Ace sighed. “Authoritarian.” Mai’s mouth twitched. “Ten minutes.” She turned away. Elisa watched her go. Then looked at Ace. “She really does run this place.” Ace leaned closer. “No.” Elisa raised an eyebrow. Ace considered. “Mostly.” --- The Safehouse was properly awake by the time Elisa entered the common area. Brenda was already at the table. Hair tied badly. One sock darker than the other. Large mug. Something small and mechanical sitting on a tray several centimeters away from the actual dining surface. Mai had apparently negotiated the exact legal boundary overnight. Iris sat beside her, composed in the way Iris somehow managed even while wearing ordinary Safehouse clothes and holding breakfast. No Ms. B. No public polish. Just Iris. Elisa entered. Brenda looked up. Then looked at Ace behind her. Then back at Elisa. A slow smile spread across her face. Elisa stopped. “No.” Brenda had not said anything. “I literally said nothing.” “Your face did.” Ace walked past. “Welcome to my life.” “You are not the victim in this house.” “Debatable.” Iris smiled. “Good morning.” Elisa looked at her. “That was suspiciously neutral.” “It was a greeting.” Brenda took a drink. “How did you sleep?” Elisa stared. Ace stopped halfway to the coffee. Mai, at the kitchen counter, went very still. Iris looked toward Brenda. “You emphasized sleep.” “I did not.” “You absolutely did.” Elisa sat. “I slept extremely well.” Brenda smiled. Elisa continued: “Eventually.” Ace coughed into one hand. Iris looked down at her plate. Mai closed her eyes. Brenda failed completely. Elisa smiled. There. Friday morning. Started properly. Mai brought food over. Ace stared at the plate placed in front of her. “That’s too much.” Mai looked at her. Ace started eating. Elisa watched the exchange. “That’s impressive.” Brenda nodded solemnly. “She has powers.” Mai sat. “I make breakfast.” “Exactly.” Iris took a drink. Conversation began with absolutely nothing important. Which was apparently the Safehouse specialty. Brenda complained about a component supplier. Iris pointed out that Brenda had ordered the wrong revision. Brenda objected to the accusation. Mai produced the order confirmation. Brenda accused her of maintaining a hostile evidence archive. Ace stole something from Mai’s plate. Mai did not even look. Elisa listened. Smiled. Ate. Then Ace finished enough of her own food to apparently decide sitting in her own chair was no longer acceptable. She stood. Elisa assumed coffee. Instead Ace walked around the table. Straight to Mai. No announcement. No question. Mai shifted her chair back half a step without interrupting Iris. Ace climbed into her lap. Elisa stopped chewing. Not metaphorically. Actually stopped. Ace settled sideways against Mai as though she had occupied that exact position ten thousand times. Which, Elisa realized, she probably had. Mai’s first arm went automatically around Ace’s waist. Secure. Familiar. Possessive only in the quiet sense of knowing exactly where someone fit. Her other hand disappeared beneath the waistband of Ace’s shorts almost immediately. Ace’s eyes closed. A soft breath escaped her. Not theatrical. Not performed for anyone. A small, unmistakable sound of pleasure. Then Ace opened her eyes again. Brenda continued speaking. “So the supplier claims the firmware mismatch is somehow my fault.” Iris nodded. “It is your fault.” “No.” “You ordered it.” “The catalog was misleading.” “You clicked the wrong line.” “That is not the same thing.” Elisa slowly lowered her fork. Nobody else reacted. Nobody. Mai remained seated with Ace in her lap. One arm around her waist. The other hand still exactly where it had gone. Ace leaned comfortably against her. Mai looked toward Brenda. “What revision did you actually order?” “Seven-B.” Iris: “You needed seven-D.” Brenda pointed at her. “That naming scheme is criminal.” Ace made another quiet sound and shifted slightly against Mai. Mai’s arm tightened around her waist. Conversation continued. Elisa stared. Ace noticed. Of course she did. Her eyes turned toward Elisa. “What?” Elisa looked at her. Then Mai. Then at everyone else. Brenda was drinking coffee. Iris was checking something on her agent. Mai looked completely composed. “What,” Elisa repeated slowly, “the fuck?” Brenda looked up. “What?” Elisa pointed at Ace and Mai. Not precisely. Just generally. “That.” Ace looked down at herself. Then at Mai. Then back at Elisa. “What about it?” Elisa stared harder. Mai’s expression remained perfectly calm. “We’re sitting.” “You are not just sitting.” Ace considered. “No.” Brenda started smiling. Iris noticed and immediately knew where this was going. Elisa looked at her. “You’re all acting like this is normal.” Iris took another drink. “It is.” Elisa blinked. Mai’s thumb moved once against Ace’s waist. Ace relaxed farther into her. The hand beneath her shorts remained entirely unremarkable to everyone except Elisa. That somehow made it worse. Or better. She had not decided. “You do this at breakfast?” Ace looked genuinely confused. “Sometimes.” Brenda supplied: “Couch too.” Iris: “Brenda.” “What?” Elisa looked at Mai. “You’re having a normal conversation.” Mai raised an eyebrow. “Yes.” Ace smiled slowly. “She’s multitasking.” Elisa covered her face. Brenda made a delighted sound. “Oh, this is fantastic.” Elisa lowered her hands. “I’ve slept with both of you.” Ace: “Yes.” “I was literally between you last night.” Mai: “Yes.” “This is somehow more shocking.” That made Mai laugh. Finally. A small warm laugh. Ace looked deeply satisfied. Brenda leaned toward Iris. “I get it.” Iris murmured: “So do I.” Elisa pointed at them. “Do not form a committee.” “Too late,” Brenda said. Elisa looked back at Ace. “You just climbed into her lap in the middle of breakfast.” “Yes.” “And she—” Elisa stopped. Ace waited. Elisa waved one hand. “Immediately.” Mai’s mouth curved. Ace shrugged. “She likes me.” Elisa stared. “You are impossible.” “Also established.” Then Ace’s expression changed for half a second. A tiny intake of breath. Mai’s arm tightened around her waist. Ace closed her eyes. And then— nothing. She opened them again. Looked at Brenda. “What did the supplier quote for replacement?” Elisa dropped her forehead onto one hand. Brenda was openly laughing now. Iris finally surrendered a smile. Mai kissed the side of Ace’s head. Then continued: “Ask them to send the correct revision before you pay anything else.” Brenda nodded. “Already did.” “Good.” Elisa lifted her head. “I need coffee.” Ace said: “There’s some behind you.” Elisa turned toward the counter. Then looked back. Ace was still in Mai’s lap. Mai’s arm still around her. Everything exactly as before. Nobody cared. Elisa stood. “This house is ridiculous.” Brenda raised her mug. “Welcome back.” Elisa poured coffee. Then paused. Something occurred to her. She turned around. “Is this the kind of thing I’ve been missing?” Ace looked at Mai. Mai looked at Ace. Brenda looked at Iris. Iris immediately said: “No spoilers.” Elisa froze. “Oh, fuck you.” Brenda nearly choked. Ace grinned. Elisa returned to the table carrying her coffee. “You are all terrible people.” Mai said: “You came voluntarily.” “Stop weaponizing that.” “No.” Elisa sat. The conversation drifted again. Not away from intimacy. Around it. That was the difference. Nobody needed domestic closeness to stop the room. It could exist inside the room. Ace could sit in Mai’s lap. Mai could touch her intimately. Ace could respond openly. Brenda could argue about firmware. Iris could correct her. Breakfast could continue. Nothing needed to become a performance merely because it was sexual. Elisa found herself fascinated by that. Not shocked anymore. Studying. Understanding. Of course. This was not a special occasion. That was why it mattered. She had known Ace and Mai as lovers. She had been with them. She knew what their intimacy felt like when attention deliberately turned toward it. This was something else. Domestic intimacy. So integrated into their ordinary life that desire did not require a room change. Elisa took another drink. Then asked: “How often?” Ace looked at her. “How often what?” Elisa gave her a flat look. Ace smiled. “Depends.” “On?” Mai answered: “Whether she behaves.” Ace turned in her lap. “That has never been a requirement.” “True.” Brenda muttered: “Evidence strongly supports Ace.” Iris nodded. “Unfortunately.” Elisa laughed. There it was again. That strange ease. Sex without spectacle. Affection without ceremony. Bodies without embarrassment. Boundaries without pretending desire had to disappear around friends. She liked it. Quite a lot. Which was probably visible. Ace looked at her. “You’re thinking.” “Yes.” “Dangerous.” “I’m learning.” Mai looked at her. That quiet perceptive attention again. “What?” Elisa gestured between them. “This.” Ace: “Breakfast?” “No.” Mai understood first. She usually did. “Domestic?” Elisa nodded. “Yes.” Mai’s expression softened. Elisa continued. “I knew you were intimate.” Ace gave her a look. Elisa laughed. “Obviously.” Brenda said: “Extensive supporting evidence.” “Brenda.” “Sorry.” Elisa continued. “I just hadn’t seen how normal it is for you.” Mai looked down briefly at Ace. Ace had gone soft against her. Completely comfortable. Mai’s arm remained around her waist. “It is normal.” “I know that now.” Ace looked toward Elisa. “Is that weird?” “No.” Elisa answered immediately. Then thought. “Unexpected.” “Different.” “Yes.” A small pause. Then Elisa smiled. “And kind of hot.” Brenda slammed one hand over her mouth. Iris looked away. Ace grinned. Mai closed her eyes briefly. Elisa pointed at Brenda. “Don’t.” Brenda’s shoulders shook. “I’m not saying anything.” “Your entire body is saying things.” Ace said: “Welcome to Sera’s life.” Elisa frowned. “Sera?” Tiny pause. Too tiny. Every person at the table suddenly became approximately three percent more careful. Elisa noticed. Immediately. There. Something. A thread. She looked from Ace to Mai. Then Brenda. Then Iris. “Sera what?” Ace lifted her coffee. “Nothing.” “You just said—” “Nothing.” Elisa narrowed her eyes. Mai said calmly: “You’ll see her later.” “At Lizzie’s?” “Yes.” “And there’s something I don’t know.” Four expressions. Four versions of innocence. Elisa slowly smiled. “Interesting.” Brenda looked dangerously close to exploding. Iris placed one hand on her leg under the table. Brenda visibly contained herself. Elisa noticed that too. “Very interesting.” Ace settled more deeply into Mai’s lap. “Eat your breakfast.” Elisa looked down. Then back up. “Was that an order?” “No.” Mai said: “Mine is.” Elisa looked at her plate. Then at Mai. Then at Ace sitting in Mai’s lap with absolutely no intention of moving. She picked up her fork. “This is going to be a very educational weekend.” Brenda finally whispered: “You have no fucking idea.” Mai: “Brenda.” “I said nothing specific.” Elisa smiled. Friday had barely started. And apparently she was already behind. --- ## Chapter 7 — Victor Victor’s clinic smelled exactly like Elisa remembered. Clean. Not decorative corpo-clean. Actually clean. Used surfaces. Maintained tools. Medical equipment that existed because somebody knew how to use it, not because somebody wanted visitors to admire it. Elisa liked that immediately. Victor looked up when they entered. Ace first. Mai beside her. Elisa. Then Brenda and Iris. His eyes moved across the group once. Stopped on Elisa. “You’re back.” Elisa smiled. “Apparently.” “Good.” That was all. No recalibration because somebody absurdly wealthy had entered his clinic. No social performance. Victor returned to the tray he was preparing. Elisa liked him more every time. Ace leaned against a counter. Victor looked up again. “Don’t.” Ace blinked. “I didn’t do anything.” “You were about to.” “That’s profiling.” “That’s history.” Mai took one of the waiting chairs. Elisa sat beside her. Brenda drifted half a step toward an active display. Iris caught the back of her jacket. Brenda stopped. “I was only looking.” “Look from there.” Victor glanced at Iris. “Thank you.” Brenda looked betrayed. Elisa smiled. Victor finished setting out the first procedure kit. Then turned. “All right.” The room changed slightly. Not dramatically. Just enough to signal that the jokes could continue, but medicine had priority now. Victor looked at Mai. “You first.” Mai stood. Elisa’s attention sharpened. Victor gestured toward the procedure chair. “Sit.” Mai did. Ace looked at her. “Dalia?” Mai glanced over. “That’s the idea.” Brenda smiled. “Oh, this is going to be useful.” Iris looked at her. “For everyone involved, please define useful.” Brenda ignored her. Victor began preparing the familiar temporary voice-sculpt system. No theatrical machinery. No giant glowing interface. Working medical equipment. Compact. Precise. Designed around biology. Elisa leaned forward. Victor noticed. “Questions after I start.” “Why after?” “Because if I answer you first, we’ll still be here tonight.” Elisa smiled. “Fair.” Victor looked at Mai. “You know the procedure.” “Yes.” “Any throat pain?” “No.” “Respiratory issues?” “No.” “Swallowing issues?” “No.” “Anything unusual since the last voice work?” “No.” Victor nodded. Then began. Elisa watched carefully. Not invasively. There were things she could see. There were things Victor deliberately blocked from view. She accepted the distinction. A few minutes into the procedure, Victor started talking. “This is the same generation you’ve already used.” Elisa looked at him. “How long?” “Three days is the comfortable planning window.” Brenda immediately looked up. Victor continued before she could ask. “Five can happen under good conditions. That does not mean you build the plan around day five.” Iris nodded once. “Optimistic edge, not guaranteed duration.” “Exactly.” Mai remained still while Victor adjusted the system. Elisa looked from the display to Victor. “So Friday through Tuesday is possible.” “Possible.” “Not promised.” “Correct.” “And if somebody needs longer?” “They come back. I check tissue response. I decide whether another cycle is medically reasonable.” Ace smiled. “So the answer is not ‘keep going until it breaks.’” Victor looked at her. “The fact that you needed to say that out loud concerns me.” Elisa laughed. Victor shifted the display where they could see it. Resonance mapping. Muscular tension. Laryngeal structure. Neural adaptation. Elisa’s attention locked. “This isn’t just pitch.” “No.” “Resonance geometry.” “Yes.” “Muscular control.” “Yes.” “Neural adaptation?” “Temporary.” Elisa nodded slowly. That made more sense. Victor glanced at her. “Exactly.” Mai’s procedure continued. The changes were subtle at first. Not sound. Not yet. Physical recalibration. Victor never hurried. Never treated familiarity as permission to skip steps. When he was satisfied, he stepped back. “Try.” Mai swallowed once. Then spoke. “Like this?” Elisa froze. Dalia. Not visually. But there. The lower whiskey-and-smoke voice. Immediately recognizable. Ace smiled. Brenda said: “Oh, fuck.” Mai looked at her. In Dalia’s voice: “Useful?” Brenda grinned. “Very.” Elisa stared. “That is deeply unfair.” Mai’s mouth curved. Victor ignored all of them and checked the response. “Again.” Mai spoke another line. Normal sentence. No theatrical emphasis. Victor listened. Adjusted. Asked her to speak again. Then nodded. “Good.” Mai stood. Ace looked at her. “Say something rude.” Mai looked down at Ace. “Sit.” Ace smiled. “Perfect.” Victor looked at Ace next. “You’re not getting that procedure.” Ace blinked. “What?” “Mandi already has the cartridge system.” Ace’s expression changed. “Oh.” Victor held out a hand. “Give me the cartridge.” Ace produced the small case. Elisa leaned forward again. Victor opened it, checked the cartridge, then looked at Ace. “Throat?” “Fine.” “Any irritation after the last use?” “No.” “Voice instability?” “No.” “Good.” He examined her anyway. Ace endured this with the expression of someone being personally betrayed by medicine. Mai watched her. Dalia’s voice made the next line worse. “Behave.” Ace looked at her. “I am behaving.” Victor did not look up. “No, you’re being stationary.” Elisa laughed. Victor finished the check and handed the cartridge back. “Use it normally. If anything feels wrong rather than merely different, stop and come back.” Ace nodded. Then activated Mandi’s voice. The brighter register came out of Ace’s ordinary face. Elisa stared. Ace smiled. “What?” “That is wrong.” “It is Mandi.” “With Ace’s face.” “Temporary problem.” Mai laughed in Dalia’s voice. Victor pointed at Brenda. “Your turn.” --- Brenda’s screening turned into an argument because Brenda believed “slightly scratchy yesterday” was not medically interesting. Victor disagreed. Iris sided with Victor. Brenda lost. Eventually Victor was satisfied it was harmless. He started. Elisa watched again. This time she knew what to expect. Which meant she started looking for finer details. How Victor monitored response. How often he paused. How the sculpt was not something applied like software but something coaxed into physiological stability. That distinction fascinated her. Victor spoke while working. “Hydration matters.” Ace’s eyes closed briefly. Victor looked at her. “Even for the cartridge.” Ace opened them again. “I didn’t say anything.” “Your face did.” Brenda tried to laugh without moving. Victor continued. “Rest matters. Long continuous speech matters. Yelling matters. Singing matters more. Smoke matters.” Mai removed the imaginary lollipop she was not yet carrying and said in Dalia’s rough voice: “Noted.” Elisa laughed. Victor added: “And yes, before anyone asks, anything that strains the throat matters.” Brenda opened her mouth. Iris touched her arm. Brenda stopped. Victor looked at Iris. “Thank you.” Brenda’s eyes rolled. A few minutes later Victor had Brenda speak. The voice that came out was not Brenda’s. Different resonance. Different social read. Still hers. But cover-safe. Elisa stared. Brenda smiled. That smile was still Brenda. The voice was not. Interesting. Very interesting. Victor adjusted. Again. Brenda repeated. Victor nodded. “Good.” Iris was already looking at her in a way Elisa recognized. Evaluation first. Then something warmer behind it. Brenda noticed too. “Stop staring.” Iris: “No.” Brenda smiled. Victor pointed at Iris. “Your turn.” --- Iris sat with considerably less commentary. Victor checked the same things. No shortcuts. Then began. Brenda stood beside Elisa now. Her new voice was immediately distracting. Elisa looked at her. Brenda noticed. “What?” Elisa smiled. “That doesn’t sound like you.” “That’s rather the point.” The phrasing. Still Brenda. Voice. Not Brenda. Elisa’s smile widened. “I like it.” Brenda looked pleased. “Good.” Iris’s procedure continued. Victor explained another part. “Repeated sculpt cycles require spacing.” Elisa asked: “Fixed spacing?” “No.” “Individual?” “Yes.” “Based on tissue response?” “Among other things.” Ace: “So not something we can schedule indefinitely.” Victor looked at her. “No.” Mai: “Warning signs?” Victor nodded. “Persistent pain. Loss of vocal control. Breathing difficulty. Swallowing problems. Unexpected neurological mismatch. Anything that feels wrong rather than simply unfamiliar.” Elisa: “Can the sculpt mask underlying damage?” “Not reliably.” “Good.” Victor looked at her. “Yes.” Iris was nearly done. Victor stepped back. “Try.” Iris spoke. Elisa’s brain stopped. The voice was unfamiliar. Not Brenda’s new one. But different. Not identical. Distinct and complementary. Elisa looked at Brenda. Then Iris. Brenda’s mouth twitched. Elisa narrowed her eyes. Interesting. Iris spoke again. Victor adjusted slightly. Again. Then nodded. “Good.” Iris stood. Brenda immediately moved beside her. The two voices next to one another made their individual identities obvious. No matching voices. Distinct. Elisa stared. Brenda smiled. “What?” “Nothing.” “You’re staring.” “I’m learning.” Iris, in the new voice: “Dangerous.” Elisa laughed. “Everyone has started saying that.” Victor looked at Elisa. “Your turn.” Elisa blinked. “Mine?” “You want Bea usable today?” Elisa stood immediately. “Yes.” Ace laughed. “No hesitation.” “No.” She sat. Victor began the same screening. No throat pain. No breathing issues. No swallowing issues. No recent vocal strain. Then preparation. Elisa watched what she could. Felt what she could not see. Different experience from watching everyone else. Stranger. More intimate medically. Victor remained clinical. Precise. Comfortingly unimpressed. When he began the sculpt, Elisa understood exactly why explanations alone would never have conveyed the sensation properly. Not painful. But deeply unfamiliar. Biology being asked to learn another answer. She stayed still. Victor monitored everything. Then asked: “Okay?” “Yes.” “Anything sharp?” “No.” “Breathing normal?” “Yes.” “Good.” He continued. Elisa looked toward the others. Ace. Mai. Brenda. Iris. Four cover voices already active. Hers becoming the fifth. The implications were still interesting without being magical. Waking up with the voice. Eating with it. Getting annoyed with it. Laughing with it. The boring parts of a cover. That was where identity technology stopped feeling like costume and started feeling lived in. Victor seemed to read the thought from her expression. “Do not design a month-long identity operation while I’m working.” Elisa smiled carefully. “I wasn’t.” Five people looked at her. Elisa sighed. “Fine.” Victor continued. “If the voice starts drifting, hurting, or costing you more effort to control, you stop treating that as an inconvenience and tell me.” Elisa nodded. “Understood.” Finally he stepped back. “Try.” Elisa swallowed once. Spoke. “Like this?” She stopped. Everyone looked at her. Bea’s voice. Not Elisa’s. She said another sentence. The sound was still coming from her. Her throat. Her breath. But social identity had shifted. Ace smiled. Mai listened carefully. Iris tilted her head. Brenda grinned. Victor checked his readings. “Again.” Elisa spoke again. Then laughed. That was stranger. Her laugh. Not her laugh. Elisa looked delighted. Victor sighed. “That expression worries me.” “It works.” “Yes.” “It really works.” “Yes.” Elisa looked at Ace. Then Mai. Then Iris and Brenda. “Oh, this is going to be fun.” Ace: “There she is.” Victor made one final adjustment. Then stepped back. “Done.” Five women had entered the clinic with their ordinary voices available. Five left with cover voices active. Four through temporary biosculpt. Mandi through the cartridge Victor had already helped make practical. Different tools. Same medical rule. Real tissue. Real strain limits. Real reasons not to be stupid. At the clinic door, Brenda said something in her new voice. Iris answered in hers. The two sounded clearly different. Elisa looked at them. They both looked back. Something about that pairing bothered her. Not negatively. Pattern. Familiarity hidden inside unfamiliar sound. She narrowed her eyes. Brenda smiled. “What?” Elisa shook her head. “Nothing.” Ace immediately said: “She’s thinking again.” Mai answered in Dalia’s whiskey-and-smoke voice: “Dangerous.” Elisa turned. “That voice coming out of you while you still look like Mai is deeply wrong.” Mai smiled. “Temporary problem.” Ace laughed. Victor called from behind them: “Remember the limits.” Mai nodded. Iris did too. Elisa: “We will.” Victor looked directly at Ace. Ace stared back. “Why are you looking at me?” “No reason.” “That was absolutely a reason.” Victor returned to his equipment. “Go.” They went. The door closed behind them. For three seconds nobody spoke. Then Brenda, in the wrong voice: “This is fucking weird.” Iris, equally wrong: “Yes.” Ace: “Oh, this is going to be a problem.” Mai: “Several.” Elisa smiled. Friday had finally started. --- ## Chapter 8 — Prep By early afternoon, the Safehouse had changed mode. Not suddenly. Nobody announced it. Nobody said _work starts now._ The shift happened through movement. Breakfast disappeared. Cases came out. Wardrobes moved from storage into bedrooms. Contact kits appeared. Face-mesh cases. ChromeLock supplies. Boots that had absolutely no domestic purpose whatsoever. The entire upper floor became busier without becoming louder. Elisa stood in front of the mirror while Lena’s ChromeLock V2 system finished working through her own hair. That distinction mattered. Nothing had been placed over it. Nothing removable. No wig. No hidden hairpiece. Her own hair had changed. The natural color was gone beneath a clean ice-blue transformation, and the V2 system had locked the style into Bea’s familiar chin-length silhouette. Sharp. Controlled. Deliberate. Elisa touched the side of it. The strands moved naturally beneath her fingers. She dragged her hand backward through the style hard enough to disturb it. For several seconds it stayed imperfect. Then the shape memory began doing its work. Not snapping back unnaturally. Settling. Correcting. Returning gradually toward the locked line. Elisa watched. A smile appeared. “Oh, that’s useful.” Ace was sitting on the edge of the bed behind her. “For what?” Elisa looked at her in the mirror. “You know exactly what.” Ace’s eyes dropped toward the hair. Then toward the rest of Bea’s wardrobe waiting nearby. “I might.” “Work.” “Sure.” Elisa turned. Ace smiled. “That too.” Elisa laughed. “Menace.” “Rich coming from you.” The ice-blue hair had nearly returned to perfect form already. Elisa touched the ends again. Chin length. Exactly right. She had forgotten how much she liked the visual change. Not because she disliked Elisa. Because Bea altered the way the world looked back. Different assumptions. Different expectations. Different freedom. Ace watched her watching herself. “You missed her.” Elisa did not bother denying it. “Yes.” “Still weird.” “What is?” “The way you say that.” Elisa looked at her. “Bea isn’t another person.” “I know.” “But she is a different way of being me.” Ace nodded. “That makes more sense.” “She gives me permission.” Ace’s expression changed slightly. The conversation from the vehicle. Covers showing range. Elisa smiled. “See?” “I was listening.” “Miracle.” “Fuck you.” Elisa laughed. Then reached for the next case. Not clothing. Not contacts. The face mesh. She stopped for a second with her hand resting on the case. Ace noticed. Did not joke. That alone told Elisa she understood. Elisa opened it. There. Familiar architecture. Bea. Not active yet. Just the mesh lying in its fitted cradle. Elisa stared at it longer than she expected. The first time it had felt alien. Interesting. Technically elegant. A tool. Later it had become something else. Not sacred. Not sentimental in any dramatic way. Familiar. Part of the route between Elisa and Bea. She lifted it carefully. Ace watched from behind. “You okay?” Elisa nodded. “Yes.” Then smiled. “I just forgot what this part felt like.” She positioned the mesh. The first contact against her skin was cool. Then warmer. The material began conforming. Cheeks first. Jawline. Temples. The subtle pressure around the nose. Then the slow almost-organic settling as the mesh stopped feeling like something resting on her face and started behaving like part of it. Elisa stayed still. Watched the mirror. The transition was not instant. That was why she liked watching it. Her own features were still there. Then less so. Not erased. Rewritten socially. The face-mesh adjusted the planes gradually. A slightly different cheek structure. A different line around the jaw. Subtle changes around the eyes. Enough that the final face belonged to the same body but carried different assumptions. Elisa blinked. The mesh followed naturally. No lag. No stiffness. She smiled. The face in the mirror smiled back. Bea. There. Not complete yet. But unmistakable. Elisa went very still. Ace stood behind her now. Closer. She looked at the mirror too. Elisa raised one hand. Touched her cheek. The mesh was warm already. Natural. Expressive. Familiar enough that the gesture felt almost like greeting someone. “Hi,” Elisa said softly. Ace’s mouth curved. “To yourself?” Elisa looked at her through the mirror. “To Bea.” Ace nodded once. No teasing. Not this time. Elisa smiled again. Then the new voice Victor had given her came out. Bea’s voice. The combination landed harder than either element alone. Face. Voice. Ice-blue hair. Elisa stared. For a second the room became very quiet. Then she laughed. Bea’s laugh. Not Elisa’s. That made it worse. Or better. She covered her mouth. “Oh, fuck.” Ace smiled. “There she is.” Elisa looked at herself again. “Yes.” Not dramatic. Not mystical. Just correct. She had missed that. The feeling of the cover finally becoming coherent. The point where separate components stopped reading as preparation and started reading as a person the world could believe in. She turned her head slightly. Left. Right. The mesh moved with her. Natural. No edge. No visible join. Then she smiled again. More openly this time. A little less filtered. Ace saw that too. “That smile.” “What about it?” “Bea.” Elisa looked back at the mirror. Maybe. Interesting. She touched the mesh once more. Then moved on. Contacts. Makeup adjusted around the cover rather than trying to create it by itself. Then clothing. Then the boots. Those changed more than appearance. They altered stance. Stride. Weight distribution. Elisa walked once across the room. Turned. Walked back. Again. Less Elisa. More Bea. Not acting. Calibration. She looked at herself in the mirror. The young ultra-wealthy corpo woman had not disappeared. She was still there. She simply no longer existed in the assumptions of a stranger looking at the room. Bea did. Elisa shifted one hip. Adjusted the line of the outfit. Then smiled. There. That smile again. Not quite the one Elisa usually wore. More openly appraising. A little less filtered. Bea. She liked that too. A knock sounded against the open doorframe. Mai. Elisa turned. Then stared. Mai was not fully Dalia yet. Which somehow made the sight more absurd. The hair was already done. Screaming neon pink dreadlocks. ChromeLock holding it as securely as Elisa’s own transformation held Bea’s ice-blue style. But the rest was still partly Mai. No final contacts yet. No complete visual separation. No lollipop. No finished professional presentation. Just Mai standing there with hair that looked like it had escaped from a particularly aggressive advertisement. Elisa laughed. Mai raised one eyebrow. “Something funny?” “Yes.” “What?” “You.” Mai looked down at herself. Then back up. “The hair?” “The combination.” Ace’s voice came from somewhere in the hallway. “She looks hot.” Mai did not turn. “Thank you.” Elisa pointed. “I did not say she didn’t.” Ace appeared briefly at the doorway. “Important distinction.” Mai looked at both of them. “You’re very useful.” Ace smiled. “I know.” Then vanished again. Elisa looked back at Mai. “You’re not finished.” “No.” “Dalia?” “Soon.” Elisa smiled. “I forgot how strange the halfway point is.” Mai stepped inside. “That’s why we usually don’t walk around publicly halfway through.” “Reasonable.” Mai examined Bea. Hair. Mesh. Contacts. Wardrobe. Boots. Movement. Not possessively. Professionally. Then her expression softened. “You look good.” Elisa smiled. “I know.” Mai’s mouth curved. “That was Bea.” “Was it?” “Yes.” Elisa looked at the mirror. Maybe. Interesting. Mai noticed that too. Of course. “You’re thinking again.” “Apparently everyone in this house finds that alarming.” “Experience.” Elisa turned. “Is Iris getting ready?” “Yes.” “And Brenda?” “Yes.” “For Lizzie’s?” Mai paused. Barely. “Yes.” Elisa narrowed her eyes. “What are they wearing?” Mai looked completely innocent. “I’m not responsible for their wardrobe.” “That was not my question.” “No.” Elisa stared. Mai waited. Nothing. Elisa tried again. “Why are they hiding?” “They’re getting ready.” “That does not require complete radio silence.” Mai looked toward the hall. As if considering. Then: “It might.” Elisa pointed at her. “That.” “What?” “That was suspicious.” Mai smiled. “Finish Bea.” Then walked away. Elisa watched her leave. “Everyone in this house is an asshole.” From the hallway, Mai answered: “We can hear you.” “I know.” The face in the mirror grinned. Bea. Back. --- ## Chapter 9 — Hi, Elisa Bea was ready first. Not technically first. Mandi had already vanished somewhere down the hall and Dalia had gone to finish whatever remained of her own preparation. But Bea was ready enough to wait. Which was worse. She stood in the common room with one hand resting against the back of a chair, ice-blue ChromeLock V2 hair settled into its locked chin-length line, familiar face-mesh warm against her skin, contacts in, boots on, voice changed. Bea. Fully. And increasingly suspicious. The Safehouse had become too quiet. Not empty. Occupied. But conspicuously fragmented. Doors closed. Muted movement. Someone laughed once from deeper inside. Then silence. Bea looked toward the hallway. “Cowards.” No answer. She waited. Nothing. Then Mandi appeared from the kitchen with coffee. Bea looked at her. Mandi looked back. “What?” “You know.” “I know many things.” “That answer is getting old.” Mandi took a drink. “It remains effective.” Bea narrowed her eyes. “Where are Iris and Brenda?” “Getting ready.” “For how long?” Mandi shrugged. “However long it takes.” “To do what?” Mandi smiled. Bea pointed at her. “That smile.” “What about it?” “It is criminal.” “Not yet.” Bea stared. Mandi drank coffee. Entirely too pleased with herself. A few seconds later Dalia returned. Full cover. Neon-pink hair. Green reflective contacts. Face mesh. Thigh-high boots. Lollipop. Whiskey-smoke voice. Bea looked at her. “You’re not helping.” Dalia stopped. “With what?” “This conspiracy.” “There is no conspiracy.” Mandi coughed into her coffee. Bea turned. “See?” “I swallowed wrong.” “You liar.” Mandi smiled. Dalia leaned one hip against the table. Bea looked between them. “Fine.” Mandi raised an eyebrow. “Fine?” “Yes.” “I’ll wait.” “That sounds healthy.” “I hate you.” “No, you don’t.” Bea sighed. Then heard footsteps. Two sets. Not hurried. Not hesitant. One slightly sharper. One more measured. Bea’s attention shifted immediately toward the hallway. Mandi stopped drinking. Dalia’s lollipop paused. There. Finally. The first woman stepped into view. Bea stared. The hair hit first. Split chrome and brass-yellow. ChromeLock V2 holding the impossible high-visibility contrast cleanly in place. Bold. Intentional. Not random color blocking. Designed. Then the eyes. Black void. Full-eyeball contacts. Nothing human visible in the iris or sclera because there was no visible distinction left. The face was unfamiliar. Not generic. Not exaggerated. Individually designed. Not with anyone Bea knew. Enough individual structure to conceal the woman beneath without borrowing anyone else's face. Then the second woman entered. And the design completed itself. Split chrome and gold. Mirrored rather than matched. White-void eyes. Different face architecture. No matching template. Obviously not. But a working duo? Immediately believable. Bea went completely still. The two women stopped beside one another. They looked like two different women whose coordinated styling made their professional partnership immediately clear. One bolder. One more controlled. Black void. White void. Brass-yellow. Gold. Bea looked from one to the other. Nothing. No recognition. Not visually. Her brain tried anyway. Height. Movement. Posture. Something. There was familiarity somewhere underneath the construction. But the visual system kept rejecting it. The black-void woman smiled. Something about the smile— No. Bea narrowed her eyes. Mandi turned away. Already losing. Dalia removed the lollipop. The white-void woman looked directly at Bea. Then spoke. “Hi, Elisa.” Bea stopped breathing. The voice was unfamiliar. But not random. The cadence. The timing. The exact calm control behind the line. Something slammed into place and refused to fit. Bea stared. The white-void woman smiled. Just slightly. That smile. No. Bea took one step closer. “Iris?” The woman’s smile widened. “Nova.” Bea’s mouth opened. Nothing came out. Mandi made a strangled sound. Dalia looked toward the ceiling. Bea turned slowly toward the black-void woman. She was already grinning. And then she spoke. “Hi.” Different voice. Distinct from Nova’s. But the personality behind it— The barely contained amusement. The rhythm. The edge. Bea stared harder. “Brenda?” The grin became enormous. “Vega.” Bea closed her eyes. Opened them again. Still there. Chrome and brass-yellow. Chrome and gold. Black void. White void. Two completely unfamiliar faces. Two unmistakably familiar people. Her brain tried to merge the layers. Failed. Tried again. Failed more creatively. She pointed at Nova. Then Vega. Then back to Nova. “No.” Vega crossed her arms. “Oh, yes.” “No.” Nova’s white-void eyes somehow managed to look amused despite removing almost every normal visual cue. “Yes.” Bea looked at Mandi. Mandi immediately raised both hands. “I had nothing to do with this.” Dalia said: “Technically true.” Bea turned. “Technically?” Mandi looked at Dalia. Dalia looked back. Bea pointed at both. “You knew.” “Yes,” Dalia said. Mandi nodded. “Obviously.” Bea stared at them. Then turned back to Nova and Vega. She walked closer. Slowly. Studying. The coordinated styling was easier to appreciate now that she knew. The connection did not depend on facial resemblance. The two faces were clearly distinct. Victor’s independent meshes concealed each woman; Lena’s styling connected the presentation. Chrome and gold. Chrome and brass-yellow. Contrasting void contacts. Enough to establish a shared professional style. Not enough to erase individuality. Bea stopped in front of Vega. Black void. Brenda’s body. Not Brenda’s face. Not Brenda’s hair. Not Brenda’s eyes. Wrong voice. But that grin— That was absolutely Brenda. Bea reached up. Stopped before touching. Vega noticed. “You can.” Bea touched her cheek lightly. Warm. Natural. Mesh. No obvious edge. No stiffness. Vega smiled under her fingers. Bea laughed once. Disbelieving. “Oh, fuck.” Then she turned to Nova. White void. Chrome and gold. More controlled stance. More composed expression. Again— Iris underneath. But visually buried. Bea stared. Nova lifted an eyebrow. Or at least the mesh moved exactly as if she had. “What?” Bea looked at her. “I slept in the same building as you last night.” Nova nodded. “Yes.” “And ate breakfast with you.” “Yes.” “And now I would walk past you on the street.” Nova smiled. “That was the idea.” Bea looked at Vega. Vega spread her arms. “Pretty good, huh?” Bea laughed. “Pretty good?” She turned in a slow circle. Looked at Mandi. Dalia. Nova. Vega. Then herself reflected faintly in the dark window. Ice-blue Bea. Neon-orange Mandi. Neon-pink Dalia. Chrome-and-gold Nova. Chrome-and-brass Vega. Night City had apparently lost all aesthetic restraint somewhere around lunch. Bea looked back at the working partners. “You look insane.” Vega grinned. “Thank you.” Nova said: “That was not necessarily a compliment.” “I’m taking it.” Bea moved closer again. The hair fascinated her now. Not merely the colors. The mirroring. Vega’s chrome and brass-yellow arrangement answered Nova’s chrome and gold without copying it. Same design language. Different identity. Bea pointed between them. “That’s clever.” Nova nodded. “Lena.” “Of course.” Bea looked at Vega’s hair. Then Nova’s. “ChromeLock V2?” “Yes,” Nova said. Bea smiled. She touched her own ice-blue hair. “Same.” Vega looked at Bea’s hair. “Yours is much less obnoxious.” Bea stared. “Yours has brass-yellow in it.” “Yes.” “By choice.” “Yes.” “And you’re criticizing mine.” “Absolutely.” Bea looked at Nova. “Is she always like this?” Nova’s mouth curved. “You know the answer.” There. That. Iris. Completely. Bea laughed again. The processor finally began recovering. Not fully. Enough. “So.” Mandi said nothing. Dalia said nothing. Nova and Vega waited. Bea looked at all four women. “Let me guess.” Vega smiled. “Go on.” “You two are working.” “Yes.” “At Lizzie’s.” “Yes.” “In these covers.” “Yes.” Bea narrowed her eyes. “And everyone thought it would be funny not to tell me.” Nova said: “That part was mostly them.” She pointed toward Mandi and Dalia. Mandi objected. “Mostly?” Vega said: “I was fully in favor.” Nova looked at her. “I know.” Bea stared at Nova. Then Vega. Then a new thought surfaced. Wait. Working. Professional joytoy covers. Not just visual covers. Bea’s expression changed. Vega saw it instantly. “Oh.” Mandi whispered: “There it is.” Bea slowly looked at Iris— No. Nova. Then Brenda— Vega. “You work as joytoys.” Nova answered calmly. “Yes.” Vega smiled. “Yes.” Bea said nothing. Not judgment. Just recalculation. The domestic Iris and Brenda from breakfast. The couple. The residents. The women she knew personally. And now— Nova and Vega. Professional. Chosen. Publicly working partners. Joytoys. Bea’s eyebrows rose. Vega’s grin became dangerous. “What?” Bea looked at her. “You.” “Me what?” “You kept this from me.” “I met you yesterday as Brenda.” “Yes.” “And today I’m Vega.” “Yes.” “That seems efficient.” Bea covered her mouth. Mandi started laughing. Dalia put the lollipop back because the danger had passed. Nova watched Bea’s face. White void eyes somehow still intensely readable through body language and expression. “You okay?” Bea lowered her hand. “Yes.” No hesitation. Then: “This is fucking fascinating.” Vega laughed. “There she is.” Bea stepped back. Looked at them again. Really looked. Not trying to find Iris and Brenda anymore. Looking at Nova and Vega. How they stood. How Vega let more provocation into her posture. How Nova let elegance sharpen rather than soften her directness. Not different people. Different permission. The conversation from earlier returned. Covers reveal range. Bea smiled. “Oh.” Nova noticed. “What?” “I get it.” Vega tilted her head. “Get what?” Bea looked between them. “They’re not pretending.” Mandi’s laughter stopped. Dalia watched. Nova went still. Bea continued. “Not really.” She pointed lightly between the working partners. “The hair is constructed.” “The faces are constructed.” “The voices are constructed.” “The names are constructed.” “But this—” She gestured at Vega’s grin. Then Nova’s composed directness. “—is still you.” Nova smiled slowly. “Yes.” Vega nodded. “Exactly.” Bea felt something click into place. That was why it worked. Not because Iris and Brenda could act convincingly enough to become strangers. Because the covers gave them a socially safe way to expose things already present. Bea understood that intimately. She touched her own face mesh. “Right.” Mandi smiled. Bea looked at her. “What?” “You’re catching up.” “Fuck you.” “There she is.” Dalia pushed away from the wall. “Ready?” Bea looked at her. Then Nova. Vega. Mandi. For the first time, the evening ahead stopped feeling theoretical. Five covers in one room. Five different social permissions. And Bea still had no idea what the hell everyone meant by Stable. Or Madame. Or why Sera apparently mattered to both. Or what Reyes knew that had amused her yesterday. She smiled. “Yes.” Vega looked at Nova. Nova looked back. Something passed between them. Working-duo rhythm already working. Bea pointed. “No more secrets.” Four women looked at her. Mandi: “No.” Bea sighed. “I hate all of you.” Vega grinned. “No, you don’t.” Bea looked at the five women reflected in the dark glass. No. She really did not. Friday was finally ready. --- ## Chapter 10 — Three and Four Bea was still recalibrating around Nova and Vega when Mandi made the mistake. Or possibly the deliberate choice. With Mandi, those were often difficult to separate. “So now you’ve met Three and Four.” Bea turned. Slowly. “What?” Mandi froze. Only for a fraction of a second. Then lifted her coffee. “Nothing.” Bea stared at her. Dalia removed the menthol lollipop from her mouth. Nova looked at Vega. Vega immediately started smiling. Bea pointed at Mandi. “No.” Mandi looked innocent. “No what?” “You do not get to say ‘Three and Four’ like that and then pretend it meant nothing.” “It meant numbers.” “Fuck you.” “There she is.” Bea looked at Nova. Then Vega. Nova’s white-void eyes gave away almost nothing. Vega’s black-void eyes gave away almost nothing either. Her grin ruined the effort completely. Bea looked back at Mandi. “Three and Four what?” Silence. Short. Measured. Not alarmed. Interesting. Then Nova answered. “Stable.” Bea blinked. “Stable.” “Yes.” She looked at Vega. Vega nodded. “Stable.” Bea turned toward Mandi. “You’re in it.” Mandi sighed. “Yes.” Bea smiled slowly. “That wasn’t even difficult.” “You had help.” “You handed me the answer.” “I noticed.” Bea looked between the three of them. “So.” She pointed at Mandi. “You’re Two.” Mandi nodded. “Yes.” Nova. “Three.” “Yes.” Vega. “Four.” Vega smiled. “Yes.” Bea leaned back against the table. “Joining order.” Nova nodded. “Yes.” “Not rank.” “Yes.” “No hierarchy hidden in the number.” “No.” “That would’ve been boring anyway,” Vega said. Nova glanced at her. “You would have made it competitive.” “Obviously.” Bea laughed. Then another piece clicked into place. “Five.” Mandi became suspiciously interested in her coffee. Bea looked at Dalia. Dalia’s face remained beautifully neutral. Bea narrowed her eyes. “Five exists.” Nova answered. “Yes.” “How many total?” “Five.” Bea nodded. So. One through Five. Mandi, Nova, Vega. Two, Three, Four. One unknown. Five unknown. Bea looked at Dalia. “You?” “No.” Immediate. Clear. That mattered. Bea nodded. “Deja?” “No.” Again immediate. She looked back at the others. Interesting. Mandi seemed to realize where her brain had gone. “Don’t.” Bea smiled. “I haven’t said anything.” “Your face did.” “That phrase is getting old.” “Still useful.” Bea looked at Vega. “You’re enjoying this way too much.” “Yes.” “At least you’re honest.” “Always.” Nova said: “Not always.” Vega looked at her. “Rude.” Bea smiled. Then another possibility appeared. Not certainty. Just possibility. “Sera.” There. Tiny reaction. Not enough for certainty on its own. But enough combined with everything else. Bea looked at Mandi. Mandi looked back. Bea said: “Five?” A pause. Then Mandi nodded. “Yes.” Bea went still. “Sera is Five.” “Yes.” That landed differently. Sera. Shammy. The artist. The enormous silver-white-haired woman whose emotions could appear in her hair before they reached her face. Stable Five. Bea looked toward Dalia. “Okay.” Dalia raised an eyebrow. “Okay?” “I’m recalculating.” Mandi said: “Dangerous.” Bea pointed at her. “Everyone has started saying that.” “For good reason.” Bea looked back at Nova and Vega. “So Stable is not just joytoy covers.” Nova shook her head. “No.” “Because Sera isn’t exactly built around hiding.” Vega laughed. “That’s one way to put it.” Dalia put the lollipop back in her mouth. Bea thought. Then asked the more useful question. “What does Stable actually mean?” Nova answered first. “Structure.” Mandi: “Access.” Vega: “Filtering.” Bea looked between them. “For clients.” “Yes,” Mandi said. “Madame handles the filtering?” There. The room changed by maybe half a degree. Bea noticed. Of course she did. But nobody looked alarmed. Nobody stopped her. So the word was safe. The identity behind it was not. Mandi nodded. “Yes.” Bea filed that away. “Madame.” Nova: “Yes.” “That’s a person.” “Yes.” “Not just a joke title.” “No.” Vega smiled. “It started sounding less like a joke very quickly.” Nova looked at her. “Because you kept using it.” “It fit.” Bea looked at Mandi. “And Madame handles access.” “Yes.” “Money?” “Yes.” “Duration?” “Yes.” “Practical conditions?” “Yes.” “Security?” “Yes.” “Food and rest?” Mandi smiled faintly. “Yes.” That interested Bea. “Before bookings?” “Yes.” “During?” “When needed.” “After?” “Yes.” Bea nodded slowly. That changed the shape of the idea. This was not simply someone taking money and assigning clients. Not remotely. “Madame can refuse somebody before they ever reach you.” “Yes.” “Can Madame say yes for you?” “No.” Immediate. All three Stable members answered almost at once. “No.” That mattered more than anything else so far. Bea looked at Nova. “Can she decide you should want somebody?” “No.” Vega: “Definitely not.” Mandi: “She can’t create interest.” Bea nodded. “Can she make you take a booking because the money is high enough?” “No.” “Can she turn a no into a maybe?” “No.” “A maybe into a yes?” “No.” “Can she override your limits?” “No.” Bea smiled faintly. There. Now she understood the basic architecture. Not all of it. Enough. “So Madame controls the door.” Mandi looked at her. “Yes.” “Not the person behind it.” Nova smiled slightly. “Exactly.” Bea looked at Vega. “You like that.” “Very much.” Nova: “Yes.” Mandi nodded. Bea considered the structure again. “Elegant.” Mandi raised an eyebrow. “That sounded suspiciously approving.” “It is.” Dalia leaned against the wall. “Careful.” Bea looked at her. “What?” “You sound interested.” “I am interested.” Mandi immediately said: “No.” Bea laughed. “I didn’t ask to join.” “Good.” “Why are you reacting like I did?” “Experience.” “With me?” “With everybody.” Bea smiled. Nova cut in before Mandi could make it worse. “The Stable is not a ladder.” Bea looked at her. “Meaning?” “Not promotion.” “Okay.” “Not a reward.” “Okay.” “Not something people are supposed to graduate into.” “Personal structure.” “Yes.” That made sense. Bea nodded. “And the numbering really is just order.” “Yes.” “No hidden hierarchy.” “No.” Vega shrugged. “I still like Four.” Nova looked at her. “Because it sounds dramatic.” “Yes.” Bea laughed. Then looked at Mandi. “So One.” Silence. There it was. Different from before. Closed. Not hostile. Not playful. Just not hers. Bea understood immediately. She nodded once. “Okay.” Mandi’s expression softened. Very slightly. Vega looked almost disappointed. “That’s it?” Bea looked at her. “What?” “You’re not going to ask again?” “I asked once.” “You’re curious.” “Extremely.” “And?” “And curiosity doesn’t make the answer mine.” Nova smiled. That one was Iris underneath. Completely. “Good.” Bea looked at her. “You know.” Nova said nothing. Bea smiled faintly. “Still okay.” No one filled the silence. No one needed to. Bea shifted her attention back toward the visible structure. Mandi. Two. Nova. Three. Vega. Four. Sera. Five. One remained deliberately absent. Madame remained deliberately unnamed. Enough information to understand the system. Not enough to understand the whole thing. That was fine. Actually, it was better. She looked at Dalia. “You’re not Stable.” “No.” “But you work around them.” “Yes.” “With them.” “Yes.” “Without being part of that structure.” “Yes.” Bea nodded. “Good.” Dalia smiled. “What?” “Separate things staying separate.” Mandi said: “That sounds like Mai.” Bea looked at Dalia. Dalia looked at Mandi. Then back at Bea. “Unfortunately.” Bea laughed. Vega folded her arms. “So now what?” Bea looked at her. “Now?” “You’ve interrogated the Stable.” “I asked six questions.” “More than six.” “Fine.” Nova: “Definitely more than six.” Bea ignored them. “Now I want to see what this looks like in practice.” There. That changed the room again. Not dramatically. Just enough. Mandi’s smile became dangerous. Vega looked delighted. Nova’s expression sharpened. Dalia put the lollipop back between her lips. Bea noticed every reaction. “What?” Mandi said: “Nothing.” “That means something.” “No.” “You’re terrible at this.” “I’m excellent at this.” Bea pointed at Nova and Vega. “And they’re working like this tonight.” “Yes,” Nova said. “At Lizzie’s.” “Yes.” “Mandi too.” Mandi nodded. “Yes.” “Sera?” Another tiny pause. Then Dalia answered. “Yes.” Bea smiled. Good. She did not ask where Sera was right now. Did not ask who would bring her. Did not try to connect Panam to anything. No evidence. No reason. She had enough puzzles already. “So tonight I see Stable Two through Five.” Nova said: “Not necessarily together.” Bea caught the correction. “Independent bookings.” “Yes.” “Not a group package.” “No.” “Not automatically available as a set.” “Definitely not,” Vega said. Bea nodded. More architecture. Useful. “And Madame?” Mandi smiled. “You’ll see.” Bea stared. “That was absolutely deliberate.” “Yes.” “Is Madame going to be at Lizzie’s?” Mandi lifted her coffee. “You’ll see.” Bea looked at Dalia. Dalia’s reflective green contacts gave nothing away. Nova remained composed. Vega looked like she might explode if she had to keep a secret much longer. Bea laughed. “Fine.” Mandi blinked. “Fine?” “Yes.” “You’re giving up?” “No.” “Then what?” “I’m waiting for evidence.” That quieted them for a second. Bea smiled. “I’m good at questions. I’m not going to start inventing answers because you refuse to give me one.” Nova nodded. “Good.” Bea looked around the room again. Five professional covers. Four women with knowledge she did not have. One Stable member missing physically. One completely unknown. One Madame still nothing but a title. And Friday only just beginning. She smiled. “I’m ready.” Vega grinned. “For Lizzie’s?” “Yes.” Mandi looked at her. “You sure?” Bea looked down at her. “No.” Mandi smiled. “Better answer.” Dalia pushed away from the wall. “Then let’s go.” Bea followed them toward the door. Before leaving, she glanced once at Nova and Vega. Chrome and gold. Chrome and brass-yellow. White void. Black void. Three and Four. That much she knew. Everything else could wait until it earned itself. --- ## Chapter 11 — Bea The ride to Lizzie’s was quieter than Bea expected. Not silent. Just less chaotic than the Safehouse had been. Which was probably because everyone had finally finished becoming somebody else. Mandi sat opposite her. Dalia beside Mandi. Nova and Vega across the aisle from one another rather than attached at the hip. That mattered. Bea noticed. Of course she did. The Marlow duo presentation was strong enough that casual observers would read a professional partnership immediately, but neither woman behaved as though the other was part of the same purchase. Separate posture. Separate attention. Separate agency. Coordinated. Not fused. Bea liked that. She looked at Nova. White void. Chrome and gold. Elegant asymmetry. Then Vega. Black void. Chrome and brass-yellow. Sharper presentation. Still obviously designed as a pair. Vega noticed her looking. “What?” “Nothing.” “That’s a lie.” “I’m studying.” “That’s worse.” Nova smiled faintly. “She warned you.” Bea looked at her. “You’re enjoying this too.” “Yes.” That voice still did something strange to Bea’s processing. Not because it resembled Iris. It didn’t. Not enough. Because the woman underneath the cover did. Cadence. Timing. The exact amount of patience in an answer. The way Nova watched instead of merely looked. Bea could see Iris now because she knew to look for her. That was different from recognizing her on the street. She probably still wouldn’t. That was the point. Mandi leaned back. “You’re thinking.” Bea looked at her. “I’m working.” “We’re not there yet.” “Prep is work.” Dalia’s whiskey-smoke voice came from beside Mandi. “Correct.” Mandi looked betrayed. “You’re supposed to disagree with her.” “No.” “Relationship failure.” Bea laughed. There it was. The cover voices made everything slightly wrong and completely familiar at the same time. She liked that too. A lot. She looked down at her own hands. Bea’s hands. No. Her hands. That distinction was important. The face mesh did not own them. The voice did not own them. The ice-blue ChromeLock did not own them. Bea was not a separate person waiting to take over. Bea was Elisa with a different set of permissions. She understood that more clearly now than she had yesterday. Maybe more clearly than she ever had. Mandi noticed her looking inward. “What?” Bea smiled. “I missed this.” Mandi’s expression softened. “The work?” “Yes.” No hesitation. “Being Bea?” “Yes.” Again. Immediate. Dalia looked at her. “Why?” Not challenge. Curiosity. Bea thought before answering. “Because people approach Bea differently.” Nova nodded slightly. Bea continued. “Elisa enters a room and people calculate what she owns.” Vega leaned forward. “That sounds exhausting.” “It is.” “Mandi enters a room and people calculate what they want.” Mandi smiled. “Better.” “Sometimes.” Dalia: “And Bea?” Bea looked at the window. Night City sliding past. “People underestimate her.” Nova: “Useful.” “Yes.” “They don’t expect me to understand the room before they do.” Mandi smiled. “You like that.” “Yes.” “They think they’re choosing what to show me.” Vega laughed. “Oh, I really like her.” Bea looked at her. “You already knew me.” “Not like this.” Fair. Bea accepted that. The vehicle moved through another turn. She watched her own reflection in the glass. Ice-blue hair. Bea’s face. Different voice waiting behind her mouth. She smiled faintly. “I also like being wanted without the money attached to my name.” That quieted the vehicle. Not awkwardly. Just enough. Dalia looked at her. “Important distinction.” “Yes.” Bea nodded. “At work they know what I cost.” Mandi smiled. “Eventually.” Bea looked at her. “You’re one to talk.” Mandi looked offended. “I am very reasonably priced.” Nova made a choking sound. Vega laughed. Dalia removed the lollipop. Bea stared. “You charged twenty-five thousand an hour.” Mandi shrugged. “Market response.” “That is not reasonable.” “People kept paying.” “That is also not a defense.” “It is the only defense I need.” Bea laughed. And just like that, the weight disappeared. Good. She wanted that too. Not everything needed to become serious because the truth underneath it mattered. The work could be meaningful. And fun. Both. Nova crossed one leg over the other. “So what are you looking for tonight?” Bea looked at her. “Clients?” “Yes.” Bea thought. “Interesting people.” Vega: “That’s vague.” “Intentionally.” “Money?” “Relevant.” Mandi nodded approvingly. Bea continued. “Not sufficient.” Dalia smiled. “Good.” “Conversation matters.” Nova: “Chemistry.” “Yes.” Vega: “Looks?” Bea smiled. “I’m nineteen, not dead.” Vega grinned. “Good answer.” Mandi: “Experience?” Bea thought again. “Yes.” Then: “But not in the way you mean.” Mandi raised an eyebrow. Bea continued. “I don’t care whether somebody has booked a joytoy before.” Nova nodded. “You care whether they know how to behave.” “Yes.” “Whether they understand no.” “Yes.” “Whether they treat the price as access or entitlement.” “Yes.” Dalia: “Very good.” Bea looked at her. “That sounded like an evaluation.” “It was.” “Do I pass?” Dalia put the lollipop back. “So far.” Bea laughed. The conversation shifted. Practical now. Not teaching Bea from zero. She had worked before. She knew what she was doing. But she had been away. Things had changed. The group had changed. Lizzie’s had changed. Apparently Panam— No. Madame. Whoever Madame actually was. That structure existed now. Stable existed now. Bea wanted to see it. Not because she wanted into it. Because she wanted to understand the social architecture. Nova looked toward her. “Don’t spend the whole night studying everyone else.” Bea blinked. “What?” “You do that.” “I do not.” “You absolutely do.” Bea stared. Iris. That was pure Iris. Not voice. Not face. Not look. Behavior. “You’re still doing it.” Nova smiled. “Yes.” Bea laughed. “Fair.” Vega added: “You’re allowed to have fun.” “I know.” “Good.” Mandi looked at Bea. “Also don’t underprice yourself.” Bea stared. “Excuse me?” Mandi shrugged. “You heard me.” Dalia leaned back. “Oh, this again.” Bea looked at Mandi. “I know what I charge.” Mandi: “Do you?” “Yes.” “You’ve been away.” “So?” “Demand changes.” Bea smiled slowly. “Are you trying to recruit me into your pricing pathology?” Mandi looked offended. “Pathology?” “You climbed to twenty-five thousand an hour because people kept saying yes.” “That is literally how pricing works.” Nova: “Not literally.” Vega: “Close enough.” Dalia: “No.” Mandi looked at all three of them. “Traitors.” Bea laughed. “Good. So if someone offers stupid money?” Dalia answered. “Ask whether you actually want them.” Mandi: “Then decide whether stupid money changes the shape of the booking.” Nova: “Not your answer.” Vega: “And if the answer stays no, it stays no.” Bea nodded. There. That part she liked. Simple. Money changed logistics. Not consent. She looked out the window. The city outside had shifted. More familiar now. Closer. Lizzie’s territory. Her pulse picked up. Not nerves. Anticipation. Mandi saw it. “Ready?” Bea smiled. “Yes.” “Sure?” “Yes.” Dalia: “Better answer than earlier.” Bea looked at her. “That was before I had five minutes without somebody detonating my understanding of the universe.” Vega grinned. “No promises for the next hour.” Bea pointed. “See? That.” Nova smiled. The vehicle slowed. Outside, the familiar neon began appearing. Lizzie’s. The sight hit Bea harder than she expected. Not emotionally devastating. Just recognition. The last time she had been here, Bea had still felt experimental. Temporary. Interesting. Now? Now she knew she wanted to come back. That mattered. The vehicle stopped. Doors opened. Sound came in. City. Music bleeding through structure. People. Movement. Mandi stepped out first. Dalia followed. Nova and Vega separated naturally as soon as their feet hit pavement. Bea watched that too. Professional independence. Good. Then she stepped out. The boots hit the ground. ChromeLock hair held. Face mesh warm. Voice waiting. Bea looked toward Lizzie’s entrance. Mandi glanced back at her. “You coming?” Bea smiled. “Oh, absolutely.” And for the first time all day, she stopped thinking about what she was supposed to discover. She simply wanted to work. --- ## Chapter 12 — Lizzie’s Again Lizzie’s felt familiar before Bea even crossed the threshold. The bass. The neon. The heat. The layered smell of drinks, perfume, synth-smoke, expensive skin products, cheap skin products, and too many people trying to look as though they belonged exactly where they were. Bea smiled. There. That. She had missed this. Not every part. Not every person. But the rhythm. The possibility. The sense that the room could become anything depending on who walked toward whom first. Mandi glanced back at her. “Still smiling.” “Yes.” “Good.” Dalia moved beside her, menthol lollipop in place. Nova and Vega had already separated by several steps. Not dramatically. Simply enough to make their professional independence obvious. Bea noticed. Again. She was probably going to keep noticing things tonight until someone physically stopped her. The door opened. They went in. Suzie Q saw Mandi first. Of course she did. Her expression changed immediately into the specific look of someone who had already survived several rounds of Mandi-related nonsense and expected more. “Mandi.” Mandi smiled. “Suzie.” Suzie’s eyes moved to Dalia. Then Nova. Vega. Then Bea. Her smile widened. “Well, well.” Bea grinned. “Hi.” Suzie stepped around the bar and hugged her. Warm. Firm. No hesitation. “Look who came back.” Bea hugged her back. “Miss me?” “Maybe.” “That sounded evasive.” “You’re learning.” Mandi said: “She learns fast.” Suzie looked at her. “You shut up.” Mandi looked deeply offended. Bea laughed. There. Familiar. Not Safehouse familiar. Different. Professional familiarity. Suzie released her and looked her over. Ice-blue hair. Face mesh. Boots. Wardrobe. Then nodded. “Bea still works.” Bea smiled. “I know.” Suzie raised one eyebrow. “Good answer.” Dalia removed the lollipop. “She’s been practicing.” “I have not.” Mandi: “She absolutely has.” Bea looked at her. “You are very brave for somebody that small.” Mandi smiled. “Threats already. She really is back.” Suzie laughed. Then her attention shifted toward Nova and Vega. No surprise. No novelty. That told Bea something immediately. These covers were already established here. Known. Accepted. Part of the room. Suzie nodded toward them. “You two good?” Nova answered first. “Yes.” Vega: “Very.” “Working separately unless you tell me otherwise?” “Yes.” “Same observer rules?” Nova: “Yes.” Vega: “Always.” Bea listened. Clean. Professional. No assumption that working partners meant a paired booking. No assumption that one automatically came with the other. Good. Suzie looked back at Bea. “You want your old rhythm?” Bea thought. “Mostly.” “Mostly?” “Let me settle in.” Suzie nodded immediately. “Done.” No pressure. No expectation. Just structure. Bea liked that. Very much. Then somebody crossed behind Suzie. Tall. Silver-white hair. Very tall. Bea’s attention snapped sideways. Sera. Not Shammy. Sera. The public artist presentation was already fully present. But something else had changed. Bea stopped. Sera wore a collar. Not decorative. Not neutral. Chosen. Visible. And attached to it— a leash. Bea stared. The leash did not drag. Did not pull. Did not read as restraint. Sera moved freely. Comfortably. The leash simply existed as connection. Chosen structure made visible. Bea’s brain supplied the word from earlier. Stable. Five. Oh. Sera turned. Saw her. Her expression warmed immediately. So did the hair. A faint static lift moved through the silver-white strands around her temples. Tiny. Almost invisible. Then a subtle ionized sheen moved across the upper layers. Bea smiled. That part was still Shammy. Still familiar. Sera walked closer. The leash moved with her. Bea’s eyes followed it. Then farther. To the hand holding the other end. Bea’s brain stopped. Panam. Panam Palmer. Standing there as if absolutely nothing about the arrangement required explanation. Same Panam. Same grounded presence. Same road-built posture. Same expression that suggested she had never cared whether Night City approved of her choices. The leash in her hand. Sera’s collar. Stable Five. Bea went completely still. Mandi saw it. Dalia saw it. Nova saw it. Vega saw it. All four immediately became suspiciously quiet. Panam looked at Bea. “Hi.” Bea stared. “Hi.” Sera smiled. The silver-white hair lifted faintly again. Panam glanced at it. “You too?” Sera’s smile widened. “It likes her.” Panam: “Your hair does not get a vote.” Bea laughed automatically. Then stopped. Because something still did not fit. Panam. Leash. Stable Five. Madame. No. Wait. Do not invent the answer. Evidence. She needed evidence. Good. Bea forced herself to breathe. Sera stepped closer and hugged her. The leash went slack immediately. Panam did not shorten it. Did not reposition Sera. Did not manage the hug. Just held the connection. Bea hugged Sera back. The hair softened around them. A faint electric lift. Then settling. “Hi,” Bea said. “Hi.” “I missed you.” “I know.” “That’s very Mai of you.” Sera smiled. “No.” Panam snorted. Bea pulled back. Looked at the collar again. Sera noticed. “You can ask.” Bea hesitated. Then: “Stable?” Sera nodded. “Yes.” “Five.” “Yes.” Bea smiled. There. Confirmed in person. Panam’s hand shifted slightly on the leash. Not tightening. Just resettling. Bea noticed. Of course she did. She looked at Panam. Panam looked back. No explanation. No defensive posture. No performance. Just Panam. Interesting. Very. Bea decided not to push. Yet. Suzie Q looked toward the entrance. Then back at everyone. “Move off the doorway before you become architecture.” Mandi: “I’m decorative.” Suzie: “You’re obstructive.” Dalia: “Also true.” Mandi looked betrayed. Bea laughed. The group moved deeper into Lizzie’s. Sera and Panam peeled naturally toward one side of the room. Mandi toward another. Nova and Vega split cleanly. Dalia stayed near enough to Bea for another few seconds. Bea looked at her. “What?” Dalia’s whiskey-smoke voice stayed calm. “You’re doing well.” “With what?” “Not asking twelve questions at once.” Bea narrowed her eyes. “I can ask one.” “You can.” “Why is Panam holding Sera’s leash?” Dalia’s mouth twitched. “There it is.” “That was one.” “Yes.” “And?” Dalia put the menthol lollipop between her lips. “You’ll see.” Bea stared. “You are all terrible people.” Dalia smiled around the lollipop. “Yes.” Then walked away. Bea stood there. Alone for the first time since entering. Good. She needed that. Not to recover. To observe. The room was working. Not posing for her. That mattered. Mandi was already talking to someone near the bar. Not flirting yet. Reading. Nova had accepted a drink from a woman in a tailored suit. Vega was laughing with two people near a booth, but her body remained angled with enough space to leave. Sera stood beside Panam. Leash loose. Comfortable. Normal. Too normal. Bea watched. Panam leaned toward Sera. Said something too quiet to hear. Sera’s hair lifted faintly. Then settled under Panam’s touch at her shoulder. There. Again. Not restraint. Connection. Structure. Bea understood that part now. Then a man approached Panam. Not Sera. Panam. That caught Bea’s attention. The man said something. Panam listened. Looked toward Sera. Sera looked at him. Not Panam first. Him. Evaluating. The man said something else. Panam answered. Then Sera answered. The man nodded. Left. Bea stared. Filtering. Access. Exactly as described. But maybe Panam handled Sera’s access specifically. Maybe that was all. Do not overreach. Bea smiled faintly at herself. Progress. Then another potential client approached. A woman this time. Expensive. Confident. She looked at Sera once. Then back at Panam. Conversation. Short. Professional. Panam listened. Then looked at Sera. Sera’s face changed slightly. Interest. Maybe. The hair lifted at the temples. The woman waited. Panam said something. Sera answered. The woman smiled. Then Panam’s voice carried just far enough through a break in the music. “Make an offer.” Bea stopped. The sentence landed. Not because she knew it. Because everyone nearby treated it like normal structure. The woman did not laugh. Did not look confused. Did not interpret it as flirting. She answered with a number Bea could not hear. Panam looked at Sera. Sera considered. Then shook her head. Panam turned back to the woman. “No.” That was it. No negotiation against Sera’s answer. No counter. No pressure. The woman nodded. Left. Bea stared. There. That was the architecture. Exactly. The door could open. The woman behind it still decided. Elegant. Very elegant. Still— Panam? Maybe. Maybe not. She needed something explicit. Something undeniable. And because the universe had apparently developed a personal sense of humor, it arrived a few minutes later. Vega crossed the room toward Panam. Black-void eyes. Chrome-and-brass hair catching neon. She stopped beside her. “Owner.” Panam turned immediately. No surprise. No correction. No hesitation. Just response. Bea’s entire brain stopped. Owner. Panam. Owner. Stable. Leash. Filtering. Madame. The pieces did not merely fit. They slammed together. Bea stared. Vega said something too low for her to hear. Panam listened. Nodded once. Then looked toward someone across the room. Work. Routine. Normal. Bea did not move. Mandi, across the room, saw her face. Her mouth opened in a silent laugh. Nova noticed next. White-void eyes turned toward Bea. Dalia removed the lollipop preemptively. Sera’s hair lifted. Panam looked toward Vega. Then toward Sera. Then across the room. At Bea. Understanding reached her face. Panam sighed. “Oh, no.” Mandi lost it. Bea slowly turned toward Dalia. Pointed at Panam. No words. Dalia nodded once. Bea turned toward Mandi. Mandi was openly laughing now. “You.” Mandi managed: “Yes?” “You knew.” “Yes.” “You all knew.” “Yes.” “And nobody told me.” “No.” Bea looked toward Nova. Nova raised one hand slightly. Guilty. Vega had returned from Panam and was smiling like a criminal. Sera’s hair had developed a very obvious silver-white halo of amusement. Bea pointed at her. “Even her fucking hair knew.” Mandi bent over laughing. Dalia covered her mouth. Nova looked away. Panam crossed the room toward them. Still holding Sera’s leash. Sera came with her because she wanted to, the line remaining loose between them. Panam stopped in front of Bea. Bea looked at her. Then at the leash. Then at Panam again. “Owner.” Panam closed her eyes. Mandi made a strangled sound. Bea’s expression changed. “Oh.” Panam opened her eyes. “What?” “You hate that from me.” “Yes.” “Interesting.” “Do not.” Bea smiled. Then the other word came back. The one they had used at the Safehouse. The external role. The title tied to the structure. She looked at Panam. “You’re Madame.” Panam looked at her. “Yes.” No flourish. No theatrical shift. No seductive title voice. Just Panam. That somehow made it worse. Bea laughed once. Then again. “This fucking city.” Sera stepped closer. Her hair lifted softly. Panam glanced at it. “You are not helping.” Sera smiled. “I’m not trying to.” “Traitor.” “It likes her.” “Your hair still does not get an opinion.” Bea looked between them. Owner. Madame. Panam. Sera Five. Mandi Two. Nova Three. Vega Four. Unknown One. All the vocabulary she had collected suddenly had a physical center. Mandi stepped closer. “Processor fault?” Bea looked down at her. “Shut up.” Mandi grinned. “That’s a yes.” Bea pointed toward Panam. “You let me stand there and watch you.” Panam shrugged. “You wanted evidence.” Bea froze. Then looked at Dalia. Dalia’s shoulders moved once. Laugh suppressed. Nova failed more elegantly. Vega did not try. Bea stared at Panam. “You knew I was trying not to guess.” “Yes.” “And you just let me.” “Yes.” “Why?” Panam looked genuinely puzzled by the question. “Because you were doing it right.” That stopped Bea. Not mockery. Not another joke. Simple approval. Observe. Ask. Accept boundaries. Wait for evidence. Bea smiled despite herself. “Fair.” Panam nodded. “Good.” Then immediately looked toward Sera. “You hungry?” Sera considered. “A little.” “Eat before you take anything long.” “Okay.” Bea watched. There again. Care before access. Exactly as described. No performance. No title needed. Just structure lived normally. Sera’s hair settled slightly under Panam’s hand. Bea looked at them. Then at Mandi. Then Nova. Vega. Dalia. The Stable had stopped being theory. Madame had stopped being a title. Owner had stopped being vocabulary. It all existed in front of her. And somehow Panam being at the center of it made far more sense now than it had any right to. Bea smiled. Panam noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” Panam narrowed her eyes. “That’s never true.” Bea laughed. “No.” Then looked around Lizzie’s. Music. Clients. Mox. Suzie. Five covers moving through the room. Four Stable members physically present. One leash in Panam’s hand. Friday finally fully underway. Bea took a breath. “Okay.” Mandi looked at her. “Okay what?” Bea smiled. “Now I’m ready to work.” Panam looked at her, then at the room. “Then stop studying us and go enjoy yourself.” Bea laughed. There. Friend, not manager. No permission requested. None given. Perfect. Bea turned toward the bar. Behind her, Sera said softly: “Owner?” Panam answered immediately. “Yeah?” Bea smiled without turning around. There it was again. Not theatrical. Not decorative. Not somebody playing Madame. A chosen relationship. A working structure. A vocabulary that belonged to the people inside it. And now she finally understood enough to stop staring. Almost. --- ## Chapter 13 — Four Leashes Bea lasted almost four minutes before looking again. Not staring. She was better than that. Just looking. Panam had moved back toward the side of the room with Sera. The leash was still there. Loose. Ordinary. Integrated enough that almost nobody else seemed to notice it. Bea was trying very hard to become one of those people. She was failing. Then Mandi crossed the room toward Panam. Bea watched. Mandi stopped in front of her. Said something too quiet to hear. Panam answered. Mandi nodded. Then touched the collar at her throat. Bea’s attention sharpened. Mandi had been wearing the collar since they left the Safehouse. Bea had noticed it. Of course she had. What she had not seen until now was the matching leash. Mandi produced it without ceremony. Held it out. “Owner.” Panam took it. Simple as that. No pose. No display. No change in Mandi’s expression. Then Mandi turned back toward the room. Panam now held two leashes. Sera. Mandi. Bea stared. Dalia appeared beside her. “You’re doing it again.” “There are two.” Dalia looked toward Panam. “Yes.” “You knew there would be two.” “Yes.” “You could have warned me.” “Why?” Bea turned toward her. “Because—” She stopped. Dalia waited. Bea looked back at Panam. Fair. There was absolutely no reason Dalia needed to warn her that something she had already been told existed would, in fact, exist. “That was annoying.” Dalia smiled. “I know.” Then Nova approached. White-void eyes. Chrome and gold catching the club light. She stopped beside Panam. “Owner.” Another leash. Panam accepted it. Three. Bea closed her eyes for one second. Opened them. Still three. Dalia’s shoulders moved with suppressed laughter. “Don’t.” “I didn’t say anything.” “You were about to.” “No.” “You lie badly.” Dalia put the menthol lollipop back into her mouth. Bea looked toward Vega. Vega was already looking directly at her. Black void. Chrome and brass-yellow. Huge grin. Bea pointed. “No.” Vega’s grin widened. Then she walked straight to Panam. “Owner.” The fourth leash changed hands. Bea stared. Four. Actual. Physical. Leashes. Sera. Mandi. Nova. Vega. Panam held all four loosely in one hand. And absolutely nobody arranged themselves around her. That was the first thing Bea noticed after the initial processor fault passed. Sera wandered several steps away to speak with somebody. The line simply followed. Mandi headed toward the bar. Panam let out more slack without even looking. Nova and Vega moved in opposite directions. Neither asked permission. Neither waited. The four lines became temporary geometry through the room. Connection. Not confinement. Bea watched for another few seconds. Then: “Oh.” Dalia looked at her. “What?” “I understand it better now.” “The leashes?” “Yes.” Dalia nodded. Bea watched Mandi stop beside a potential client. Still connected. Still completely herself. Nothing about the leash made the conversation belong to Panam. Nothing about the collar made Mandi less responsible for the answer she would eventually give. The structure was visible. The agency was too. Bea smiled. “Interesting.” Dalia sighed. “There’s that word again.” “It is.” “You say it when you’re about to become difficult.” “I’m never difficult.” Dalia stared at her. Bea smiled sweetly. “Fine. Rarely.” Dalia walked away. Coward. Bea turned back toward the room. Time to stop studying. Work. Suzie Q was busy behind the bar. Lisa was closer to the entrance, watching the room without looking like she was watching the room. Mox moved through familiar patterns. Clients. Joytoys. Regulars. People drinking. People negotiating. People deciding nothing was going to happen and enjoying themselves anyway. Good. Bea breathed out. She knew this part. A woman near the end of the bar caught her eye. Held it. Not too long. Not too aggressively. Then smiled. Bea smiled back. The woman approached. Good clothes. Understated. Expensive enough that they fit properly rather than screaming about the price. Confident posture. Nothing rushed. “Bea?” There. Public name. Exactly where it belonged. “Yes.” “I’m Mindy.” “Hi, Mindy.” “Hi.” Mindy looked at her. Not past her. Not over her. At her. Then at the ice-blue hair. “Nice.” Bea touched it lightly. “Thank you.” “ChromeLock?” “V2.” Mindy laughed. “Okay. Very nice.” Bea smiled. “You know the difference?” “My stylist would sell a kidney for it.” “Yours?” “No.” “Smart.” “That’s what I thought.” Easy. Good start. Mindy glanced toward the bar. “Can I buy you a drink?” Bea considered. “Yes.” No performance. No artificial hesitation. They moved closer to the bar. Mindy ordered. Bea chose something light. Suzie served them and moved on. No introduction. No endorsement. No explanation. Bea liked that. Mindy took a drink. “So, how does this work?” “Which part?” “You.” Bea raised an eyebrow. Mindy smiled. “Fair. That sounded worse out loud.” “A little.” “I meant bookings.” “Better.” Mindy nodded. “I’m new to you.” “Yes.” “And I’d rather ask than assume.” Much better. Bea leaned one elbow lightly against the bar. “Talk to me.” “That simple?” “To start.” Mindy looked pleasantly surprised. Then she did. Conversation first. Not negotiation disguised as conversation. Actual conversation. Night City food. Bad hotels. A mutual dislike of clubs that tried too hard to look exclusive. Mindy had a dry sense of humor Bea liked almost immediately. More importantly, she listened. When Bea spoke, Mindy did not spend the entire time constructing her next line. Promising. The conversation drifted naturally toward work. Mindy did not lower her voice as though asking for a booking was shameful. “So.” Bea smiled. “There it is.” Mindy laughed. “Was I obvious?” “Eventually.” “Are you available?” “Possibly.” Mindy smiled. “I deserved that.” “Yes.” “What makes it a yes?” “Depends what you want.” “An hour.” “To start?” “Yes.” “Private?” “Yes.” “Anything specific?” Mindy thought before answering. “Conversation.” “Okay.” “Close company.” Bea waited. “And if we both want more than that, we decide there.” Good. Very good. “No preset script?” “No.” “No observer?” “No.” “No third person?” “No.” Bea nodded. “What don’t you want?” Mindy blinked. Then smiled. “That’s a good question.” “I know.” “No pain.” “Fine.” “No recording.” “House rule anyway.” “Good.” “No drugs.” “Also fine.” Mindy looked at Bea. “And you?” “No rough handling.” “Okay.” “No surprise additions.” “Easy.” “If I say stop, we stop.” “Obviously.” Bea watched her for a beat. Mindy noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “That sounded like a test.” “It wasn’t.” Mostly. Bea gave her the rate. Mindy absorbed it. No flinch. No theatrical laugh. No instant attempt to shave it down simply because negotiation existed. She nodded. “Okay.” Bea smiled. “Okay?” “Yes.” “That was easy.” “Were you hoping I’d haggle?” “No.” “Good.” Mindy took another drink. “So?” Bea let herself think for a moment. Did she want this client? Yes. Simple. “Yes.” Mindy smiled. “Good.” The agreement existed. Nothing else did yet. Exactly right. Bea finished enough of her drink to leave it comfortably. Then stood. Mindy did too. Across the room, Mandi happened to glance their way. Bea saw the black contacts. The neon-orange hair. The tiny smile. Nothing more. No familiar gesture. No private acknowledgment. Just one professional joytoy noticing another had taken a booking. Good. Nova was talking to somebody near one of the booths. Vega had disappeared briefly into another part of the club. Sera stood near Panam, silver-white hair lifting faintly while someone spoke to her. Four leashes still traced their loose lines through the room. Mindy followed Bea’s glance. “That’s new.” Bea looked at her. “What?” “The leashes.” Ah. Public observation. Safe. “Yes.” “Madame’s?” Bea’s processor made a tiny involuntary noise. Mindy noticed. “Did I say something wrong?” “No.” Bea recovered immediately. “No. I’m just catching up on a few things myself.” Mindy smiled. “Fair.” She did not ask more. Good. Very good. Bea gestured toward the private corridor. “Come on.” They started walking. The shift inside Bea happened naturally. Attention narrowing. Professional awareness rising. Not becoming somebody else. Not pretending to be somebody else. Bea was already there. This was simply the part she had missed. Someone approached. Someone asked. She listened. She decided. Now they would find out what happened after yes. Behind them, Panam’s voice carried briefly through the room. “Water first.” Mandi answered something Bea could not hear. Vega laughed somewhere farther away. Sera’s hair lifted like silver static. Bea smiled. Then stopped looking backward. She had a client. And Bea was working again. --- ## Chapter 14 — First Shift Back The private room door closed behind Bea and Mindy. The bass from Lizzie’s dropped immediately. Not gone. Just pushed farther away. A steady pulse through the walls. Mindy looked around once. Then back at Bea. “Nice.” Bea smiled. “The room?” “You.” “Better answer.” Mindy laughed. Good. Still easy. Nothing had changed simply because a door had closed. Bea liked that. Mindy moved farther into the room but did not sit until Bea did. Another small thing. Bea noticed anyway. She sat near one end of the couch. Mindy chose the other. Close enough to talk comfortably. Not assuming anything else. Perfect. Mindy rested one arm along the back. “So.” “So.” “How much?” There. Clean. Exactly where the question belonged. Bea held her gaze. “Twenty-five thousand eddies for the hour.” Mindy blinked once. Then: “Twenty-five.” “Yes.” “One hour.” “Yes.” Mindy thought for perhaps two seconds. “Okay.” Bea smiled. “Okay means?” “I’m accepting.” “Good.” Payment followed. No bargaining. No joke about getting a discount. No attempt to turn the price into a challenge. Twenty-five thousand eddies. Accepted. Done. Only then did Bea settle back. Mindy smiled. “You like clarity.” “Very much.” “I noticed.” “That’s promising.” Mindy laughed. Then the room became ordinary again. Conversation. The thing Mindy had actually asked for first. They talked. Not about anything important enough to change the world. That helped. Music. Night City restaurants that survived entirely on location and lighting. The strange tendency of luxury bars to make chairs less comfortable as prices increased. Mindy had opinions about both. Strong ones. Bea enjoyed that. “Any place with a drink menu longer than the food menu is suspicious.” Mindy looked at her. “That is objectively wrong.” “It’s correct.” “It’s barbaric.” “You paid twenty-five thousand eddies to spend an hour with a barbarian.” Mindy laughed hard enough to look away. “Fair.” Bea smiled. She had missed this too. Not just being wanted. Conversation without another agenda hiding underneath it. Mindy had paid for time. That did not mean every second needed to become performance. They could simply exist inside the hour. Mindy looked at Bea’s ice-blue hair. “I really like that.” “The hair?” “Yes.” Bea touched the chin-length line lightly. “Thank you.” “It looks expensive.” “It is.” Mindy smiled. “Good.” “That’s your response?” “If you’re going to do ice-blue, commit.” Bea laughed. “Excellent philosophy.” “I have several.” “Any useful ones?” “No.” “Thought so.” Mindy shifted a little closer. Still leaving space. Bea noticed. Did nothing yet. Mindy noticed that too. Good. The conversation continued. No rush. A few minutes later Mindy asked: “Can I kiss you?” Bea smiled. “Yes.” Simple. Mindy closed the distance. The first kiss was warm. Careful without becoming hesitant. Bea let it last. Then moved closer herself. That changed the answer from permission into participation. Mindy understood immediately. The second kiss lasted longer. One of Bea’s hands settled lightly against Mindy’s shoulder. Mindy’s hand found Bea’s waist. Stopped there. No wandering assumption. Good. Bea liked her more for that. They separated. Not far. Mindy smiled. “Still okay?” “Yes.” Bea kissed her again before Mindy could ask anything else. That made Mindy laugh softly against her mouth. Good. The hour changed shape from there. Gradually. Conversation became touch. Touch became pauses. Pauses became kisses. Neither woman hurried. Neither treated the booking as a checklist. When Bea wanted something, she moved closer. When Mindy wanted something, she asked or waited long enough for Bea to meet her. The distinction mattered. At one point they stopped entirely. Not because anything was wrong. Because Mindy said something absurd about one of Lizzie’s drinks and Bea started laughing too hard to continue being seductive. Mindy looked offended. “It’s terrible.” “It is not.” “It tastes like somebody dissolved a nightclub sign in sugar.” Bea laughed harder. “That is incredibly specific.” “Because I suffered.” “You bought another one.” “I needed confirmation.” “Scientific method.” “Exactly.” Eventually the laughter softened. Mindy touched Bea’s cheek. Gentle. Bea turned slightly into the touch. Then kissed her again. The camera could have left them there. It did not. Not immediately. The closeness continued. Mutual. Warm. More intimate than conversation now. Neither performing for an audience that was not present. Neither trying to force the hour toward some predetermined ending. Bea felt the pleasure of being wanted. More importantly, she felt the pleasure of wanting back. That distinction had always mattered. It mattered even more now. Time continued. Eventually, the pace slowed naturally. They ended up close together on the couch. Breathing returning to normal. Mindy’s head resting briefly against Bea’s shoulder. Bea’s hand moving once through Mindy’s hair. No hurry to stand. No immediate professional reset. Just a few quiet minutes. Stillness. Then Mindy looked toward the room clock. “Fuck.” Bea followed her gaze. “Time.” “That was an hour?” “Almost.” “That’s rude.” Bea smiled. “I’ll file a complaint.” “With who?” “Time.” “Let me know how that goes.” “I expect a full refund.” Mindy laughed. They stayed there another moment. Then Mindy sat up. “Can I ask something?” “Yes.” “Would you see me again?” Bea thought about it. Actually thought. Then nodded. “Yes.” Mindy smiled. “Good.” “Doesn’t guarantee when.” “I know.” “And I might say no next time.” “I know.” Bea watched her. Mindy smiled faintly. “You really do like clarity.” “Yes.” “I really do like that.” Good. They stood. Clothing straightened. Hair checked. Bea ran her fingers once through the ice-blue strands. The style had been disturbed. Not badly. She watched it begin easing back toward the locked chin-length shape. Mindy noticed. “Oh, that is ridiculous.” Bea smiled at the mirror. “Useful.” “I want it.” “It’s expensive.” “I assumed.” Mindy looked at her own hair. Then back at Bea. “Maybe not twenty-five-thousand-an-hour expensive.” Bea turned. “That’s a completely different budget.” Mindy laughed. “Fair.” They left the room together. Lizzie’s returned all at once. Bass. Neon. Voices. Movement. Mindy stopped just outside the private corridor. “Thank you.” Bea looked at her. “Thank you.” Mindy smiled. Then walked away. No lingering claim. No awkwardness. No attempt to turn one paid hour into something socially larger. Good. Very good. Bea watched her disappear into the crowd for a moment. Then headed toward the bar. Suzie Q saw her coming. “How’d it go?” Bea accepted a glass of water. “Good.” Suzie waited. Bea drank. “Very good.” Suzie nodded. “That’s enough for me.” “Nosy.” “Occupational.” Bea smiled. Then leaned lightly against the bar and drank more water. Across the room, Lizzie’s continued without caring that Bea had just completed her first booking back. Exactly right. Mandi was talking with someone. Nova was seated with a potential client. Vega had acquired a drink and an audience. Sera stood near Panam, silver-white hair showing a faint lift while she listened to someone speak. Four leashes still existed through the room. Sometimes visible. Sometimes disappearing into the movement. Panam tracked all of them without turning the whole floor into surveillance theater. Bea watched for a moment. Then stopped herself. Work. Her work. Not everyone else’s. She finished the water. A potential client approached. Bea listened. Asked two questions. Did not like the answers. “No.” The client nodded and left. Good. Another conversation. No booking. Another. Interesting person. Wrong chemistry. No. Then one that almost worked until the man started talking over her every time she answered. No. Clean. Easy. No guilt. No wasted time. Between conversations, Bea watched enough of the room to understand its rhythm. Mandi disappeared into a private room. Later returned. Water. A few minutes of rest. Then back to work. Nova declined someone politely. Vega declined someone less politely. Sera spoke with two people for nearly ten minutes before deciding against both. Panam accepted every decision without comment. That part was almost more interesting than the bookings themselves. No disappointment when somebody said no. No pressure to monetize every available hour. No visible frustration when an offer died. Stable meant structure. Not quotas. Bea liked that. A lot. She moved through another conversation. Then another. One became a short booking. Twenty-five thousand eddies. Accepted. One hour. Simple. Later, another client wanted two hours. Fifty thousand. Accepted. They disappeared into the private corridor. Returned later separately. No drama. Then Bea took another break. Water. Something small to eat. Enough to keep working comfortably. Dalia appeared near the bar. “Still enjoying yourself?” Bea smiled. “Yes.” “Good.” “That’s all?” Dalia looked at her. “What did you expect?” “A lecture.” “Why?” “Everyone seems very invested in hydration today.” Dalia’s mouth curved around the menthol lollipop. “Drink your water.” Bea stared. Dalia walked away. “Asshole.” Dalia lifted one hand without turning. Bea laughed. The shift continued. Ordinary work. That was what Bea had wanted. Not every client becoming memorable. Not every hour turning into revelation. Some were good. Some were merely pleasant. Some never became bookings at all. She said yes. She said no. She changed her mind once before payment and nobody cared. A client changed theirs before payment and Bea wished them a good evening. Professional. Normal. Clear. By the time Bea finally sat down again, she had stopped thinking about whether she remembered how to do the work. She did. That question was gone. The joy had returned faster than the uncertainty. She looked around Lizzie’s. Mandi was laughing. Nova was listening to someone with that terrifyingly precise attention of hers. Vega had somehow convinced three people to argue about something at once. Sera’s hair glimmered softly beside Panam. Bea smiled. Then drank her water. Friday was simply happening now. And she was part of it. --- ## Chapter 15 — Him Bea was halfway through a glass of water when Suzie Q looked past her. “Someone asking for you.” Bea turned. And smiled immediately. Not processor fault. Not shock. Recognition. Warm recognition. “Well.” The man standing a few steps away smiled back. There he was. Her security manager. Elisa’s security manager. And, entirely separately as far as he knew— a returning client of Bea’s. He looked exactly as Bea remembered. Controlled. Professional even when he was off duty. That familiar habit of reading the room once before committing his attention to anything inside it. And when his eyes settled on Bea, something in his expression softened. There. That too was familiar. “Hi.” Bea’s smile widened. “Hi.” Suzie looked between them. “You two know each other.” Bea answered first. “We’ve met.” The man smiled. “Once.” Bea raised an eyebrow. “Memorably.” His smile became slightly more visible. “I was hoping you’d say that.” Suzie immediately lost interest in supervising adults who clearly knew what they were doing. “Good. Saves me work.” She moved away. Bea looked him over. Not because she needed to identify him. Because she enjoyed doing it. He looked different here than he did around Elisa. Less armored socially. Still observant. Still competent. But not carrying the invisible weight of somebody else’s security perimeter. Good. She liked this version too. Possibly more than she should. “You came back.” “I did.” “For me?” “Yes.” Direct. Of course. Bea liked that about him. She leaned lightly against the bar. “Good answer.” He smiled. “You working?” “Yes.” “Available?” Bea let the question sit for exactly long enough to make him wait. Then: “For you?” His expression changed slightly. Interested. “Yes.” Bea smiled. “Yes.” Simple. No need for theatrics. He already knew the rules. He already knew Bea. And Bea already knew him. That changed everything. Not the boundaries. Not the price. The ease. “How long?” she asked. “One hour.” “To start?” “Yes.” Bea’s eyebrow lifted. He noticed. “You remember.” “I remember a lot.” “I was hoping you would.” Oh. There he was. The quieter version. Still serious. Still careful. But with enough warmth underneath that Bea remembered exactly why she had said yes the first time. “Twenty-five thousand.” He nodded. “Accepted.” No negotiation. Again. Bea smiled. “Still easy.” “You’re still worth it.” That landed nicely. Not ownership. Not entitlement. Appreciation. Bea accepted payment. Clean. Done. Then she picked up the rest of her water. Finished it. He waited. No impatience. No assumption that payment changed the pace. Exactly as before. Bea put the empty glass down. “Come on.” He followed. --- The private-room door closed behind them. The bass softened. The outside world became pressure and color through walls instead of something that demanded attention. Bea turned. He was still checking the room. She laughed softly. His eyes returned to her. “What?” “You really can’t help yourself.” “What?” “That.” He looked around. Then understood. “Occupational habit.” “I know.” Bea said it without thinking. He looked at her. She corrected smoothly. “You have the look.” He smiled faintly. “Do I?” “Very much.” “Is that bad?” “No.” She stepped closer. “It’s familiar.” That word was safe. True. And it meant more to Bea than he knew. He looked at her for a second. Then: “You look good.” Bea smiled. “So do you.” “The hair suits you.” “I know.” “That sounded confident.” “It should.” He laughed quietly. There. That laugh. Bea remembered that too. The first booking had taught her he had one. Elisa almost never heard it. Bea did. Interesting division of information. She liked having it. He sat. Bea sat beside him. Closer than she had with Mindy. Not because the rules were different. Because familiarity was. They had already done the cautious first-hour dance once. They already knew the broad shape of each other. Not everything. Enough. He looked at her. “Same boundaries?” “Mostly.” “Anything changed?” Good. Bea appreciated that he asked. “No rough handling.” “Same.” “No surprise additions.” “Same.” “No recording.” “Obviously.” Bea smiled. “And if I say stop?” “We stop.” No hesitation. She nodded. “Good.” He looked at her. “My turn?” “Yes.” “No pain.” “Fine.” “No drugs.” “Fine.” “No audience.” “Fine.” “And if I say stop?” “We stop.” He smiled. “Good.” There. Done. Not skipped because they were familiar. Updated because they were familiar. Better. For a while they talked. That too was familiar. He was easier with Bea than with Elisa. Of course he was. Different context. Different responsibility. Nobody’s life depended on him keeping track of exits. Nobody needed him professionally unreadable. He could simply sit beside a woman he liked. Bea found that strangely intimate. Not sexual yet. Intimate. She asked him: “Bad week?” He thought. “Busy.” “That means yes.” “It means busy.” “That also means yes.” He smiled. “Maybe.” Bea tilted her head. “You’re worse at evasion when you’re not working.” “I am not working.” “Exactly.” He laughed again. She liked that sound far too much. Then he asked: “And you?” “Good week.” “Good?” “Yes.” “Just good?” Bea smiled. “Very good.” “Better.” He shifted closer. Not all the way. Just enough. Bea noticed. Waited. He waited too. Familiar rhythm. Good. She touched his hand. His fingers turned beneath hers. Not gripping. Meeting. Bea moved closer herself. The first kiss this time was nothing like the first kiss of their first booking. No uncertainty. No test. Warm. Immediate. Recognized. His hand settled at her waist. Bea’s other hand found his shoulder. The kiss deepened slowly. Not rushed because they already knew they liked each other. If anything, familiarity made them slower. There was no need to prove anything. Bea smiled against his mouth. He noticed. Pulled back slightly. “What?” “Nothing.” “You always say that when it’s something.” “Do I?” “Yes.” Interesting. He remembered her too. Bea’s smile softened. “Good.” “What?” “You remember.” He looked at her. “Of course.” That landed harder than she expected. Not dangerously. Nicely. She kissed him again. Longer. His hand remained where she had already accepted it. Bea shifted closer until their bodies met properly. The change was mutual. Clear. No ambiguity. His free hand moved slowly along her back. Stopped. Waited. Bea answered by leaning into him. Permission without words. Then more touch. Still familiar. Still careful. The first quiet sound Bea made against his mouth drew a smile from him. She felt it. Pulled back just enough. “Don’t.” “What?” “That smug thing.” “I didn’t do anything.” “You absolutely did.” He laughed. Bea kissed him again before he could answer. There was more heat now. Enough that conversation began breaking apart. Not disappearing. Becoming shorter. Fragments. Names. Questions. Yes. Still good. Again. Closer. Bea remembered this. Not every movement. Not some mechanical sequence. The feeling. He paid attention. That was what she had liked the first time. Still did. He noticed changes before they became instructions. He asked when uncertainty mattered. He did not ask when Bea had already answered clearly with movement. Good balance. Rare balance. Bea relaxed into it. Not professionally performing pleasure. Experiencing it. That distinction remained important even when she was working. Especially then. Their clothes became less orderly gradually. Not discarded for dramatic effect. Shifted. Loosened. Moved because closeness required it. Bea guided where she wanted him. He followed. Then he guided once. She followed. Neither taking control away from the other. Trading it. The next kiss broke because Bea laughed softly. He looked at her. “What now?” “You.” “That explains nothing.” “I know.” She touched his face. Warm. Familiar. Then said: “You’re very consistent.” His eyebrow lifted. “Is that good?” “Right now?” “Yes.” Bea smiled. “Extremely.” He kissed her again. The room narrowed. Not disappearing. Just becoming less important. The bass through the wall. The couch beneath them. His hand at her waist. Her breath catching. His forehead resting briefly against hers when they paused. Then movement again. Warmth. Pressure. Choice renewed continuously rather than assumed once. Bea let herself stop analyzing. That was harder for Elisa. Easy for Bea. Maybe that was part of why she liked being here. She did not need to know what everything meant. She could simply want. So she did. The intimacy built gradually until conversation disappeared almost completely. Not because the camera left. Because neither of them had much use for sentences. A quiet question from him. Bea’s immediate answer. “Yes.” Then closer. A change in pace. Her fingers tightening against his shoulder. His breathing changing with hers. The room became rhythm. Not performance. Not spectacle. Shared attention. Bea’s pleasure became impossible to mistake. She did not try to make it prettier. Did not suppress it. Did not exaggerate it either. Just let it happen. He stayed with her through it. Not rushing toward his own endpoint. That too was familiar. That too was one reason Bea had remembered him warmly. When the first stronger wave finally broke through her, she stopped moving for a second. Held him close. A short involuntary sound against his shoulder. Then stillness. Not the end. Just a moment. He did not immediately move. Good. Bea breathed. Once. Twice. Then lifted her head. He looked at her. “Okay?” She smiled. “Very.” His expression softened. “Good.” Bea kissed him. Slowly this time. Grateful without turning gratitude into debt. Then she moved again. Her choice. His response came immediately. The intimacy resumed with less restraint now. Still careful. Not cautious. There was a difference. Familiarity held them. They knew enough to trust the next movement. Enough to read each other. Enough to laugh once when coordination briefly failed rather than pretending sex was choreography. Bea’s forehead dropped against his. He laughed quietly. “Professional.” “Shut up.” “Yes, ma’am.” “That was worse.” “You liked it.” “Unfortunately.” They kissed again. The heat returned. Built. Held. This time they reached the edge closer together. Breathing uneven. Bodies tight with anticipation. Neither rushing ahead. Then release came through them close enough that Bea could not have cleanly separated his response from hers if she tried. She didn’t try. She held on. He did too. For several seconds neither moved. There. Stillness. Exactly where it belonged. Not immediate jokes. Not clothes. Not the clock. Just shared breath slowly returning. Bea’s cheek rested against him. His hand remained warm along her back. No grip. No demand. Only presence. She closed her eyes. This part mattered too. Maybe more than most clients realized. The moment after wanting had stopped demanding anything. Eventually he breathed out. “That was…” Bea opened one eye. “Careful.” He smiled. “Good.” She laughed softly. “Acceptable answer.” He looked at her. “Only good?” Bea raised her head. “You want a performance review?” “No.” “Smart.” Then she smiled. “Very good.” His smile answered. They stayed close for another minute. Maybe two. No reason to rush. Eventually Bea shifted. Not away completely. Enough to look at him properly. Less serious. Again. She liked seeing that. “You really should do this more often.” His eyebrow lifted. “Book you?” “Relax.” “That too.” Bea smiled. “Occupational problem?” “Probably.” “Terrible.” “You seem sympathetic.” “Deeply.” He laughed. There it was again. Bea stored the sound away. Another thing Elisa would know and never acknowledge knowing. The absurdity returned slowly. Not enough to damage the warmth. Just enough to make Bea’s mouth twitch. Yesterday this man had been part of the security chain transferring Elisa into Reyes’s responsibility. Now— No. Bea stopped the thought there. Not because it was dangerous. Because this hour belonged to Bea. She did not need Elisa inside it. They remained separate. That separation worked. Eventually he looked toward the time. “Almost.” “Yes.” He sounded genuinely disappointed. Bea liked that too. He looked back at her. “Would you take me again?” The answer was immediate. “Yes.” His expression warmed. No negotiation. No game. Just pleasure at the answer. “Good.” Bea traced one finger lightly along his shoulder. “You’re a good client.” “I’ll take that.” “You should.” “Professional endorsement?” “Don’t ruin it.” He laughed. They separated gradually. No abrupt switch. No instant return to strangers. Clothes restored. Hair checked. Bea’s ice-blue ChromeLock had been thoroughly disturbed. She stood in front of the mirror and watched the V2 system begin correcting it. He came up behind her. Not touching. Watching too. “That thing is ridiculous.” “Yes.” “It’s fixing itself.” “Mostly.” “How long?” “A minute or two after I stop fucking with it.” He smiled. “That wording was deliberate.” Bea met his eyes through the mirror. “Maybe.” The chin-length shape was already returning. He looked at her. “Still worth twenty-five?” Bea turned. “You paid it.” “I would again.” Warmth moved through her. She smiled. “Good answer.” At the door, they paused. No need. Neither seemed inclined to skip it. He kissed her once more. Shorter. Warm. Not trying to restart anything. Just goodbye. When they separated, Bea smiled. “See you.” He nodded. “I hope so.” Then he left. Bea remained in the room. Alone. For a few seconds she simply stood there. No processor fault. No disbelief. No shock. Just a smile that refused to go away. Warm. Satisfied. Amused. Very amused. She looked at herself in the mirror. Bea. Ice-blue hair almost fully restored. Familiar face. Familiar voice. And apparently one familiar client who still knew exactly how to make an hour worth remembering. Bea laughed softly. “Yeah.” Then she fixed the last small detail of her clothes. Waited for the ChromeLock to settle. Opened the door. And went back to work. --- ## Chapter 16 — Still Damn Good Bea made it almost all the way back to the bar. Almost. Mandi intercepted her first. Not obviously. Not in the middle of the floor. She simply appeared beside Bea, matched pace, and said in a perfectly professional voice: “Suzie wants us in back.” Bea looked down at her. “Us?” “Yes.” “That sounds suspicious.” “It should.” Mandi kept walking. Bea followed. Dalia joined them without comment. Nova and Vega arrived from opposite sides of the room a few seconds later. Sera came last. Panam with her. The four leashes remained visible until the soundproof back-room door closed behind them. Then the atmosphere changed immediately. Not identity. Privacy. That distinction mattered. Suzie Q was already inside. She looked around once. “Everyone here?” Panam: “Yes.” Suzie nodded. “Good.” Then she looked at Bea. Bea looked back. Nothing happened. Mandi lasted three seconds. “Fuck.” She folded in half laughing. Bea closed her eyes. Dalia turned away. Vega made absolutely no attempt to maintain dignity. Nova covered her mouth. Sera’s silver-white hair lifted so sharply around her temples that Panam looked at it. “No.” Sera was already smiling. “It’s not me.” “Your hair is laughing.” “It likes the situation.” “Your hair has terrible judgment.” Bea opened her eyes. Mandi was still laughing. “Are you finished?” “No.” “Would you like to be?” “No.” Bea pointed at her. “I can still reach you.” Mandi straightened just enough to grin. “That is not the threat you think it is after the last hour.” The room exploded. Even Suzie laughed. Bea stared at Mandi. Then at Dalia. Dalia had put one hand over her face. Nova’s white-void eyes were aimed determinedly at the wall. Vega had given up entirely. Panam frowned. “I’m missing something.” Mandi tried to answer. Failed. Dalia finally managed: “Client history.” Panam looked at Bea. Then toward the door. Then back. Understanding reached her expression gradually. “Oh.” Bea pointed at her. “Don’t.” Panam’s mouth twitched. “I didn’t say anything.” “You made a face.” “That was an observation.” Dalia immediately looked at Panam. Panam looked back. Dalia removed the lollipop. “Hey.” Panam: “No.” “That’s my line.” “It’s mine now.” Bea groaned. “This was a mistake.” Suzie leaned against the table. “You’re the one who came back.” “Apparently I’ve developed poor judgment.” Mandi: “Apparently?” Bea stepped toward her. Mandi immediately moved behind Dalia. “Coward.” “Survivor.” Dalia looked down at the tiny neon-orange menace currently using her as cover. “You started this.” “I know.” “Then stand there.” “No.” Vega laughed harder. Nova finally recovered enough to speak. “So.” Bea looked at her. “No.” “I haven’t asked anything.” “You were going to.” “Yes.” “No.” Nova smiled. “Fair.” Sera’s hair settled slightly. Then lifted again when Vega said: “Worth the repeat?” Bea stared at her. Vega smiled sweetly. “That is a professional question.” “No, it isn’t.” “It could be.” “No.” Mandi appeared from behind Dalia. “Would you take him again?” Bea looked at her. “Yes.” Immediate. Too immediate. The room noticed. Of course it did. Mandi’s grin widened. “Oh.” Bea pointed. “Do not.” “I didn’t say anything.” “You made an entire speech with your face.” Nova murmured: “That seems to be contagious.” Dalia put the lollipop back in her mouth. “Was he still good?” There. Direct. No elaborate setup. No mercy. Bea looked at Dalia. Then Mandi. Then Nova. Vega. Sera. Panam. Suzie. All of them waiting. Bea sighed. “Yes.” Pause. Then, because there was absolutely no point pretending otherwise: “Yes. He’s still damn good in bed.” Mandi made a sound that probably violated several local noise ordinances despite the soundproofing. Vega folded against Nova. Nova lost her composure completely. Sera’s hair flared into a brilliant silver-white static halo. Panam looked at it. “Traitor.” Sera laughed. “It agrees.” “With what?” Sera looked at Bea. Bea looked back. “No.” Sera’s smile became warmer. “I didn’t say anything.” “Your hair did.” “That seems to be happening a lot today.” Suzie Q shook her head. “I am surrounded by children.” Mandi straightened. “I’m older than—” Suzie: “Do not finish that sentence.” Mandi stopped. Bea looked at her. Then smiled. “Oh, that was interesting.” Mandi pointed. “No.” “Now I have questions.” “No.” “Many questions.” “No.” Dalia touched Bea lightly at the shoulder. “Later.” Mandi looked betrayed. “Why are you encouraging her?” “Because you deserve it.” “Relationship failure.” “Frequently.” The room settled gradually. Not entirely. There was too much material now. Bea knew that. They all knew that. Tomorrow morning was going to be unbearable. Vega recovered first. “Okay.” Bea looked at her. “What now?” “Actual question.” “Dangerous phrase.” “Did he know you?” The room changed. Small shift. Humor still there. But the question mattered. Bea answered immediately. “Only Bea.” Good. Clear. Mandi stopped smiling quite so broadly. “No recognition?” “No.” “Nothing?” “Nothing.” Nova: “Voice?” “Held.” “Mesh?” “Held.” “Behavior?” Bea smiled. “That part is mine.” Nova nodded. Right answer. Panam looked at her. “And you didn’t leak?” “No.” Not defensive. Certain. “No names. No shared-history details. Nothing that connects him to anything outside Bea.” Suzie nodded. “Good.” Bea looked around. “He knows Bea as a returning client.” Mandi: “And Bea knows him.” “Yes.” “Very well.” Bea stared. Mandi smiled. “Sorry.” “No, you’re not.” “No.” Dalia leaned against the wall. “That’s actually useful.” Bea looked at her. “What?” “Same person encountering two identities independently.” Nova nodded. “High-value cover test.” Bea understood immediately. Not because anyone had engineered it. Nobody had. That was precisely why it mattered. “No preparation.” “No,” Nova said. “No script.” “No.” “No controlled encounter.” “No.” “And still nothing.” Nova smiled. “Exactly.” Bea considered that. The amusement remained. But underneath it— satisfaction. Real satisfaction. The cover had not merely survived someone unfamiliar. It had survived someone who knew Elisa extremely well professionally. Close proximity. Conversation. Private room. Physical intimacy. And he had never once crossed the gap. Interesting. Very. Mandi saw the thought happen. “Good cover.” Bea’s eyes snapped toward her. Mandi immediately raised both hands. “In here.” Bea stared. Then laughed despite herself. “Asshole.” “Yes.” Sera’s hair brightened again. Panam sighed. “Can we go back to work before the hair starts filing reports?” Sera looked at her. “It’s having fun.” “Too much.” Vega pushed away from Nova. “Owner?” Panam looked at her. “Yes?” “Water.” Panam pointed toward the table. “Already there.” Vega smiled. “See? Excellent owner.” Panam closed her eyes briefly. Bea laughed. The room decompressed. Bottles opened. Water passed around. A quick snack for Sera. Mandi stole something from Dalia’s plate and immediately received a flat look. Nova checked the time. Vega checked Nova checking the time. Suzie Q looked at everyone. “Five minutes.” Groans. “No,” Suzie said. “Some of you have bookings. Some of you should be finding bookings. Some of you apparently came here to run a private comedy club.” Her eyes landed on Mandi. Mandi looked innocent. Suzie: “Especially you.” “Profiling.” “History.” Bea laughed. Victor had said almost exactly the same thing earlier. Mandi looked at her. “What?” “Nothing.” “Liar.” “Correct.” They began moving toward the door. Bea waited until most had gone. Dalia remained beside her. For once, no immediate joke. She looked at Bea. “You okay?” Bea nodded. “Very.” Dalia studied her another second. Then smiled. “Good.” Bea smiled back. “He really is.” Dalia’s mouth twitched. “I know.” Bea froze. Dalia walked toward the door. Bea stared after her. “Dalia.” Dalia opened the door. “No.” “DALIA.” The lollipop shifted to the other side of her mouth. She disappeared into Lizzie’s. Bea stood there for one second. Then laughed. “Fucking menace.” She followed. The bass returned. Neon. Work. Clients. Public identities. The private joke stayed behind the soundproof door where it belonged. Bea stepped back onto the floor. Still smiling. --- ## Chapter 17 — Too Enthusiastic Friday settled again. That was the strange thing about Lizzie’s. One minute a soundproof back room contained enough laughter to qualify as structural damage. Five minutes later everyone was back on the floor. Working. Talking. Drinking water. Turning people down. Accepting others. Normal. Bea liked that. A lot. She had returned to the bar with another glass of water when Sera became a problem. Not because Sera did anything. Sera was simply standing near Panam. Tall. Silver-white hair calm for once. Collar visible. Leash loose. The public artist presence still unmistakable even here. That was enough. A man near one of the booths saw her. Stopped. Looked again. Then very obviously decided his evening had just acquired a purpose. Bea noticed. So did Panam. Sera noticed last. Or perhaps she had noticed first and simply had not cared. Hard to tell. The man approached quickly. Not running. Close. Too eager. “Excuse me.” Panam looked at him. Sera did too. The man looked directly at Sera. Not rude. Not leering. Just immediately too much. “You’re Sera.” Sera smiled politely. “Yes.” The silver-white hair lifted faintly at the temples. Not attraction. Alertness. Bea saw it. Panam definitely saw it. The man laughed once in disbelief. “Holy shit.” Panam’s expression did not change. Sera’s did, slightly. The man noticed neither. “I have three of your pieces.” Sera blinked. That got her attention. Real attention. Which was exactly the wrong thing for an overexcited person to receive without knowing what to do with it. “Which three?” The man answered immediately. Correctly. Not vague titles. Actual works. Actual series. One older piece. Two later. Sera’s hair lifted a little more. Interested now. Genuinely. Bea watched from the bar. Oh. This could go somewhere. The man kept talking. Fast. Too fast. He knew the work. That much was obvious. Not celebrity-fan noise. Actual detail. Brush structure. A color decision in one piece. Something about the way Sera handled empty negative space. Sera listened. The hair developed a soft ionized shimmer. Panam looked at it. Then at the man. Her face said: Useful information. The man finally took a breath. Then immediately ruined his own progress. “I want to book you.” Sera’s expression stayed warm. Panam’s did not change. The man continued. “Tonight.” Panam spoke. “No.” The man blinked. Not angry. Just surprised. He looked at Panam for the first time properly. Then at the leash. Then back. “Oh.” Panam waited. The man recalibrated. Good. At least he could. “Right.” He looked at Sera again. “Sorry.” Sera smiled slightly. “It’s okay.” The hair settled a fraction. The man turned back to Panam. “So I talk to you.” “You talk to me first.” There was a difference. The man heard it. “Okay.” Panam nodded once. “Good.” Bea smiled into her water. There. Owner. No theatrics. No title. No lecture. Just structure. The man tried again. “I’d like to make an offer.” Panam looked at him. “For what?” He hesitated. That was better. He was thinking now. “Dinner.” Panam said nothing. “Conversation.” Still nothing. He looked toward Sera. Then corrected himself and looked back at Panam. “And private time if she wants it.” Sera’s hair lifted faintly. Panam noticed. The man noticed the hair too. Bad idea. His eyes widened. “Does that mean—” “No,” Panam said. Immediate. The man stopped. Panam continued. “Her hair means what her hair means.” Sera’s mouth twitched. Panam pointed at her without looking. “Don’t.” Sera smiled. “I didn’t say anything.” “Your hair did.” The man looked fascinated. That was understandable. Still dangerous. He visibly forced himself not to ask. Good. Panam looked at him again. “Duration?” “Three hours.” Sera’s expression changed slightly. Not enough. The man saw it anyway. “Four?” Panam: “That is not how this works.” He stopped again. Right. Too eager. Not stupid. Different problem. He took a breath. “Four hours.” Panam waited. “Including dinner.” Another beat. “And I’m not asking for anything automatic after dinner.” Better. Much better. Sera’s hair lifted again. Warm static. Panam glanced at it. Then at Sera. “You interested?” The man went perfectly still. There. Choice moved where it belonged. Sera looked at him. Actually looked. Not as a collector. Not as a fan. As a potential client. The man waited. No pitch. No attempt to rescue the moment with more money. Good. Sera asked: “You actually own _Second Silence_?” He smiled. “Yes.” “Original?” “Yes.” “Where is it?” “My apartment.” Sera’s eyebrows rose. “Not storage?” “No.” “Not a vault?” “No.” “Why?” He looked almost confused by the question. “Because I like looking at it.” Sera’s hair lifted. Brightened. Panam saw. Bea saw. The man probably saw too, but this time he had learned enough not to comment. Good. Sera asked: “Which wall?” He smiled. “Bedroom.” Sera paused. Then laughed softly. The hair lifted higher. Panam looked at her. Sera looked back. There. Something passed. Interest. Real. Not obligation. Not price. Not flattery. Interest. Panam looked at the man. “Make an offer.” The man swallowed. Bea smiled. There it was. The phrase. The man named a number. “Two hundred and fifty thousand.” High. Not absurd. Not Panam-level absurdity. Not enough to make the room stop. Enough to make the booking serious. Panam looked at Sera. Sera considered. The hair shifted in slow silver gradients. Interest. Curiosity. Calculation. Then she said: “Not tonight.” The man looked disappointed. But he nodded. “Okay.” Panam did not counter. Did not push. Did not ask why. The answer had happened. Done. The man hesitated. Then: “Another night?” Sera looked at him. “Maybe.” That lit him up again. Too much. He caught himself. Barely. “Right.” Sera smiled. Panam’s expression almost softened. Almost. The man took one step back. Then stopped. “Can I ask one thing?” Panam: “Depends.” He looked at Sera. “About the painting.” Sera nodded. “Yes.” He asked. A real question. Specific. Technical. Sera answered. Not briefly. The conversation stretched. Five minutes. Then ten. No booking. No transaction. Just art. The man listened. Really listened. That mattered. By the time he finally stepped away, Sera’s hair was carrying a gentle static halo. Not bright. Not overwhelmed. Interested. Panam watched him go. Then looked at Sera. “You liked him.” Sera’s hair lifted. Panam stared. “Traitor.” Sera smiled. “He knows my work.” “That’s not what I said.” “He actually knows my work.” Panam crossed her arms. Sera looked at her. Then admitted: “Yes.” Bea almost laughed. Panam nodded toward the water. “Drink.” Sera picked it up immediately. “Yes, owner.” There. Natural. No performance. Bea watched from the bar. The exchange made more sense now than it had two hours ago. Owner did not mean Panam decided who Sera wanted. It meant Panam held enough of the external structure that Sera could spend more attention on the part that mattered. Whether she wanted. Who she wanted. Why. Mandi appeared beside Bea. Again. Bea did not jump this time. Progress. “You saw that.” “Yes.” Mandi took one of the bar snacks. Bea looked at her. “Is that yours?” “No.” “Of course.” Mandi ate it anyway. Bea looked back toward Sera. “He almost fucked it up.” “Yes.” “But didn’t.” “Barely.” “He knows her art.” Mandi nodded. “That matters.” “Clearly.” Sera’s hair lifted again while she said something to Panam. Panam looked at it. Then at Sera. Then sighed. Bea smiled. “Her hair really is terrible at secrets.” Mandi: “Best snitch in Night City.” Across the room, Sera looked toward them. The hair flared. Mandi immediately looked innocent. Bea laughed. Then another client approached the bar. Work again. Friday kept moving. Sera had not taken the booking. The man had not bought access. Money had opened nothing. Interest had opened a conversation. And maybe, another night, that conversation would open something else. For now— no. And the room accepted it. Exactly as it should. --- ## Chapter 18 — Closing Time Friday did not end with anything dramatic. Bea appreciated that. After the overenthusiastic collector left, Lizzie’s simply kept moving. Another client approached Sera. No. One approached Nova. Yes. Vega disappeared into a private room for an hour and returned looking satisfied enough that Nova noticed immediately. Nova said nothing. Vega noticed Nova noticing. That became an entire conversation without words. Bea laughed into her drink. Mandi caught her. “What?” “Nothing.” “Liar.” “Professional confidentiality.” Mandi stared. “That is not what that means.” “Sounds useful, though.” Mandi smiled. Then somebody called her name from farther down the bar. Mandi turned. Work. Gone. Bea watched her go. Still strange. Not because she knew Mandi differently. Because tonight had finally shown her how completely these identities could exist in public without collapsing into the people underneath. Mandi was Mandi here. Nova was Nova. Vega was Vega. Sera was Sera. Dalia was Dalia. Bea— Bea was Bea. No explanations required. Good. A potential client stopped beside her. Conversation. No chemistry. No. Another. Too drunk. No. Another. Good conversation. Wrong expectation. No. Another. One hour. Twenty-five thousand. Yes. Clean. By the time Bea returned from that booking, the club had shifted subtly toward late-night fatigue. Not quieter. Lizzie’s did not really become quiet. But slower. People had been drinking longer. Workers had been working longer. The room had accumulated hours. Bea felt them too. Not exhausted. Used. In the good way. She accepted water from Suzie Q. Suzie looked at her. “You done?” Bea considered. “Maybe.” “That means yes.” “Does it?” “It means you’re deciding whether you’re allowed to be tired.” Bea stared. Suzie stared back. Bea took a drink. “Rude.” “Accurate.” “Still rude.” Suzie smiled. “Eat something.” Bea looked toward the small plate already waiting near the end of the bar. She narrowed her eyes. “You planned that.” “No.” “You absolutely did.” “I run a bar.” “That is not an answer.” Suzie moved away. Bea sighed. Then ate. Fine. Apparently everyone had joined the hydration-and-food conspiracy. Across the room, Panam was doing the same thing with the Stable. Mandi was sitting. Which alone suggested the evening had reached an advanced stage. Nova stood beside her with water. Vega had food. Sera sat close to Panam. Four leashes had shortened naturally as the women stopped circulating. Not pulled tight. Just gathered closer because nobody needed the extra distance now. Bea watched. Panam looked at Mandi. “Done?” Mandi opened her mouth. Panam: “That was not complicated.” Mandi closed it again. Then: “Yes.” “Good.” Vega smiled. “Owner is learning.” Panam looked at her. “I learned hours ago.” “Confident.” “Eat.” “Yes, owner.” Nova hid a smile behind her glass. Panam looked at her. “You too.” “I am.” “Good.” Then Sera. Panam barely had to ask. Sera had already finished half her food. Her silver-white hair lay calmer now. No bright static. No excited lift. Just a faint soft sheen. Tired. Content. Panam touched her shoulder. The hair settled further beneath her hand. Bea smiled. There. That was probably the most honest thing in the room. Sera leaned slightly toward the touch without interrupting whatever Vega was saying. Natural. Unperformed. Stable did not end when the bookings stopped. Interesting. Mandi eventually noticed Bea watching. “Don’t.” Bea smiled. “I didn’t say anything.” “You’re learning from Dalia.” Dalia appeared beside Bea as if summoned. “That would improve her.” Bea looked at her. “Fuck you.” Dalia’s menthol lollipop shifted. “Good evening?” Bea thought. Then smiled. “Very.” “Good.” No interrogation. No immediate reference to the earlier client. Thank god. Bea looked at Dalia. “You?” Dalia considered. “Profitable.” “That was not the question.” “Enjoyable.” “Better.” Dalia leaned against the bar. “Tired?” “A little.” “Good.” Bea frowned. “Why is everyone pleased when I admit that?” “Because it means you’re noticing.” Bea looked down at her glass. Fair. Annoying. But fair. Nova and Vega joined them a few minutes later. Nova looked almost unchanged. Vega did not. Her hair had already restored itself through ChromeLock V2, but something about her expression carried the remains of the night. Satisfied. Loose. Less filtered even than usual. Bea smiled. Vega saw it. “No.” “I didn’t say anything.” “You were going to.” “Maybe.” Nova took another drink. “She had a good last booking.” Vega stared. “Traitor.” Nova looked calm. “You told me.” “That doesn’t mean you tell her.” Bea smiled wider. “Oh?” Vega pointed at her. “No.” Bea laughed. “Fine.” For now. Tomorrow morning existed. That realization moved through all three of them at nearly the same time. Vega’s expression changed first. Then Bea’s. Then Nova closed her eyes. “No.” Vega grinned. “Oh, yes.” Bea looked innocent. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “That is terrifying,” Nova said. Dalia watched them. Then looked toward Mandi. Mandi saw the expressions from across the room. Immediately: “No.” Bea laughed. The morning was going to be awful. Perfect. Suzie Q looked toward the time. Then toward Panam. “Last call for the working crowd.” Panam nodded. No argument. She looked at the four Stable members. “Done.” Mandi: “Yes, owner.” Nova: “Yes, owner.” Vega: “Yes, owner.” Sera smiled. “Yes, owner.” Four answers. Different voices. Different women. Same chosen structure. Panam began unclipping the leashes one by one. Bea watched carefully. Mandi first. The leash came free. Panam handed it back. No ceremony. Nova. Then Vega. Each took their own leash. Coiled it. Put it away. Sera remained. Panam looked at her. “You coming home with me?” Sera’s hair lifted faintly. There. Not fatigue now. Warmth. “Yes.” Panam smiled slightly. The leash stayed attached. Of course. Mandi saw Bea watching. “Don’t.” Bea turned. “I still haven’t said anything.” “Your face is extremely loud.” Dalia: “She’s been told that before.” Bea looked at her. “You’re all very brave tonight.” Vega laughed. Panam gathered her things. Sera stood. The silver-white hair moved around her shoulders in a soft static drift. Panam touched the leash. “Ready?” “Yes, owner.” They headed toward the exit. Bea watched them go. Sera turned once. Caught Bea looking. Smiled. Her hair lifted. Bea lifted one hand. Sera did the same. Then Panam and Sera disappeared through the door. No fanfare. No dramatic ending. Just two women going home together. Bea smiled. Mandi appeared beside her. Again. “How the fuck do you keep doing that?” “Skill.” “You’re four feet tall.” “Unrelated.” “It should make you easier to notice.” “Apparently not.” Bea stared at her. Mandi smiled. Dalia joined them. Nova and Vega followed. Five women. Five very different presentations. One long evening behind them. Suzie Q looked toward the door. “Go.” Mandi: “You’re throwing us out?” “Yes.” “I work here.” “You’re done.” “Hostile workplace.” “Out.” Mandi sighed dramatically. Then headed for the door. Bea followed. Outside, Night City felt colder. Not actually cold. Just less saturated than Lizzie’s. The music became distant behind them. Vega stretched. Nova looked at her. “You’re going to complain tomorrow.” “Yes.” “About what?” “Everything.” “Useful.” Dalia looked at Bea. “You good?” Bea nodded. “Yes.” No hesitation. Then: “Very.” Mandi turned while walking backward. “Still?” Bea pointed at her. “Careful.” Mandi grinned. “Worth it.” Bea laughed. The vehicle waited. They climbed in. No one immediately spoke. For perhaps thirty seconds, everyone simply sat. That alone said more about the evening than any story could. Then Vega sighed. “Oh, fuck.” Nova looked at her. “What?” “I’m hungry again.” Mandi started laughing. Dalia closed her eyes. Bea leaned back. And Friday finally ended. ---- ## Chapter 19 — Saturday Review Saturday morning looked ridiculous. Not unfamiliar. Not mysterious. Just ridiculous. Ace stood at the kitchen counter in sleep shorts and an oversized shirt, her own face completely uncovered and her violet eyes back where they belonged. Above them, Mandi’s neon-orange ChromeLock hair remained perfectly intact. “Coffee?” The question came out in Mandi’s voice. Elisa stopped in the kitchen doorway. She had already heard the voice yesterday. She had already spent an entire working night beside it. That did absolutely nothing to prepare her for hearing it come out of Ace’s ordinary face before breakfast. “Do that again.” Ace looked at her. “Do what?” Elisa laughed. “Oh, fuck.” Mai sat at the table with her natural face, her own eyes and neon-pink hair. “Morning.” Dalia’s whiskey-and-smoke voice. Elisa pointed at her. “You too.” Mai took another drink of coffee. “I haven’t done anything.” “That’s the problem.” Elisa crossed the kitchen. She was hardly in a position to complain. Her own face was back. Contacts gone. Mesh removed. Comfortable clothes instead of Bea’s working wardrobe. But the ice-blue ChromeLock V2 bob remained around her jaw. And when she spoke— Bea. Ace handed her coffee. “You sound ridiculous.” Elisa accepted it. “So do you.” “I sound expensive.” “You sound like Mandi wearing Ace’s face.” Ace considered. “Still expensive.” Brenda entered while Elisa was sitting down. Natural face. Natural eyes. Chrome-and-brass-yellow hair. Vega’s voice. “Morning.” Elisa looked at her. Brenda smiled. “Still funny?” “Yes.” “Good.” Iris followed her. Chrome-and-gold hair. No white void contacts. No face mesh. Nova’s voice. “Move.” Brenda moved just enough to let her pass, then wrapped an arm around Iris’s waist and pulled her sideways for a kiss. Iris kissed her back. Elisa watched the combination. Real Iris. Nova hair. Nova voice. Real Brenda. Vega hair. Vega voice. She shook her head. “This is deeply wrong.” Brenda sat down. “It’s deeply hot.” “That too.” Iris took her coffee. “Those are not mutually exclusive.” Mai reached across the table and stole food from Ace. Ace looked down at the missing piece. “You have your own.” “Yes.” “Then why mine?” Mai ate it. Dalia’s voice said: “Yours looked better.” Ace stared. Brenda laughed. Elisa drank coffee. There. Safehouse. Nobody performing. Nobody maintaining the rest of the cover because there was no reason to. Just the parts that took longer to remove. ChromeLock. Voice sculpt. And consequently a kitchen full of people whose faces and voices no longer matched. The upper-door chime sounded. Mai glanced at the security display. Her expression warmed immediately. “Kiro.” She was out of her chair before anyone else needed to move. Ace watched her go. Brenda smiled faintly. Iris drank coffee. Elisa did not say anything. She had learned that observation did not require commentary. The upper door opened. “Hi.” Kiro. “Hi.” Mai. Then silence. Not long. Long enough. Elisa smiled into her mug. Ace noticed. Still said nothing. Good Ace. A moment later Kiro laughed softly in the hall. “Come here.” Another quiet beat. Then Mai’s altered voice: “I am here.” “That voice with your face is fucking unfair.” Elisa nearly lost her coffee. Ace covered her mouth. Brenda grinned. Iris looked toward the hall. When Mai and Kiro appeared, Kiro’s hand was still around Mai’s waist. Kiro looked exactly like herself. Pale silver-blonde hair, imperfectly marked by old synthetic color and irregular signal-tone remnants. Her own face. Her own eyes. Practical clothes. No Deja. Mai stopped before they reached the table and turned toward her. Kiro’s hand slid higher along Mai’s back. Mai touched her cheek. Their kiss was warm and familiar. Neither hurried it. Kiro leaned into Mai naturally, one hand settling at her waist while Mai kept her close. When they separated, Kiro kissed the corner of Mai’s mouth once more. “Missed you.” Mai smiled. “Missed you too.” Kiro looked at her for another second. Then: “Still hate the voice.” Mai raised an eyebrow. “Hate?” “Fine. It does things.” Brenda made a small delighted noise. Kiro looked toward the kitchen table. “Not one word.” Brenda lifted both hands. Elisa bit her lip. Ace looked suspiciously fascinated by her coffee. Kiro knew every cover represented in the kitchen. She had seen Mandi. Worked beside Dalia. Knew Nova and Vega. Knew Bea. There was nothing surprising about neon orange, neon pink, chrome-and-gold, chrome-and-brass-yellow or ice blue. What earned a second look was seeing all of it attached to the wrong layer. Ace’s face beneath Mandi’s hair. Mai’s face beneath Dalia’s. Brenda and Iris stripped of their meshes and contacts but still carrying Vega and Nova above their shoulders. Elisa looking entirely like Elisa except for Bea’s ice-blue hair. And then they spoke. Kiro looked around the table. “You all look like your covers gave up halfway through getting dressed.” Ace answered in Mandi’s voice. “Fuck you.” Kiro smiled. “That.” Mai guided her toward the table. Kiro sat beside her. Elisa stood long enough to meet her halfway. “Hi.” Kiro smiled. “Hi.” They hugged. Warmly. No hesitation. No cover-distance. Kiro squeezed her once before letting go. “Good to see you.” “You too.” Kiro touched the end of Elisa’s ice-blue hair. “Kept it.” “Working again tonight.” “Good.” Elisa sat back down. Mai pushed coffee toward Kiro. Kiro took it. “Thank you.” Then Mai rested a hand briefly at the back of her neck. Kiro leaned into the touch. Small. Automatic. The kind of intimacy that did not need an audience. Breakfast resumed around her. For several minutes Friday did not come up at all. Brenda complained about Iris stealing the blanket. Iris pointed out that Brenda had spent half the night attached to her. “That is unrelated.” “It is directly related.” “No.” “Yes.” Kiro ate. “Brenda.” “Yes?” “She’s right.” “Traitor.” “I got here ten minutes ago.” “And already choosing sides.” Mai stole another piece of Ace’s breakfast. Ace slapped lightly at her hand and missed. Kiro watched. “You could make your own plate.” Mai looked at her. “I could.” Kiro nodded. “Right.” Elisa laughed. Eventually Kiro asked: “So. Friday?” Brenda leaned back. “Profitable.” Iris: “Busy.” Ace: “Fun.” Elisa: “Educational.” Kiro looked at Elisa. “That last one concerns me.” “It should.” Ace pointed at her with a fork. “She’s getting worse.” “I’m learning from professionals.” Brenda looked pleased. “Thank you.” “That was not specifically about you.” “It is now.” Kiro smiled. “How was being Bea again?” Elisa considered the question. Not difficult. “Good.” “Just good?” “Very good.” “Missed her?” Elisa looked down at herself. Home clothes. Own face. Blue hair. Wrong voice. “A little more than I expected.” Kiro nodded. No joke. She understood covers well enough to know they could become more than disguise without becoming another person. Then Brenda ruined the sincerity. “She also rediscovered an old professional relationship.” Elisa slowly turned toward her. “Brenda.” Kiro looked between them. Ace started smiling. Iris closed her eyes briefly. Mai drank coffee. Kiro waited. Elisa sighed. “My security manager booked Bea.” Kiro stopped chewing. A beat. “The same one?” “Yes.” “The one who still has absolutely no idea?” “Yes.” Kiro’s smile arrived slowly. “That is fucking magnificent.” Elisa pointed at her. “You are all terrible.” Mai corrected: “You like us.” “Unfortunately.” Kiro looked delighted. “So he walks into Lizzie’s—” “Yes.” “Sees Bea—” “Yes.” “Books Bea—” “Yes.” “And meanwhile his actual job includes keeping Elisa safe.” “Yes, Kiro.” “And Elisa is Bea.” Elisa stared at her. “I am aware of the topology.” Kiro laughed. Ace nearly folded over the table. Brenda slapped a hand against her own thigh. Even Iris lost the battle and started laughing. Elisa waited. Eventually: “Finished?” “No,” Kiro said. “Fuck you.” “Fair.” Elisa drank coffee. Kiro recovered. “How was the booking?” Elisa narrowed her eyes. Kiro’s expression was pure innocence. “No.” “I asked a normal question.” “You did not.” “I absolutely did.” Brenda leaned toward Kiro. “She answered that one last night.” Elisa turned. “Brenda.” “What?” Kiro’s eyebrows rose. Ace was already grinning again. Elisa looked around the table. Apparently this was happening. Fine. “He remains extremely competent.” Silence. Then Brenda made a strangled sound. Ace put her forehead against the table. Kiro laughed. Iris covered her mouth. Mai’s shoulders moved once. Elisa pointed around the table. “That is all you are getting.” Kiro nodded solemnly. “Professional assessment.” “Yes.” “Annual review pending?” Elisa stared at her. Brenda lost it completely. “Oh, fuck.” Ace lifted her head. “Performance bonus.” Elisa pointed at her. “Don’t.” Mai: “Retention incentive.” “Mai.” Iris, perfectly dry: “Employee satisfaction appears high.” Elisa stared at her. “Iris.” Iris drank coffee. Brenda leaned against her, laughing helplessly. Kiro looked at Elisa. “Any corrective action required?” Elisa picked up a napkin. Kiro immediately raised both hands. “No violence at breakfast.” Elisa threw it anyway. Kiro caught it. “Hostile work environment.” “Good.” That finally killed the subject. Mostly. Kiro ate another bite. Then: “How’s the Stable doing?” Ace answered. “Good.” “Full Friday?” “Busy enough.” Kiro nodded. “Mandi still happy with it?” “Yes.” “Nova?” Iris nodded. “Very.” “Vega?” Brenda smiled. “Obviously.” Kiro looked toward the empty place where Shammy might normally have been. “And Sera?” Mai answered. “She and Panam went home together.” Kiro smiled. “That answers several questions.” Ace snorted. Kiro knew the Stable. Knew what it was. Knew why Panam held the external structure. No explanation needed. She was asking about people. “How’s thirty-two working?” “Very well,” Iris said. Elisa glanced at her. Stable standard. Thirty-two thousand eddies an hour. Mandi. Nova. Vega. Sera. Birgitta when available. Bea remained twenty-five. Different structure. Different rate. Nobody had tried to fold her into the Stable merely because she worked beside it. Kiro looked at Elisa. “Still twenty-five?” “Yes.” “Happy with that?” “Yes.” “Then good.” Simple. No lecture about Elisa’s wealth. No assumption that price meant the same thing to her that it meant to somebody else. Elisa appreciated that. Brenda stole food from Iris’s plate. Iris looked down. “You have your own.” Brenda pointed at Mai. “She started it.” Mai looked completely untroubled. Ace: “Thank you.” Kiro shook her head. “This house is impossible.” “You keep coming back,” Mai said. Kiro turned toward her. That changed her expression. “Yes.” Mai’s hand found hers beneath the edge of the table. Kiro squeezed it. “Yes, I do.” Ace looked away deliberately. Brenda suddenly became very interested in breakfast. Iris smiled. Elisa did not pretend she had missed it. She simply gave the moment room. Kiro eventually broke it herself. “So what time are we going in?” Mai answered: “Later.” “Helpful.” “You asked.” Kiro smiled. “Deja tonight.” “Yes.” “Dalia?” Mai raised their joined hands slightly. “Obviously.” Kiro’s mouth curved. “Good.” Nothing else needed saying. They all knew Deja. They all knew Dalia. They all knew the collar, the leash and exactly whose hand Deja had chosen to put that structure into. Saturday night would be Saturday night. Breakfast was breakfast. Elisa finished her coffee. Ace immediately reached for the pot. Elisa held out her mug. “Please.” Ace poured. Mandi’s voice said: “You’re welcome.” Elisa looked at Ace’s completely normal face beneath neon-orange hair. Then at Mai’s neon-pink hair and Dalia voice. At Iris and Brenda wearing only half of Nova and Vega. At herself. At Kiro, entirely Kiro, sitting comfortably beside Mai and looking mildly amused by the whole visual disaster. Kiro caught her looking. “What?” Elisa smiled. “Nothing.” Kiro pointed at her. “That word means trouble in this house.” Ace nodded. “See? She remembers.” “I remember everything.” Mai squeezed Kiro’s hand. Kiro glanced at her. Her expression softened again. Breakfast continued. Nobody hurried it. --- ## Chapter 20 — Claire Saturday evening was easier. Not quieter. Lizzie’s had no particular interest in quiet. But easier. Friday had been Bea remembering herself. Saturday, she simply was. The transformation had happened at the Safehouse without drama. Ice-blue ChromeLock hair already in place. Face mesh back on. Contacts in. Bea’s clothes. Thigh-high boots. And the voice had never gone anywhere. Elisa had looked into the mirror when they were done. “Hi.” Bea had answered. That was enough. Kiro’s transformation had been more extensive. Pale silver-blonde disappeared beneath dark venom-green ChromeLock V2. Warm brown-amber eyes replaced her own. The softer face mesh settled over familiar features. Ivory and cream replaced practical clothing. Then the collar. Ivory. Dark hardware. Kiro had looked at herself once. Then at Mai. Dalia stood in front of her. Deja offered her the leash. Dalia took it. Clipped it to the collar. Deja smiled. Nothing needed explaining. By the time they reached Lizzie’s, there was no Kiro and Mai visible in the pair walking together. There was Deja. There was Dalia. And Dalia held the leash Deja had chosen to give her. Mandi walked nearby. Nova and Vega with her. Bea joined them because they were her friends. Nothing more complicated than that. At the entrance Suzie Q looked them over. “Mandi.” “Hi.” “Dalia.” “Evening.” “Deja.” Deja smiled. “Hello, gorgeous.” Suzie stared at her. “Try harder.” “I just got here.” “Nova. Vega.” Then Bea. Suzie paused. “You eat?” Bea smiled. “Yes.” “Sleep?” “Yes.” “Properly?” “Yes, Suzie.” “Good.” The room was busier than Friday. Saturday crowd. More laughter. More people arriving without work still visibly attached to them. More groups already drinking together. Sera was near Panam. Of course. The Stable was already working. Mandi joined it. Nova. Vega. Sera. Birgitta absent tonight. Panam at the center of their structure. Bea smiled at her as she passed. Panam smiled back. “Good?” “Very.” “Have fun.” “I intend to.” That was all. Bea continued. Her night belonged to her. A man approached within the first few minutes. Interesting face. Uninteresting conversation. He eventually asked whether she was available. “No.” He looked disappointed. “Another night?” “Maybe.” He accepted it. Good. A woman bought Bea a drink. Better conversation. Funny. Sharp. Very attractive. Bea enjoyed fifteen minutes with her before the woman asked: “Private?” Bea considered. Then smiled. “Not tonight.” The woman smiled back. “Worth asking.” “Yes.” “Enjoy your evening, Bea.” “You too.” No money mentioned. No bargaining. No problem. Bea moved on. This was part of what she liked. Not merely the sex. Not merely being wanted. Choice. She could spend twenty minutes talking to someone and owe them nothing afterward. She could accept. She could refuse. She could change her mind before accepting. And once she accepted, she knew exactly why. Someone laughed behind her. Familiar. Bea turned. Claire. Oh. Claire saw her. Stopped. And smiled. Bea felt her own smile arrive before she had time to decide anything about it. Claire crossed the room. “Hi.” “Hi.” For a second they simply looked at each other. Claire had been Bea’s very first client. Not Elisa’s first lover. Not Elisa’s first experience. Bea’s. The distinction mattered. Claire had met this woman when Bea had still been new enough that Elisa was consciously checking every movement. And it had worked. Very well. Claire looked at the ice-blue hair. “That’s new.” “Yes.” “I like it.” Bea touched the chin-length edge. “Good.” “Was there a test?” “Always.” “Did I pass?” “So far.” Claire laughed. There it was. The ease. Bea remembered it. Claire did too. “I asked if you were going to work again.” “You did.” “You refused to tell me.” “I said maybe.” “Cruel.” “Accurate.” Claire stepped closer. Not touching. “Can I hug you?” “Yes.” The hug was immediate and warm. Bea put both arms around her. Claire held her without squeezing too tightly. Familiar perfume. Familiar body. Bea smiled. When they separated, Claire saw it. “That promising?” “Maybe.” “Still cruel.” Bea laughed. “What are you drinking?” “Nothing yet.” “Can I buy you one?” “Yes.” That was the first yes. They went to the bar. Suzie saw Claire. Recognition flickered. “Back?” Claire smiled. “Apparently.” Suzie looked at Bea. Bea smiled. Suzie shook her head and poured the drink Bea requested. Claire paid. Then they found somewhere to sit. No booking yet. Just conversation. Claire had been away from Night City for part of the intervening time. Europe. Several cities. Mostly business. “Mostly?” Claire sighed. “Fine. Business.” “Poor thing.” “It was terrible.” “Hotels?” “Excellent.” “Food?” “Excellent.” “Travel?” “First class.” Bea stared at her. Claire smiled. “I suffered bravely.” “Heroic.” “Thank you.” Bea took a drink. “What about you?” “Away.” Claire waited. Bea offered nothing else. Claire nodded. “Good away?” “Yes.” “Then good.” And moved on. Bea noticed. Again. That had been part of the original attraction. Claire could be curious without treating curiosity as entitlement. They talked about music. Claire had discovered an artist Bea hated. Bea told her so. Claire defended herself badly. Then shoes. Because Claire noticed Bea looking at a pair crossing the room. “You want those.” “Yes.” “You already have those.” Claire looked down. Bea followed her gaze. Thigh-high boots. “These are completely different.” “How?” Bea stared at her. Claire lasted three seconds. Then laughed. “Sorry.” “You should be.” “I withdraw the question.” “Good.” “I do still like yours.” Bea crossed one leg over the other. “I know.” Claire looked at the boots. Then at Bea. “Yes. I imagine you do.” Bea smiled. The conversation lasted long enough that neither needed to manufacture the next step. Eventually Claire put down her glass. “Can I ask?” “You can ask anything.” “That is a dangerous policy.” “I didn’t say I’d answer.” “Fair.” Claire looked at her. “Are you taking clients tonight?” “Yes.” “Would you take me?” There. Bea did not answer automatically. She looked at Claire. Checked herself. Interest? Yes. Energy? Yes. Desire? Definitely. “Yes.” Claire smiled. “How much?” “Twenty-five thousand an hour.” “Same as before.” “Yes.” “How long would you want?” Bea liked the wording. Not _how long can I buy_. “How long do you?” “Two hours?” Bea considered. “Yes.” “Fifty thousand.” “Yes.” Claire transferred it. Bea checked. Done. No Panam. No intermediary. No permission. Two adult women had made an arrangement. Bea stood. Claire looked up at her. “Now?” Bea held out her hand. “Now.” Claire took it. They crossed Lizzie’s together. Mandi saw them. Of course Mandi saw them. Her black-contact gaze moved from Claire to Bea. A smile appeared. Bea raised one finger without stopping. Mandi’s smile widened. Bea mouthed: _Fuck off._ Mandi looked delighted. Claire glanced over. “Friend?” “Yes.” “Problem?” “Frequently.” Claire laughed. They kept walking. The private door closed behind them. The room became quieter. Claire turned toward Bea. Then stopped. No assumption. No immediate grab because money had changed hands. Bea looked at her. Claire smiled. “Hi.” Bea laughed softly. “Hi.” “Can I kiss you?” “Yes.” Claire did. Soft first. Warm. Familiar enough that Bea recognized the rhythm immediately. Claire paused after the first kiss. Bea remembered that too. She closed the distance herself. The second kiss was longer. Bea put a hand against Claire’s waist. Claire’s hands settled lightly against hers. No rush. Bea smiled against her mouth. Claire pulled back a fraction. “What?” “Nothing.” “Liar.” Bea kissed her again. Claire accepted the answer. The familiarity was pleasant. Not predictive. They still checked each other. A hand moved. Paused. Bea guided it. Claire followed. Bea touched Claire. Claire’s breath changed. Bea smiled. “Still?” Claire looked at her. “Yes.” Good. Clothing gradually became inconvenient. They solved that. Not all at once. The boots remained. Claire noticed. She looked down. Then up. Bea raised an eyebrow. “Problem?” “No.” “Good.” “I remembered them.” Bea smiled. “You did.” “I remembered a lot.” That landed warmly. Claire touched her face. Not knowing the face beneath the mesh. Not needing to. Bea turned into the touch and kissed her palm. Then Claire kissed her again. Pleasure built without hurry. Bea remembered what Claire liked. Claire remembered Bea. Neither treated memory as permission. They adjusted. Asked when necessary. Answered. Moved closer. Laughed once when a shift in position worked considerably worse than either had intended. Claire buried her face against Bea’s shoulder. “Elegant.” “Shut up.” “You started it.” Bea pushed her gently backward. Claire went willingly. “Bossy.” “Complaining?” “Absolutely not.” “Good.” They continued. The laughter faded naturally. Breathing changed. Touch became more focused. Bea stopped thinking about being Bea. That was perhaps the clearest sign that she was. No performance checklist. No conscious posture. No question of what Elisa would do versus what Bea would do. She wanted Claire. Claire wanted her. Enough. Claire noticed Bea’s response and stayed with it. Bea pulled her closer. “Yes.” Claire understood. The pleasure rose. Held. Bea’s fingers tightened. Her eyes closed. Then the tension finally broke through her in a warm rush that left her pressed close against Claire, breathing hard. Claire did not move away. Neither did Bea. For several moments they stayed exactly there. Shared stillness. Claire’s hand moved slowly along Bea’s back. Bea rested against her. No hurry to turn intimacy back into conversation. Eventually Claire kissed her shoulder. Bea smiled. “Hi.” Claire laughed softly. “Hi.” They stayed together longer. Then water. Talking. Another kiss. Another stretch of quiet. Later they found their way back into each other’s arms because neither had finished wanting the other. Not because fifty thousand eddies required some measurable quantity of sex. The money had defined the booking. It did not define every minute inside it. Their second time was slower. More playful. Claire had discovered that Bea liked being watched putting the boots back on. Bea discovered Claire knew she had discovered it. “You’re staring.” “Yes.” “Good.” Claire laughed. Bea deliberately took longer. “Evil.” “Premium.” “I walked into that.” “Yes.” When the two hours approached their end, Claire checked the time. “So.” “So.” “We’re almost done.” “Yes.” Claire looked at Bea. Bea waited. “I’m not going to ask for another hour.” That surprised her slightly. “Why not?” Claire shrugged. “Because I got what I wanted.” Bea raised an eyebrow. “That sounds terrible.” Claire laughed. “Not like that.” “Try again.” “I got to see you again.” Better. “And?” “And I had an excellent time.” “Better.” “And you’re working tonight. I don’t need to monopolize you just because I can afford another hour.” Bea looked at her. Claire smiled. “Pass?” Bea leaned forward and kissed her. Claire answered immediately. When Bea pulled back: “Pass.” They dressed. Claire watched the boots again. Bea caught her again. Neither pretended otherwise. When they returned to the main room, Lizzie’s had changed subtly around them. Different people at the bar. Different conversations. Same Saturday. Claire stopped before they fully rejoined the crowd. “Can I kiss you goodbye?” “Yes.” She did. No performance. No possession. Warm enough that Bea felt it after Claire stepped back. “Good night, Bea.” “Good night, Claire.” Claire left. Bea watched her go. Then: “Mm.” Bea closed her eyes. Mandi. Of course. She turned. Mandi stood several steps away, neon orange and black eyes, looking unbearably pleased. “Don’t.” “I said nothing.” “You made a noise.” “I breathed.” “You breathed judgmentally.” Mandi smiled. “Good?” Bea considered lying. There was absolutely no point. “Very.” Mandi’s grin widened. “Thought so.” “Why?” “You have the face.” Bea stared at her. “What face?” “That one.” “That means nothing.” “Sure.” Bea walked past her. Mandi fell into step. “You know, if you keep following me, people will think you like me.” “I tolerate you professionally.” “I’m not in your profession.” Mandi looked at her. Bea looked back. A beat. Then both started laughing. Near the bar, Dalia stood with Deja. Deja saw them approaching. “What happened?” “Nothing,” Bea said. Mandi answered simultaneously: “Claire.” Deja smiled. “Oh.” Bea pointed at her. “You don’t even know what she means.” “I know enough.” Dalia removed the menthol lollipop. “Good?” Bea looked at her. “Yes.” Dalia nodded. “Good.” No interrogation. No report. Just a friend pleased that another friend had enjoyed herself. Nova and Vega arrived a moment later. Vega looked between them. “Why is everyone smiling?” Bea: “No reason.” Mandi: “Claire.” Vega immediately looked at Bea. Bea stared at Mandi. “You are a menace.” “Thank you.” Nova smiled. “Returning client?” “Yes.” “Good?” “Yes.” “That’s nice.” Bea pointed at Nova. “See? Normal human response.” Vega put a hand against her chest. “I can be normal.” Iris’s dignity delivered through Vega’s working partner was nowhere to be found. Bea looked at her. “No.” Deja laughed. Dalia put the lollipop back in her mouth. Across the room, Sera’s silver-white hair lifted faintly while she spoke to someone. Panam touched the raised strands as she passed. Sera gave her a look. Panam smiled. The hair settled. Stable business continued over there. Bea’s business continued wherever Bea chose to take it. Friends sharing the same room. Nothing more complicated required. Bea looked across Lizzie’s. Someone noticed her looking. Smiled. Bea smiled back. Then went to see whether the conversation was worth having. --- ## Chapter 21 — Ordinary Work The next conversation was worth having. Not enough to become a booking. Enough to make Bea laugh. The woman had noticed her from across the room and opened with: “Your boots are ridiculous.” Bea looked down at them. Then back up. “Thank you.” “That wasn’t entirely a compliment.” “Then you phrased it badly.” The woman laughed. Good start. She was perhaps ten years older than Elisa, dressed expensively without appearing to have dressed for anyone else, and carrying a drink she had apparently forgotten existed. “I’m Linda.” “Bea.” “I know.” “Should I be worried?” “Not unless Suzie keeps a blacklist.” “She does.” Linda paused. “Really?” “I have no idea.” Bea smiled. Linda stared at her. “That was mean.” “Yes.” They talked. Linda worked in logistics. Not glamorous logistics. Warehouses. Vehicles. Schedules. Cargo. The endless human talent for putting the wrong thing in the wrong place and then insisting that a computer had done it. Bea found that more interesting than she expected. Linda found Bea’s interest suspicious. “You’re actually listening.” “Should I stop?” “No. It’s just unusual.” “That sounds like a problem with the people you talk to.” “It probably is.” Someone passed behind Linda and nearly collided with her. Bea caught her forearm instinctively. Linda steadied herself. “Thanks.” “You’re welcome.” Bea released her immediately. Linda noticed. Interesting woman. They talked another ten minutes. Then Linda asked: “Can I buy an hour?” Direct. No theater. Bea checked herself. Attractive. Funny. Interesting. But no. “No.” Linda nodded. “Okay.” No offense. No bargaining. No attempt to turn rejection into negotiation. Just okay. Bea liked her more for it. Linda lifted the drink she had almost forgotten again. “Can I finish this conversation anyway?” Bea smiled. “Yes.” So they did. No did not have to poison anything. They argued about autonomous freight systems for another fifteen minutes. Linda claimed they had improved logistics. Bea pointed out that they had mostly increased the speed at which expensive mistakes could propagate through a supply chain. Linda accused her of pessimism. Bea accused Linda of having Stockholm syndrome with scheduling software. Linda laughed hard enough to nearly spill her drink. Eventually she stood. “I’m going to find someone who agrees with me.” “Coward.” “Professional survival.” “Good luck.” “You too, Bea.” Linda disappeared into the crowd. No booking. Still a good conversation. Bea liked that. She liked that more than she had expected when she first became Bea. Twenty-five thousand eddies an hour was her rate. It was not a quota. She did not have to turn every conversation into money. She did not have to accept someone because they were attractive. She did not have to accept someone because they were interesting. She could simply enjoy them. Then say no. And sometimes keep talking afterward. She moved on. Mandi was sitting with a man and a woman. The woman was doing most of the talking. Mandi appeared genuinely interested. Her neon-orange hair made her impossible to miss even in Lizzie’s. Across the room Nova had someone laughing. Vega was nowhere visible. Private, probably. Sera stood near the bar with Panam and a woman Bea did not recognize. The woman was talking. Sera was listening. Then something changed. A faint static halo appeared around Sera’s silver-white hair. Panam saw it. Of course she saw it. Sera saw Panam seeing it. “Don’t.” Panam’s expression remained perfectly innocent. “I didn’t say anything.” “You were going to.” “I was thinking.” “That counts.” Bea passed them. “Your hair agrees with her.” Sera looked at Bea. “My hair does not get an opinion.” Panam smiled. Bea smiled. The static halo became slightly worse. “Fuck both of you.” Bea kept walking. Panam’s agent buzzed once against the bar. She glanced down. **Birgitta:** _Still alive, Owner?_ Panam’s mouth curved before she could stop it. **Panam:** _Unfortunately._ The answer came almost immediately. **Birgitta:** _Good. I was planning to bother you tomorrow too._ **Panam:** _Threatening your employer now?_ **Birgitta:** _Affectionately._ Panam shook her head and put the agent away. Sera had seen the smile. She said nothing. Her hair did. Panam pointed at it. “No.” Saturday continued. No grand event. No crisis. No mystery. People drinking. People flirting. People looking. People deciding. A man approached Bea next. Mid-thirties, perhaps. Corporate clothes trying very hard not to look corporate. He asked what she wanted to drink before ordering anything for her. Good. They talked for a few minutes. Then he asked: “How much?” “Twenty-five thousand an hour.” His expression changed. Not outrage. Arithmetic. Bea waited. “One hour minimum?” “Yes.” He looked into his drink. “I can afford it.” “That wasn’t the question.” He looked up. “No.” Bea smiled slightly. He laughed. “Right.” “What are you actually trying to decide?” The man hesitated. Then: “Whether I can do this.” “Talk to me?” “Book you.” “First joytoy?” “Yes.” That made more sense. Bea shifted slightly in her seat. “What brought you here?” “My friend.” “Where is your friend?” He pointed toward the bar. A man standing there noticed them looking. Immediately turned away. Bea laughed. “He abandoned you.” “Completely.” “Excellent friend.” “He said I needed to stop overthinking everything.” “Did he specify that you should spend twenty-five thousand eddies doing it?” “No.” “Then he has plausible deniability.” The man laughed. Some of the tension left his shoulders. Bea took a drink. “What are you worried about?” “That I’ll pay you twenty-five thousand and then have absolutely no fucking idea what I’m supposed to do.” “You could talk.” “For twenty-five thousand?” “You’re doing it for free right now.” He stared at her. Then laughed again. Harder. His friend looked over from the bar. Bea smiled. The man relaxed further. There. Better. He did not need to book her. At least not tonight. They talked for another few minutes. Then he stood. “Thank you.” “For what?” “Not laughing at me.” “I did laugh at you.” “Not like that.” Bea understood. “You’re welcome.” He returned to his friend. The friend waited until he had nearly reached the bar, then looked at Bea and mouthed: _Thank you._ Bea lifted her glass. Ordinary work. Sometimes the successful outcome was twenty-five thousand eddies. Sometimes it was someone leaving with the realization that nothing terrible had happened. Bea turned. Dalia was approaching. Deja beside her. The dark venom-green hair and ivory-and-cream wardrobe made Deja look softer than the woman underneath without making her look harmless. The ivory collar remained around her throat. The leash rested in Dalia’s hand. Bea smiled. “Having fun?” Deja answered immediately. “Yes.” Dalia removed the menthol lollipop. “She is being annoying.” “I’m being delightful.” “You asked whether the leash came with room service.” “It was a reasonable question.” Bea looked at Dalia. “Well?” “No.” “Cruel.” “Thank you.” Deja looked betrayed. “You’re supposed to support me.” “I’ve known her longer.” “That is blatant nepotism.” Bea nodded. “Absolutely.” Dalia put the lollipop back between her lips. Deja looked at Bea. “See what I have to endure?” Bea’s eyes dropped briefly to the leash. Then back to Deja’s face. “Terrible.” Deja smiled. “Exactly.” Dalia gave the leash a light pull. Deja stepped closer without hesitation. Still smiling. Bea laughed. Someone called: “Dalia?” They turned. A woman approached. Dalia recognized her. Bea could see that much. “Can we talk?” Dalia looked at Deja. Deja nodded. “I’m getting a drink.” Dalia unclipped the leash. Deja took it from her, loosely coiled it in one hand, and headed toward the bar. No ceremony. No explanation. Dalia went with the woman. Bea watched both directions for a moment. Then continued. A few minutes later Vega reappeared. Hair slightly less immaculate. Expression considerably more satisfied. Bea looked at her. Vega saw the look. “Don’t.” Bea widened her eyes. “I haven’t said anything.” “Your face has.” “I have an innocent face.” Vega stared at her. The face mesh made the stare even better. “No.” Nova arrived behind her. She looked at Vega. Then at Bea. Then back at Vega. “Good?” Vega smiled. “Very.” Nova smiled too. Then pulled Vega into a brief side hug and kissed her temple. Warm. Friendly. Her hand squeezed Vega’s shoulder once before she let go. Bea knew what lived beneath Nova and Vega. Nobody else in the room needed to, and nothing they showed the room contradicted the working partners they were supposed to be. “Drink?” Nova asked. “Yes.” They left together. Bea watched them go. Nice. Then someone touched her elbow. Bea turned. A woman. Late twenties. Short dark hair. Confident eyes. “Bea?” “Yes.” “I’m Nessa.” “Hi, Nessa.” Nessa looked her over openly. Bea returned the favor. Good start. “Twenty-five?” “Twenty-five thousand an hour.” “One hour.” Bea smiled. “That was fast.” “I’ve been watching you for ten minutes.” “Should I be worried?” “No.” “Good answer.” Nessa smiled. Bea looked at her. Attraction was there. Curiosity too. “What do you want?” “Company first.” “And after?” “If we both want more, more.” Better answer. Bea considered for another moment. “Yes.” Nessa transferred twenty-five thousand. Bea checked it. Done. She put her drink down. “Come on.” Nessa followed. They crossed the room. Mandi saw them. Bea saw Mandi seeing them. Mandi opened her mouth. Bea pointed at her. Mandi stopped. Bea narrowed her eyes. Mandi smiled. Bea mouthed: _Behave._ Mandi’s smile became significantly less trustworthy. Bea turned away. Nessa leaned closer. “Friend?” “Yes.” “She looks dangerous.” “She’s mostly annoying.” From somewhere behind them: “I HEARD THAT.” Bea closed her eyes. Nessa laughed. “Mostly?” “Keep walking.” They did. The private room door closed behind them. Nessa looked around once. Then at Bea. No sudden change in demeanor. No assumption that crossing the door had flipped some invisible switch. Bea liked that. Nessa smiled. “So.” “So.” “Still yes?” “Yes.” Nessa stepped closer. “Can I kiss you?” Bea answered by closing the remaining distance. The first kiss was exploratory. Different from Claire. Of course it was. New rhythm. New person. Bea took her time finding it. Nessa did too. A hand settled at Bea’s waist. Paused. Bea moved closer. Permission understood. Nessa smiled against her mouth. “That’s encouraging.” “Don’t get cocky.” “Too late.” Bea laughed. The next kiss stopped the laughter. For a while. They learned. Touch. Pause. Response. Adjustment. Another touch. Another yes. No hurry to make the hour look productive. No checklist. Nessa liked kissing. Bea discovered that quickly. Bea liked the way Nessa watched her. Nessa discovered that even faster. “You know you do that?” “What?” “Look pleased when I stare at you.” Bea smiled. “Maybe.” “Definitely.” Nessa’s eyes traveled deliberately down to the thigh-high boots. Then slowly back up. Bea let her. “See?” Bea kissed her. “Shut up.” Nessa laughed into the kiss. Clothing gradually became inconvenient. They dealt with it. The boots stayed. Nessa noticed. Of course she noticed. Bea caught the look. “You can keep staring.” “Generous.” “I know.” The teasing softened as they moved closer again. Pleasure accumulated slowly. Mutual. Unhurried. Bea learned what changed Nessa’s breathing. Nessa learned what made Bea stop talking. Both discoveries were used shamelessly. At one point Bea laughed. Then Nessa did something that made the laugh disappear into a sharp breath. Nessa paused. Bea looked at her. “Yes.” Nessa continued. Bea pulled her closer. The room narrowed. Warmth. Breath. Pressure. Shared rhythm. Bea stopped performing even for herself. Her eyes closed. She held on. The pleasure built until thought became inconvenient. Then finally gave way. Afterward neither woman moved immediately. Nessa stayed close. Bea rested against her. Breathing gradually slowed. A hand moved gently along Bea’s back. Stillness. Then Nessa whispered: “Still mostly company?” Bea started laughing. “You’re an asshole.” “That sounded affectionate.” “It wasn’t.” “Liar.” Bea kissed her. The remaining time went quickly. Not because they rushed it. Because they enjoyed it. When the hour was nearly done, Nessa checked the time herself. “Okay.” Bea looked at her. “Okay?” “I should let you work.” “You are work.” Nessa smiled. “You know what I mean.” Bea did. They dressed. Nessa watched the boots go back on. Bea looked up halfway through. Nessa made absolutely no attempt to hide it. Bea smiled. “Good.” “Wasn’t going to apologize.” “Better.” They returned to the main room together. At the edge of the crowd, Nessa stopped. “Can I kiss you goodbye?” “Yes.” She did. Warm. Long enough to mean something. Short enough not to become another negotiation. Then: “Good night, Bea.” “Good night, Nessa.” Nessa left. Bea headed for the bar. Suzie placed water in front of her before she asked. Bea looked at the glass. Then at Suzie. “What if I wanted whiskey?” “You want water.” “That wasn’t the question.” “Drink.” Bea drank. Suzie nodded. “Good.” “You’re bossy.” “I own the bar.” “Fair.” Bea drank again. Deja sat down beside her. The leash was attached again. Dalia stood on Deja’s other side, talking with someone Bea did not know. Deja glanced at Bea. “Good?” “Yes.” “Nessa?” Bea looked at her. “You saw.” “Hard not to.” “Very good.” Deja smiled. “Nice.” That was it. Bea drank more water. A few seconds later Mandi appeared on her other side. “What are we talking about?” “Nothing.” “Nessa?” Bea stared at her. Mandi grinned. “You are insufferable.” “Yes.” “At least you admit it.” Mandi looked at the water. “Suzie?” Bea nodded. Mandi leaned toward Suzie. “Can I have—” Suzie put a glass of water in front of her. Mandi looked offended. “I was going to ask for tequila.” “No, you weren’t.” Mandi considered. “No.” Bea laughed. Dalia finished her conversation and turned back toward them. Deja immediately leaned slightly toward her. Dalia’s hand settled briefly against her shoulder. Casual. Familiar. The leash remained loose. Nova and Vega returned. Sera joined them a moment later. Panam remained elsewhere with another conversation. Stable work. Bea’s work. Dalia’s work. Deja’s work. Different structures sharing the same bar. Sera reached for a drink. Her silver-white hair lifted faintly. Bea looked at it. Sera caught her. “Don’t.” Bea raised both hands. “I said nothing.” “Everyone keeps saying that tonight.” Mandi smiled. “Maybe your hair is the problem.” “My hair is fine.” The static halo strengthened. Vega looked at it. “Sure.” Sera glared at all of them. Dalia took the lollipop from her mouth. “Your hair does not get an opinion.” Sera stared at her. Panam, passing behind them at exactly the wrong moment: “I’ve been telling her that.” Everyone laughed. Sera closed her eyes. “I hate all of you.” Her hair floated higher. Bea laughed harder. Nothing exploded. Nobody pulled a weapon. Nobody discovered anyone’s secret identity. Nobody needed rescuing. Clients came. Clients left. Some bookings happened. Others did not. People flirted. People refused. People changed their minds. People drank too much and were handled by the Mox before they became anyone else’s problem. Mandi disappeared with someone. Nova followed a client upstairs. Vega found another conversation. Sera went back to work. Dalia and Deja moved away together. Bea remained at the bar for another minute. Suzie looked at her. “What?” Bea smiled. “Nothing.” “That usually means trouble.” “Not tonight.” Suzie snorted. Bea turned toward the room. Another person was already looking at her. Bea met the gaze. Waited. The stranger smiled. Bea smiled back. Ordinary work. She went to say hello. --- ## Chapter 22 — The Boots Stay On Bea crossed the room. The woman waited for her. That was the first thing Bea liked. No intercept. No attempt to meet her halfway and turn a shared look into permission for touch. Just a smile. Confidence without impatience. Up close, she was striking. Dark auburn hair cut just below her jaw. A fitted black jacket over something silver. Tall. Not exceptionally so, but enough that Bea had to look slightly upward when she stopped in front of her. The woman’s eyes dropped briefly. Not to Bea’s chest. Lower. Much lower. Then came back up. Bea noticed. Of course she noticed. “Hi.” “Hi.” “I’m Tessa.” “Bea.” “I know.” Bea smiled. “That keeps happening.” “I asked.” “About me?” “Yes.” “Should I be flattered or worried?” “Depends how the next five minutes go.” Bea laughed. Good answer. “What did you ask?” “Whether you were working tonight.” “And?” “I was told to ask you.” Better answer. Bea tilted her head. “Smart person.” “I thought so.” Tessa had a drink. Bea did not. Tessa noticed. “Can I buy you something?” “Yes.” “What?” Bea told her. Tessa ordered it. No touching yet. They moved a little farther from the busiest part of the bar. Tessa looked at her again. Bea caught the downward glance a second time. This time she followed it deliberately. Her thigh-high boots. When she looked back up, Tessa did not pretend otherwise. Bea smiled. “You like them.” “Yes.” Immediate. Bea laughed softly. “That sounded serious.” “It is.” “Oh.” Tessa took a drink. “I have a weakness.” “Apparently.” “For boots.” “Apparently.” “Those boots specifically are currently making it difficult for me to conduct a normal conversation.” Bea looked down at herself. Slowly. Then back at Tessa. “Tragic.” “You’re enjoying this.” “Very much.” “I noticed.” Their drinks arrived. Bea took hers. Tessa lifted her glass. “To my rapidly deteriorating dignity.” Bea touched her glass against it. “To the boots.” Tessa laughed. They drank. Conversation survived despite the footwear. Barely. Tessa was funny. Not constantly. Bea liked that. She did not throw jokes into every silence as if silence were dangerous. They talked about Lizzie’s. Night City. A restaurant Tessa insisted had the best noodles in Watson. Bea disagreed. Tessa demanded evidence. Bea refused to disclose sources. Then Tessa’s gaze went down again. Bea stopped talking. Tessa looked back up. “Sorry.” “No, you’re not.” “No.” Bea crossed one leg over the other. Slowly. Tessa stared. Then closed her eyes. “That was deliberate.” “Yes.” “You’re evil.” “I’ve been told.” “Recently?” “Repeatedly.” “I believe them.” Bea smiled into her drink. Attraction had stopped being a question some time ago. The only remaining questions were practical. Tessa put her glass down. “Are you available?” “Yes.” “How much?” “Twenty-five thousand an hour.” Tessa nodded. No flinch. “One hour?” Bea considered her. “Yes.” Tessa transferred the money. Bea checked. Twenty-five thousand. Done. Tessa looked at her. “Still yes?” Bea smiled. “Yes.” “Good.” Bea finished her drink. Then stood. Tessa’s eyes immediately went to the boots again. Bea caught her. Again. “This is going to be a problem, isn’t it?” “Yes.” Bea laughed. “Come on.” They crossed the room together. No one stopped them. No one needed to. Bea’s booking. Bea’s client. Bea’s decision. At the private room door, Bea opened it. Tessa entered. Bea followed. Door closed. Quiet. Tessa turned toward her. And looked down. Bea put both hands on her hips. “Seriously?” “I warned you.” “You did.” “I’m trying.” “Are you?” “No.” Bea laughed. Then Tessa stepped closer. Not touching. “Can I kiss you?” “Yes.” The kiss was good. Immediately good. Not familiar like Claire. Not something they needed to negotiate through awkwardness either. Tessa kissed confidently without trying to control the whole exchange. Bea answered. One hand found Tessa’s waist. Tessa touched Bea’s shoulder. Then her back. Bea moved closer. The kiss deepened. Tessa made a quiet sound against her mouth. Bea liked it. Very much. They separated just enough to breathe. Tessa looked at her. Then down. Again. Bea laughed. “You have a problem.” “I know.” Tessa touched the side of one boot. Only briefly. Then looked at Bea. “Okay?” “Yes.” Her hand moved slowly along the outside. Bea watched her face. There was genuine delight there. Not embarrassment. Not apology. Just attraction. Tessa looked up. “I have one request.” Bea raised an eyebrow. “Only one?” “For now.” “Go on.” “The boots stay on.” Bea stared at her for half a second. Then smiled. “Oh.” Tessa’s expression changed slightly. “You okay with that?” “Yes.” “Really?” Bea stepped closer. “Absolutely.” Tessa laughed softly. “Thank fuck.” Bea kissed her. That answer was apparently appreciated. They undressed each other gradually. Everything that became unnecessary went away. Except the boots. Tessa made absolutely certain of that. At one point Bea reached toward one of them just to see what would happen. Tessa caught her wrist. “No.” Bea looked at her. The expression on Tessa’s face was so genuinely concerned that Bea started laughing. “You said yes.” “I did.” “So leave them.” “I was teasing you.” “That’s cruel.” “Yes.” Tessa kissed her. Bea let the boot remain exactly where it was. The next several minutes were mostly kissing. Touching. Learning. Tessa liked Bea’s body. Bea liked being liked that openly. No coyness. No pretending the attraction was intellectual. But neither woman rushed. When Bea touched her more intimately, Tessa’s breath caught. Bea paused. Tessa nodded. “Yes.” Bea continued. The reaction sharpened. Useful information. Tessa returned the attention. Bea’s teasing expression survived for several seconds. Then it didn’t. “Oh.” Tessa smiled. Bea looked at her. “Don’t look smug.” “I’m not.” “You absolutely are.” “Maybe a little.” Bea pulled her into another kiss. They shifted together. Closer. Then lower. Tessa stopped. Looked at Bea. The question was obvious. Bea answered it anyway. “Yes.” Tessa smiled. Bea touched her face. “And you?” “Yes.” No ambiguity. No performance. They took their time. Bea gave first. She wanted to. Tessa’s hands found her. One of them settled against Bea’s booted leg almost immediately. Bea noticed. Smiled. Then concentrated on the woman in front of her. Tessa’s breathing changed. Her body responded. Bea learned from every sound. Every shift. Every touch. When Tessa’s hand tightened against the boot, Bea nearly laughed. Nearly. Tessa was too close to losing the ability to appreciate the joke. So Bea stayed with her. Warmth built. Tessa’s breathing broke into shorter rhythms. Her fingers tightened again. Then she went still for one suspended moment. Bea did not move away. Tessa’s release came through in a shudder and a broken breath, her hand holding Bea’s booted leg as though it had personally contributed. Bea stayed close through it. Waited. Let the tension settle. Only then did she move back up. Tessa was breathing hard. Bea smiled. “Still like the boots?” Tessa stared at her. “You’re an asshole.” Bea laughed. Tessa caught her and kissed her. Long. Warm. Grateful. Then Tessa pulled back. “My turn.” Bea’s smile changed. “Oh?” “Yes.” “You sound determined.” “I am.” Tessa shifted. Bea let her. Then stopped her for one second. Tessa looked up. “Still yes,” Bea said. Tessa smiled. “Good.” And returned the favor. Bea had expected enthusiasm. She had underestimated competence. The first strong response escaped her before she could decide whether she wanted to give Tessa the satisfaction. Tessa paused. Bea opened her eyes. Tessa was smiling. “Don’t.” Tessa continued. Bea stopped caring about the smile. Her hand found Tessa’s shoulder. Then her hair. Not pulling. Holding. Grounding. Tessa paid attention. Adjusted. Bea’s breathing changed. Her thigh shifted. The boot caught the light. Tessa’s hand slid along it and stayed there. That— Bea laughed once. Breathlessly. Of course. Even now. Tessa looked up. Bea managed: “You really—” Tessa did something that removed the rest of the sentence. Bea’s head went back. “Oh, fuck.” No more teasing. Not for a while. Tessa stayed with what worked. Bea’s fingers tightened. Pleasure climbed steadily instead of breaking all at once. Her breathing became uneven. Then shallow. Then she stopped trying to control any of it. The release caught her with enough force that she went completely still before trembling through it. Tessa stayed. Bea held on. Neither rushed the moment. When Bea finally relaxed, Tessa moved back up beside her. For several seconds they simply lay together. Bea breathed. Tessa’s hand rested on her leg. On the boot. Of course. Bea opened one eye. “You are ridiculous.” Tessa smiled. “You kept them on.” “I promised.” “You did.” Bea closed her eye again. Tessa kissed her shoulder. Quiet settled. Not awkward. Earned. Eventually Bea turned toward her. “Hi.” Tessa laughed. “Hi.” “How are you?” “Extremely pleased with my purchasing decisions.” Bea laughed. “That sounds terrible.” “The hour.” “Better.” “The company.” “Better.” “The boots.” “There it is.” Tessa grinned. Bea kissed her. The rest of the hour did not need another destination. They stayed close. Talked. Kissed. Touched when they wanted. Stopped when they wanted. At one point Tessa rested her head against Bea and idly ran her fingers along the top edge of one boot. Bea watched her. “You really do have a thing.” “I disclosed it early.” “True.” “I believe in transparency.” “Very ethical.” “Thank you.” When their time was nearly over, Tessa noticed first. She sighed. Bea looked at her. “What?” “I have to watch you put clothes back on while the boots are already there.” Bea smiled slowly. “Oh.” Tessa saw the smile. “No.” Bea stood. Deliberately. Tessa stared. Bea picked up the first piece of clothing. Took her time. “This is retaliation.” “For what?” “You know exactly what.” Bea dressed. Slowly enough to be obnoxious. Tessa watched every second. By the time Bea was finished, Tessa had one hand over her face. “You are a terrible person.” Bea looked down at herself. Ice-blue hair. Bea’s face. Bea’s clothes. Thigh-high boots. “Worth twenty-five thousand?” Tessa lowered her hand. “Yes.” Immediate. Bea laughed. Tessa dressed. They left the room together. Back in the noise of Lizzie’s, Tessa stopped. “Can I kiss you goodbye?” “Yes.” The kiss was warm. No demand attached. When they separated, Tessa looked down once more. Bea followed her gaze. “Seriously?” “Last time.” “Liar.” “Probably.” Bea smiled. “Good night, Tessa.” “Good night, Bea.” Tessa disappeared into the crowd. Bea watched her go. Then looked down at her boots. “Huh.” She had always liked them. That was not new. But being wanted specifically with them— Interesting. Very interesting. She looked up. Mandi was across the room. Watching her. Bea narrowed her eyes. Mandi smiled. Bea immediately pointed at her. “No.” Mandi spread her hands. She had said nothing. Bea started laughing. Then went back to work. --- ## Chapter 23 — Money Doesn't Open That Door Bea lasted almost seven minutes before looking at the boots again. Not staring. Just— checking. They were boots. Same boots as before. Black. Thigh-high. Expensive. Very good boots. Nothing had changed. Except apparently something had. “Fuck.” She looked up. Mandi was standing nearby. Bea pointed at her immediately. “Not one word.” Mandi’s mouth closed. Slowly. Her black-contact eyes dropped. To the boots. Then came back up. Bea narrowed her eyes. Mandi smiled. Bea walked away. Behind her: “I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING.” “That was the correct decision.” Mandi laughed. Bea did too. Saturday moved on. She had another drink. Talked to a couple who were more interested in each other than in her and apparently needed twenty minutes with a joytoy to realize it. Bea considered that a successful consultation. A woman flirted with her. Bea flirted back. Neither took it farther. A man asked her price, heard twenty-five thousand an hour, thanked her politely and decided against it. Nothing wrong with that. Vega returned from somewhere private. Nova disappeared somewhere private. Sera spent almost half an hour discussing art with a woman who never once asked to book her. Deja remained near Dalia for a while, leash loose between them, before the two separated for their own conversations. Mandi worked. The room breathed. Then a man walked in who expected the room to notice. It did. Not because he was loud. He wasn't. Not because he was physically imposing. He wasn't that either. The clothes did most of the work. Tailored corpo wealth. Not merely expensive. Selected to be recognized as expensive. Two people entered behind him and stopped near the door. Security. Professional enough not to crowd him. The man looked around Lizzie’s. Slowly. Assessing. Suzie Q watched him do it. Her expression did not change. Bea noticed because she had started noticing Suzie’s non-reactions. The man went to the bar. Spoke to her. Suzie listened. Then pointed. Not toward Bea. Toward Panam. Interesting. Bea kept talking to the woman in front of her. Mostly. The corpo crossed the room. Panam saw him coming. Sera was beside her. Mandi was farther away. Nova had returned. Vega too. Four visible Stable members. The man stopped in front of Panam. “Madame?” “Yes.” Good opening. At least he had done enough homework to know who he was looking for. “I was told you handle the Stable.” “I do.” His gaze moved over the room. Mandi. Nova. Vega. Then Sera. Recognition stayed on Sera slightly longer. Of course. “I’m interested.” Panam waited. The man smiled faintly. “In booking.” “Who?” “All of them.” Panam’s expression did not change. “No.” The man paused. It was tiny. A person unused to hearing the word. “All four.” “No.” “I can pay.” “I assumed.” That made Bea turn her head. The woman she had been speaking to noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” Bea returned her attention to her. Mostly. The corpo lowered his voice. Bea could no longer hear every word. But she could see the conversation. Offer. Panam. No. Another offer. Panam. No. The man glanced toward the Stable again. Mandi had noticed now. So had Nova. Vega definitely had. Sera had never stopped noticing. None of them moved toward Panam. None needed to. The man spoke again. Panam answered. Short. The man’s posture changed. Not threatening. Offended. Interesting distinction. Bea excused herself politely. The woman followed her gaze. “Trouble?” “Probably not.” “Probably?” “The Mox haven’t moved.” The woman looked. Bea was right. Nobody was closing in. Nobody was preparing to throw him through anything. Yet. Bea moved closer. Not into the conversation. Close enough to hear. The corpo was saying: “—one hundred thousand each.” Panam shook her head. “No.” “Two hundred.” “No.” “For an hour.” “No.” His eyes narrowed. “Each.” “I understand numbers.” Vega turned her face away. Bea suspected a smile. The man took a breath. “Five hundred thousand each.” Panam looked at him. “No.” There was a pause. Bea could almost see the conceptual failure. Not anger yet. The inability to understand why the number had not solved the problem. He looked at Sera. “Five hundred thousand for one hour.” Sera answered for herself. “No.” He looked at Mandi. “No.” Nova: “No.” Vega smiled. “No.” The man looked back at Panam. “You didn't even ask them.” Panam's eyebrows lifted. “They just answered.” That one hurt. Bea bit the inside of her cheek. The corpo looked at the four women again. “You’re working.” Mandi answered. “Yes.” “So you’re available.” “No.” He stared at her. Mandi smiled pleasantly. The expression was professional. The black eyes made it difficult to tell how much amusement was underneath. The corpo turned back to Panam. “Then what exactly does Stable mean?” Panam answered without irritation. “That they're Stable.” “That doesn't answer the question.” “It answers the one you asked.” His jaw tightened. Bea looked toward Suzie. Suzie was polishing a glass. Lisa stood farther along the room. Watching. Calm. Good. The corpo tried again. “One million each.” Silence. Not because anyone was tempted. Because even nearby conversations briefly noticed the number. Panam said: “No.” The man laughed once. Not because anything was funny. “You cannot seriously tell me that four joytoys are turning down four million eddies for an hour.” Sera's hair lifted. Only slightly. Panam noticed. So did Bea. Sera spoke. “We are.” The corpo looked at her. “You sell your time.” “Yes.” “So I'm buying it.” “No.” “I just offered you a million.” “Yes.” “And?” “I said no.” His attention shifted to Mandi. “One million.” “No.” “Nova.” “No.” “Vega.” “No.” He looked at Panam again. “This is ridiculous.” Panam shrugged. “Then don't book them.” “I am trying to.” “No. You're trying to find the number that turns no into yes.” Finally. There it was. The distinction. Bea stopped pretending she wasn't listening. The corpo looked genuinely irritated now. Not violent. Not drunk. Just offended by a world refusing to behave like a spreadsheet. “Everyone has a number.” Panam's expression changed. Very slightly. Not anger. Certainty. “No.” The man stared at her. Panam continued. “Everyone here has a choice.” “I understand consent.” “Then this should be easy.” “I’m offering four million eddies.” “And four women said no.” “They’re joytoys.” “Yes.” “They work for money.” “Yes.” “So what exactly am I missing?” Panam looked at him. “That working for money doesn't mean wanting every customer who has it.” The man was silent. Bea glanced toward Mandi. Still composed. Nova too. Vega had stopped smiling. Sera’s hair had settled slightly. Nobody looked frightened. Nobody looked pressured. Just increasingly bored. The corpo tried one more direction. “Fine.” He looked at Panam. “What does it cost to get access to the Stable?” Panam answered immediately. “There isn't an access fee.” “Then how do I book one?” “You ask.” “I did.” “And they said no.” “What if I come back another night?” “You can ask again.” “And if they say no?” “Then they say no.” “How many times?” Panam stared at him. “Before you understand the word?” Vega coughed. Suspiciously. Mandi looked at the ceiling. Bea had to turn away. The man heard it. His expression hardened. “Am I amusing you?” Vega recovered instantly. “No.” Bea did not believe her for a second. Neither did he. His gaze moved around the group. Then landed on Bea. Maybe because she was nearby. Maybe because she was visibly separate. Maybe because she wasn't standing within Panam's little gravitational field. “You.” Bea looked at him. “Me?” “Are you Stable?” “No.” “Available?” “Potentially.” “Price?” “Twenty-five thousand an hour.” He stared at her. Then looked at Panam. Then back at Bea. “Twenty-five.” “Yes.” He almost laughed. “I’ll give you two hundred.” Bea considered him. Not the money. Him. The way he had spoken to Panam. The way he had treated four separate refusals as a pricing problem. The way he had only looked at Bea after failing to buy what he originally wanted. “No.” He froze. Bea smiled pleasantly. “Sorry.” “You just said twenty-five.” “That is my rate.” “I offered two hundred.” “Yes.” “And you’re saying no.” “Yes.” He looked between Bea and Panam. Something almost beautiful happened in his expression. The universe had betrayed him twice. Panam had nothing to do with Bea. Bea had nothing to do with Stable. Different woman. Different business. Same answer. The man looked at Bea. “Three hundred.” “No.” “Five.” “No.” “You charge twenty-five.” “Yes.” “Then what is the fucking point of having a price?” Bea thought about that. Then answered. “So people know what it costs when I say yes.” Silence. Mandi made a tiny sound. Bea looked at her. Mandi's lips were pressed together. Hard. Do not laugh. Do not laugh. The corpo stared at Bea. She held his gaze. No hostility. No fear. Just no. Finally he turned back toward Panam. “I was told this was the best premium service in Watson.” Panam nodded. “Probably.” “This is terrible service.” Suzie Q called from the bar: “No refunds on conversations.” Vega lost the fight. A laugh escaped. The corpo turned toward Suzie. Then apparently decided that opening another front was strategically unwise. Smartest thing he had done all evening. He looked back at Panam. “I came here prepared to spend serious money.” “I know.” “And nobody wants it.” Panam shook her head. “That's not what happened.” “What happened?” “You offered serious money to people who didn't want you.” That landed. Harder than the refusals. For the first time the man stopped trying to answer immediately. He looked at Mandi. Nova. Vega. Sera. Then Bea. Five women. Five refusals. Not one negotiation. Not one counteroffer. Not one attempt to squeeze another zero out of him. His expression changed. Only slightly. The offense remained. But something had finally reached it. “I see.” Panam said nothing. He looked at Bea. “Would you have accepted twenty-five if you'd liked me?” “Yes.” That seemed to bother him more than five hundred thousand being rejected. “Right.” He straightened his jacket. Looked at Panam. “Good evening.” “Good evening.” Then he left. His security fell in behind him. The door closed. Silence lasted approximately two seconds. Vega: “Five hundred?” Mandi immediately: “I know.” Nova looked at Bea. “Two hundred.” Bea sighed. “I know.” Sera’s hair began to lift. Panam looked at it. “Don't.” Sera stared at her. “I didn't say anything.” “Your hair did.” “My hair does not get an opinion.” Mandi finally started laughing. Vega joined her. Bea tried not to. Failed. Nova lasted another second. Sera's hair lifted farther. Panam rubbed both hands over her face. “Jesus Christ.” Bea looked at her. “Good service.” Panam pointed at her. “Fuck you.” "Maybe later?" That made it worse. Even Sera laughed. The moment dissolved. Not the boundary. That stayed exactly where it had been. The room resumed around them. Mandi eventually wandered back toward work. Nova followed. Vega went in another direction. Sera stayed beside Panam. Bea turned toward the bar. Then stopped. Something had clicked. Not about the corpo. About the structure. Stable had prices. Bea had a price. Those prices mattered. They made business clear. But none of them were prices attached to the women themselves. Twenty-five thousand did not buy Bea. Thirty-two thousand did not buy Mandi, Nova, Vega or Sera. It bought an agreed hour after the woman had already decided the answer was yes. Obvious. And somehow clearer after watching someone fail repeatedly to understand it. Bea looked down. At the boots. Then smiled. Tessa had paid twenty-five thousand. And before that payment meant anything, Bea had wanted her. That was the difference. “Still thinking about the boots?” Bea's head snapped up. Mandi. Again. “You need a hobby.” “I have several.” “Get another.” Mandi smiled. “Those really did something to you.” Bea walked directly toward her. Mandi backed away, laughing. “I'M JUST SAYING—” “You were specifically told not to.” “By you!” “Yes!” “That doesn't count!” Bea chased her through three clusters of people before Mandi escaped behind Vega. Vega looked between them. “What the fuck?” “She started it,” Bea said. Mandi pointed at the boots. Vega looked down. Then at Bea. Then slowly smiled. Bea stopped. “No.” Vega's smile widened. “No.” Mandi was already laughing. Bea pointed at both of them. “I hate you.” Vega shrugged. “Still wearing them.” Bea looked down. Tactical error. Again. When she looked up, Mandi had both hands over her mouth. Bea started laughing. “Fuck both of you.” Saturday continued. --- ## Chapter 24 — Make a Believable Offer The next corpo was considerably better. She arrived alone. That helped. No security entourage. No expensive jacket screaming that everyone nearby should calculate its price. No slow survey of Lizzie’s as though she were evaluating an acquisition. She walked to the bar. Ordered a drink. Talked to Suzie Q. And stayed there. Bea noticed her because she was beautiful. That was reason enough. Late thirties, perhaps. Tall. Dark hair pinned loosely behind her head. Elegant gray suit. Minimal chrome visible at one temple. She had the kind of posture that suggested expensive education and very little need to prove it. Bea watched for several seconds. The woman noticed. Their eyes met. She smiled. Bea smiled back. Then the woman returned to her drink. No beckoning. No assumption that eye contact constituted an invitation. Bea liked that too. She finished her current conversation. The man she had been talking to thanked her and wandered away. Bea considered the woman at the bar. Then went over. “Hi.” The woman turned. “Hi.” “I’m Bea.” “I know.” Bea sighed theatrically. “Everyone knows.” The woman smiled. “You're distinctive.” Bea looked down. At the boots. Then immediately hated herself for doing it. The woman followed her gaze. A small smile. Bea looked back up. “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “That phrase has become deeply suspicious tonight.” The woman laughed. “I’m Evelyn.” “Nice to meet you, Evelyn.” “You too.” Bea leaned against the bar. Evelyn looked at her drink. “Can I buy you one?” “Yes.” “What?” Bea told her. Evelyn ordered it. Suzie made the drink. Put it down. Looked at Bea. Then at Evelyn. Then walked away. Bea watched her go. Evelyn noticed. “Was that an inspection?” “Probably.” “Did I pass?” “She didn't throw you out.” “High standards.” “You have no idea.” They talked. Evelyn worked in corporate finance. That should have been boring. It wasn't. Mostly because Evelyn thought large parts of corporate finance were ridiculous. She described an executive committee spending three hours arguing over a projected saving smaller than the cost of the meeting itself. Bea laughed. “Why didn't anyone tell them?” “I did.” “What happened?” “They scheduled another meeting.” Bea stared. Evelyn lifted her glass. “Corporate efficiency.” Bea touched her own against it. “To meetings.” “Fuck meetings.” “Better.” They drank. Evelyn did not ask Bea’s price. Not immediately. She did not ask whether Bea was available. She seemed perfectly content talking. That made Bea curious. Eventually Evelyn looked across the room. Not at Bea. At the Stable. Mandi was talking to someone near a booth. Nova and Vega stood apart. Sera was with Panam. Evelyn looked back at Bea. “Can I ask you something?” “You can ask.” “Those four.” Bea followed her gaze. “Yes?” “Stable?” “Yes.” “And the woman with Sera is Madame?” “Yes.” Evelyn nodded. “I've heard of them.” “Most people here have.” “I've never been here before.” Bea looked at her. “Really?” “Really.” “What brought you?” “A friend recommended it.” “Your friend coming?” “No.” “Coward.” Evelyn laughed. “She said I'd understand once I got here.” “Understand what?” “She was annoyingly vague.” “Then I already dislike her.” “You'd probably get along.” Bea smiled. Evelyn looked at the Stable again. “Do you work with them?” “No.” Clear. Immediate. Evelyn looked back. “Sorry.” “No need.” “Same venue?” “Same venue. Friends.” “Got it.” Good. No further assumptions. Evelyn took another drink. Then: “Can anyone approach them?” “You should ask Madame.” Evelyn nodded. Not disappointed. Not fishing for Bea to broker anything. “Fair.” She finished her drink. Then looked at Bea. “I've enjoyed this.” “So have I.” “I don't actually want to book anyone tonight.” Bea smiled. “Also fair.” “But I'd like to keep talking to you.” “Then keep talking.” Evelyn did. No transaction. No agenda. Eventually someone Evelyn knew arrived. She looked genuinely surprised. The newcomer looked even more surprised to find her at Lizzie’s. Bea watched the two corpo masks snap into place. Fascinating. Evelyn sighed. “Work has found me.” “Run.” “I should.” She looked at Bea. “Thank you.” “For?” “Making my first twenty minutes here much less intimidating.” Bea smiled. “You're welcome.” Evelyn left with her working partner. Bea watched her go. Then someone touched her shoulder. Mandi. Bea turned. “What?” “Nothing.” “You have the face.” “What face?” “The one where you're about to say something annoying.” Mandi smiled. “You liked her.” “Yes.” “Didn't book.” “No.” “Still liked her.” “Yes.” Mandi nodded. “Good.” Bea narrowed her eyes. “That was suspiciously normal.” “I can be normal.” “No.” “Fuck you.” “Better.” Mandi laughed and left. Bea went to find another drink. --- The room shifted again. Saturday had become properly late. The early drinkers were either gone or committed. Music a little louder. Conversations a little closer. People a little less careful about pretending they had come to Lizzie’s for any reason other than the obvious ones. Bea found herself near Sera. Sera was alone for once. Panam was speaking with a client several meters away. Bea looked at Sera's hair. Calm. Sera noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “You're looking at my hair.” “Yes.” “Why?” “Checking.” “For what?” “Opinions.” Sera stared at her. “My hair does not get opinions.” “Apparently mine do.” Sera looked down. At the boots. Bea closed her eyes. “Oh, fuck you.” Sera laughed. Her hair lifted. Bea pointed. “See?” “That is not an opinion.” “It's laughing at me.” “Now you know how I feel.” “Fair.” They both laughed. Then Sera's attention shifted. Past Bea. Toward the entrance. Bea turned. Two people had entered. The first was a man. Nothing unusual about him at first glance. Forties. Relaxed clothes. No visible corporate insignia. No obvious weapons. Calm posture. Experienced eyes. The second— Bea blinked. Large. Four-legged. Black and tan. A German Shepherd. For one second Bea's brain filed the image under exactly that. Dog. Then the details arrived. Movement too deliberate. Eyes too aware. The subtle signs of full-body sculpting. Not a dog. A person. Bea stared. Memory arrived immediately. Spa. Kiro. A completely different German Shepherd sculpt. The sheer absurdity of discovering that particular preference. Bea's mouth twitched. Then she remembered herself. Different person. Different situation. No reason to assume anything. The handler spoke briefly to Suzie. Suzie listened. Then looked across the room. Toward Panam. The man followed her gaze. Panam noticed. Suzie pointed. The pair crossed the room. Bea looked for Deja. Found her. Deja had been talking to a woman near Dalia. She saw the newcomers. Stopped. Completely. Dalia noticed. Followed her gaze. Looked at the German Shepherd. Then at Deja. Deja's expression— Oh. Oh, no. Bea bit the inside of her cheek. Hard. Deja looked across the room. Straight at Bea. Their eyes met. Bea said absolutely nothing. Deja's eyes narrowed. Bea raised both hands. Still nothing. Dalia looked between them. Then understood that there was apparently context she did not have. Her mouth curved slightly around the menthol lollipop. The handler reached Panam. “Madame?” “Yes.” “We were told you could point us toward Dalia and Deja.” Panam followed his glance. They were only a few meters away. “You want them, ask them.” The handler nodded. “Of course.” Panam pointed once. “They’re right there.” That was the full extent of her involvement. The handler crossed the room with the sculpted client beside him. Dalia noticed them coming. Deja did too. The German Shepherd sat calmly beside the handler. Alert. Watching. The handler spoke. “He’s interested in spending some private time with both of you.” Dalia looked at the German Shepherd. Then the handler. “What does he want?” The client made a quiet sound. Not random. The handler listened. Then answered. “Company. Touch. Play. Whatever develops if everyone wants it.” Dalia looked at Deja. Deja was trying very hard to look professionally neutral. Failing. Only slightly. Dalia knew her well enough to see it. Bea knew her well enough to see it. The handler named his first offer. “One hundred thousand. Two hours.” Dalia considered it. Then looked at the client. Then at Deja. Deja's answer was already visible. Dalia removed the lollipop. “Make a believable offer.” Bea's mouth twitched. There was that line again. The handler looked briefly startled. Then tried again. “Two hundred and fifty thousand. Two hours.” Dalia looked at Deja. Deja nodded. “Yes.” Dalia looked at the client. “And him?” The client gave another quiet vocalization. The handler smiled. “Very yes.” Dalia's mouth curved. “Then yes.” The handler nodded. “Thank you.” No triumph. No assumption. Just gratitude. Good. They began discussing practical boundaries. Bea stayed where she was. Listening only because nobody had asked her to leave. Deja glanced at her again. Bea kept her expression perfectly neutral. Almost. Deja saw the almost. Her eyes narrowed. Bea shook her head. Nothing. Nothing at all. Then the sculpted client stepped closer to Deja. Sniffed lightly near her hand. Deja's expression changed. Delight. Pure fucking delight. Bea lost the fight. Not verbally. Just one tiny smile. Deja saw it. “Not. One. Fucking. Word.” Bea immediately raised both hands. “I didn't say anything.” Sera's silver-white hair lifted into a bright static halo. Deja turned toward her. Sera was looking somewhere else. Entirely innocent. Her hair was not. Deja pointed. “Your fucking hair.” Sera closed her eyes. “My hair does not get an opinion.” Panam started laughing. Dalia put the lollipop back between her lips. Bea covered her mouth. The handler finally smiled. Even the German Shepherd appeared to be watching them with amused patience. Deja looked at Dalia. “Can we go now?” Dalia gave the leash a small pull. “Yes.” Deja smiled. Immediately. The handler and client followed them toward the private rooms. Bea waited until they were gone. Then looked at Sera. Sera looked at Bea. Her hair remained visibly amused. Bea whispered: “Not one word.” Sera whispered back: “I didn't say anything.” Panam laughed harder. Saturday continued. --- ## Chapter 25 — Private Dalia led. Not because anyone had told her to. Because Deja had given her the leash. The loose ivory line ran from Dalia's hand to the dark hardware at Deja's collar as they crossed Lizzie's. The handler walked beside them. The German Shepherd moved at his side. Calm. Controlled. Beautiful. Deja was looking at him. Trying not to make it obvious. Failing. Dalia noticed. Of course she noticed. She removed the menthol lollipop from her mouth. “You're staring.” Deja looked at her. “No, I'm not.” “Yes, you are.” “Professional observation.” “Of his ass?” Deja stared. The handler coughed. The German Shepherd's ears moved. Dalia put the lollipop back between her lips. Deja leaned closer. “You're an asshole.” The whiskey-and-smoke voice answered quietly. “And you're still staring.” Deja looked forward. For approximately three seconds. Then down again. Dalia smiled. The private room door opened. Dalia entered first. Deja followed. Then the client. The handler entered last and closed the door. The music from Lizzie's became distant. Not gone. Muted. Private. Dalia stopped. The humor stayed outside the next question. She looked at the handler. Then at the client. “Before anything happens.” The handler nodded. “Of course.” Dalia looked at Deja. “Still yes?” Deja answered immediately. “Yes.” Dalia's eyes stayed on her. Not because she doubted the answer. Because the answer mattered. Deja smiled slightly. “Very yes.” Dalia's mouth twitched. Then she looked at the sculpted client. “And him?” The German Shepherd looked toward the handler. A quiet vocalization. The handler listened. “Yes.” Dalia nodded. “Good.” She looked at the handler. “You?” He blinked. “Me?” “You're in the room.” Understanding. “Yes. I'm comfortable.” “Participating?” “No. Unless someone specifically wants something from me. I'm here mostly because communication is easier.” Dalia looked at the client. Another small sound. The handler smiled. “And because he enjoys having me here.” Deja's expression changed. Interest. Dalia saw it. “You like being watched too?” Deja looked at her. “That is an unfair question under the circumstances.” “It was a simple question.” Deja glanced at the handler. Then back to Dalia. “Yes.” There. No embarrassment once she had said it. Dalia's gaze warmed. “Good.” Deja exhaled. “You're enjoying this.” “Very much.” “Bitch.” Dalia smiled around the lollipop. The client moved closer. Stopped in front of Deja. Looked up. Deja looked down at him. The difference between knowing intellectually that there was a person inside the sculpt and experiencing the sculpt at this distance was considerable. Full conversion had preserved the language of the animal with unnerving precision. Weight. Balance. Breathing. The subtle movements of ears. The attention in the eyes. Deja swallowed. Dalia saw that. So did the handler. Deja knew they had. And that knowledge did something visible to her. Her shoulders relaxed. Not hiding. Fine. If they were going to see— they could see. The client moved his head toward her hand. Stopped. Waited. Deja looked at Dalia. Dalia gave her nothing except the freedom to decide. Deja lowered her hand. The Shepherd touched his muzzle lightly against her palm. Deja's breath caught. Not because the contact was sexual. It wasn't. Because the illusion was extraordinary. Warm. Physical. Convincing. Her fingers moved carefully along the sculpted muzzle. Then upward. The client leaned subtly into the touch. Deja smiled. “Oh, fuck.” The handler laughed quietly. “Good?” Deja looked at him. “Very.” The client shifted closer. Deja touched the side of his head. Behind one ear. The response was immediate. A lean. A change in posture. Deja laughed. Actually laughed. Dalia watched her. There. That was what interested her most. Not the sculpt. Deja. The delighted concentration. The complete absence of her usual analytical distance. The fact that she knew three people were watching her enjoy this and had stopped trying to disguise it. Dalia shortened the leash slightly. Not pulling. Just making its presence more noticeable. Deja felt it. Her eyes moved to Dalia. Dalia held her gaze. Deja's smile changed. Smaller. Warmer. More private. The Shepherd nudged her hand. Deja looked down again. Dalia's voice came low. “Go ahead.” Deja crouched. The client immediately moved closer. She put both hands against the sculpt. Neck. Shoulders. Feeling the work. The structure underneath. The extraordinary detail. “This is fucking incredible.” The handler nodded. “He'll appreciate that.” The client made a pleased sound. Deja laughed. “I assume that means yes.” “Yes.” Dalia remained standing. Leash in hand. Watching. Deja knew it. Every second. The handler moved to one of the chairs. Not leaving. Not intruding. Present. Also watching. Deja knew that too. Her hand moved down the client's side. Slowly. Exploratory. He shifted under the touch. She stopped. Looked toward the handler. “Okay?” The client answered before the handler could. A quiet affirmative sound. The handler translated anyway. “Yes.” Deja continued. The interaction changed gradually. Not from harmless to dangerous. From curiosity into attraction. Deja's breathing altered first. Dalia noticed. Then the client moved closer between her knees. Deja looked at him. At Dalia. Dalia took the lollipop from her mouth. “What do you want?” Deja laughed softly. “You're really going to make me say it.” “Yes.” The handler's presence suddenly mattered much more. Deja glanced toward him. He was watching calmly. No mockery. No judgment. Deja looked back at Dalia. And Dalia understood. That was part of it. The sculpt. Dalia holding her leash. The client wanting her. The handler watching. Being seen wanting all of it. Deja swallowed. “I want to keep going.” Dalia waited. Deja smiled. “While you watch.” There. Dalia's expression softened. “I can do that.” Deja looked toward the handler. “And you?” He understood the question. “Yes.” Deja breathed out. “Good.” The client moved closer. Dalia let more leash slide through her fingers. Enough freedom. Still present. Still connected. Deja touched the sculpt again. This time without pretending she was merely fascinated by the engineering. The client responded. Deja responded to that response. The room warmed slowly. Nothing abrupt. No mechanical jump from negotiation to sex. Touch became more intimate because both of them kept choosing it. The handler remained in his chair. Dalia remained standing for a while. Watching Deja. Deja looked at her often. Every time she did, the awareness returned visibly. You can see me. Yes. I'm still watching. Good. Eventually Dalia moved closer. Deja looked up. Dalia touched her face. “Still good?” “Yes.” Dalia's thumb moved once across her cheek. “You're beautiful like this.” Deja went still. The words hit harder than teasing had. She looked toward the Shepherd. Then the handler. Then back at Dalia. All of them could see her reaction. Dalia knew exactly what she had done. Deja's voice dropped. “Fuck you.” Dalia smiled. “No.” Deja laughed. The tension broke just enough. Then Dalia bent and kissed her. Slow. Deja answered immediately. The Shepherd remained close. One of Deja's hands stayed against the sculpt while the other reached up toward Dalia. Dalia still held the leash. The kiss deepened. Deja's fingers tightened. When Dalia pulled away, Deja followed for half an inch before stopping herself. Dalia saw that too. Deja closed her eyes. “Oh, you are going to be impossible about this.” “Probably.” The client nudged Deja again. She laughed. Turned back. The next stretch belonged mostly to touch. To discovery. To the extraordinary physicality of the sculpt. To Deja's fascination becoming pleasure without ever losing curiosity. Dalia joined when wanted. Stepped back when she wasn't. The handler remained a calm witness and communication bridge. Nobody hurried. Nobody treated novelty as permission to ignore boundaries. Questions still happened. Yes remained yes because it could still become no. Deja became less verbal as the pleasure built. That amused Dalia. She did not comment. For once. She simply watched. Held the leash. Occasionally touched Deja. A hand at her shoulder. Her hair. Her cheek. Small reminders. Here. Watching. Deja reacted to every one. The client noticed too. At one point his attention shifted toward Dalia's hand around the leash. Then toward Deja. The handler smiled. “He noticed.” Deja breathed: “What?” “He thinks you like that.” Deja looked at the Shepherd. Then at Dalia's hand. Then at the handler. Her face betrayed everything before she spoke. “Yes.” Dalia's fingers tightened slightly around the leash. Deja inhaled. The handler laughed softly. Not at her. With her. Deja laughed too. “Okay. Apparently we're all learning things tonight.” Dalia looked down at her. “I already knew.” Deja stared. “You did not.” Dalia gave the leash the smallest deliberate pull. Deja's breath caught. Dalia raised one eyebrow. Deja closed her eyes. “Fuck.” “Mm.” “You're unbearable.” “And yet.” Deja opened her eyes. “Yes.” And yet. The client moved against her again. The humor faded naturally. Pleasure returned. Built. Deja let herself be watched. That became the center of it. Not humiliation. Not embarrassment. Exposure willingly chosen. The pleasure of having nowhere to hide because she had decided not to hide. The Shepherd close. Dalia's leash in view whenever she looked up. The handler watching without judgment. Dalia watching with unmistakable affection and desire. Deja's breathing shortened. Her hands tightened. Dalia saw the moment approaching. Moved closer. Touched Deja's face. “Look at me.” Deja did. That was enough. The release moved through her visibly. No cut away. No sudden jump. Dalia stayed with her. Held her gaze as long as Deja could maintain it. Then Deja's eyes closed. Her body went still. A tremor. A broken breath. Another. Dalia loosened the leash immediately. Not removing it. Giving space. The client stayed close. The handler remained quiet. Deja breathed. Nobody rushed her. Eventually she opened her eyes. Dalia was still there. Of course. Deja smiled weakly. “Hi.” Dalia's whiskey-and-smoke voice softened. “Hi.” Deja laughed. Then covered her face with both hands. Dalia crouched. “What?” “You saw all of that.” “Yes.” “So did he.” “Yes.” “And he did.” The handler lifted one hand. “Guilty.” Deja made a helpless sound behind her hands. Dalia smiled. “Problem?” A pause. Then Deja lowered her hands. Her face was warm. Her eyes bright. “No.” Dalia waited. Deja looked at all three of them. Then smiled. “Absolutely not.” Good. Dalia kissed her forehead. The client rested close against Deja. She immediately put a hand against him again. The gesture was softer now. Aftermath rather than escalation. They stayed there. No hurry to fill every remaining minute. The handler eventually brought water. Deja accepted it. Dalia drank too. The client rested. Conversation returned gradually. Deja asked about the sculpt. Not invasive questions. The client answered through the handler when needed. How long he had used it. What he liked about it. What he disliked. What people misunderstood. Deja listened. Really listened. The sexual charge did not erase the person inside the body. If anything, knowing how much she had enjoyed the body made her more interested in the person choosing it. Eventually the handler looked at the time. Dalia noticed. “So.” He nodded. “About there.” Dalia looked at Deja. Deja looked disappointed. Not dramatically. Enough. The client noticed. He moved closer one final time. Deja smiled and touched his head. “Thank you.” A quiet sound. The handler translated: “He says you're welcome.” Deja looked at him. “I think I understood that one.” The handler smiled. “Probably.” Dalia unclipped the leash. Not because anything had gone wrong. Because the booking was over. Deja took the loose end automatically. Then looked at Dalia. Held it out. Dalia raised an eyebrow. “We're leaving the room.” “I know.” “And?” Deja waited. Dalia smiled. Then clipped it back on. Deja's smile became immediate. The handler saw. So did the client. Deja saw them seeing. And this time— she simply smiled wider. They returned to the corridor. Dalia opened the door back into Lizzie's. Noise returned. Music. Voices. Light. The client and handler went with them as far as the main floor. The handler stopped. “Thank you.” Dalia nodded. Deja looked at the Shepherd. “Very much.” The client made one last pleased sound. Then he and the handler left together. Deja watched them go. Dalia watched Deja. After several seconds: “So.” Deja did not turn. “No.” Dalia smiled. “I didn't say anything.” Deja finally looked at her. “You don't have to.” Dalia lifted the leash slightly. Deja looked at it. Then at her. Dalia's expression softened. “Good?” Deja's answer was immediate. “Very.” “How good?” Deja narrowed her eyes. Dalia waited. Deja glanced around Lizzie's. Bea was across the room. Talking to someone. Not looking at them. Probably. Sera stood near Panam. Her hair appeared perfectly innocent. Probably. Deja leaned closer to Dalia. “Good enough that if you make one fucking dog joke, I'm biting you.” Dalia smiled around the lollipop. “Promise?” Deja stared at her. Then started laughing. “You fucking menace.” Dalia gave the leash a gentle pull. Deja followed. Very willingly. --- ## Chapter 26 — After Dalia and Deja made it six steps. Bea saw them. That was unavoidable. She had been talking to a woman near the bar when the private-room corridor gave them back to Lizzie's. Dalia first. Neon-pink hair. Green reflective eyes. Menthol lollipop. One hand holding an ivory leash. Deja following. Dark venom-green hair. Warm brown-amber eyes. Ivory and cream. And an expression that told Bea absolutely everything she had promised not to ask. Bea looked away. Immediately. The woman in front of her stopped talking. “Something wrong?” “No.” Bea picked up her drink. “Friend.” The woman glanced behind her. Bea did not. “Trouble?” “Quite the opposite.” That earned a curious look. Bea smiled. “Sorry. You were saying?” The woman resumed. Bea listened. Really listened. For almost thirty seconds. Then Dalia and Deja passed behind her. Bea kept looking forward. Perfect discipline. Not a word. Deja knew she was there. Bea knew Deja knew. This was fine. Then Dalia said quietly: “Stop walking like that.” Deja answered: “Like what?” “Like you're trying to convince everyone your legs work normally.” Bea choked on her drink. The woman stared at her. Bea coughed. “Sorry.” Behind her, silence. Then: “Dalia.” “What?” “You did that deliberately.” “I have no idea what you mean.” Bea closed her eyes. The woman across from her smiled. “I feel like I'm missing something.” “You are.” “Do I want to know?” “No.” “Fair.” Bea finally risked a glance. Deja was staring at Dalia. Dalia looked innocent. The leash remained loose. Deja noticed Bea looking. Their eyes met. Bea said nothing. Deja pointed at her. “You.” Bea raised both hands. “I am innocent.” “I didn't say you weren't.” “You were going to.” “I was pointing.” “That finger was accusatory.” Dalia took the lollipop from her mouth. “She has a point.” Deja turned slowly toward her. “You are not helping.” “No.” Bea's client laughed. Deja looked at her. Then at Bea. Bea introduced them because that was the normal thing to do. “Deja. This is Anya.” “Hi.” Anya smiled. “Hi.” No explanations. No stories. No turning a private booking into public entertainment. Deja smiled politely. Dalia nodded. Then they continued toward the bar. Bea watched them for exactly one second. Anya caught her. “Good friends?” “Yes.” “You look like you want to laugh.” “Desperately.” “But you aren't.” “I'm an excellent friend.” Anya looked toward the bar. Then back at Bea. “I don't believe you.” “Smart.” They continued talking. --- At the bar, Suzie looked at Deja. Then at Dalia. Then at the leash. Then back at Deja. “Water.” Deja sighed. “Why does everyone keep doing that?” “Because you need water.” “I can order my own water.” Suzie put one in front of her. Deja drank. Dalia leaned against the bar. Suzie looked at her. “You too.” Dalia accepted her glass without argument. Deja pointed. “Why didn't you fight?” Dalia drank. “I'm smarter than you.” “Debatable.” Suzie: “No.” Deja looked at her. Suzie walked away. Dalia smiled. Deja drank more water. A few seconds later Sera appeared. Alone. Silver-white hair calm. Perfectly calm. Deja watched her approach. Sera stopped beside her. “Hi.” “Hi.” Sera ordered a drink. Nothing else. Deja waited. Sera looked toward the room. Deja drank water. Sera received her drink. Deja waited. Finally: “Well?” Sera looked at her. “Well what?” “You know what.” “No.” Deja narrowed her eyes. Sera's expression remained composed. Her hair remained calm. Dalia watched both of them. Sera took a drink. Deja pointed at her hair. “That's suspicious.” “My hair?” “Yes.” “It's doing nothing.” “Exactly.” Sera stared. “You're accusing my hair of behaving?” “Yes.” Dalia laughed into her water. Sera looked at her. “Help.” “No.” “Great.” Deja leaned slightly closer. “You laughed earlier.” “My hair reacted.” “Same thing.” “No.” “Yes.” “My hair is not legally responsible for my actions.” Dalia removed the lollipop. “I would love to see that argument in court.” Sera's hair lifted faintly. Deja immediately pointed. “There!” Sera closed her eyes. “Fuck.” Dalia laughed. Deja smiled. Then Sera looked at her properly. Not teasing now. “Good?” Deja answered just as simply. “Yes.” Sera smiled. “Good.” And that was enough. Deja relaxed. Sera touched her arm briefly. Friend to friend. Then she moved away. Dalia watched her go. Deja looked at Dalia. “What?” “Nothing.” “You have the face.” “What face?” “The one where you're thinking something.” “I think frequently.” “Dangerous habit.” Dalia put the lollipop back between her lips. The leash shifted slightly in her hand. Deja's eyes followed the movement. Dalia saw. Deja saw her see. And there it was again. That small internal spark. Being observed. Dalia's mouth curved. Deja immediately pointed. “Don't.” Dalia said nothing. “Seriously.” Still nothing. “You're doing it now.” Dalia raised an eyebrow. Deja stared. Then laughed. “Fine.” Dalia's whiskey-and-smoke voice came softly. “Want it back?” Deja looked at the leash. Then at her. “You're holding it.” “That wasn't the question.” Deja understood. Did she still want the structure? Now. After the booking. Back on the floor. “Yes.” Dalia nodded. “Good.” Nothing else changed. That was the point. The leash stayed loose. Deja stayed beside her because she wanted to. --- Bea eventually said goodbye to Anya. No booking. Anya had considered it. Bea had considered it. Neither quite got to yes. Perfectly good conversation anyway. She went to the bar. Deja saw her coming. “No.” Bea stopped. “I haven't done anything.” “Preemptive.” “Rude.” “Necessary.” Bea took the empty stool beside her. Suzie put water down. Bea looked at it. “Am I allowed alcohol anymore?” “No.” “Ever?” “Maybe Tuesday.” Bea drank the water. Dalia smiled. Deja watched her. Bea watched Deja watching her. Nothing. Three seconds. Five. Deja: “Just fucking say it.” Bea widened her eyes. “Say what?” “Whatever you've been holding in since I came back.” Bea thought. Then: “I'm glad you had fun.” Deja stared at her. Bea smiled. No joke. No sculpt reference. No teasing. Deja's expression softened. “Thank you.” “You're welcome.” Dalia looked almost disappointed. Bea caught it. “What?” “I expected worse.” “I'm capable of restraint.” Deja snorted. Bea looked at her. “You literally told me not to say anything.” “Yes.” “And I didn't.” “You almost drowned when we walked past.” “That was your girlfriend's fault.” Dalia: “Not my girlfriend.” Bea glanced between them. Dalia's expression remained amused. Deja rolled her eyes. “Semantics.” “Accurate semantics.” “Fine.” Bea smiled. Then her gaze dropped. Not intentionally. Leash. Deja caught it. Bea looked back up. Deja waited. Bea asked: “You kept it.” “Yes.” No embarrassment. Dalia's fingers rested around the loose ivory line. Bea nodded. “Okay.” Deja looked almost suspicious. “That's all?” “That's all.” “Who are you and what have you done with real Bea?” Bea stared. Then leaned closer. “You really want me to start?” Deja immediately reconsidered. “No.” “Smart.” Dalia laughed. A familiar neon-orange figure appeared beside them. Mandi. “What did I miss?” Three voices answered simultaneously: “Nothing.” Mandi stopped. Looked at Bea. Deja. Dalia. The leash. Back to Deja. Her smile began. Deja pointed at her. “No.” Mandi blinked. “I haven't said anything.” Deja looked at Bea. “See?” Bea nodded solemnly. “Now you understand.” Mandi looked offended. “What the fuck did I do?” Dalia took the lollipop from her mouth. “Exist.” “Harsh.” “Accurate.” Mandi looked at Deja again. Deja drank water. Mandi looked at the leash. Deja drank more water. Mandi looked at Dalia. Dalia smiled. Mandi's eyebrows rose. Deja put down the glass. “Mandi.” “Yes?” “I swear to fucking God.” “I am literally standing here.” “With that face.” “What face?” “That one.” Bea started laughing. Mandi turned to her. “You started this.” “I did not.” “You absolutely did.” “How?” “I don't know yet.” “Compelling argument.” Mandi flipped her off. Bea returned it. Normal. Wonderful. Ridiculous. Then someone approached Mandi from behind. “Excuse me?” Mandi turned. Work returned instantly. Smile. Attention. “Hi.” The client asked if she had a moment. Mandi looked at him. “Yes.” And left with him. Deja watched her go. Then looked at Bea. “She's going to figure it out.” Bea smiled. “She already has.” Deja stared. Bea took another drink of water. “I said nothing.” “Fuck you.” Dalia laughed. --- The night kept moving. Deja did not immediately take another booking. She didn't need one. She spent time with Dalia. Talked to a woman who liked her hair. Talked to a man who liked her collar. Declined both politely when they asked for more. Dalia took a booking of her own. Before leaving, she unclipped Deja. Deja took the leash. No disappointment. No confusion. “Have fun.” Dalia touched her cheek. “I intend to.” Then she left. Deja coiled the leash and attached it neatly at her waist. The collar remained. She went to find another conversation. Bea watched that from across the room. Not because she was studying Deja. Because she was beginning to understand something about all of them. The things they liked did not have to consume them. A leash could matter intensely in one moment and simply hang unused in the next. Boots could become unexpectedly important without becoming the only thing Bea wanted. Sera's pleasure in being known as an artist did not erase the rest of Sera. Mandi could be submissive in one context and terrifying in another. Nova could enjoy being watched. Vega could enjoy watching. People accumulated preferences. Contradictions. Private buttons. None of it reduced them. Bea smiled. Then caught herself. “No.” Nobody was there. She looked down. At the boots. Still there. Of course. Bea sighed. “Fuck.” A voice beside her: “Problem?” Bea looked up. Nova. “No.” Nova followed her gaze. Boots. Then looked at Bea. A tiny smile. Bea pointed. “Don't.” Nova's smile became perfectly composed. “I didn't say anything.” Bea stared. “Oh, fuck all of you.” Nova laughed. Saturday night continued. ---- ## Chapter 27 — Sunday Breakfast Sunday morning began with coffee. This was necessary. Conversation was optional. Mercy would have been nice. Kiro expected none. She sat at the Safehouse kitchen table with both hands around a mug and regarded the people around her with appropriate suspicion. The covers had been stripped down to their strange domestic halfway state again. Ace wore comfortable home clothes, her own face and violet eyes under neon-orange ChromeLock hair. Mai sat beside her with her own face and eyes under neon pink. Iris had Nova's chrome-and-gold hair above her natural face. Brenda had Vega's chrome-and-brass-yellow. Elisa's face and eyes were her own again, framed by Bea's chin-length ice-blue hair. No meshes. No cover contacts. No joytoy wardrobes. The voices remained. So breakfast sounded wrong in several different directions. Kiro had her own face, her own eyes and comfortable clothes. Deja's dark venom-green hair remained. Her ivory collar did not. The leash was gone. Work had ended. That should have helped. It didn't. Because everybody knew. Nobody had said anything yet. That was worse. Elisa ate toast. Ace drank coffee. Mai buttered something. Iris was reading. Brenda appeared fascinated by her breakfast. Kiro looked around the table. Nothing. She took a drink. Still nothing. Elisa reached for more coffee. Kiro watched her. Elisa noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “Okay.” That was suspicious. Kiro looked at Ace. Ace looked back. “Morning.” “Morning.” Nothing. Mai slid a plate toward Kiro. “Eat.” Kiro took something from it. “Thanks.” Nothing. Brenda looked at Iris. Iris looked at Brenda. Nothing. Kiro put the food down. “Fine.” Five heads turned toward her. Elisa kept eating. Ace asked: “Fine what?” Kiro stared at her. “You know.” Ace frowned. “I really don't.” “You're all doing this deliberately.” Brenda looked confused. “Doing what?” “This.” Silence. Kiro gestured around the table. “This.” Iris lowered what she was reading. “Breakfast?” Kiro pointed at her. “You're usually better at lying.” Iris smiled. Brenda lost control first. One laugh. Tiny. Immediately swallowed. Kiro turned. “There.” Brenda looked offended. “What?” “That.” “I coughed.” “You laughed.” “I can do both.” “Not like that.” Elisa put down her toast. Kiro turned toward her immediately. Elisa raised both hands. “I haven't said anything.” Kiro closed her eyes. “Fuck.” Ace looked at Mai. Mai's mouth curved. Kiro saw it. “You too.” Mai took a slow drink of coffee. “With this voice?” The whiskey-and-smoke Dalia voice coming from Mai's natural face at the breakfast table did something extremely unhelpful to Kiro's concentration. Kiro stared at her. Mai knew exactly what had happened. Kiro knew she knew. Ace noticed both of them. “Oh.” Kiro turned. “No.” Ace blinked. “I didn't say anything.” “That's apparently contagious.” Elisa's shoulders moved. Kiro pointed at her without looking. “I saw that.” “I moved.” “You laughed.” “I did not.” “You almost did.” “Thought crimes now?” “Breakfast rules.” Brenda finally laughed openly. That destroyed the table. Ace joined her. Iris gave up. Elisa covered her mouth. Even Mai laughed. Kiro sat in the middle of it. Drinking coffee. Waiting. When the noise finally settled, she looked around. “Finished?” Ace nodded. “No.” Kiro sighed. “Of course not.” Mai leaned closer. No joke now. “Good?” Kiro looked at her. “Yes.” The room quieted naturally. Mai held her gaze. Kiro smiled. “Very.” Mai's expression warmed. “Good.” That should have been enough. It almost was. Then Elisa asked: “The sculpt?” Kiro looked at her. Elisa's expression was genuinely curious. Not mocking. Kiro nodded. “Yes.” “What about it?” Kiro considered. “The physicality.” Elisa waited. Kiro searched for the words. “It wasn't just looking at a sculpt.” She moved one hand vaguely. “Up close, when you're touching it, when it moves against you—your brain knows there's a person in there. Obviously. But the body is convincing enough that another part of your brain keeps responding to what it's seeing and feeling.” Elisa nodded. “That makes sense.” “It was fascinating.” Ace smiled. Kiro caught it. “What?” “Nothing.” “You have the face.” “What face?” “The one that says you have a comment.” Ace drank coffee. Kiro waited. Ace finally said: “You said fascinating.” “It was.” “Right.” Kiro narrowed her eyes. “Don't.” Ace smiled into her mug. Mai saved her. For approximately four seconds. “And being watched?” Kiro turned toward her. There it was. The other part. Mai did not look amused. She looked interested. Warm. Kiro knew that expression. She looked down at her coffee. Then back at Mai. “Yes.” Mai waited. Kiro sighed softly. “A lot.” Elisa stayed quiet. So did everyone else. Kiro continued because she wanted to. “That surprised me more.” “The handler?” Mai asked. “Him too.” Kiro paused. “But mostly you.” Mai's eyes softened. Kiro looked at her. “You were holding the leash. You were watching. I knew you could see exactly what was happening to me.” A small smile. “And apparently my brain decided that was extremely fucking good.” Brenda made a tiny sound. Kiro pointed without looking. “Careful.” Brenda raised both hands. Iris kissed her temple. Mai asked: “Embarrassing?” Kiro considered. “At first.” “And then?” Kiro smiled. “Then I realized the embarrassing part was good too.” Mai's smile became slow. Kiro immediately noticed. “Oh, don't you fucking dare store that expression for later.” “I don't know what you mean.” “You absolutely do.” Ace looked between them. “She's doomed.” Kiro turned. “So are you.” Ace's smile disappeared. “Fair.” Elisa laughed. Kiro looked back at Mai. The teasing faded again. “I liked that I didn't have to hide it.” Mai nodded. “You didn't.” “I know.” A beat. “That was the point.” Mai reached across the small distance between them. Kiro took her hand. Simple. Familiar. Nothing about it needed explanation. Ace watched them with a soft smile. Kiro noticed. This time she let it pass. Then Elisa spoke. “So.” Kiro turned slowly. Elisa's face was innocent. Dangerously innocent. “No.” “I only said so.” “I know you.” Elisa smiled. Kiro waited. Elisa picked up her toast. Nothing. Kiro narrowed her eyes. Nothing. Finally: “What?” Elisa took a bite. Kiro stared. Ace started laughing. “You're doing it to yourself now.” “Fuck you.” “I genuinely didn't do anything.” Kiro looked around the table. “Every single one of you is terrible.” Brenda leaned against Iris. “Yes.” Iris nodded. “Probably.” Mai squeezed Kiro's hand. Kiro looked at her. “Except you.” Mai raised an eyebrow. Kiro reconsidered. “No. Especially you.” “Better.” They ate. For almost a full minute, breakfast became breakfast. Coffee. Food. The quiet domestic sounds of people who had spent enough mornings together that silence didn't require filling. Then Brenda looked at Kiro. Kiro caught her. “What?” Brenda hesitated. “I actually have a serious question.” “That sentence frightens me.” “Would you do it again?” No laughter. Kiro thought about it. The answer did not require much thought. “Yes.” Brenda nodded. “Okay.” Kiro took another drink. “Not every week.” Ace looked disappointed. Kiro pointed at her. “Shut up.” “I still haven't said anything.” “You radiated it.” “I have an aura.” “Wrong woman.” Ace froze. Mai looked at her. Elisa looked at her. Iris looked at her. Brenda slowly smiled. Ace put her mug down. “I walked into that.” Kiro grinned. “Headfirst.” Ace sighed. “Fine.” Breakfast dissolved into laughter again. This time Kiro joined immediately. --- Later, the table became messier. Plates moved. Coffee was refilled. The conversation wandered. Nobody interrogated Kiro further. Nobody needed to. She had liked something. She had learned something. Everyone knew. That was all. Elisa sat with one leg folded beneath her chair. Kiro glanced down. Bare feet. No thigh-high boots. Then back up. Elisa caught the look. Kiro smiled. Elisa's eyes narrowed. “No.” Kiro took a drink. “I didn't say anything.” Elisa stared. Kiro's smile widened. “You bitch.” “Apparently.” Ace looked between them. “What?” “Nothing,” Elisa said. Kiro nodded. “Absolutely nothing.” Mai looked at Elisa's bare feet. Then at Elisa. Understanding arrived. Elisa saw it happen. “Mai.” Mai's whiskey-and-smoke voice was beautifully innocent. “Yes?” “Don't.” “I haven't said anything.” Elisa closed her eyes. Brenda looked down. Then Iris. Ace followed. Elisa opened her eyes. Every woman at the table was now looking at her feet. “Oh, fuck all of you.” Kiro started laughing. Elisa pointed at her. “This is your fault.” “Is it?” “Yes.” Kiro leaned back. “Interesting.” “Don't you fucking dare.” Kiro smiled. “Do you miss your boots?” Elisa stared at her. Silence. Ace made a strangled noise. Brenda folded against Iris. Mai's shoulders shook. Elisa's cheeks warmed. That answered the question much better than words. Kiro looked delighted. “Oh.” “Shut up.” “Oh, Bea.” “Kiro.” “You really do.” “I like the boots.” “Apparently.” Elisa pointed at her. “You fucked a German Shepherd last night.” The table went completely silent. Kiro stared at her. Elisa stared back. Then Kiro nodded. “Fair.” The room exploded. Elisa collapsed forward onto the table laughing. Kiro laughed with her. Mai nearly lost her coffee. Ace had stopped making sound entirely. Brenda was hanging onto Iris. Iris was trying and failing to breathe. Eventually Kiro managed: “Okay.” She wiped at one eye. “Okay. You win that one.” Elisa lifted her head. “Thank you.” “Bitch.” “Dog girl.” Kiro pointed. “Boot girl.” Elisa pointed back. “Dog girl.” “Boot girl.” “Dog girl.” “Boot girl.” Mai finally managed: “Children.” Both of them turned. “Fuck you.” That started everything again. Sunday morning continued. --- ## Chapter 28 — Second Time By Sunday evening, Lizzie's had found its rhythm again. Different crowd. Different energy. Saturday had carried the restless momentum of people determined to make something happen before the weekend escaped. Sunday was slower. More deliberate. People stayed longer over drinks. Conversations had room to breathe. Bea liked both. She was back in full cover. Ice-blue hair framing the face mesh. Contacts in. Voice sculpt active. Thigh-high boots exactly where they belonged. She had stopped thinking about that last part. Mostly. Mandi had not. Bea knew because Mandi had looked at the boots exactly once after they arrived. One glance. Nothing else. Bea had flipped her off anyway. Mandi had looked delighted. Now Bea stood near the bar talking with a woman named Nicole. Nicole was attractive. Funny. Married. Her wife knew exactly where she was. Apparently her wife had been at Lizzie's two weeks earlier and had returned home with such an enthusiastic review that Nicole had decided to investigate personally. Bea liked the marriage already. “So,” Nicole said, “she claims this place ruined normal bars for her.” “That's terrible.” “Devastating.” “We should apologize.” “She specifically told me not to let you.” “Smart woman.” Nicole smiled. Then her attention shifted over Bea's shoulder. Not alarm. Recognition of movement. Someone approaching. Bea glanced back. And stopped. Oh. Him. The security manager saw her at almost exactly the same moment. His expression changed. Recognition. Immediate. Warm. Then amusement. Bea smiled. Well. Apparently Sunday had plans. Nicole noticed. “You know him.” “Yes.” “Good?” Bea looked at her. Nicole's eyebrows rose. Bea laughed. “Yes.” Nicole followed the answer instantly. “Oh.” “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “You made an entire speech with your face.” Nicole grinned. The man reached them. “Bea.” “Hi.” He looked genuinely pleased. “You're working.” “So are you, apparently.” He looked down at himself. No corporate uniform. No obvious duty gear. “Not tonight.” “Then your posture needs the evening off too.” He laughed. Nicole looked between them. “I think this is where I gracefully disappear.” “You don't have to.” “Oh, I absolutely do. This is already more interesting than whatever I was going to say next.” Bea stared at her. “Coward.” “Professional observer.” Nicole raised her glass toward the man. “Good luck.” Then to Bea: “Apparently you don't need it.” And she left. Bea watched her go. “Bitch.” The security manager smiled. “Friend?” “Met her ten minutes ago.” “Fast work.” “I'm charming.” “I remember.” There it was. Not crude. Not shy either. Familiarity. Bea leaned one shoulder against the bar. “So.” “So.” “You came back.” “Yes.” “Why?” He looked at her. “Do you really need me to answer that?” Bea smiled. “No.” “Good.” Suzie appeared. Looked at him. Looked at Bea. Recognition flickered. Suzie remembered clients. Of course she did. “What are you drinking?” He ordered. Bea already had hers. Suzie prepared his drink and moved away. He took a sip. Then looked at Bea. “I wasn't sure you'd be here.” “I wasn't sure you'd come back.” “I considered waiting longer.” “Why?” “Didn't want to look overeager.” Bea stared at him. “You booked a joytoy.” “Yes.” “You liked her.” “Very much.” “And your concern was appearing too interested?” “When you put it like that, it sounds stupid.” “It was stupid before I put it like that.” He laughed. “Fair.” Bea took a drink. He looked at her boots. Noticed them. Nothing more. Bea noticed him noticing. Goddammit. Apparently she noticed that now. He looked back at her face. “Same rate?” “Yes.” “Twenty-five thousand?” “Per hour.” “One.” Bea considered him. Not the money. Never just the money. Him. The first booking had been good. Easy. Attentive. He listened. He didn't assume. He had left her smiling. And now he had returned without acting as though the first yes entitled him to a second. “Yes.” His smile came immediately. “Good.” Payment transferred. Twenty-five thousand. Directly. Bea checked it. “Got it.” Then she looked at him. “Come on.” --- The private-room door closed behind them. He looked around. “Different room.” “You remember the room?” “I remember most of that night.” Bea smiled. “Most?” He looked at her. “There were moments when detailed observation became difficult.” Bea laughed. “Good answer.” “True answer.” She stepped closer. Familiarity changed everything. Not consent. That still had to happen again. But the awkward first few minutes were gone. No need to discover whether they could talk. They already knew. No need to wonder whether attraction would survive privacy. It had. Bea touched the front of his shirt. He looked down at her hand. Then at her. “Still okay?” “Yes.” His hands settled at her waist. “Here?” “Yes.” The first kiss answered the rest. Warm. Familiar. Better than the first booking simply because neither of them needed to wonder anymore. They knew enough to begin closer. He remembered how she liked to be kissed. Bea remembered what made him lose track of whatever clever thing he had been about to say. She used that knowledge almost immediately. He broke the kiss. “That was unfair.” “You came back.” “I did.” “Your mistake.” He laughed. Then kissed her again. The room narrowed. Not instantly. Gradually. Clothes shifted. Touch became less exploratory and more confident. He asked when something changed. Bea answered. Bea guided when she wanted something different. He listened. That alone put him comfortably above average. Then he did something she remembered. Bea's breath caught. He stopped. “Good?” She looked at him. “You remember.” “Yes.” “Keep remembering.” His smile was brief. Then he did. Bea stopped talking for a while. That was also an answer. Time moved. Pleasure built without urgency. He was still good. Annoyingly good. The kind of good that made professional detachment considerably less interesting than simply enjoying herself. Bea did. Openly. When the first release finally caught her, it did not surprise either of them. He stayed close. Did not rush past it. Let the moment settle. Bea breathed. Then looked at him. He smiled. “One.” Bea stared. “Did you just count?” “You seem competitive.” “Oh, fuck you.” “That was broadly the plan.” Bea laughed so hard she had to hide her face against his shoulder. “Jesus Christ.” “You started it.” “I absolutely did not.” “You told me to keep remembering.” “That is not permission to become smug.” “Noted.” She lifted her head. “Also—” “Yes?” “You're still behind.” His eyebrows rose. “Behind what?” Bea smiled. “Nothing.” He understood enough. “Oh.” “Don't get ambitious.” “Wouldn't dream of it.” “Liar.” “Probably.” The second stretch was less careful. Not careless. Different. They already knew the hour had room. They knew each other's rhythm better now. Bea changed what she wanted. He followed. At one point he suggested something. Bea considered it. “No.” “Okay.” Immediate. No disappointment made into her problem. No negotiation. They shifted. Found something else. Better. Bea smiled. “See?” “I'm learning.” “You're trainable.” “That sounds like a performance review.” “Occupational hazard.” He laughed. Later, when pleasure built again, Bea knew it earlier. So did he. This time he did not count aloud. Smart man. The release was slower. Longer. Bea held onto him through it. Then neither moved for several seconds. Stillness. Breathing. Warmth. The distant pulse of Lizzie's through the walls. Eventually Bea said: “Two.” He laughed quietly. “I thought counting was forbidden.” “I make the rules.” “Of course.” She shifted enough to look at him. “How are you doing?” “Very well.” “That's suspiciously polite.” “You want the less polite version?” “Yes.” He gave it. Bea laughed. “Better.” They stayed together for a while longer. Not trying to squeeze another performance out of the clock. Talking. Touching. Enjoying the strange intimacy of having already crossed the difficult parts once before. When the hour approached its end, Bea noticed first. She sighed. He noticed. “Time?” “Almost.” “Okay.” No attempt to buy another hour. No last-minute pressure. Bea liked that. They dressed. He watched her pull herself back into full Bea. Then came the boots. Already on. Still on. He looked at them. Bea caught him. “What?” “Nothing.” She narrowed her eyes. “I have developed trust issues around that word.” He smiled. “They're good boots.” Bea stared at him. Then pointed toward the door. “Out.” He laughed. “Was that wrong?” “Dangerous.” “I'll remember.” “Please don't.” He opened the door. “See you again?” Bea looked at him. “Maybe.” Not coy. Not a promise. A real maybe. He understood. “Good enough.” They returned to Lizzie's. --- He left first. Bea watched him go. Then turned. Mandi. Of course. Leaning against the bar. Black eyes on her. Vega beside her. Nova on Vega's other side. Sera nearby. Panam at the end of the bar. Her agent lit briefly in her hand. **Birgitta:** _Sunday check. Did the children survive?_ Panam typed with one thumb. **Panam:** _Define survive._ **Birgitta:** _No fatalities and Owner still capable of sarcasm._ **Panam:** _Barely._ **Birgitta:** _Excellent. Kiss Sera for me if she deserves it._ Panam looked across the bar at Sera. Sera’s silver-white hair lifted faintly. Panam narrowed her eyes. Sera smiled. Panam put the agent away. Bea stopped. “No.” Mandi smiled. “We haven't said anything.” “Collectively suspicious.” Vega looked toward the door. “Repeat?” Bea walked to the bar. “Yes.” Nova asked: “Same man?” “Yes.” Sera's hair lifted faintly. Bea pointed at it. “Don't you start.” Sera looked offended. “I didn't do anything.” “Your hair did.” Panam looked at Bea. “Good?” Bea took the water Suzie put in front of her. “Very.” Mandi leaned closer. “How very?” Bea drank. Vega: “That means very.” Nova looked at Bea. “Worth repeating?” Bea lowered the glass. “I literally repeated him.” “That's not a review.” “Why do you need a review?” Mandi answered immediately. “Professional development.” Bea stared. Vega nodded. “Peer learning.” Nova: “Quality assurance.” Sera's hair lifted farther. Bea looked at Panam. “Help.” Panam considered. Then: “How many?” Bea froze. Mandi's smile became enormous. Vega turned fully toward her. Nova's composed expression acquired a dangerous edge. Sera covered her mouth. Her hair did not bother pretending. Bea looked at Panam. “You too?” “Occupational statistics.” “Fuck you.” “That isn't a number.” Mandi slapped the bar once. “Yes.” Bea pointed at her. “No.” “Two?” Bea said nothing. Vega: “Three?” “Fuck off.” Nova studied her. “Two.” Bea looked at Nova. Fatal mistake. Mandi saw it. “Oh, two.” “I hate you.” Mandi raised her glass. “To two.” Bea tried to take it from her. Mandi moved it away. Vega laughed. Sera's hair had become a silver-white halo. Bea looked at her. “How many did your last client get out of you?” Sera froze. Silence. Mandi slowly turned. Vega slowly turned. Nova slowly turned. Panam looked interested. Sera stared at Bea. Bea smiled. There. Return fire. Sera took a drink. Mandi leaned closer. “Well?” Sera's hair lifted higher. Vega whispered: “Oh, that's at least three.” “My hair cannot count orgasms.” Nova looked at the hair. “No. But apparently it can provide estimates.” Sera closed her eyes. “Fuck all of you.” Panam: “Four?” The hair reacted. Mandi made a delighted sound. Sera pointed at Panam. “Owner.” Panam smiled. “That still isn't a number.” Bea nearly folded over the bar laughing. Sera turned on her. “This is your fault.” “You started counting mine.” “I did not!” “You participated.” “That is not the same thing.” Mandi raised one finger. “Important question.” Everyone looked at her. She looked at Bea. “Was he actually good, or are you just easy?” Bea stared. Vega made a choking sound. Nova covered her mouth. Sera's hair practically exploded. Panam looked at the ceiling. Bea put down her water. Slowly. “Mandi.” “Yes?” “I am going to shove you into the nearest private room and charge admission.” Mandi grinned. “So good, then.” Bea pointed toward the door through which the man had left. “He remains extremely competent.” A beat. Vega: “That's the sexiest performance review I've ever heard.” Nova nodded. “Retention recommended.” Mandi: “Performance bonus.” Sera: “Annual review passed.” Panam lifted her glass. “Employee satisfaction?” Bea stared at all of them. Then smiled. “Good enough that I let him come back two days later.” She picked up her water. “Draw your own fucking conclusions.” Silence. Then Mandi: “Two.” Bea threw a napkin at her. Sunday continued. --- ## Chapter 29 — Serious Money Sera noticed him because he was looking at the wrong thing. Not her. The painting. Lizzie's was not a gallery. It contained art because people lived here, worked here, cared about what the place looked like and occasionally convinced Suzie Q to let something stay on a wall. Most clients who recognized Sera looked at Sera. Some looked at her hair. Some looked at the collar. Some looked at Panam. Some tried very hard not to look like they were looking. This man stood several meters from the bar with a drink in one hand and studied a piece on the wall. He had been doing it for almost five minutes. Sera noticed. Then stopped noticing. Then noticed again. Eventually he turned. Saw her. Recognition happened. Sera prepared for the usual. It didn't come. He looked back at the painting. Then at her. “Yours?” Sera followed his gaze. “Yes.” “I thought so.” “Why?” He looked at the painting again. “The negative space.” Sera's hair moved. Barely. A few silver-white strands lifted near one temple. Panam saw. Of course she did. Sera ignored her. The man continued. “You use absence aggressively.” Sera looked at him. “That sounds pretentious.” “It probably is.” Good answer. Sera smiled. He smiled back. Then he pointed toward the painting with his glass. “But I'm not wrong.” “No.” “You leave enough unfinished that the viewer has to decide whether something was removed or never existed.” Sera's hair lifted a little more. Panam took a drink. Sera still ignored her. “You know my work.” “Yes.” “How much?” “Enough not to tell you which piece is my favorite.” Sera raised an eyebrow. “Why?” “Because artists hate that question.” “I don't.” “Really?” “No. I hate the answers.” He laughed. “Fair.” Sera moved closer to the painting. He joined her. Not too close. “What would your answer be?” she asked. He thought. “Glass Silence.” Sera looked at him. That was not the answer she had expected. He saw that. “Bad?” “No.” “Predictable?” “No.” “Then?” “Why?” He looked almost relieved by the question. “Because everyone talks about the central figure.” “Yes.” “I think they're wrong.” Sera's hair moved. Panam watched from the bar. The man continued. “The figure isn't the subject.” Sera said nothing. “The empty chair is.” More hair. Sera folded her arms. “Go on.” He did. For almost ten minutes. Not lecturing her about her own work. Interpreting it. Making claims. Some she agreed with. Some she didn't. One she thought was completely wrong. She told him. He laughed. Asked why. She told him. He changed his mind on one point. Defended another. Sera forgot she was standing in Lizzie's. Not entirely. Enough. Eventually Panam appeared beside them. Sera noticed her. The man did too. “Madame.” Panam nodded. “Good evening.” He looked at Sera. Then back at Panam. “I assume I should talk to you.” “If you're asking what I think you're asking.” Sera's hair lifted. Panam looked at it. Sera immediately pointed. “No.” The man looked between them. Panam smiled. “Private joke.” “My hair does not get an opinion.” He looked at Sera's hair. Then at Sera. Wisely: “I have no idea what that means.” “Excellent answer.” Panam asked: “What do you want?” He considered before answering. “Dinner.” Panam waited. “Conversation.” Still waiting. “Several hours.” “With?” “Sera.” Panam looked at Sera. Sera looked at him. “Just conversation?” He smiled. “No.” Honest. Sera appreciated that. “But I'm not assuming anything beyond conversation.” Better. “If we want more, I'd like more.” Panam nodded. “How long?” “Four hours.” Sera's eyebrows rose. The man continued. “Dinner first. Somewhere private enough to actually talk.” “And after?” “Whatever Sera wants.” Sera asked: “Why four?” “Because I've wanted to talk to you for years and an hour would annoy me.” Her hair lifted. Panam's mouth twitched. Sera caught it. “Don't.” “I said nothing.” “Your face did.” “Occupational hazard.” The man waited. No interruption. No attempt to turn Sera's visible interest into entitlement. Panam asked: “Offer?” “Five million.” Sera went still. So did Panam. Not absurd by Night City ultra-wealth standards. Not impossible. But serious. Very serious. Five million eddies. For an evening. Sera looked at him. “That's a lot of money.” “Yes.” “Why?” “Because your time is valuable.” “My time isn't that valuable.” “To me it is.” Sera studied him. He didn't look nervous. Didn't look like he was trying to impress her with the number. He simply had it. And had decided what the evening was worth to him. Panam looked at Sera. Not asking whether the number was enough. Asking whether the man was. Sera understood. “What are you having for dinner?” The man smiled. “I haven't decided.” “Bad start.” “I was hoping you'd choose.” “Better recovery.” Panam waited. Sera looked at him. Then: “Yes.” His expression changed. Genuine pleasure. Not victory. “Good.” Sera pointed at him. “Conversation is guaranteed.” “Yes.” “Dinner.” “Yes.” “The rest isn't.” “I understand.” “If I decide I only want to talk about art for four hours—” “I'll have had an excellent evening.” Sera believed him. That mattered. Panam handled the practical details. Transfer. Location. Security. Timing. Nothing unusual. Just larger numbers. When it was done, the man excused himself to arrange transport. Sera watched him walk away. Panam stood beside her. Silent. Sera looked straight ahead. Panam remained silent. Sera's hair lifted. “Don't.” Panam said nothing. “Owner.” Nothing. Sera turned. Panam's expression was beautifully neutral. “What?” “You're being annoying.” “I haven't said anything.” “Exactly.” Panam looked at Sera's hair. Sera closed her eyes. “No.” “Five million conversation floor.” Sera opened them. “That was not a conversation floor.” “He offered five million before you even got to dinner.” “He likes my art.” “Clearly.” “That's why.” “Sure.” Sera narrowed her eyes. Panam smiled. Then softened. “You actually like him.” Sera looked toward the man. He was talking to someone near the entrance. “Yes.” Panam nodded. “Good.” No joke. That mattered more than the money. Sera looked back. “I'm going to get ready.” Panam glanced at her. “You're already dressed.” “Mentally.” “Ah.” Sera started away. Panam called after her: “Sera.” She turned. Panam pointed at her hair. It was visibly alive. Sera sighed. “Fuck you.” Panam laughed. --- Bea found out approximately four minutes later. Not because anyone told her. Because Sera crossed the room with purpose. Bea was standing with Mandi and Vega. All three watched her pass. Bea looked at Mandi. Mandi looked at Vega. Vega looked at Sera's hair. Then all three looked at Panam. Panam shook her head. Mandi immediately went over. Bea followed. Vega followed Bea. Nova joined because apparently dignity had left the building. Sera saw them coming. “No.” Mandi stopped. “We haven't asked anything.” “No.” Vega looked at her hair. “That's a lot of static.” “Fuck off.” Nova: “Booking?” “Yes.” Bea: “Good one?” Sera hesitated. Fatal. Mandi smiled. “Oh.” Sera pointed. “Don't.” Mandi's smile widened. “Oh, you want him.” “I said don't.” Vega looked delighted. “How much?” Sera stared. “None of your business.” Panam answered from behind them: “Five million.” Sera turned. “OWNER.” Panam lifted both hands. “What?” “That is my booking.” “And?” “My business.” “You're Stable.” “That does not make my fucking invoice public.” Mandi looked at Panam. “Several?” Panam nodded. Vega whistled. Nova's eyebrows rose. Bea looked at Sera. “Dinner?” “Yes.” “How long?” “Four hours.” Mandi: “Oh, he's optimistic.” Sera glared. “He wants to talk about art.” Vega: “For four hours?” Sera's hair lifted. Vega smiled. “Sure.” Sera pointed at her. “He actually knows my work.” Nova looked interested. “Really?” “Yes.” “Properly?” “Yes.” “He got Glass Silence.” That stopped them. Mandi knew enough to understand. Nova did too. Vega's teasing expression softened slightly. Bea looked between them. Sera continued: “He understood the empty chair.” Mandi nodded. “Oh.” Bea asked: “That's good?” Sera looked at her. “Very.” Mandi looked at the hair. Then Sera. Then smiled. “She's fucked.” Sera stared. Vega: “Possibly literally.” Nova covered her mouth. Bea laughed. Sera's hair flared. “Jesus fucking Christ.” Mandi leaned closer. “Four hours. Five million. Likes your art.” Vega added: “And apparently has a functioning brain.” Nova: “Rare.” Bea: “Handsome?” Sera paused. All four women reacted. Sera closed her eyes. Mandi whispered: “Oh, she's really fucked.” “I hate you.” Vega smiled. “Handsome?” “Yes.” “Good body?” Sera looked at her. “I haven't inspected him.” Mandi: “You looked.” “Of course I fucking looked.” Bea laughed. Vega asked: “Would you?” Sera's hair answered first. Mandi slapped one hand over her mouth. Nova turned away. Bea grinned. Sera looked murderous. Vega nodded. “Right.” “Fuck all of you.” Mandi recovered. “What position?” Sera stared. “What?” “If it gets that far.” “Mandi.” “You know.” “No.” “You absolutely know.” Sera's hair lifted. Vega leaned against Nova. “Oh, she knows.” Nova looked at Sera. “Apparently.” Bea looked fascinated. Sera pointed at every one of them. “I am going to dinner.” Mandi nodded solemnly. “That's not a position.” Bea folded. Vega made a helpless sound. Nova actually laughed aloud. Sera stared at Mandi. Then: “You want an answer?” Mandi brightened. “Yes.” Sera leaned closer. “I'll decide when I know whether he's better with his mouth than you are.” Silence. Absolute. Beautiful. Mandi's mouth opened. Vega screamed with laughter. Nova bent against the bar. Bea nearly dropped her drink. Panam, several meters away, turned sharply. Mandi stared at Sera. Sera smiled. Her hair was practically glowing. Mandi finally managed: “You bitch.” Sera kissed her cheek. “Thirty-two thousand. I believe in professional benchmarking.” Vega had to hold onto Nova. Bea was crying. Mandi pointed after Sera as she walked away. “That is not fucking over.” Sera lifted one hand without turning. “Ask me in four hours.” Panam watched her go. Then looked at Mandi. Mandi looked at Panam. Panam raised an eyebrow. Mandi immediately: “Not one fucking word.” Panam smiled. “I didn't say anything.” Mandi groaned. Bea laughed harder. And Sera went to meet her client. --- ## Chapter 30 — She Actually Likes Him The car was waiting outside. Not flashy. Expensive enough that it didn't need to be. Sera noticed. Her client opened the door for her. She looked at him. “You don't have to do that.” “I know.” Good answer. Again. She got in. He followed from the other side. The privacy glass darkened. For several seconds neither spoke. Sera looked at him. He looked at her. Then: “So.” “So.” “Glass Silence.” Sera's hair moved. “You're starting there?” “You asked why.” “I did.” “I wasn't finished.” Sera smiled. “Okay.” He continued. The car pulled away from Lizzie's. Night City moved beyond the windows. Sera listened. Argued. Interrupted him twice. He interrupted her once. She stared at him. He stopped. “Sorry.” “No.” He hesitated. “No?” “Do it again if I'm wrong.” That earned a smile. “Dangerous permission.” “Use responsibly.” “I'll try.” “Don't try too hard.” They spent most of the drive disagreeing about one of her own paintings. Sera loved it. --- Dinner was private. Not empty-restaurant private. Not obscene corpo theater. A small dining room separated from the main floor by glass and acoustic screening. Night City below them. One table. Two chairs. Food already arranged but not served until they arrived. Sera looked around. “You chose this?” “Yes.” “Why?” “I thought we'd want to hear each other.” Her hair moved. Goddammit. He noticed this time. His eyes went briefly upward. Then back to her face. Sera narrowed hers. “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” She stared. He smiled. “Was that wrong?” “You've been talking to Madame.” “No.” “Someone has corrupted you.” “I've known you for forty minutes.” “Apparently enough.” They sat. Dinner arrived. The first course survived approximately three minutes before art took over again. He owned two of Sera's works. That surprised her. “Which?” He told her. She knew both. Of course. One was early. Very early. Sera leaned back. “How the hell did you get that?” “Secondary sale.” “From?” He named the collector. Sera groaned. “He promised he'd keep it.” “He did. For six years.” “Still.” “You want it back?” The question caught her. “What?” “If you want it back, you can have it.” Sera stared. “No.” “Okay.” “You'd just give it back?” “Yes.” “Why?” “Because I like owning it.” He took a drink. “But you made it.” “That doesn't answer the question.” “It does to me.” Sera's hair lifted. He looked at it. Sera pointed her fork at him. “Careful.” “I am being extremely careful.” “You're looking.” “It's difficult not to.” “My hair is none of your business.” “Your hair appears to disagree.” Sera froze. He immediately looked concerned. Then Sera laughed. Hard. “Okay.” He relaxed. “That one was dangerous.” “Yes.” “Worth it?” She considered. “Yes.” Dinner continued. They talked about art. Collectors. Bad collectors. Good collectors. People who bought art because they loved it. People who bought it because someone told them it would appreciate. People who commissioned work and then tried to dictate every brushstroke. Sera had opinions. Strong ones. He enjoyed all of them. At one point she realized they had ignored an entire course. The food had gone cold. Neither cared. Then the conversation shifted. Not deliberately. From art into her. Not Sera the product. Not Sera the artist as public property. Her. “Can I ask something personal?” “You can ask.” “Do you still enjoy making it?” Sera stopped. That was not the personal question she expected. “Yes.” Immediate. Then she thought. “Most of the time.” He nodded. “No follow-up?” “You answered.” Sera looked at him. “You're strange.” “I've been called worse.” “I'm sure.” Another course arrived. They actually ate this one. For almost five minutes. Then Sera asked: “What do you do?” He told her. Investment. Infrastructure. A considerable amount of money moving between companies Sera had heard of and several she hadn't. She listened. Eventually: “That sounds incredibly boring.” “It is.” “Why do you do it?” “I'm good at it.” “That's a terrible reason.” “It pays for paintings.” Sera laughed. “Better.” He smiled. “And apparently dinner.” “Very expensive dinner.” “Yes.” “Five million.” “Yes.” Sera watched him. “You really don't care about the money.” “I care about money.” “Not this amount.” “No.” Honest. She appreciated that more than false modesty. Sera took a drink. “Why me?” He looked surprised. “I thought I explained that.” “You explained why you wanted to talk to me.” “Yes.” “You offered five million before knowing whether I'd want anything else.” “Yes.” “Why?” He considered. Then: “Because I wanted the answer to be allowed to stay no.” Sera went still. He continued before she could answer. “I didn't want you wondering whether I expected the evening to become something else because the offer depended on it.” Her hair rose. Slowly. A silver-white halo forming almost against her will. He noticed. Said nothing. Smart man. Sera looked down at her glass. Then back at him. “That was a very good answer.” “It was the true one.” “Those occasionally overlap.” “I've heard rumors.” She smiled. Something had shifted. Not because of the money. Not because he knew her work. Because he had just removed pressure instead of adding it. Sera reached across the table. Put her hand over his. He looked down. Then at her. She left it there. --- Dinner ended. They had more than two hours left. He did not mention that. Sera did. “We still have time.” “Yes.” “What did you plan?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” He smiled. “I planned several possibilities.” “Better.” “Drinks.” “Mm.” “More conversation.” “Likely.” “A gallery I can access privately.” Sera's eyes narrowed. “Which gallery?” He told her. Her hair lifted. He laughed. “Apparently that one's competitive.” “Very.” “And the fourth possibility.” Sera waited. He looked at her. “Going somewhere private.” There. No euphemism needed. Sera held his gaze. “Your place?” “If you want.” “Hotel?” “If you'd prefer.” “Here?” “There are private suites.” Sera looked toward the door. Then back at him. “What do you want?” “You.” Direct. Her hair moved. “But only if you want me.” Sera smiled. “Better.” He waited. Sera stood. He looked up. She held out her hand. “Come on.” He took it. --- The suite was upstairs. Large. Quiet. Expensive. Sera entered first. Looked around. Then turned. He had stopped just inside. Not advancing. Sera smiled. “You're being very careful again.” “Yes.” “Why?” “Because now it matters.” Her hair betrayed her before her face did. A visible lift. Soft static. Anticipation. Sera walked back to him. Stopped close. “How much do you want me?” He looked at her. “Do you want a polite answer?” “No.” He gave her the impolite one. Sera laughed softly. “Good.” She kissed him. That settled the question. His hands stayed still for the first second. Then Sera took one and placed it at her waist. “I'm not made of glass.” “I know.” “Prove it.” He did. The second kiss had considerably less restraint. Sera approved. Very quickly. Her hands moved over him. Shoulders. Chest. Back. Checking something Vega had asked earlier. Yes. Good body. Annoyingly good. She smiled against his mouth. He pulled back slightly. “What?” “Nothing.” “That wasn't nothing.” “My friends are assholes.” He laughed. “Should I ask?” “No.” “Good.” Sera kissed him again. They moved farther into the room. Slowly at first. Not tentative. Deliberate. She wanted time to notice him. How he touched. Whether he listened without needing instructions repeated. Whether confidence turned into assumption once she had said yes. It didn't. Good. Very good. Clothing became less relevant. The bed became more relevant. Sera discovered he kissed well. Extremely well. That was going to be a problem. She thought briefly of Mandi. Then started laughing. He stopped. “What?” Sera covered her face. “Nothing.” “You are laughing while I'm kissing you.” “Not at you.” “That is somehow more concerning.” She looked at him. “Friend of mine.” “Okay.” “She asked whether you'd be better with your mouth than she is.” Silence. His eyebrows rose. Sera immediately started laughing again. “I see.” “No, you really don't.” “Do I want to?” “Probably not.” He smiled. “Was there a wager?” “No.” “Benchmark?” Sera froze. Then laughed so hard she rolled onto her back. “Oh, fuck you.” “What?” “You have no idea.” “Apparently.” Sera caught her breath. Then looked at him. “Actually.” He waited. Sera smiled. “Now I'm curious.” His expression changed. “About?” She touched his face. “You heard me.” He did. Sera stopped laughing soon afterward. Much later, she would consider that a strong point in his favor. For now, she simply enjoyed finding out. He listened. Adjusted. Learned quickly. Sera's silver-white hair became completely incapable of maintaining professional confidentiality. Strands lifted. Static moved through them. The faint ionized sheen brightened. He noticed. Of course. Sera saw him notice. “Don't get smug.” “I'm trying very hard.” “You should.” “Is it always that expressive?” “Unfortunately.” “I like it.” “That isn't helping.” “I wasn't trying to help.” Sera stared. Then smiled. “Oh.” He smiled back. The evening became warmer. Less conversation. More touch. Enough laughter that neither ever slipped into performance. Enough desire that neither needed to manufacture intensity. Sera stopped thinking about the booking. Stopped thinking about five million eddies. Stopped thinking about whether she was supposed to be giving him value for money. She wanted him. That was simpler. And much more enjoyable. The first time pleasure finally overtook her, she knew her hair had given her away well before the rest of her did. She didn't care. She held onto him. Let it happen. Let him see. The release left her breathing hard and smiling. He stayed close. No immediate joke. No demand. Just warmth. Sera touched his face. “Okay.” He smiled. “Okay?” “You're good.” “Thank you.” “Don't sound so pleased.” “I am pleased.” “Dangerous.” “Should I apologize?” “No.” She kissed him. They stayed still for a while. Then Sera's curiosity returned. There was time. And she was nowhere near finished. --- Later, they discovered that they disagreed about positioning. Not boundaries. Preferences. Sera laughed when he suggested one. “What?” “Nothing.” “You hate it.” “I don't hate it.” “You made a face.” “I have preferences.” “Which are?” Sera told him. His eyebrows rose. “What?” “Nothing.” “That was absolutely something.” “I didn't expect that.” “Why?” “You seem like you'd prefer control.” Sera smiled. “I do.” A beat. “Just not always from the obvious direction.” He laughed. “Noted.” “And?” “And what?” “Yours.” He told her. Sera considered. “Really?” “Yes.” “Huh.” “Bad?” “No.” She smiled. “Potentially useful.” He laughed. They found the overlap. That worked extremely well. Enough that Sera lost count once. Then decided counting was stupid. Then realized her friends were absolutely going to ask. Fuck. The thought made her laugh again. “What now?” “They're going to ask how many.” He stared. “Your friends?” “Yes.” “Do you normally discuss that?” Sera looked at him. “We're luxury joytoys.” He considered. “Fair.” “They'll ask about positions too.” His eyebrows rose. Sera smiled. “Probably your mouth first.” He laughed. “I feel evaluated.” “You are.” “Should I be nervous?” Sera looked at him. Then deliberately pulled him closer. “Yes.” --- By the time they finally stopped, the room was quiet. Sera lay against him. His hand moved slowly through her hair. That normally produced unpredictable static. Now it gradually settled. Strand by strand. Sera noticed. So did he. Neither spoke about it. The stillness lasted. No rush toward clothes. No abrupt return to business. Eventually he asked: “Water?” “Yes.” He got it. Sera drank. Then stole his. “You have one.” “I wanted yours.” “Why?” “Better water.” “Same bottle.” “Mine became artist water.” He stared. Sera smiled. He laughed. “Right.” They dressed slowly. Sera checked the time. Four hours nearly gone. That surprised her. Not because it had felt short. Because she had stopped measuring it. He adjusted his shirt. Sera watched. He caught her. “What?” “Nothing.” “You're looking.” “Yes.” “Professional assessment?” “Maybe.” “Result?” Sera considered. “Repeatable.” He stopped. That pleased him. Sera saw it. “Don't get excited.” “Too late.” She smiled. “I didn't promise anything.” “I know.” “Good.” He walked her back downstairs. --- The car returned her to Lizzie's. He got out with her. At the entrance, they stopped. Sera looked at him. He looked at her. “Thank you.” She raised an eyebrow. “For?” “The conversation.” That answer mattered. Not the sex. Not first. Sera smiled. “Thank you.” He touched her hand. “Can I contact Madame again?” “Yes.” “Good.” Sera kissed him. Not a client goodbye. Not quite anything else either. Warm. Long enough to be unmistakable. Then she stepped back. “Go.” He smiled. “Good night, Sera.” “Good night.” He left. Sera watched the car disappear. Then turned toward Lizzie's. Stopped. Through the window she could already see them. Mandi. Vega. Nova. Bea. All four. Waiting. Sera closed her eyes. “Fuck.” She opened the door. Four heads turned. Mandi looked at her. Then at Sera's hair. Then back at her face. A slow smile. Sera pointed before anyone could speak. “No.” Mandi leaned against the bar. “Four hours.” “No.” Vega looked at Sera's walk. “Oh.” “Vega.” Nova's gaze went to Sera's hair. “Oh.” “Nova.” Bea simply smiled. Sera turned on her. “Don't.” “I haven't said anything.” “You're all fucking terrible.” Panam appeared from farther down the bar. She looked at Sera. Not the hair. Not her clothes. Her. “Good?” Sera exhaled. Then smiled. “Yes.” Panam nodded. “Water?” “Yes.” Suzie already had it coming. Sera took the glass. Drank half. Mandi waited. Sera ignored her. Mandi continued waiting. Sera drank. Vega joined the waiting. Nova too. Bea looked delighted. Sera put down the glass. “What?” Mandi's smile widened. “Well?” “Well what?” “Benchmark.” Sera stared. Mandi raised her eyebrows. Sera looked at Vega. No help. Nova. Absolutely none. Bea. Traitor. Panam was openly enjoying herself. Sera sighed. Then looked at Mandi. “Do you really want to know?” Mandi smiled. “Yes.” Sera considered her. Then: “You're going to need more practice.” Silence. Vega folded against Nova. Bea screamed. Panam nearly inhaled her drink. Mandi's mouth fell open. Sera picked up her water. Walked past them. Three steps. Mandi found her voice. “YOU FUCKING BITCH.” Sera raised one hand. Her silver-white hair lifted brightly around her head. And she kept walking. --- ## Chapter 31 — Repeatable Sera made it to the other end of the bar. That was as far as she got. “Sera.” She stopped. Panam. Different voice. Not teasing. Sera turned. Panam pointed toward a quieter section. Sera understood immediately. Owner. Not friend. Not participant in the firing squad currently trying to reconstruct four hours from Sera's hair and the way she walked. Sera followed. Panam waited until they had enough space. Then: “Actually good?” “Yes.” “No problems?” “None.” “Boundaries?” “Perfect.” “Pressure?” “No.” “Anything change after you got private?” Sera shook her head. “He got less careful.” Panam's expression sharpened. Sera smiled. “In the good way.” Panam relaxed. “I told him to.” “You what?” “He was trying so hard not to pressure me that I eventually had to tell him I wasn't made of glass.” Panam smiled. “That sounds like you.” “He listened.” “Good.” “Every time.” Better. Panam nodded. “Food?” “Yes.” “Water?” Sera lifted the glass. “Currently being mothered.” “Excellent.” “Ownered.” “Worse.” Sera smiled. Panam looked at her for another second. Then: “Sex?” Sera laughed. “What about it?” “Good?” Sera stared at her. Panam waited. Sera took a drink. Panam's eyebrows rose. Sera sighed. “Very.” “How very?” “Are you seriously joining them?” “This part is professional.” “My orgasm count is not fucking Stable accounting.” Panam smiled. “I didn't ask for a number.” “You were about to.” “I absolutely was.” Sera laughed. “Fuck you.” Panam leaned against the wall. “So?” Sera thought. Then gave her the useful answer. “He listens. Doesn't get defensive if redirected. Doesn't treat one yes like permanent permission. Checks changes without turning every thirty seconds into a consent questionnaire.” Panam nodded. “Good.” “He remembers.” “Better.” “And he's confident enough that I didn't have to manage his ego.” “Rare.” “Very.” Panam's eyes narrowed slightly. “Anything bad?” Sera considered. “He has opinions about art.” Panam stared. “That was the problem?” “Some of them are wrong.” “Oh, Jesus Christ.” “He'll learn.” Panam laughed. Then Sera added: “His mouth isn't a problem.” Panam froze. Sera immediately regretted it. Too late. Panam's smile arrived. “Oh.” “No.” “That's what happened to Mandi.” “Owner.” “You benchmarked Mandi.” “I did not benchmark Mandi.” “You explicitly told her she needed practice.” “She asked.” “She absolutely did.” “Then that's her problem.” Panam looked over Sera's shoulder. Sera did not turn. “Are they staring?” “All four.” “Fuck.” “And Mandi looks personally betrayed.” “Good.” Panam laughed. Then the humor settled. She looked at Sera again. “You'd see him again.” “Yes.” Immediate. Panam noticed. Sera noticed Panam noticing. “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “You did with your eyebrows.” “My eyebrows are not part of Stable management.” “Neither is my sex life.” “That ship sailed around the time you publicly compared Mandi's oral skills to a client.” Sera closed her eyes. “Fair.” Panam smiled. “Booking again?” “Yes.” “Same terms?” Sera thought. “No.” Panam waited. “Why?” “Four hours was stupid.” Panam blinked. Sera took another drink. “Too short.” There. Panam's expression changed. Not teasing now. “Oh.” Sera looked away. “Yeah.” “You actually like him.” Sera looked back. “Yes.” Simple. No reason to deny it. Panam nodded. “Okay.” Sera smiled slightly. “Okay?” “Okay.” “That's all?” “What do you want me to do? Ring a fucking bell?” “That would be horrible.” “I could announce it.” “I would kill you.” “Then okay.” Sera laughed. Panam touched her arm. “I'm glad.” That landed differently. Sera's hair settled slightly. “Thanks.” Then Panam ruined it. “Still want the five-million conversation floor?” Sera stared. “Go fuck yourself.” Panam laughed and sent her back toward the others. --- The firing squad had expanded. Mandi. Vega. Nova. Bea. And now Dalia. Deja stood beside her. Leash attached again. Loose. Sera stopped. “No.” Dalia looked around. “I haven't even heard the story.” “Good.” Mandi pointed at Sera. “She said I need more practice.” Dalia slowly turned toward Mandi. Her eyebrows rose. Deja made a noise. Vega immediately: “No, no. It gets worse.” Sera closed her eyes. Nova explained with the clinical precision of someone reading an incident report. “Before leaving, Sera informed Mandi that she would determine whether the client was better with his mouth than Mandi.” Dalia's lollipop stopped. Deja stared at Sera. Sera opened her eyes. “Everybody finished?” Bea: “Not according to your hair.” Sera looked at her. Bea smiled sweetly. That one was good. Sera accepted the hit. “Fair.” Mandi pointed again. “And then she came back and said I need more practice.” Dalia looked at Sera. Then Mandi. Then Sera. “Was he?” Absolute silence. Mandi's head snapped toward Dalia. Sera stared. Dalia calmly removed the lollipop. “Well?” Deja whispered: “Oh, this is evil.” Sera looked at Mandi. Mandi looked back. Sera could save her. She could. Instead: “Yes.” Vega physically folded. Nova caught her. Bea slapped both hands over her mouth. Deja turned away. Dalia nodded thoughtfully. Mandi stared at Sera in absolute betrayal. “You didn't even hesitate.” “You asked for benchmarking.” “I asked for banter!” “You got data.” “I hate you.” Sera smiled. “No, you don't.” “No, I fucking don't.” Mandi took a drink. Then pointed. “How much better?” Sera nearly choked. Dalia's eyebrows rose. Vega recovered just enough to say: “Oh, now we're doing methodology.” Nova nodded. “Useful.” Bea: “Scale of one to ten?” Mandi turned. “Whose side are you on?” “Science.” Deja laughed. Sera looked at Mandi. “You genuinely want an answer?” Mandi hesitated. Everyone saw it. Vega: “She does.” Mandi: “Shut up.” Nova: “She absolutely does.” “Fuck you too.” Dalia leaned against the bar. “This has become surprisingly educational.” Mandi finally looked at Sera. “Yes.” Sera considered. Then smiled. “Different.” Mandi stared. “That is cowardly.” “No. You're very good.” Mandi's posture changed instantly. Bea pointed. “Oh, look at that.” Mandi: “Shut up.” Sera continued: “He's also very good.” “Better.” “At some things.” Mandi narrowed her eyes. “What things?” Sera smiled. “No.” “You just said—” “I said you could have a comparison. I didn't say you could have my fucking field notes.” Dalia laughed. Mandi considered. Then nodded. “Fair.” Sera raised her glass. “Thank you.” Mandi touched hers against it. Then: “Favorite position?” Sera stared. Vega immediately leaned closer. “Oh, yes.” Nova looked interested despite herself. Bea grinned. Deja looked at Dalia. Dalia was already listening. Sera looked around. “All of you?” Dalia shrugged. “We're here.” Sera sighed. Then answered. Not graphically. Didn't need to. The reaction was immediate. Mandi's eyebrows shot upward. Vega: “I fucking knew it.” Sera turned. “How?” “You have the personality for it.” “What the fuck does that mean?” Nova looked at Vega. “I would also like that explained.” Vega waved one hand. “You know.” “No,” Sera said. “I clearly fucking don't.” Deja smiled. “Actually, I can see it.” Sera turned on her. “You fucked a dog yesterday.” Deja froze. Silence. Dalia slowly looked at Deja. Mandi's mouth opened. Bea made a strangled sound. Deja pointed at Sera. “That is an outrageous oversimplification.” Sera smiled. “Is it inaccurate?” Deja opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “No.” The entire group collapsed. Even Panam heard that one from across the room. Deja waited until the laughter weakened. Then pointed at Bea. “And she's got a fucking boot kink.” Bea's head snapped up. “I do not have a boot kink.” Mandi looked down. Thigh-high boots. Then up. “Sure.” “I like the boots.” Vega: “And being wanted in the boots.” Bea stared. Nova nodded. “Important distinction.” “Thank you.” Nova smiled. “Still a kink.” “Fuck you.” Dalia looked around the group. “Are we cataloguing now?” Mandi brightened. “Yes.” “No,” Nova said. Vega immediately: “Yes.” Sera took another drink. Deja looked at Mandi. “We already know hers.” Mandi narrowed her eyes. “Do we?” Several women answered at once. “Yes.” Mandi looked offended. “Apparently I have no privacy.” Sera: “You work as a luxury joytoy with your lovers and closest friends.” “Still.” Dalia put the lollipop back between her lips. “What about Nova?” Nova stared at her. “No.” Vega's smile became lethal. “Oh, I can answer that.” Nova slowly turned. “Brenda.” The real name almost existed. Almost. Vega caught herself before the first sound escaped. The room around them was public. She recovered without a flicker. “Nova.” Nova held her gaze. Good. Cover intact. Vega smiled. “She likes being watched.” Nova's expression remained composed. Her cheeks did not. Mandi immediately: “How watched?” Nova looked at her. “Enough.” “That isn't a number.” “Not everything is a number.” Sera looked at Panam across the room. Panam saw her looking. Raised her glass. Sera turned back. “Apparently orgasms are.” Nova sighed. Vega draped an arm across her working partner’s shoulders. “And I like watching.” Bea smiled. “That is extremely convenient.” “It is.” Deja looked at Dalia. “And you?” Dalia removed the lollipop. “No.” Deja smiled. “Oh?” “No.” “You know mine.” “Everyone knows yours now.” “Exactly.” Dalia stared. Deja waited. Mandi joined her. Then Vega. Nova. Sera. Bea. Six women. Dalia looked around. “You're all pathetic.” Mandi: “Answer.” Dalia smiled. “No.” Deja's eyes narrowed. Dalia put the lollipop back into her mouth. And walked away. Deja stared after her. Then looked at the others. “That bitch.” Mandi nodded. “Get her.” Deja looked at the leash connecting them. Then at Dalia disappearing into the crowd. A slow smile. “Oh, I intend to.” And she followed. --- ## Chapter 32 — Apparently Worth Repeating Sera got twelve minutes of peace. Seven went to water. Three went to Suzie. Two went to watching Mandi pretend she had recovered from being told she needed more practice. Then Panam looked at her agent. Read something. Looked at Sera. Sera closed her eyes. “Oh, fuck off.” Bea followed her gaze. “What?” “Nothing.” Panam started walking toward them. “That looks like something.” “It isn't your business.” “Those are usually the interesting things.” Panam reached them. “Sera.” “No.” “I haven't said anything.” “He wants another booking.” Panam stopped. Bea turned slowly toward Sera. Sera opened one eye. “Well?” Panam smiled. “Yes.” Bea laughed. “Jesus. He barely made it out of the building.” “Twenty minutes,” Sera said. “That's barely enough time to decide your mouth needs another appointment.” Sera stared at her. Bea raised her glass. “What? We're speaking plainly now.” “Apparently.” Panam handed Sera the message. It was short. A thank-you for arranging the evening. A request that Panam pass his thanks to Sera. Then: _If she wants to see me again, ask her what an evening without a clock would cost._ Sera read it twice. Her hair lifted. Bea looked up. “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “You looked.” “Your hair is broadcasting.” “My hair can go fuck itself.” “Can it?” Sera turned. Bea was already laughing. “You're an asshole.” “Yes.” Panam waited. Sera handed the agent back. “I'd see him again.” “When?” “Not tomorrow.” “Fine.” “Later.” “Fine.” “And no unlimited-time bullshit.” Panam nodded. “Agreed.” “Defined start. I decide when I'm done.” “Good.” “If I'm done after dinner, I'm done after dinner.” “Yes.” “Still a booking.” “Yes.” “Still paid.” “Yes.” Bea leaned against the bar. “How much?” Sera looked at her. “No.” “Five million last time.” “You know enough.” “I'm independent. This is market research.” “Then research your own fucking market.” “My market is twenty-five thousand an hour.” “Exactly.” “And apparently yours is enough to buy a small building.” Panam laughed. Sera looked at Panam. “Twelve million.” Bea leaned closer. Sera immediately covered Bea's nearest ear. “Hey!” “No.” “I have another ear.” Sera reached for that one. Bea ducked away. “You're impossible.” “You're nosy.” Panam's eyebrows rose at the number. “Sure?” “Yes.” “Quite a jump.” “He asked for more.” Panam nodded. “Fair.” She sent the terms. The reply came quickly. Panam read it. “He accepted.” Sera's hair rose. Bea smiled. Sera pointed at her. “I swear to God.” “What?” “You're enjoying this.” “Immensely.” Panam put the agent away. “Apparently worth repeating.” Sera sighed. “You too?” “I negotiated it. I'm allowed one.” “You forwarded two fucking messages.” “High-level management.” “Parasite.” “Owner.” “Expensive parasite.” Panam laughed. Bea raised her glass. “To repeat business.” Sera lifted hers. “To clients who know how to use their mouths.” Bea froze for half a second. Then grinned. “There she is.” Panam shook her head. “You two are disgusting.” Both looked at her. Panam considered. Then raised her own glass. “Fine. To clients who know how to use their mouths.” Three glasses touched. --- Mandi arrived four minutes later with Nova and Vega. The Marlow duo were already arguing. “You corrected me in front of him,” Vega said. “You were wrong in front of him,” Nova replied. “You could have waited.” “Then you would have continued being wrong.” “That is not professional solidarity.” “That is quality assurance.” Mandi pointed between them. “This has been going on for five minutes.” Vega looked at her. “You don't have a long-time working partner.” “I have all of you. It's worse.” Nova: “Self-inflicted.” Mandi ignored her and looked at Sera. “Again?” Sera slowly turned toward Bea. Bea immediately pointed at Vega. “I told her.” Vega pointed at Mandi. “I told her.” Nova raised her hand. “I told both of them to mind their own business.” Sera looked at Nova. “Thank you.” “You're welcome.” Vega: “She was ignored.” Nova: “As usual.” Mandi leaned against the bar. “So. He wants another evening.” “Yes.” “How much?” “No.” “You know my orgasm count.” Sera laughed. “I guessed your orgasm count.” “You know enough.” “Not the same thing.” Mandi looked offended. “We need better workplace transparency.” “You're a prostitute, not a public corporation.” “Luxury prostitute.” “Sorry. Luxury public corporation.” Vega snorted. Nova looked away to hide a smile. Mandi pointed at Sera. “Why are you seeing him again?” Sera answered immediately. “Because I like him.” That quieted them. Not completely. But enough. Mandi's expression softened. “Actually?” “Actually.” “Not just because he gave you five orgasms?” Sera looked at her. “Six.” Silence. Bea's head snapped around. Vega's mouth fell open. Nova blinked. Mandi stared. Then: “Six?” “Six.” “In four hours?” “Dinner took almost two.” Bea slapped the bar. “Oh, fuck you.” Sera smiled. “You asked for numbers.” “I didn't ask yet!” “You were going to.” Mandi looked genuinely wounded. “Six.” “Yes.” “Motherfucker.” Vega laughed. “Now she's taking it personally again.” “I am taking it professionally.” Nova: “That is worse.” Mandi looked at Sera. “All him?” “No.” That stopped them again. Sera took a drink. Mandi's eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?” “It means exactly what it sounds like. He gave me four. I got two out of him.” Vega made a strangled noise. Bea covered her face. Nova looked at the ceiling. Mandi stared at Sera. “You were keeping score.” “No. I reconstructed the evening because I knew you fucking animals would ask.” “That is extremely considerate.” “Fuck you.” Mandi raised her glass. “Six.” Sera touched it with hers. “Six.” Bea shook her head. “And you still had time to argue about paintings.” “Priorities.” Nova asked: “So what do you actually like about him?” “Smart. Funny. Listens. Doesn't get pissy when I disagree with him. Doesn't treat a no like the opening bid in a negotiation.” Nova nodded. “Good.” “He remembers what I tell him.” Vega: “Better.” “And I can tell him what I want without spending ten minutes reassuring him that his dick hasn't been personally insulted.” Mandi laughed. “Oh, that's worth money.” “Exactly.” Bea: “And the mouth.” Sera looked at her. “And the mouth.” Mandi groaned. “We get it.” Sera smiled. “You asked.” “I asked why you like him.” “That's one of the reasons.” Vega: “Perfectly legitimate reason.” Nova nodded. “Very.” Mandi looked at Nova. “You're agreeing surprisingly quickly.” Nova raised an eyebrow. “Good oral sex is good oral sex.” Vega stared at her working partner. Nova stared back. “What?” Vega smiled. “Nothing.” “That wasn't nothing.” “I'm merely proud of your commitment to direct communication.” Nova sighed. “Fuck you.” “Working partners.” Sera laughed. Mandi looked around. “Fine. Since we're finally behaving like people who actually fuck for a living—favorite positions.” Nova closed her eyes. “There it is.” Bea smiled. “About fucking time.” Sera shrugged. “On top.” Mandi nodded immediately. “Knew it.” Sera stared. “How?” “Control freak.” “I said on top. I don't conduct quarterly performance reviews while fucking.” Bea nearly inhaled her drink. Vega laughed. Mandi pointed at Sera. “You absolutely would if someone gave you a clipboard.” “I'd hit you with it.” “Still control.” Sera looked at Bea. “Your turn.” Bea shook her head. “You first.” “I just answered.” “Second favorite.” Sera considered. “From behind.” Mandi: “Oh.” “What?” “Nothing.” “You made a face.” “I was updating the model.” “What fucking model?” “The Sera Fucking Model.” Nova: “Please never call it that again.” Vega: “I like it.” “Of course you do.” Sera pointed at Bea. “Now you.” Bea sighed. “Face-to-face.” Mandi waited. Bea looked at her. “What?” “That's it?” “No. Face-to-face if I actually like them.” Vega smiled. “And if you don't?” “On top. Easier to control the pace.” Sera nodded. “Good answer.” Mandi looked down at Bea's thigh-high boots. Bea saw it. “The boots are unrelated.” “No one said anything.” “You looked directly at them.” “Do they stay on?” Bea drank. Mandi's eyes widened. “Oh my God.” “Sometimes.” Vega: “Sometimes?” Bea sighed. “Fine. If somebody really likes them, yes, I like leaving them on.” Sera smiled. “There.” “Happy?” “Extremely.” Nova: “That's actually kind of sweet.” Bea looked at her. “Do not make my kink wholesome.” Nova smiled. “My apologies.” Mandi raised a hand. “My turn.” Sera leaned forward. “Go.” “Against a wall.” Vega laughed immediately. Mandi turned. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” “You're five feet of fucking menace and your answer is against a wall.” Mandi grinned. “Exactly.” Bea: “Giving or receiving control?” “Depends who I'm with.” Sera: “Coward.” Mandi looked at her. “Fine. If I trust them? I like being the one who doesn't have to decide what happens next.” That landed. Not heavy. Just honest. Sera nodded. “Okay.” Bea smiled. “That tracks too.” Mandi pointed. “No psychoanalysis.” “None.” Vega looked at Nova. Nova saw it. “No.” “You haven't answered.” “I know.” “Sera answered.” “Good for Sera.” “Bea answered.” “Good for Bea.” “Mandi answered.” “Questionable judgment.” Mandi: “Fuck you.” Nova smiled. Vega folded her arms. “Come on, sis.” Nova sighed. Then: “Face-to-face.” Bea smiled. “Same.” Nova held up one finger. “With somebody I actually want.” Mandi: “And otherwise?” Nova took a drink. “I don't book people I don't want.” Sera nodded. “Fair.” Vega looked amused. Nova saw it. “What?” “Nothing.” “That is twice.” “I know you.” “You're my working partner. You're supposed to.” “Exactly.” Public. Clean. Nothing underneath visible to anyone who didn't already know. Sera pointed at Vega. “Your turn.” Vega answered immediately. “On top.” Mandi: “Really?” “Yes.” “Why?” “Best view.” Nova made a noise. Vega turned. “What?” Nova shook her head. “No. That is absolutely you.” Vega grinned. “Thank you.” “That wasn't a compliment.” “I accepted it as one.” Bea looked at Vega. “Always?” “No. Sometimes from behind.” Mandi: “Receiving?” Vega smiled. “Either.” Sera laughed. “Okay.” Vega shrugged. “I like watching. Position accordingly.” Nova: “That may be the most Vega answer possible.” “Again: compliment accepted.” Mandi looked around. “Oral. Giving or receiving?” Nova stared. “We're doing categories now?” “Professional benchmarking.” Sera: “You created a monster.” “No. You did when you insulted my technique.” Sera smiled. “Receiving.” Mandi looked betrayed. “Really?” “Usually.” “After all that?” “I said he was better than you. I didn't say I wanted to spend all night working.” Bea laughed. Mandi: “Lazy.” “Efficient.” Vega: “Receiving.” Nova: “Giving.” Everyone turned. Nova stared back. “What?” Mandi smiled. “Nothing.” “Say it.” “I didn't expect that.” “Why?” Mandi considered. “No idea.” Nova nodded. “Excellent analysis.” Bea: “Both.” Sera: “Coward.” “No. I genuinely like both.” “Fine.” Vega looked at Mandi. “You?” Mandi smiled. “Giving.” Sera immediately: “Yeah, we know.” Mandi stared. Sera smiled. “Benchmark data.” Vega folded over the bar. Bea laughed. Nova covered her face. Mandi pointed at Sera. “You are never letting that go.” “Not until you improve.” “You fucking bitch.” Sera blew her a kiss. Mandi caught it and threw it on the floor. Sera laughed. Then Bea asked: “Longest session?” Nova groaned. “We have moved from preferences to statistics.” Mandi: “Yes.” Vega: “Finally.” Sera: “Client session or personal?” Bea considered. “Client.” Mandi answered first. “Six hours.” Sera: “Eight.” Bea: “Four.” Vega: “Seven.” Nova: “Five.” They looked at one another. Mandi looked at Sera. “Eight?” “Yes.” “How many?” Sera smiled. “No.” Mandi pointed. “We agreed on direct answers.” “We agreed to direct talk, not subpoena powers.” “Coward.” “Fine. Nine.” Silence. Mandi slowly lowered her hand. “Nine.” “Nine.” Vega: “Fuck.” Bea: “Jesus.” Nova looked impressed despite herself. Mandi: “Were you able to fucking walk?” Sera laughed. “Yes.” “Normally?” “Mostly.” That destroyed Bea. Vega grabbed the bar. Nova laughed into her hand. Mandi looked vindicated. “Mostly is not normally.” “I had a good night.” “Nine is not a good night. Nine is a medical study.” Sera raised her glass. “I hydrate.” Panam passed behind them at exactly the wrong moment. “Why are we discussing hydration?” Five women turned. Mandi answered immediately. “Sera came nine times during an eight-hour booking.” Panam stopped. Sera closed her eyes. Panam looked at her. “Nine?” Sera opened one eye. “Yes.” Panam considered. “Water?” Everyone exploded. Sera laughed hard enough to bend over the bar. Panam smiled. “Owner responsibilities.” Mandi pointed at her. “See? Professional relevance.” “Absolutely.” Panam looked around. “What else have I missed?” Bea: “Favorite positions.” Panam: “No.” Vega: “Giving or receiving oral.” “No.” Sera: “Longest booking.” “No.” Mandi smiled. “Your orgasm record.” Panam stared at her. “No.” Mandi leaned forward. “Owner.” “No.” “Occupational statistics.” Panam pointed toward the floor. “Go find a fucking client.” Mandi smiled. “Is that how you avoid answering?” “Yes.” At least she was honest. Panam walked away. Mandi called after her: “WE'LL GET IT EVENTUALLY.” Panam raised one hand without turning. Middle finger. Sera lifted her glass. “To direct communication.” Bea joined. “To useful mouths.” Vega: “To good views.” Nova sighed. “To regretting this conversation tomorrow.” Mandi raised hers last. “To Sera finally admitting she's a lazy fucking pillow princess with expensive taste.” Sera stared. Then smiled. “Six orgasms, darling.” She touched her glass against Mandi's. “I can afford to be.” Mandi choked. Vega screamed. Bea folded against the bar. Nova covered her face. And Sunday night continued. --- ## Chapter 33 — R32 Monday began quietly. That should have worried someone. It didn't. By early evening Lizzie's had settled into the peculiar rhythm it developed when the same group worked several nights in succession. The novelty was gone. Not for clients. For them. Mandi no longer checked the fit of her wardrobe every time she stood. Nova had stopped touching her hair as though some part of her still expected the split chrome and gold to disappear. Vega moved through the room as if she had been born with brass-yellow metal through half her hair. Sera had recovered from Sunday. Mostly. Nobody had allowed her to forget the number nine. Bea had threatened murder after Mandi asked whether the boots had been “productive” yet. Deja's leash was back in Dalia's hand. Loose. Chosen. Ordinary now. And Panam stood near the bar watching the floor. Working. Her agent buzzed. **Birgitta:** _Monday. You miss me yet?_ Panam read it twice for no useful reason. **Panam:** _You messaged me yesterday._ **Birgitta:** _That was yesterday._ **Panam:** _You are exhausting._ **Birgitta:** _And yet._ Panam smiled despite herself. **Panam:** _And yet._ She locked the agent. Suzie moved beside her. “Quiet.” Panam looked at her. “You trying to curse us?” “Maybe.” “Don't.” Suzie smiled. Then the front doors opened. Panam looked automatically. A woman entered. Confident. Unhurried. She wore nothing designed to attract attention. Which, in Lizzie's, sometimes attracted more. Panam recognized her. Then saw through the open doors behind her. The car outside. Panam went still. Suzie followed her gaze. “Oh.” Panam said nothing. Suzie looked at the car. Then Panam. Then the woman. “Friend?” Panam finally looked away from the car. “Client.” Suzie's eyebrows rose. The woman reached the bar. “Madame.” “Carita.” Carita smiled. “Good memory.” “You brought the car.” “I usually do.” Panam looked toward the entrance again. The car remained visible through the glass. A Nissan Skyline GT-R R32. Real. Not styled to resemble one. Not some modern shell wearing nostalgia. The thing itself. Panam looked back at Carita. “You did that deliberately.” “What?” “Parked where I could see it.” Carita's smile widened. “I have no idea what you're talking about.” “Bullshit.” Suzie quietly moved away. Traitor. Carita took the stool opposite Panam. “You look well.” “So do you.” “Working?” “Yes.” “Good.” Panam folded her arms. “What do you want?” Carita looked toward the floor. Then back at her. “You.” Panam's expression did not change. Much. Carita noticed anyway. “Direct enough?” “Better than wasting time.” “Dinner.” Panam waited. “Then three hours.” “With me.” “Yes.” “Private?” “Yes.” “Anything assumed?” “No.” Panam studied her. Carita had given the right answer the first time too. That was part of the problem. She was easy to say yes to. Not because of the money. Not because of the car. Although the fucking car did not hurt. Carita looked over Panam's shoulder. “Your people seem busy.” “My people can function without me for a few hours.” “I assumed they could.” “Good.” Carita ordered a drink. Panam remained standing. “You know my terms.” “I remember.” “Say them.” Carita looked at her. “You decide what happens after dinner. I don't buy access to anything you don't want. If you change your mind, we're done.” Panam nodded. “And?” “You are not driving my car.” Panam stared. Carita smiled. “That is not one of my terms.” “It is one of mine.” “Fuck you.” “No.” Panam's mouth twitched. “Not even around the block?” “No.” “Parking lot?” “No.” “Twenty meters?” “No.” “Ten?” “Madame.” “You brought it here.” “Yes.” “You weaponized an R32.” “I parked.” “Where I could see it.” “Coincidence.” “You're a terrible liar.” “I don't need to be a good one. You already like me.” Panam stared. Carita took a drink. That was also part of the problem. She was right. Panam sat opposite her. “How long is dinner?” “As long as dinner takes.” “And three hours after.” “If you want them.” Panam nodded. “Offer?” “Twenty million.” Panam didn't react immediately. Twenty million. Eight figures. Again. Not a number anyone at Lizzie's treated casually. Not even here. But the money wasn't the deciding factor. Carita knew that. Panam knew Carita knew that. That made the conversation considerably easier. “You could offer half that.” “I could.” “And?” “I don't want to.” “Why?” “Because I can afford it.” Panam waited. “And because I enjoyed the last time enough that pretending otherwise would be stupid.” Better. Panam leaned back. “You know I'm not one of the Stable.” “Yes.” “I don't have a rate.” “I know.” “You can't reserve me because I'm standing here.” “I know.” “Then why are you so fucking confident?” Carita smiled. “I'm not.” That caught Panam. Carita continued: “I came here because I wanted to ask.” “That's confidence.” “No. Confidence would be assuming you'd say yes.” Panam looked at her. Carita took another drink. “I hoped you would.” There. Panam smiled. “Better.” Carita's expression warmed. “Is that a yes?” Panam looked toward the floor. Mandi was talking to a client. Nova and Vega were working separately, each in conversation. Sera was near the far wall. Bea at the bar with someone new. Dalia and Deja moving together through the room. Everything functioning. Nothing required Panam every second. She looked back at Carita. “Yes.” Carita smiled. “Good.” Panam pointed toward the door. “I still want to drive it.” “No.” “Fuck.” --- Mandi noticed first. Not because she was watching Panam. Because she was watching the room. Panam disappearing with a client mattered operationally. She excused herself from her conversation when she had a natural opening and intercepted Panam near the bar. “Owner.” Panam stopped. Mandi's black contacts made her expression harder to read. Her voice didn't. “You leaving?” “Yes.” “How long?” “Dinner. Three hours after.” Mandi nodded. No surprise. No challenge. Just information. “Okay.” “Floor stays normal.” “Yes.” “If anything gets complicated, Suzie.” “Yes.” “If anything gets very complicated—” “Still Suzie.” Panam smiled. “Good.” Mandi glanced toward Carita. Then through the doors. Saw the car. Her eyes returned to Panam. “Oh.” Panam narrowed hers. “Don't.” Mandi smiled. “Is that the car?” “Yes.” “The one you weren't allowed to drive?” “Fuck you.” Mandi's smile became enormous. “Still?” “Yes.” “Maybe perform better.” Panam stared. Mandi's smile vanished. She took one step backward. “Owner.” “You have exactly three seconds.” Mandi was already retreating. “One.” “Have fun.” “Two.” “Don't scratch the car.” “MANDI.” Mandi disappeared into the crowd laughing. Carita had watched the exchange. “Friend?” Panam looked at her. “Employee.” “That looked friendly.” “She's an asshole.” “Those categories aren't exclusive.” “No.” Carita looked toward Mandi. “She called you Owner.” “She works for me.” “I know.” Panam looked at her. “You've done homework.” “I asked questions.” “About me?” “About the Stable.” Panam's expression sharpened slightly. Carita noticed. “Nothing private.” “From?” “People who know Lizzie's.” Panam waited. “Your reputation is good.” “That's vague.” “You protect your workers.” Panam said nothing. “You don't sell access they haven't agreed to.” Still nothing. “You turn down money.” Panam smiled slightly. “That part apparently surprises people.” “It shouldn't.” “It does.” Carita looked toward the floor. “I wouldn't have come back otherwise.” Panam studied her. “Why?” “Because I don't want to buy time from someone who can't comfortably tell me to fuck off.” Panam laughed. “That can be arranged.” “I remember.” Carita finished her drink. “Ready?” Panam looked at the floor once more. Everything good. “Yes.” --- Outside, Panam stopped beside the R32. Carita walked around toward the driver's side. Panam remained where she was. Carita looked over the roof. “No.” “I haven't asked.” “You're standing beside the driver's door.” “I am admiring it.” “From the wrong side.” “There is no wrong side.” “There is when you're trying to steal my keys.” Panam looked offended. “I would never.” Carita stared. Panam held the expression for approximately two seconds. Then: “Fine. I would.” “I know.” “Can I at least start it?” “No.” “Touch the steering wheel?” “No.” “Sit in the driver's seat while it's off?” “No.” “You're cruel.” “You're coming to dinner with me.” “Under protest.” Carita opened the passenger door. Panam looked at it. Then at her. “Humiliating.” “You'll survive.” Panam got in. Carita walked around. Panam looked over the interior. Original where it mattered. Restored where necessary. Updated intelligently. Nothing ruined. Nothing turned into a corpo toy pretending to be history. Carita got behind the wheel. Panam looked at her. “If you grind a gear, I'm leaving.” Carita laughed. “You're a passenger.” “I still have standards.” The engine came alive. Panam stopped talking. Carita looked at her. Panam stared ahead. “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “Good.” The R32 pulled away from Lizzie's. Panam listened. Then looked at Carita. “You're enjoying this.” “Yes.” “Bitch.” “Yes.” --- Back inside, Mandi returned to the bar. Sera was there. Bea too. Nova arrived moments later. Vega joined from the other side. Dalia and Deja were still working the room. Sera looked around. “Where's Owner?” “Booking.” Bea raised an eyebrow. “Panam?” “Yes.” “With?” Mandi smiled. “Carita.” Sera's expression changed. “Oh.” Bea looked between them. “I don't know that one.” “Returning client,” Mandi said. “Good?” Mandi considered. “For Owner?” “Yes.” “Apparently.” Sera smiled. “Apparently?” Mandi looked toward the doors. “She left voluntarily.” Nova: “That is generally how yes works.” “Thank you, Nova.” “You're welcome.” Vega looked toward the street. Then saw the R32 disappearing into traffic. “Oh, fuck.” Mandi nodded. “Exactly.” Bea: “What?” Vega pointed. “The car.” Bea looked. Too late. “What car?” “R32.” Bea looked at Mandi. “That's relevant?” Mandi smiled. “Owner wants to drive it.” Sera: “Owner is not allowed to drive it.” Bea started laughing. “Oh.” Nova looked interested. “Still?” “Still.” Vega grinned. “That might actually be foreplay at this point.” Sera took a drink. “For Panam? Probably.” Mandi: “She asked again.” Bea: “And?” “Still no.” Vega laughed. “Carita has balls.” Nova looked at her working partner. “Metaphorically.” “Obviously.” Mandi leaned against the bar. “She offered twenty million.” Bea blinked. “For dinner and three hours?” “Yes.” Bea processed that. Then shrugged. “Okay.” Mandi looked at her. “Okay?” Bea looked back. “What?” “Eight figures.” “I heard you.” “And you're just okay?” Bea thought about it. “She can afford it?” “Apparently.” “Panam wanted to go?” “Yes.” “Then okay.” Sera smiled. Mandi stared at Bea for a second. Then nodded. “Fair.” Bea took a drink. “Also, after last night, I am no longer accepting financial criticism from the woman who charged five million for dinner, art criticism and six orgasms.” Sera slowly turned. Vega laughed immediately. Nova covered her mouth. Mandi pointed at Bea. “That's fair too.” Sera looked at all of them. “I fucking hate this new honesty policy.” Mandi smiled. “No, you don't.” Sera considered. Then smiled. “No.” Bea: “Much better than pretending we don't know what everyone does in the private rooms.” Vega: “Agreed.” Nova sighed. “I agreed to directness. I did not agree to hearing everyone's orgasm statistics before every drink.” Mandi looked at her. “Three.” Nova froze. Bea turned. Sera looked interested. Vega's eyebrows rose. Nova stared at Mandi. “What?” “I'm guessing your average.” “My average what?” Mandi smiled. Nova closed her eyes. “No.” “Three.” “You have absolutely no data.” “Two?” “No.” “Four?” Nova opened her eyes. “You understand that refusing to answer is an option.” “Yes.” “Good.” “Four.” Nova took her drink and walked away. Vega watched her working partner go. Then looked at Mandi. “You're going to die.” “Was I close?” Vega smiled. “Partner confidentiality.” Mandi stared. Vega raised her glass. “Some things are sacred.” Then she followed Nova. Sera looked at Mandi. “Good recovery.” “I'll get the number eventually.” Bea shook her head. “You're a menace.” Mandi smiled. “I've been told.” And Monday continued without its owner. --- ## Chapter 34 — Madame Leaves Panam had been gone forty-three minutes. Lizzie’s had not collapsed. Mandi seemed faintly disappointed by this. She stood near the bar with Sera, watching the floor while pretending she wasn't watching the floor. “Owner has been gone almost an hour.” Sera looked at her. “Yes.” “Nothing has caught fire.” “Yes.” “No one has started a riot.” “Yes.” “No one has tried to buy the entire Stable.” “Give them time.” Mandi considered that. “Fair.” Across the room, Dalia had Deja's leash in one hand and a menthol lollipop between her lips. Deja was talking to a man. Dalia was talking to a woman. They stood perhaps two meters apart. Independent conversations. Still connected. Literally, in Deja's case. Sera followed Mandi's gaze. “They've figured that out.” Mandi smiled. “They figured it out Saturday.” “I mean making it look normal.” “It is normal.” Sera looked at her. Mandi shrugged. “For them.” The woman speaking with Dalia laughed. The man speaking with Deja glanced once at the leash. Deja noticed. “Question?” He hesitated. “Is she your handler?” Deja looked toward Dalia. Dalia had heard him. She slowly removed the lollipop from her mouth. “No.” Deja smiled. “She just likes holding my leash.” Dalia: “And she likes me holding it.” The man looked between them. “Okay.” Dalia smiled. “Good answer.” Then she returned to her own conversation. The man laughed. “Sorry.” “Don't be.” “I wasn't sure whether there was a protocol.” “There is.” “What?” “Ask.” He smiled. “Fair.” They talked for another few minutes. His name was Adrian. He worked in logistics. Not corpo logistics. Actual logistics. Moving things through Night City without losing half of them between districts. Deja liked him. Not immediately enough to want him. Enough to keep talking. Eventually Adrian asked: “Are you working tonight?” “Yes.” “Available?” “Possibly.” “What's your rate?” “Twenty-five thousand an hour.” No hesitation. No mystery. No negotiation disguised as flirtation. Adrian nodded. “One hour?” Deja considered him. Not the money. Him. “Yes.” His smile changed. Warmer. “Good.” Dalia heard that too. Her eyes flicked toward Deja. Deja met them. A question passed between them. Not permission. Never permission. A check. Deja smiled. Dalia smiled back. Then Deja looked at the leash. Adrian followed her gaze. “How does that work?” Deja looked at Dalia. This time Dalia walked over. The woman she'd been speaking with came with her. Dalia stopped beside Deja. “Booking?” “Yes.” “One hour?” “Yes.” Dalia looked at Adrian. “Good.” Then at Deja. “Want this off?” Deja considered. “Yes.” Dalia unclipped the leash. Not the collar. She coiled the leash around her hand. Deja touched Dalia's waist. Dalia leaned in. A brief kiss. Natural. Familiar. Then: “Have fun.” Deja smiled. “I intend to.” Dalia looked at Adrian. “She bites.” Deja stared. Adrian laughed. Dalia put the lollipop back into her mouth. Then she returned to her conversation. Deja looked at Adrian. “She does that.” “I like her.” “So do I.” Deja offered her hand. “Come on.” --- Mandi watched Deja disappear toward the private rooms. Then looked at Dalia. Then back toward the corridor. “Huh.” Sera: “What?” “Nothing.” “That was definitely something.” “They're good at that.” “At what?” “Being together without needing to be attached at the hip.” Sera's hair lifted faintly. Mandi looked at it. “What?” “Nothing.” “Your hair disagrees.” “My hair is thinking.” “That's disturbing.” Sera smiled. Then Nova joined them. “Where's Deja?” “Booking.” Nova nodded. “Dalia?” “Still working.” Vega appeared seconds later with a fresh drink. “Owner?” “Still gone.” “Car?” “Still not hers.” Vega smiled. “Tragic.” Nova looked across the room. Dalia's conversation had changed. The woman was closer now. Interested. Clearly. Dalia listened while slowly turning the lollipop between her fingers. Nova watched. “She has a live one.” Mandi followed her gaze. “Yep.” Vega: “Booking?” “Not yet.” They didn't stare. Professionals had better things to do than stand around monitoring each other's potential clients. Mostly. Mandi lasted thirty seconds. “She's taking the lollipop out.” Sera sighed. “Mandi.” “What?” “Work.” “I am working.” “You're watching Dalia flirt.” “Professional development.” Vega: “From Dalia?” “Yes.” Nova: “You've been doing this longer than she has.” “Doesn't mean she isn't fucking good at it.” That, nobody argued with. --- The woman finally asked. “Can I ask your rate?” Dalia smiled. “Twenty-five thousand an hour.” The woman nodded. “Two hours?” Dalia looked at her. “Private?” “Yes.” “Here?” “Yes.” “Anything specific you're looking for?” The woman smiled. “You.” “That's flattering. Not specific.” That got a laugh. “Conversation. Touch. Whatever we both want after that.” Better. Dalia tilted her head. “You've booked joytoys before.” “Yes.” “Recently?” “Last month.” “Good experience?” “Very.” “Then why aren't you booking her again?” The woman laughed. “She moved to Tokyo.” “Acceptable excuse.” “I thought so.” Dalia smiled. “Name?” “Celine.” “Dalia.” “I know.” “Still polite to ask.” Celine nodded. “Two hours.” “Fifty thousand.” “Yes.” The transfer completed. Dalia checked it. Then: “Yes.” Celine smiled. Dalia held up the leash. “One minute.” “Of course.” Dalia walked toward the bar. Mandi saw her coming. “Booking?” “Two hours.” “Good?” Dalia gave her a look. “I said yes.” “Fair.” She put the coiled leash on the bar. Suzie looked at it. Then at Dalia. “Checking a dog?” Dalia stared. Suzie smiled. Dalia pointed at her. “You have been spending too much time with Bea.” “Probably.” “Deja's booked for an hour.” “I saw.” “When she comes back, give her this.” Suzie took the leash. “Sure.” Dalia turned. Mandi: “Twenty-five?” Dalia looked back. “Yes.” “Two hours?” “Yes.” “Fifty.” Dalia stared at her. “You can multiply.” “I've been practicing.” “Proud of you.” Sera's hair lifted. Mandi pointed at Dalia. “Favorite position.” Dalia stopped. Slowly turned. “No.” “Oh, come on.” “No.” “Everyone else answered.” “Not everyone.” “Deja did.” Dalia's eyebrows rose. Mandi smiled. There. Interest. “What did she say?” Sera immediately: “Absolutely not.” Mandi turned. “What?” “Let her answer for herself.” Dalia smiled at Sera. “Thank you.” Mandi looked betrayed. “We had an honesty policy.” “We have direct communication,” Sera said. “We don't have shared medical records.” “Sexual preferences aren't medical records.” Nova: “With this group, give it time.” Vega laughed. Dalia started walking away. Mandi called: “I'M ASKING HER WHEN SHE GETS BACK.” Dalia turned without stopping. “Do.” Then she pointed at Mandi. “But if she tells you, I'm asking you whether you prefer being held down or ordered down.” Mandi froze. Sera's hair exploded upward. Vega made a choking sound. Nova turned away. Dalia smiled. “Direct communication.” Then she returned to Celine. Mandi stared after her. Sera looked at Mandi. “Well?” “Fuck off.” Vega: “That sounded like an answer.” “Fuck. Off.” Nova: “Interesting.” Mandi looked at all three. “I hate every single one of you.” Sera's hair was still floating. “No, you don't.” “Especially your fucking hair.” --- Deja came back fifty-eight minutes later. Alone. Calm. Satisfied. She walked directly to the bar. Suzie put the leash in front of her. “Dalia left this.” Deja looked across the room. Dalia was gone. “Booking?” “Two hours.” Deja smiled. “Good.” She picked up the leash. Suzie: “Water?” “Please.” The glass appeared. Deja drank half immediately. Mandi materialized beside her. Deja didn't look up. “No.” “I haven't asked anything.” “You're standing like you have questions.” “I always have questions.” “Yes. That's the problem.” Mandi looked at her. “Well?” Deja sighed. “Good.” “How good?” “Very.” “Orgasm count?” Deja looked at her. Mandi smiled. Direct communication. Deja took another drink. “Three.” Mandi nodded appreciatively. “Nice.” Sera arrived. “Three what?” “Orgasms.” “Ah.” Deja looked at Sera. “See? That's how you answer a question.” Sera stared. “I told you six.” “Eventually.” “I regret telling any of you anything.” Mandi: “Nine.” Sera: “Fuck you.” Deja blinked. “Nine?” Sera closed her eyes. Mandi smiled. “Eight-hour booking.” Deja looked at Sera. “Nine?” “Yes.” “Jesus.” “Thank you.” Mandi pointed at Deja. “Favorite position.” Deja sighed. “You really did wait.” “Yes.” “On my back.” Mandi blinked. “Really?” “Yes.” Sera: “Why?” “Because sometimes I don't want to do the fucking work.” Sera nodded. “Valid.” “And I like seeing their face.” Mandi smiled. “Control?” Deja considered. “Sometimes the opposite.” That got Mandi's attention. Deja saw it. “If I trust someone enough, I like giving it up.” Mandi nodded slowly. “Yeah.” Deja looked at her. “You?” “Against a wall.” Deja stared. Mandi's eyes narrowed. “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “You're thinking about my height.” “I am absolutely thinking about your height.” “Fuck you.” Deja laughed. Sera: “Second favorite?” Deja looked at her. “From behind.” Silence. Mandi's mouth opened. Deja immediately pointed. “No.” Mandi closed it. Sera's hair lifted. “No.” The hair lifted higher. “Your fucking hair is laughing.” Sera pressed her lips together. Deja looked from one to the other. “If either of you says doggy style, I will commit a felony.” Mandi broke first. She doubled over laughing. Sera lasted perhaps another second. Deja stared at both of them. “Children.” Mandi managed: “I'm sorry.” “No, you're not.” “No.” Sera: “Not even slightly.” “Fuck both of you.” Mandi straightened. “Twenty-five thousand each.” Deja blinked. Then smiled despite herself. “Actually, yes.” Sera looked between them. “Dalia too?” “Twenty-five.” “Same rate?” “Yes.” Mandi nodded. “And together?” Deja's smile changed. “Make a believable offer.” Mandi stared. Then slowly pointed toward the corridor Dalia had disappeared down. “She stole that from me.” Deja laughed. “No. She improved it.” “That is my fucking line.” “You should trademark it.” “I might.” Sera looked at Deja. “So if somebody wants both of you, there's no pair rate.” “No.” “Offer.” “Yes.” “And both of you decide.” “Obviously.” Mandi: “How believable?” Deja smiled. “Try us.” Mandi laughed. “Fuck.” Deja took another drink. “Exactly.” --- Dalia returned later. Celine walked with her as far as the bar. They stopped. Celine touched Dalia's arm. “Thank you.” Dalia smiled. “Thank you.” A kiss. Warm. Then Celine left. Deja watched her go. Then looked at Dalia. Dalia saw the leash in her hand. Held out hers. Deja gave it to her. Dalia clipped it back onto the collar. No ceremony. Just theirs. Deja stepped closer. “Good?” “Very.” “How many?” Dalia smiled. Deja waited. “Four.” Deja stared. “Four?” “Yes.” “In two hours?” “Yes.” “Show-off.” “Skill issue.” Deja laughed. “Oh, fuck you.” “Twenty-five thousand.” Deja stared at her. Dalia's smile widened. “Unless you want both of us.” Deja understood. Someone had talked. “Mandi?” “Mandi.” Dalia sighed. “She asked you?” “Everything.” “And?” “I answered.” Dalia looked at her. “Favorite position?” “Yes.” “What did you tell her?” “On my back.” Dalia nodded. “True.” Deja smiled. “And from behind.” Dalia stopped. Deja waited. Dalia's mouth twitched. “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “You don't have to.” Deja laughed. Dalia tugged the leash once. “Drink.” “Yes, Dalia.” They reached the bar. Mandi looked at them. Dalia immediately pointed at her. “My line.” Mandi looked innocent. “What?” “Make a believable offer.” Mandi stared at Deja. Deja smiled. Mandi looked back at Dalia. “You stole it.” Dalia put the lollipop into her mouth. Then, through the whiskey-and-smoke voice: “I improved it.” Mandi stared. Sera's hair lifted. Deja laughed. Vega nearly spilled her drink. Nova closed her eyes. And for the first time since Panam had left with Carita, nobody was paying any attention to the door. --- ## Chapter 35 — Who the Fuck Are You? He arrived alone. That was the first thing Mandi noticed. The second was that he expected everyone else to notice him. Large man. Mercenary clothes. Good armor. Expensive cyberware visible at the forearms and neck. A pistol worn openly. Nothing unusual for Night City. Nothing unusual for Lizzie's. He entered as though the room should make space for him. It didn't. Mandi was at the bar with Sera when he walked past. Sera's hair remained perfectly still. Mandi watched him for another second. “Know him?” “No.” “Me neither.” That was interesting. Not alarming. Night City contained millions of people Mandi didn't know. It also contained a specific category of mercenary who assumed everyone knew them. This one looked like that category. He reached the bar. Suzie looked at him. “What?” He smiled. “That's the welcome?” “You came to a bar.” “Fair.” He ordered whiskey. Paid. Drank half. Then looked around. His eyes settled on Mandi. Moved to Sera. Across to Nova. Vega. Back to Mandi. “The Stable working tonight?” Suzie took another glass from under the bar. “Yes.” “Good.” Nothing else. He waited. Suzie continued working. “So?” “So what?” “I want one.” Suzie looked at him. “Ask.” He frowned. “I ask you.” “No.” “Aren't you the one running this place?” “Yes.” “And the Madame?” “Out.” He looked around. “Then who's handling bookings?” “For the Stable?” “Yes.” “They can handle a conversation until she gets back.” He looked at Mandi. Mandi smiled. There it was. He walked over. Sera stayed where she was. “Which one are you?” “Mandi.” “I've heard of you.” “Congratulations.” His eyebrows rose. Sera took a drink. The merc smiled. “Thirty-two thousand.” Mandi looked at him. “That is my rate.” “One hour.” “No.” He waited. Mandi waited. “You didn't hear me?” “I did.” “I said one hour.” “I said no.” He looked at Sera. “You?” “No.” “That quick?” “Yes.” “Why?” Sera shrugged. “Don't want to.” His eyes moved between them. Then toward Nova and Vega. “So they're all like this?” “Like what?” “Difficult.” Mandi smiled. “You've spoken to two women.” “Two prostitutes.” Sera's hair lifted slightly. Mandi remained still. “Yes.” “And I'm offering money.” “Yes.” “So what's the problem?” “You haven't found anyone who wants your money yet.” He laughed. Not because it was funny. “Okay.” He walked away. Mandi looked at Sera. Sera looked at Mandi. “Charming.” “Very.” --- Nova lasted less than a minute. “No.” The merc stared at her. “You don't even know what I want.” “You want a booking.” “Yes.” “No.” “Why?” “I don't want one with you.” Vega stood several meters away, talking with a woman. She noticed. Didn't intervene. Nova didn't need intervention. The merc leaned closer. “You all rehearsed this?” Nova looked at him. “No.” “You talk like you did.” “We all understand the word no.” His jaw tightened. Nova's expression didn't change. “Anything else?” He looked toward Vega. Nova saw it. “She makes her own decisions.” “I know.” “Good.” He walked away. Nova picked up her drink. Vega appeared beside her thirty seconds later. “Asshole?” “Yes.” “Persistent?” “So far.” “Need anything?” “No.” Vega touched her working partner's shoulder. “Okay.” Then returned to her client. --- The merc found Sera again. “You're the artist.” “Yes.” “I've seen your work.” Sera waited. “Not my thing.” “Okay.” That response clearly wasn't what he wanted. “You don't care?” “No.” “I paid twelve thousand for one.” “Then you made an unfortunate purchasing decision.” He stared. Sera's hair lifted. Not amusement. Irritation. He noticed. “What the fuck is your hair doing?” “Getting tired of you.” Mandi, several meters away, heard that. Her mouth twitched. The merc looked toward her. “You think that's funny?” Mandi answered honestly. “Yes.” He walked toward her. Sera straightened. Mandi didn't. He stopped close. Too close. “You know who I am?” “No.” That bothered him. Actually bothered him. Mandi saw it happen. He smiled without humor. “Vollmer.” Mandi waited. He waited. Nothing. “Matthias Vollmer.” Still nothing. “Okay.” “You're fucking with me.” “No.” “Ask around.” “Why?” “You'll find out.” “Or you could just tell me.” His jaw tightened again. “Badlands. Santo Domingo. Watson. I've put down more people than you've fucked.” Mandi considered. “That's a weird metric.” Sera made a noise. Small. Almost a cough. Her hair lifted. Vollmer looked toward her. “You laughing at me?” Sera looked back. “Yes.” He took a step toward her. Mandi moved. Half an inch. Maybe. Then stopped. Because Lisa was already there. Not between them. Beside him. Close enough. “Problem?” Vollmer looked at her. “Who the fuck are you?” “Security.” He laughed. Lisa didn't. “Go back to your drink.” “No.” He looked her up and down. “You Mox?” “Yes.” “Cute.” Lisa's expression didn't move. “You've asked multiple workers for bookings. They said no.” “So?” “So stop asking them.” “I'll ask whoever the fuck I want.” “You can ask once.” He smiled. “That's a rule?” “Yes.” “And if I don't like the rule?” “Leave.” He looked around. The room had not gone silent. That was almost worse. People were watching. But Lizzie's continued around him. Nobody treated Matthias Vollmer like the center of Night City. He hated that. Mandi saw it. Lisa probably did too. “Madame isn't even here,” he said. Lisa shrugged. “Doesn't matter.” “She might take my money.” “Not for them.” “You don't know that.” Lisa looked toward Mandi. “Mandi?” “No.” “Sera?” “No.” Nova, from across the room: “No.” Vega turned. Saw Lisa. Saw Vollmer. Understood enough. “No.” Lisa looked back at him. “There.” His face reddened. “Thirty-two thousand each.” Mandi sighed. “We know.” “I'll pay sixty.” “No.” “One hundred.” “No.” “Two hundred.” “No.” He looked at Sera. “You too?” “Yes.” Nova: “Yes.” Vega: “Still fucking no.” He laughed. “Bullshit.” Lisa's voice remained flat. “Time to leave.” “I haven't done anything.” “You're done here.” “Because some whores got offended?” Mandi's body changed. Not visibly to most people. Her balance shifted. Weight distributed. Hands empty. Ready. Lisa saw it. One glance. Then back to Vollmer. “Door.” He looked at Lisa. “No.” “Last chance.” “What are you going to do?” Lisa didn't answer. He stepped closer. Mandi watched his right shoulder. There. Tension. Rotation. Stupid. He shoved Lisa. Or tried to. Lisa moved. Fast. Not flashy. His wrist was redirected before the push fully developed. Lisa stepped inside his balance. Turned. His elbow locked. His body followed because it had no better option. He hit the bar chest-first. Hard. His free hand moved. Lisa changed position. Mandi recognized the sequence immediately. Krav Maga. Clean. No wasted movement. Vollmer tried to turn. Lisa drove him backward. His knee folded. He went down. One hand hit the floor. The other was trapped. He tried strength. Lisa used structure. He tried to rise. She gave him nowhere useful to put his weight. Then his free hand went toward his pistol. Bad decision. Lisa's response was immediate. Control the weapon arm. Drive. Turn. Impact. The pistol stayed holstered. Vollmer ended facedown. Lisa's knee controlled him. His arm was locked behind him. Everything stopped. Three seconds. Maybe four. Mandi hadn't moved. Not after that half inch. Lisa looked at her. Mandi looked back. Recognition. Lisa returned her attention to Vollmer. “You done?” “Fuck you.” “Wrong answer.” Pressure. He grunted. “Okay.” “What?” “I'm done.” Lisa released just enough to let him understand the difference. Two Mox arrived. Lisa looked at them. “Take him out.” They did. Vollmer managed to regain his feet. Barely. One Mox took each arm. He looked toward Mandi. “This isn't fucking over.” Mandi smiled. “Yes, it is.” Lisa: “Out.” They carried him toward the door. Not literally. Mostly. His feet touched the floor often enough to preserve the distinction. The doors closed behind them. Lizzie's absorbed the interruption. Conversation returned. Music had never stopped. Suzie put a fresh glass of water in front of Lisa. Lisa drank. Mandi walked over. Lisa looked at her. “You moved.” Mandi stopped. “No, I didn't.” “Half an inch.” “I adjusted my stance.” “You moved.” “I was standing.” “You were preparing to hit him.” “I prepare to hit lots of people.” Lisa took another drink. Mandi looked at her. “Krav Maga.” Lisa's eyes shifted to her. “Yeah.” “Clean.” “Thanks.” “No wasted movement.” Lisa studied her. “You recognized it.” “Immediately.” “Thought so.” Mandi nodded toward the door. “You knew he was going for the gun.” “He looked at it twice before he touched me.” Mandi smiled. “Good.” Lisa looked at her. “What?” “Nothing.” “That wasn't nothing.” “You're still annoying.” Lisa smiled. “Likewise.” Mandi held out her glass. Lisa looked at it. Then touched her water glass against it. Once. Sera appeared beside Mandi. Her hair floated with unmistakable amusement. Mandi looked at her. “No.” “I didn't say anything.” “Your hair did.” Sera looked at Lisa. “That was impressive.” “Thanks.” Nova and Vega joined them. Nova looked toward the door. “Is he gone?” “Yes.” Vega: “Permanently?” Lisa: “From Lizzie's? Yes.” “Good.” Bea arrived last. “What did I miss?” Five people looked at her. Bea looked around. “What?” Mandi pointed at Lisa. “She beat the shit out of an idiot.” Lisa: “I removed a violent customer.” Mandi: “She beat the shit out of an idiot professionally.” “Better.” Bea looked at Lisa. “Krav Maga?” Lisa's eyebrows rose. Mandi turned. “You too?” Bea shrugged. “I have eyes.” Mandi stared at her. Bea smiled. “What?” “Nothing.” Lisa looked between them. “You people are weird.” Sera's hair lifted. Vega laughed. Nova took a drink. Mandi smiled at Lisa. “You work at Lizzie's.” Lisa considered. Then nodded. “Fair.” Behind them, the doors opened. Another client entered. Suzie looked over. “Evening.” The night continued. --- ## Chapter 36 — Half an Inch Mandi lasted nineteen minutes. Then she found Lisa again. Lisa was standing near the entrance, talking quietly with another Mox. Mandi waited. Not because she was polite. Because interrupting security while security was actually doing security was stupid. The conversation ended. The other Mox walked away. Lisa looked at Mandi. “What?” “You said I moved.” “You did.” “I didn't.” Lisa stared. Mandi folded her arms. “Half an inch is not moving.” “That's literally moving.” “It was a stance adjustment.” “You changed your weight.” “Yes.” “Dropped your center.” “Yes.” “Turned your right foot.” Mandi stopped. Lisa smiled. Tiny. Infuriating. “You were watching my feet?” “I was watching the room.” “My feet are four inches long.” “They're not four inches long.” “Approximately.” “No.” Mandi narrowed her black eyes. “You've spent too much time around me.” “Occupational hazard.” Mandi leaned against the wall. “I wasn't going to interfere.” “I know.” That stopped her. Lisa continued: “If I hadn't been there, you would have.” “Yes.” “If I'd lost control of him, you would have.” “Yes.” “If he'd drawn the gun, you would have.” “Yes.” Lisa nodded. “So?” “So I didn't move.” “You moved half an inch.” “Fuck you.” “There she is.” Mandi stared at her. Lisa stared back. Then Mandi smiled. “Fine.” Lisa's eyebrows rose. “Fine?” “I moved half an inch.” “Thank you.” “Don't get used to it.” “I won't.” Mandi pushed away from the wall. Lisa looked down. Mandi stopped. “What?” “Nothing.” “You looked at my feet.” “Yes.” “Why?” “Checking whether they moved.” Mandi stared. Lisa smiled. Mandi pointed at her. “You are enjoying this far too much.” “Yes.” “Asshole.” “Joytoy.” Mandi's mouth fell open. Lisa walked away. Mandi remained where she was. Sera appeared beside her. Her hair was already lifting. Mandi turned slowly. “No.” Sera's mouth twitched. “No.” The silver-white strands rose another centimeter. “Your fucking hair is laughing at me.” Sera finally lost it. --- Bea found them that way. Sera laughing. Mandi glaring. “What happened?” “Nothing.” Sera: “Lisa called her joytoy.” Bea stopped. Then looked at Mandi. “Oh.” “Don't.” Bea smiled. “Oh, that's beautiful.” “Don't.” “After you complimented her Krav Maga?” “I did not compliment her.” Sera looked at her. “You said clean.” “It was.” “No wasted movement.” “There wasn't.” “You told her good.” “She saw the gun.” Bea nodded solemnly. “So you complimented her.” Mandi looked between them. “I hate the new honesty policy.” Sera recovered enough to take a drink. “No, you don't.” Bea: “Favorite position?” “Fuck off.” Sera's hair lifted again. Mandi pointed. “I am going to shave you.” Sera's hand went protectively to her hair. “You wouldn't.” “No.” That answer came too quickly. Sera stared. Mandi smiled. “See? Direct communication.” Bea laughed. --- Nova arrived alone. Vega was still with a client. Nova looked at Mandi. “You moved.” Mandi closed her eyes. “Oh, fuck all the way off.” Nova blinked. “I was going to ask whether you wanted to move. Someone's been watching you from the other side of the room for five minutes.” Mandi opened her eyes. “Oh.” Sera folded against the bar again. Bea covered her mouth. Nova looked between them. “What?” Mandi pointed across the room. “Which one?” Nova indicated a woman near one of the booths. Tall. Dark skin. Silver jacket. Watching Mandi openly now that she'd been noticed. Mandi looked. The woman smiled. Mandi smiled back. Then looked at Nova. “Thanks.” “You're welcome.” Mandi walked away. Nova watched her go. Then looked at Sera and Bea. “What did I miss?” Bea: “Half an inch.” Nova waited. Sera: “Lisa.” Nova understood immediately. “Oh.” Bea: “Also Lisa called her joytoy.” Nova's mouth twitched. “Oh.” Sera: “And now Mandi has gone to find someone who might appreciate her more.” Nova looked toward the woman in the silver jacket. “Good choice.” Bea looked at her. “You know her?” “No.” “Then how do you know?” Nova took a drink. “I have eyes.” Bea stared. Nova looked at her. “What?” “That's my line.” “No longer.” --- The woman introduced herself as Astrid. Mandi introduced herself. Astrid smiled. “I know.” “Good start.” “I've seen you here before.” “Better start.” “Busy?” “Working.” “I noticed.” Mandi waited. Astrid did not immediately ask for a booking. Good. Instead: “Can I buy you a drink?” “You can.” They moved to the bar. Astrid ordered. Mandi watched her. “You've been staring.” “Yes.” “Why?” Astrid considered. “Your attitude.” Mandi laughed. “My attitude?” “You look like you're constantly deciding whether everyone around you is worth the trouble.” Mandi took her drink. “Maybe I am.” “I like it.” “That usually means you're trouble.” “Maybe.” Mandi smiled. There. Something. Not enough yet. But something. Astrid leaned against the bar. “You're Stable.” “Yes.” “Thirty-two thousand.” “Yes.” “An hour?” Mandi looked at her. Astrid didn't push. Didn't assume. Just waited. Mandi smiled. “Yes.” Astrid transferred the payment. Mandi checked. Complete. Astrid offered her hand. Mandi looked at it. Then took it. “Private room?” “Yes.” They started walking. Lisa stood near the corridor. Mandi passed her. Lisa looked down. At Mandi's feet. Mandi stopped. Astrid stopped too. Mandi looked at Lisa. “Don't.” Lisa: “You moved.” “I am walking.” “Considerably more than half an inch.” Astrid looked between them. Mandi stared at Lisa. Lisa's expression remained professionally neutral. Almost. Mandi pointed at her. “Still annoying.” “Still short.” Mandi froze. Astrid made the mistake of laughing. Mandi turned slowly toward her. Astrid raised both hands. “Sorry.” “You paid already.” “I know.” “Good.” Mandi continued walking. Astrid followed. Behind them, Lisa smiled. --- Deja returned to the bar while Mandi was gone. Dalia still held her leash. They had spent the last twenty minutes talking to different people while remaining close enough that the leash hung loose between them. Bea looked at it. Then at Deja. “Doesn't that get inconvenient?” “Sometimes.” Dalia: “Then I unclip it.” Bea nodded. “Shockingly practical.” Dalia took the lollipop from her mouth. “What were you expecting?” “I don't know. Commitment to the aesthetic.” Deja laughed. “No.” Dalia lifted the leash. “Function first.” Sera looked at her. “What's the function right now?” Dalia looked at Deja. Deja answered. “I like knowing she's holding it.” Simple. Direct. Sera nodded. “Fair.” Bea: “And she likes holding it?” Dalia: “Yes.” “Why?” Dalia looked at her. Bea waited. The lollipop rolled slowly between Dalia's fingers. “Because she gives it to me.” Deja's expression softened. Bea stopped smiling. Not because the answer was sad. Because it wasn't a joke. Sera's hair settled. Deja stepped closer to Dalia. Dalia tugged the leash gently. Nothing theatrical. Nothing performative. Deja moved the remaining half-step herself. Then smiled. Bea nodded. “Okay.” Dalia put the lollipop back between her lips. “Too sincere?” “A little.” “Want me to call you boot girl?” “Fuck you.” Deja laughed. There. Balance restored. Sera looked at Deja. “So.” Deja immediately: “No.” “You don't know what I was going to ask.” “Yes, I do.” “Giving or receiving oral?” Deja sighed. “Both.” Bea: “Coward.” “Fuck you. Both.” “Preference?” Deja considered. “Giving.” Dalia looked at her. Deja noticed. “What?” Dalia smiled around the lollipop. “Nothing.” “That was not nothing.” Dalia removed it. “You're very enthusiastic.” Deja stared. Bea made a sound. Sera's hair rose. Deja looked at Dalia. “You want to do this here?” Dalia smiled. “Direct communication.” Deja stepped closer. “How enthusiastic?” Dalia considered. “Enough that I occasionally have to remind you I also have other hobbies.” Bea folded over the bar. Sera turned away. Deja stared at Dalia. Then smiled. “Complaining?” “No.” “Good.” Dalia put the lollipop back into her mouth. Deja looked at Sera. “Your turn.” Sera's hair dropped. “No.” “Giving or receiving?” “You already asked me.” “I wasn't there.” “Receiving.” Deja nodded. “Preference?” “Receiving.” “No, I mean—” “I know exactly what you mean.” Deja smiled. Sera sighed. “Giving if I like them.” Dalia: “And if you don't?” “I don't book them.” Dalia nodded. “Good answer.” Sera looked at Dalia. “You?” Dalia took the lollipop out again. “Both.” Deja: “Coward.” Dalia turned. Deja smiled sweetly. “Preference?” Dalia looked at her. Then: “Receiving.” Deja's eyebrows rose. “Really?” “Yes.” “Why?” Dalia shrugged. “Sometimes I want someone else to work.” Sera nodded. “Exactly.” Bea looked between them. “This is disturbingly practical.” Sera: “Sex is physical activity.” Deja: “Luxury sex work is physical activity.” Dalia: “And some of us are lazy.” Sera raised her glass. “To laziness.” Dalia touched hers against it. “To talented clients.” Deja joined. “To enthusiasm.” Bea lifted hers last. “To boots.” Everyone looked at her. Bea shrugged. “I know my brand.” --- Mandi returned fifty-three minutes later. Astrid left first. Smiling. Mandi followed. Also smiling. Sera saw her. “How many?” Mandi stopped. “Hello to you too.” “How many?” Mandi looked at Bea. “This is your fault.” Bea smiled. “How many?” Mandi sighed. “Three.” Deja nodded appreciatively. “Nice.” Dalia: “Her or you?” Mandi looked at her. “Both.” Sera: “That isn't an answer.” Mandi stared. Then: “Two me. One her.” Bea: “Good?” “Yes.” Deja: “Mouth?” Mandi looked toward Sera. Sera smiled. Mandi sighed. “Yes.” Sera: “Better than me?” “No.” “Better than Sera's guy?” Mandi stared. Sera's hair lifted. Mandi pointed at Sera. “I don't fucking know. Unlike some people, I don't run comparative trials.” Sera smiled. “Coward.” “Fuck you.” Lisa walked past. Mandi saw her. Lisa saw Mandi. Neither stopped. Lisa looked down. Mandi followed her gaze. Her feet. Mandi pointed. “No.” Lisa kept walking. “Half an inch.” “I WAS FUCKING WALKING.” Lisa raised one hand without turning. Mandi stared after her. Dalia started laughing first. Then Deja. Then Bea. Sera's hair lifted so dramatically that Nova noticed from halfway across the room. Mandi looked at all of them. “Every single one of you can go fuck yourselves.” Deja smiled. “Twenty-five thousand.” Dalia lifted the leash. “Or make a believable offer.” Mandi stared. Then laughed despite herself. “Fuckers.” Monday night continued. --- ## Chapter 37 — Maybe Panam came back just after midnight. Mandi saw her first. Not because she was waiting. Because Mandi was coming out of a private room with a client when the doors opened. Carita entered beside Panam. That got Mandi's attention. The R32 had apparently returned both of them intact. The client beside Mandi kissed her cheek. “Next week?” Mandi smiled. “Ask.” “That's not a yes.” “No.” “Not a no.” “Also true.” The woman laughed. “Good night, Mandi.” “Good night.” She left. Mandi turned back toward the bar. Panam and Carita had reached it. Suzie put water in front of Panam without asking. Carita ordered one for herself. Mandi approached. “Owner.” Panam looked at her. “Mandi.” “Good dinner?” “Yes.” “Good three hours?” Panam stared. Carita took her water. Mandi smiled. Direct communication. Panam sighed. “Yes.” “How good?” “Mandi.” “Orgasm count?” Carita choked. Actually choked. Panam turned toward her. “You okay?” Carita coughed once. Then started laughing. Mandi looked delighted. Panam looked less delighted. “You people have become fucking unbearable.” Sera appeared. “That's not an answer.” Panam closed her eyes. Carita looked between them. “This is normal?” “No,” Panam said. “Yes,” Mandi said. Sera considered. “Recently.” Panam looked at Carita. “I apologize.” “Don't.” Carita was still smiling. “This is educational.” Mandi leaned against the bar. “Exactly.” Panam pointed at her. “Go away.” “No.” “You work for me.” “Not currently booked.” “That's not how employment works.” Mandi looked at Sera. “Owner is trying to use hierarchy to suppress workplace transparency.” Sera nodded solemnly. “Concerning.” Panam stared at both of them. Carita laughed again. Panam finally surrendered. “Four.” Silence. Mandi's eyebrows rose. Sera's hair lifted. Carita looked at Panam. Panam looked at Carita. “What?” “You counted?” “They were going to ask.” Mandi: “Correct.” Panam pointed at her without looking. “Shut up.” Sera: “Four is respectable.” Panam turned. “Respectable?” “Yes.” “What the fuck does that mean?” “Not nine.” Panam stared. Sera smiled. Mandi looked at Carita. “Your count?” Panam: “No.” Carita answered anyway. “Three.” Panam turned slowly. Carita took another drink. “What?” “You did not have to answer.” “I know.” Mandi nodded approvingly. “I like her.” Panam: “Don't encourage them.” Carita smiled. “Too late.” Sera looked at Panam. “Position?” “No.” Mandi: “You made us answer.” “I absolutely did not.” “You participated.” “I walked into the conversation.” “Same thing.” “No.” Carita looked at Panam. “On top.” Panam stared at her. Mandi's mouth opened. Sera's hair lifted higher. Carita clarified: “Her.” Mandi slapped the bar. Panam covered her face. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Sera: “Favorite?” Panam lowered her hands. “Are we seriously doing this?” “Yes,” Mandi said. Carita: “Apparently.” Panam looked at Carita. “You are supposed to be on my side.” “I paid twenty million. I think I'm allowed neutrality.” Mandi froze. Then smiled. “Eight figures.” Carita looked at her. “Yes.” “How many?” Panam: “No.” Mandi looked at Panam. “Price transparency.” “Does not apply to me.” “You negotiated our bookings all weekend.” “Because I'm your owner.” “And now we're benchmarking management.” Sera: “She has a point.” “No, she fucking doesn't.” Carita drank. Panam looked at her. “You're enjoying this.” “Immensely.” “Bitch.” “Yes.” Mandi smiled. “I really like her.” --- Carita stayed for another twenty minutes. Not because she was trying to extend the booking. That was over. She simply sat with Panam and talked. Mandi eventually wandered away. Sera found something resembling work. Nova and Vega passed through separately. Dalia and Deja appeared together, leash loose between them. Bea joined long enough to hear that Panam had finally answered an orgasm-count question. “Four?” Panam looked at her. “Yes.” Bea nodded. “Nice.” Panam stared. “That's it?” “What do you want me to say?” “I don't know.” “Congratulations?” Carita laughed. Bea looked at her. “You're Carita.” “Yes.” “Bea.” “I know.” Bea's eyebrows rose. Carita smiled. “I've been here before.” “Right.” Carita's eyes dropped briefly. The boots. Bea noticed. Carita looked back up. “Those are spectacular.” Bea smiled. “Thank you.” Dalia made a small sound. Bea turned. “No.” Dalia had the lollipop between her lips. She said nothing. Deja smiled. Bea pointed at both. “Absolutely not.” Panam looked between them. “What?” “Nothing.” Dalia: “Boots.” Bea: “Fuck you.” Carita looked at Bea's boots again. Then at Bea. “I'm missing context.” “Good.” Deja: “She likes—” Bea slapped a hand over Deja's mouth. Deja's eyes widened. Dalia started laughing. Panam smiled. Carita looked delighted. Bea removed her hand. Deja: “—being specifically wanted in the boots.” Bea stared at her. Deja smiled. “Direct communication.” “You bitch.” “Boot girl.” “Dog girl.” Carita looked at Deja. Then at the leash. Then at Dalia. Then back at Deja. “Do I want context?” Deja considered. “Yes.” Dalia: “No.” They looked at each other. Carita laughed. Panam took a drink. “Welcome to my fucking workplace.” --- Eventually Carita stood. Panam stood with her. No announcement. No performance. Carita touched Panam's arm. “I had a good night.” “So did I.” “I'd like another.” Panam looked at her. “When?” “Not tonight.” “Good.” Carita smiled. “Next week?” Panam considered. Not the money. Not the R32. Her. “Yes.” Carita's expression warmed. “Dinner?” “Yes.” “Three hours?” Panam smiled. “Maybe.” Carita laughed. “Fair.” They walked toward the entrance. Mandi noticed. Of course she noticed. She intercepted them halfway. Carita looked at her. Mandi looked at Panam. Then at Carita. Then toward the doors. “Next week?” Panam stared. “How the fuck did you hear that?” Mandi smiled. “Joytoy.” Carita laughed. Panam looked betrayed. “You've been here one evening and you've already learned how to weaponize that.” “I learn quickly.” Mandi looked at Carita. “Car.” Carita: “No.” “You knew what I was going to ask?” “Yes.” “Owner still hasn't driven it?” “No.” Panam: “Thank you, Mandi.” “I'm helping.” “You aren't.” Mandi looked at Carita. “Maybe next week.” Carita smiled. “No.” Panam sighed. Mandi grinned. “Worth trying.” Carita offered Panam her hand. Panam looked at it. Then took it. They stepped outside. The R32 waited at the curb. Panam stopped beside the passenger door. Carita walked toward the driver's side. Panam: “Next week.” “No.” “You don't know what I was going to ask.” “Yes, I do.” “Five minutes.” “No.” “Three.” “No.” “One.” “No.” “Thirty seconds.” “No.” Panam looked at the car. Then at Carita. “Your refusal to negotiate is deeply unattractive.” Carita opened the driver's door. “Maybe.” Panam stared. Carita smiled. Panam laughed. “Fuck you.” “Next week.” Carita got in. The engine came alive. Panam listened despite herself. Carita drove away. Panam watched until the taillights disappeared. Then she went back inside. --- The first thing she saw was Mandi. Waiting. “No.” “I haven't said anything.” “No.” Mandi smiled. “Next week.” Panam walked past her. “No.” “Three hours?” “Maybe.” Mandi followed. “Four orgasms?” “Mandi.” “Carita on top?” “Mandi.” “Eight figures?” Panam stopped. Mandi nearly walked into her. Panam turned. “Do you want tomorrow off?” Mandi considered. “No.” “Then stop.” Mandi smiled. “Yes, Owner.” Panam resumed walking. Mandi lasted five seconds. “Still didn't drive the car.” Panam turned. Mandi ran. Actually ran. Sera saw her coming and stepped aside. “What did you do?” “Nothing.” Panam appeared behind her. “She did something.” Sera looked at Mandi. Mandi looked at Sera. “Traitor.” “I haven't betrayed you yet.” Panam pointed. “She asked about the car.” Sera's hair lifted. Mandi: “See?” Panam looked at Sera. “Don't.” Sera tried. She genuinely tried. Her face remained almost neutral. Her hair did not. Panam sighed. “I fucking hate all of you.” From the bar, Deja called: “Twenty-five thousand.” Dalia lifted the leash. “Or make a believable offer.” Panam stared at them. Bea started laughing. Vega joined. Nova covered her face. Mandi leaned against Sera. Sera's hair floated around both of them. Panam looked across the whole impossible group. Then laughed. “Fine.” She walked toward the bar. “Someone give me a fucking drink.” Suzie already had one waiting. --- ## Chapter 38 — Last Hours Sometime after two, Lizzie's changed gears. The music didn't get quieter. The lights didn't change. Nobody announced anything. The night simply began running out of people who had somewhere else to go afterward. New arrivals became occasional. Empty glasses stayed empty longer. The private-room corridor stopped behaving like a revolving door. At the bar, Bea had one thigh-high boot hooked over the rail of her stool and was watching a man cross the room toward the exit. She narrowed her eyes. “Three.” Nova followed her gaze. “Three what?” “Orgasms.” Nova turned slowly. “You have never met that man.” “Correct.” “You don't know who he booked.” “Correct.” “You didn't see what happened.” “Correct.” “And your conclusion is three.” “Absolutely.” Vega joined them. She glanced at the man. “Two.” Bea looked offended. “Three.” “Two.” “Evidence?” “The walk.” Bea stared. “That was my evidence.” “You didn't have evidence.” “I had the walk.” Nova took a drink. “I would like the record to show that neither of you knows anything.” Sera slid onto the empty stool beside her. “One.” Three heads turned. Vega: “One?” “Yes.” Bea: “How the fuck do you know?” “He was with me.” Nova smiled into her glass. Bea looked back toward the man. “You fucked him once?” Sera's hair shifted. “No.” Vega: “Then what was the one?” “His.” There was a pause. Bea: “Oh.” Sera took the drink Suzie placed in front of her. “We talked about art for forty minutes. Then he asked if I'd mind watching.” Vega grinned. “And?” “I didn't mind.” Nova: “So he paid big money for private art criticism and an audience.” “Yes.” Bea looked toward the door again. “He looked happy.” “He was.” Vega lifted her glass. “Good booking?” Sera thought. “Yes.” “Would you repeat?” “Probably.” Bea: “Even without sex?” Sera looked at her. “Sex isn't the only thing I like.” Bea smiled. “I know.” Sera's hair lifted faintly. “Also, he owns three of my pieces.” Vega nodded. “There it is.” “What?” “Artist foreplay.” “Fuck you.” Nova laughed. --- Panam stood at the opposite end of the bar with Suzie. She wasn't listening to them. Mostly. She was watching the floor. Mandi was occupied. Nova, Vega and Sera were free. Bea was free. Dalia and Deja were near the booths. Lisa had the entrance. Nobody looked uncomfortable. Nobody was being cornered. Nobody needed rescuing from an offer they had already refused. Suzie watched Panam's eyes move. “You're counting again.” “I'm working.” “You've counted them twice.” “Three times.” Suzie looked at her. Panam shrugged. “Long weekend.” “It's Monday.” “Exactly.” Suzie smiled. “You trust them.” “Yes.” “Then why count?” Panam looked at the room. “Because trusting people doesn't mean I stop paying attention.” Suzie nodded. “Fair.” Panam glanced at her. “That sounded dangerously approving.” “Don't get excited.” “Good.” --- Near the booths, Deja was laughing at something Dalia had said. The leash between them hung almost completely slack. A man approaching them noticed it. His eyes followed the line from Deja's collar to Dalia's hand. Then he looked at both women. “Can I ask something?” Dalia removed the menthol lollipop from her mouth. “Usually.” “Are you working together?” Deja smiled. “We can.” He nodded. “What would two hours cost?” “Separately,” Deja said, “we're twenty-five thousand each per hour.” He did the arithmetic. “One hundred thousand.” “If you book us separately,” Dalia said. He looked at her. “And together?” Dalia smiled. “Make a believable offer.” The man laughed. Not mockingly. More like he'd just realized he'd walked into the interesting version of the conversation. “Okay.” Dalia waited. So did Deja. He thought about it. “One hundred and fifty thousand. Two hours. Both of you.” Neither answered immediately. Dalia looked at Deja. Deja looked at him. Then: “What are you actually asking for?” Deja said. “Drinks first.” “Good start.” “Private room after that.” Dalia: “And?” He shrugged. “Whatever we all decide sounds fun.” “No checklist?” “No.” “No guaranteed sex?” “No.” Deja: “If one of us says stop?” “We stop.” Dalia: “If one of us wants something and the other doesn't?” “Then that one doesn't do it.” Simple. Correct. Dalia looked at Deja again. This time the question was clear. Deja smiled. “Yes.” Dalia looked back at the man. “Yes.” He released a breath. Dalia noticed. “Nervous?” “A little.” “Why?” “Because I wasn't sure whether one hundred and fifty was believable.” Deja laughed. “That wasn't the important part.” “I gathered.” The transfer completed. Dalia checked it. One hundred fifty thousand. “Name?” “Jonas.” “Dalia.” “Deja.” “I know.” Dalia put the lollipop back between her lips. Deja smiled. “Then buy us those drinks, Jonas.” --- Panam caught Dalia's eye when the three sat down. Dalia held up two fingers. Two hours. Then gave a small nod. Booked. Panam returned it. That was all. Suzie had seen the exchange. “Joint?” “Looks like it.” “How much?” Panam looked at her. Suzie smiled. “Direct communication.” “One-fifty.” “For two?” “Yes.” Suzie nodded. “Believable.” Panam laughed. “Apparently.” --- Mandi came back from her own booking twenty minutes later. Her client left with a kiss and a promise to ask again another night. Mandi reached the bar. Panam slid water toward her. “Thanks.” “Good?” “Very.” Panam waited. Mandi drank. Panam kept waiting. Mandi lowered the glass. “What?” Panam smiled. “How many?” Mandi stared at her. Sera turned immediately. Bea's head came up. Vega grinned. Nova sighed. Mandi pointed at Panam. “You've become one of them.” “Answer the question.” “This is corruption.” “How many?” Mandi looked around. Everyone was waiting. “Four.” Bea: “Nice.” Sera: “You or her?” Mandi turned toward her. “Oh, fuck you.” “Direct communication.” Mandi sighed. “Three me. One her.” Vega nodded appreciatively. “Good distribution.” Nova looked at her working partner. “Distribution?” “What would you call it?” “I wouldn't.” “Coward.” Mandi took another drink. Bea leaned forward. “Mouth?” Mandi closed her eyes. “Why is that always the next fucking question?” Sera: “Useful metric.” “You invented that.” “Yes.” Mandi looked at her. “Fine. Excellent mouth.” Sera's hair lifted. Mandi saw it. “No.” “I didn't say anything.” “You're about to.” “Better than me?” Mandi stared. Then smiled. “No.” Sera's hair rose higher. Mandi pointed at it. “See? That's fucking smug.” “My face didn't move.” “Your hair needs humility.” Bea: “Thirty-two thousand an hour.” Sera: “Don't give her ideas.” Mandi: “I'd pay.” Sera looked at her. Mandi smiled. “Professional benchmarking.” Sera laughed despite herself. --- The night thinned further. Nova took an hour with a woman who had spent most of the evening working up the courage to ask. Vega declined a man, accepted a woman twenty minutes later, and disappeared down the corridor with a grin. Sera spent half an hour talking to a collector and refused his booking because she was tired. He accepted it. No counteroffer. No wounded pride. Just: “Another night?” “Maybe.” “Good enough.” Bea had two conversations and booked neither. One person couldn't afford her. The other could. Neither became a yes. That was work too. Panam watched all of it. Not controlling. Not choosing. Just keeping the floor coherent. When Sera returned to the bar after refusing the collector, Panam put water in front of her. “Tired?” “Yes.” “Done?” Sera considered. “Yes.” “Then you're done.” Sera nodded. No argument. She took the water. Mandi looked over. “No more bookings?” “No.” “Good.” Sera raised an eyebrow. Mandi shrugged. “You look tired.” Sera's hair softened. “Thanks.” “Don't make it weird.” “Too late.” “Fuck you.” “Better.” --- Dalia and Deja returned almost exactly two hours after disappearing with Jonas. Jonas came out between them. His shirt was buttoned incorrectly. Deja noticed. She pointed. “You missed one.” He looked down. “Fuck.” Dalia laughed. Jonas fixed it. “Better?” Deja studied him. “One off.” “What?” “You're still one off.” He looked again. Dalia leaned against the wall laughing. “How the fuck did I manage that?” “Talent,” Deja said. He started over. Finally correct. Dalia nodded. “There.” “Thank you.” “You're welcome.” Jonas looked at both of them. The humor faded into something warmer. “That was...” He searched for the word. Deja smiled. “Good?” “Very.” Dalia: “Then say very.” “Very.” “Better.” He kissed Dalia goodbye. Then Deja. No grabbing. No attempt to turn the goodbye into extra time. Just warm. Finished. “Drink water,” Deja said. “I will.” “A lot.” “I will.” Dalia looked at him. “She means it.” “I believe her.” He left. Dalia and Deja headed for the bar. Mandi saw them. Her eyes narrowed. Dalia pointed before she could speak. “No.” Mandi: “I haven't asked yet.” “You're going to.” “Of course.” Deja laughed. Bea turned on her stool. “How many?” Dalia looked at Deja. Deja looked at Dalia. Dalia: “Five.” Deja: “Four.” Silence. Vega had returned. She stopped mid-drink. Nova stared. Sera's hair lifted. Mandi blinked. “Each?” “Yes,” Dalia said. “Yes,” Deja said. Bea looked toward the exit. “Is Jonas alive?” Deja smiled. “Yes.” Mandi: “How many did he get?” Dalia: “Two.” Mandi looked offended on his behalf. “Two?” Deja stared at her. “Are you seriously calling two orgasms in two hours a bad result?” Mandi considered. “No.” “Good.” Sera: “Position?” Dalia looked at her. Sera smiled. “What? We ask now.” Dalia took the lollipop from her mouth. “On top.” Deja's eyebrows rose. “You finally answered.” “Yes.” “Why wouldn't you tell me earlier?” “Because it was funnier.” “You bitch.” Dalia smiled. Sera: “Why on top?” “Control.” Bea: “Of?” “Pace. Angle. How close I want them.” Mandi nodded. “View?” Dalia smiled. “That too.” Vega: “Second?” “Face-to-face.” Deja smiled. Dalia saw it. “What?” “Nothing.” “You know I hate that answer.” “I know why.” Dalia looked at her. Deja's smile widened. “You like kissing.” Dalia stared. Mandi: “Oh.” Bea: “That tracks.” Sera's hair lifted. Dalia looked around. “What the fuck?” Deja laughed. “You do.” “Yes, I fucking like kissing.” Mandi raised her glass. “Direct communication.” Dalia rolled her eyes. “Fine. Yes. Face-to-face because I like kissing while I fuck.” Deja looked entirely too pleased. Dalia pointed at her. “Your turn.” “I already answered.” “Not tonight.” Deja sighed. “On my back.” “Why?” “Lazy.” Sera raised her glass. “My people.” Deja touched hers against it. “And I like seeing faces.” Dalia: “Second?” Deja looked around. Everyone waited. “From behind.” Mandi's lips disappeared between her teeth. Bea immediately covered her mouth. Sera's hair lifted. Deja pointed at all three. “Don't.” Nobody spoke. Dalia slowly put the lollipop back into her mouth. Deja turned toward her. “No.” Dalia's eyes were smiling. “You too?” Dalia shook her head. The lollipop shifted. Deja stared. “Your fucking lollipop is laughing again.” That ended it. Mandi folded over the bar. Bea lost whatever fight she'd been having with herself. Vega laughed into Nova's shoulder. Nova lasted another second before joining them. Sera's hair floated shamelessly. Deja looked at Dalia. “You created this.” Dalia removed the lollipop. “No.” “Yes.” “Mandi did.” Mandi straightened. “Why the fuck is this my fault?” Dalia smiled. “Everything is eventually.” “Fuck you.” “Thirty-two thousand.” Deja: “Twenty-five.” Dalia lifted the leash. “Or—” Mandi pointed. “Don't you fucking dare.” Dalia smiled. “Make a believable offer.” Mandi groaned. --- The last stretch of the night became quieter. Not solemn. Just tired. Vega sat beside Nova with their shoulders touching while they drank water. Sera stayed at the bar, officially done. Bea loosened one boot slightly, then immediately tightened it again when Mandi noticed. “No.” “I didn't say anything.” “You looked.” “Boot girl.” “Wall girl.” Mandi smiled. “Fair.” Dalia held Deja's leash loosely while Deja leaned against her. No performance left in it. Just comfort. Panam looked around. Counted. Everyone present. Everyone intact. Everyone tired. Good tired. She checked the time. “Last hour.” Mandi groaned. “My feet are fucking killing me.” From near the entrance: “Tiny feet. Less surface area.” Mandi's head snapped toward Lisa. “You.” Lisa smiled. Mandi pointed. “I had almost forgiven you.” “For what?” “Half an inch.” Lisa looked down at Mandi's feet. Then back up. “You moved.” “I DID NOT.” Deja laughed. Dalia nearly lost the lollipop. Sera's hair rose. Bea slapped the bar. Nova covered her face. Vega called: “She absolutely moved.” Mandi turned. “TRAITOR.” “I saw it.” “You were across the fucking room.” “Still saw it.” Lisa folded her arms. “Consensus.” “There is no consensus.” Panam laughed. Mandi looked at her. “You're Owner. Do something.” Panam considered. Then looked at Lisa. “How far?” Lisa answered immediately. “Half an inch.” Panam nodded. Mandi stared. Panam smiled. “Motion carried.” “THAT IS NOT WHAT THAT MEANS.” Suzie put a fresh glass of water in front of Mandi. “Drink.” Mandi grabbed it. “I hate this fucking place.” Suzie smiled. “No, you don't.” Mandi drank. Looked around the bar. At Sera's floating hair. At Bea's ridiculous boots. At Nova and Vega. At Dalia and Deja. At Panam. At Lisa still wearing that tiny fucking smile. Mandi sighed. “No.” She took another drink. “I really fucking don't.” --- ## Chapter 39 — Final Coffee The last client left at 4:41. Nobody celebrated. Mostly because nobody had enough energy left. Suzie locked the front doors. Lisa checked them. The music dropped from nightclub volume to something that allowed normal conversation without leaning across the bar. For the first time all night, nobody in the room was selling anything. Mandi sat down. Hard. “Coffee.” Suzie looked at her. “Water.” “Coffee.” “Water first.” “I am an adult.” “Debatable.” Mandi stared. Suzie put a glass of water in front of her. Mandi drank it. All of it. Then pushed the empty glass forward. “Coffee.” Suzie turned toward the machine. “Menace.” “Bartender.” Lisa walked past. “Half an inch.” Mandi didn't even turn. “Die.” Lisa smiled and kept walking. --- Nova and Vega had claimed the end of the bar. They were still unmistakably Nova and Vega. Chrome and gold. Chrome and brass-yellow. White void contacts. Black void contacts. Voices intact. Wardrobes intact. The Marlow duo at the end of a very long working night. Vega stretched. “Oh, fuck.” Nova looked at her. “What?” “My back.” “Bad?” “No. Used.” Nova smiled. “How many tonight?” Vega looked at her. “You too?” “We're apparently doing this now.” “Five.” Nova blinked. “Five orgasms?” “Yes.” “How many bookings?” “Two.” Nova nodded. “Efficient.” Vega laughed. “You?” “Three.” “Bookings?” “One.” Vega turned toward her. “Three in one?” “Yes.” “Good client?” “Very.” “Mouth?” Nova sighed. “Apparently we're doing that too.” “Yes.” “Excellent.” Vega smiled. “Hands?” Nova looked at her. “Better.” Vega's eyebrows rose. “Interesting.” Nova took her water. Vega waited. Nova drank. Vega kept waiting. Nova lowered the glass. “What?” “Position.” Nova stared. “You know.” “I want you to say it.” Nova's expression remained completely composed. “Face-to-face.” “Why?” Nova looked at her working partner. “Because if I actually like someone, I want to see them.” Vega's grin softened. “And?” Nova knew exactly what she was doing. “And I like kissing.” Vega smiled. “Good answer.” Nova looked at her. “Your turn.” “On top.” “I know.” “Best view.” “I know.” “And sometimes from behind.” “I know.” Nova paused. Vega smiled. Nova: “Giving or receiving?” “Yes.” Nova laughed. “That isn't an answer.” “It absolutely is.” “Preference?” Vega considered. “Giving.” Nova's eyebrows rose. “Really?” “Yes.” “Why?” Vega smiled. “I like watching.” Nova stared. Vega spread her hands. “I have been extremely consistent about this.” Nova laughed. “Fair.” --- Dalia sat sideways on a stool with one thigh-high boot resting on the lower rail. Deja stood between her knees. The leash remained attached. Dalia held it loosely in one hand. The other held coffee. Deja had coffee too. Nobody was talking to them. For almost thirty seconds. Then Bea arrived. “Still attached?” Deja looked down. “Yes.” “After work?” Deja looked at Dalia. Dalia looked back. Then Deja: “Yes.” Bea nodded. No joke. Not immediately. Dalia narrowed her reflective green eyes. “You're thinking something.” “No.” “You're always thinking something.” “I was going to ask whether you sleep in it.” Deja laughed. “No.” Dalia: “She'd strangle herself.” “I would not.” “You sleep like you're fighting furniture.” “I do not.” Dalia stared. Deja stared back. Dalia: “You kicked me.” “Once.” “Twice.” “You were stealing the blanket.” “I was asleep.” “So was I.” Bea took a drink. “Romance.” Deja looked at her. “Boots.” Bea looked down at her thigh-highs. “What about them?” “You keeping those on until home?” Bea considered. “Yes.” Dalia smiled. Bea saw it. “Don't.” “I said nothing.” “You thought something.” “Probably.” Bea narrowed her eyes. Dalia drank coffee. Deja smiled. Bea sighed. “I like them.” “We know,” Deja said. “I mean wearing them.” “We know.” “And being wanted in them.” Dalia smiled. “We definitely know.” Bea looked between them. “Fuck both of you.” Deja: “Twenty-five thousand.” Dalia almost inhaled coffee. Bea stared. Then laughed. “Okay. That was good.” Deja looked pleased. Dalia wiped her mouth. “You nearly killed me.” “Worth it.” --- Sera sat beside Panam. No client. No collector. No conversation about art. Just coffee. Her silver-white hair had finally settled completely. Panam looked at it. “Dead?” Sera looked at her. “Tired.” “Same.” “You had four orgasms.” Panam stared. Sera's face remained innocent. Panam: “I regret answering that question.” “No, you don't.” “Yes, I do.” “No.” Panam drank coffee. Sera waited. Panam sighed. “No.” Sera smiled. Panam looked at her. “You?” “Tonight?” “Yes.” “Two.” “That's it?” Sera's eyebrows rose. “That's it?” Panam realized. “Fuck. Mandi has infected me.” “Apparently.” “Two is perfectly respectable.” “Yes.” “Good?” “Yes.” “Client?” “One.” “Mouth?” Sera turned slowly. Panam smiled. “See?” Sera laughed. “Very good.” “Better than your art guy?” “No.” “Better than Mandi?” Sera's hair lifted. Panam pointed. “That is not an answer.” Sera drank coffee. Panam stared. Sera: “Different.” “Coward.” “Owner.” Panam's mouth twitched. “Fair.” --- Mandi finally received her coffee. She held it in both hands. Eyes half closed. Black contacts still hiding violet. Neon-orange hair still violently incompatible with exhaustion. She looked like an expensive advertisement that had developed a hangover. Bea sat beside her. “You look terrible.” “Thank you.” “You're welcome.” “How many?” Bea looked at her. Mandi opened one eye. “Tonight.” Bea smiled. “Four.” “Bookings?” “Two.” “Clients?” “Two.” “Women?” “Yes.” “Both?” “Yes.” Mandi nodded. “Mouth?” Bea laughed. “Yes.” “Good?” “One excellent. One decent.” “Hands?” Bea looked at her. “You're really doing the full survey.” “We have time.” “One excellent.” “Same one?” “No.” Mandi nodded thoughtfully. “So if you combined them—” “I am not assembling a modular client.” Sera laughed from farther down the bar. Mandi ignored her. “Positions?” Bea considered. “On top once.” Mandi nodded. “Face-to-face.” “Expected.” Bea looked at her. “Why?” “You like connection.” Bea's expression shifted. Only slightly. “Yes.” “And?” Bea smiled. “I like kissing.” From the end of the bar: Nova: “Correct.” Bea turned. “Were you listening?” Vega: “Everyone is listening.” Bea looked around. Apparently everyone was. “Oh, fuck off.” Mandi smiled. “Second?” Bea looked at her. “From behind.” Dalia made a small appreciative sound. Bea pointed. “No commentary.” Dalia raised both hands. The leash rose with one. Deja looked at it. Then at Dalia. “Careful.” Dalia lowered it. Bea continued. “And one against the wall.” Mandi opened both eyes. “Mine.” “You don't own walls.” “I fucking should.” Sera: “Trademark.” Mandi looked at her. “No paperwork.” Sera's hair lifted. Mandi pointed. “Also no laughing.” --- Suzie poured herself coffee. That got everyone's attention. Mandi: “You drink coffee?” Suzie looked at her. “Yes.” “I've never seen you drink coffee.” “You've never stayed until five in the morning for several consecutive nights as a joytoy before.” Mandi considered. “Fair.” Suzie leaned against the bar. For a while, nobody said anything. Not because something important was happening. Because they were tired. Coffee steamed. The cleaning crew moved around them. Lisa finished another walk of the perimeter. The Mox talked quietly among themselves. Dalia's thumb moved absently over the end of Deja's leash. Vega leaned against Nova. Sera rested one elbow on the bar. Panam stared into her coffee. Bea stretched one leg. Mandi saw the boot. Bea saw Mandi seeing the boot. “Don't.” Mandi smiled. “Didn't say anything.” “You were about to.” “No.” “Yes.” Mandi drank. Bea stared. Mandi's smile grew. Bea: “Wall girl.” Mandi nodded. “Boot girl.” “Orange menace.” “Rich brat.” Bea laughed. “Tiny prostitute.” Mandi stopped. Everyone else stopped. Bea's eyes widened. Mandi slowly put down her coffee. “Oh.” Bea started backing away from the bar. “Mandi.” “Oh, no.” “Mandi.” “You don't get to run.” Bea laughed and moved faster. Mandi got off the stool. Bea ran. Actually ran. Around the end of the bar. Mandi followed. “COME BACK HERE.” “No!” “You called me tiny!” “You are tiny!” “THAT ISN'T THE POINT.” Bea was laughing too hard to run properly. Mandi gained on her. Bea went around a table. Mandi went the other way. Bea changed direction. Mandi anticipated it. Bea yelped. Mandi caught her around the waist. They nearly went down together. Mandi held on. Bea laughed helplessly. “You fucking menace.” “You started it.” “You're still tiny.” Mandi tightened her arms. “Say it again.” “Tiny.” Mandi growled. Bea laughed harder. Dalia watched over the rim of her coffee. “Should we help?” Deja: “Which one?” “Good point.” Sera's hair floated. Nova smiled. Vega: “Twenty-five on Bea.” Mandi looked over. “FUCK YOU.” Vega: “Thirty-two on Mandi?” Panam rubbed her face. “I manage professionals.” Suzie took a drink. “No, you don't.” Panam looked at the room. Mandi still had Bea trapped. Bea was still laughing. Dalia and Deja were attached by a leash. Sera's hair was visibly amused. Nova and Vega were taking imaginary bets. Lisa had stopped near the door to watch. Panam sighed. “No.” She smiled. “I really fucking don't.” --- Eventually Mandi released Bea. Eventually. They returned to the bar. Bea's hair was slightly disordered. Mandi looked immensely satisfied. Bea sat. Mandi climbed back onto her stool. Lisa passed behind them. Mandi didn't look. Lisa didn't stop. “Half an inch.” Mandi closed her eyes. Bea immediately started laughing again. “Lisa.” “Yes?” “One day.” Lisa stopped. Looked at her. “One day what?” Mandi opened her eyes. Considered. Then smiled. “I'll think of something.” Lisa nodded. “Take your time.” She walked away. Mandi stared after her. Bea leaned closer. “You like her.” Mandi turned. “No.” “You do.” “I respect her.” “Same thing?” “No.” “Close?” “No.” Bea smiled. Mandi looked into her coffee. Then: “She knows what she's doing.” Bea nodded. “Yes.” Mandi drank. That was enough. --- At 5:17, Panam stood. “Done.” Nobody argued. That was how tired they were. Suzie looked around. “Same tomorrow?” Several people groaned. Suzie smiled. “Thought so.” Mandi slid off the stool. Dalia stood. Deja followed. Nova and Vega separated enough to move. Sera finished her coffee. Bea looked down at her boots. Then kept them on. Panam noticed. Said nothing. They collected what belonged to them. Nothing more. No ceremony. No speeches. Just the end of another night. Mandi reached the door first. Lisa opened it. Mandi stopped beside her. Lisa looked down. Mandi looked up. Neither spoke. Then Lisa moved one foot. Half an inch. Mandi stared. Lisa smiled. Mandi's mouth fell open. “You bitch.” “Good night, Mandi.” Mandi laughed. “Good night, Lisa.” She stepped outside. The others followed. Monday was over. --- ## Chapter 40 — Elisa Again Tuesday morning looked wrong. Not bad. Wrong. Ace sat at the kitchen table in soft shorts and a shirt, her own face uncovered, violet eyes visible again— and neon-orange hair. When she spoke, Mandi's brighter voice came out. Mai stood at the counter in equally ordinary clothes with her own face, her own eyes— and neon-pink hair. Dalia's low whiskey-and-smoke voice. Iris had shed Nova's face mesh and white void contacts. The chrome-and-gold hair remained. So did Nova's voice. Brenda's natural face sat beneath Vega's chrome-and-brass-yellow hair. Vega's voice remained. And Elisa— Elisa looked like Elisa. Almost. Natural face. Natural eyes. Comfortable clothes. Bare feet. Ice-blue chin-length hair. Bea's voice. The first few times someone spoke, everybody still looked at the wrong person. By breakfast, they were mostly used to it. Mostly. The doorbell rang. Iris checked the camera. “Reyes.” Mai went to open the upper door. A moment later: “Morning.” Reyes stopped in the doorway. Mai looked at her. Reyes stared. Mai's eyebrows rose. “What?” Reyes pointed. “No.” Mai looked down at herself. “What?” “That voice.” Mai smiled. Dalia's smoky register made it worse. “Something wrong with it?” “With your face?” “Yes.” Reyes walked inside. “Absolutely.” Ace called from the kitchen: “Coffee?” Reyes stopped again. Slowly turned toward Ace. Ace smiled. Reyes stared at the neon-orange hair. Then the natural violet eyes. Then the familiar face. Then Mandi's voice. “Oh, fuck me.” Ace's smile widened. “Too early.” “That is worse.” Mai laughed. Reyes entered the kitchen and immediately found the rest of them. Iris looked up. “Morning.” Nova's voice. Reyes closed her eyes. Brenda: “You okay?” Vega. Reyes opened her eyes again. “No.” Then Elisa looked over. “Coffee?” Bea. Reyes stared at her. Elisa smiled. “What?” “You all look like Victor and Lena stopped halfway through rebuilding reality.” Ace pointed at her. “Hair isn't Victor.” “I know.” “Good.” Reyes looked at Mai. “Jesus Christ.” Mai handed her coffee. “Better?” “No.” Reyes took it anyway. Then looked around the table. “Okay. Everybody speak one at a time. My brain knows exactly who you are and still wants to punch me.” Elisa laughed. Bea's voice. Reyes pointed at her. “You especially.” “Why me?” “Because I know your normal voice.” “So?” “So that one coming out of your actual face is deeply fucking weird.” Elisa smiled. “I like it.” “I know.” “How?” “You've kept it.” Elisa considered. “Fair.” Reyes sat. Ace looked at her over her coffee. “You get used to it.” “No, you do.” “Same thing.” “No.” Mai sat beside Ace. Reyes looked at the neon-orange and neon-pink hair side by side. “You two are going outside like that?” Ace: “Eventually.” Mai: “Not like this.” “Good.” Elisa: “I might.” Everyone looked at her. Elisa touched her ice-blue hair. “What?” Brenda smiled. “Nothing.” “I like it.” Iris: “We know.” Elisa narrowed her eyes. “Everybody keeps saying that.” “Because you keep telling us.” “Also fair.” Reyes drank coffee. Then put the cup down. “Your people approved the two extra days.” Elisa's expression brightened immediately. “Good.” No hesitation. No question about why. Just good. Ace looked at Reyes. “Everything clean?” “Yes.” “Same protection arrangement?” “Same cell.” Reyes looked at Elisa. “From their side, nothing changes except the return window. You're still logged as being under approved outside protection.” “Yours.” “Through today.” Elisa’s attention sharpened. “And Thursday?” “The secondary operative your people already cleared handles the outbound transfer.” “Same place?” “Unless they request a change.” “Same team?” “On their side, no. Different pickup team. On ours, the secondary is already on the paperwork.” Elisa nodded once. “Good.” Then she took a drink. “Same manager?” Ace made a sound. Tiny. Elisa's eyes immediately moved to her. “No.” Ace blinked. “What?” “You.” “I didn't say anything.” “You made a noise.” “I breathed.” “You breathed suggestively.” Mai looked at Ace. “That's a useful skill.” Elisa pointed at her. “You're worse.” Mai's mouth twitched. Reyes looked between them. Then at Elisa. Then back to Ace. “What am I missing?” “Nothing,” Elisa said. Ace smiled. “Her security manager.” Elisa closed her eyes. Mai: “Very competent.” Brenda started laughing. Iris covered her mouth. Reyes looked at Elisa. Elisa still had her eyes closed. Reyes looked at Ace. “How competent?” Elisa: “Don't.” Ace answered: “Extremely.” Mai: “Repeatedly.” Elisa opened her eyes. “MAI.” Dalia's voice saying Mai's own name made Reyes choke on coffee. Brenda laughed harder. Iris gave up trying not to. Ace leaned back in her chair looking completely pleased with herself. Reyes coughed. “Okay.” Elisa glared around the table. Reyes looked at her. “Same manager.” “Thank you.” “Apparently he'll be pleased.” Elisa pointed at her. “Don't join them.” Reyes smiled. “Too late.” “You were here thirty seconds.” “Enough.” Elisa muttered something. Bea's voice made the muttering sound cheerful. Reyes laughed. “Oh, that voice is completely fucking unfair when you're annoyed.” Elisa stared. “That is exactly what they keep saying about theirs.” Reyes looked at Ace. “Mandi's voice with Ace's face?” “Yes.” “Wrong.” Mai: “Mine?” Reyes looked at her. “Also wrong.” Mai smiled. “Good.” --- The laughter settled. Reyes took out her agent. “Here.” She turned it toward Elisa. Elisa moved closer immediately. The security extension was simple on the surface. Dates. Coverage responsibility. Approved movement. Transfer window. Contingency contacts. Elisa read all of it. Not pretending. Actually reading. She stopped at one line. “This changed.” “Yes.” “Why?” “Your people originally had a secondary pickup team on standby today. They're rotating that team back out.” “Because I'm staying?” “Yes.” “And Thursday?” “Different pickup team on their side.” Elisa nodded. Another line. “And yours?” “Secondary operative takes the outbound transfer.” “Already cleared?” “Yes.” “So you're not personally listed Thursday.” “No. Not anymore.” Elisa looked up. “Does that interfere with your work?” “No.” “You sure?” “Yes.” “If it becomes a problem—” “It won't.” Elisa held her gaze another second. Then nodded. “Okay.” No guilt. No performance. Just information accepted. “Thank you.” “You're welcome.” Reyes took the agent back. Elisa leaned against the table. “So that's done.” “Yes.” “Excellent.” She smiled. Not politely. Happily. Ace saw it. “You really don't want to go home.” Elisa looked at her. “I like my home.” “I know.” “I also like this.” Mai sat beside Ace. “No contradiction.” “Exactly.” Brenda: “And Bea?” Elisa touched the blue hair again. “Also yes.” Iris smiled. Elisa looked around. “What?” “You're keeping her.” “For two more days.” Ace: “Poor security manager.” Elisa threw a napkin at her. Ace caught it. “Tiny reflexes.” Elisa stared. Ace stared back. Elisa smiled. “Tiny.” Ace came halfway out of her chair. Elisa immediately stood. Reyes looked between them. “What the fuck?” Mai caught Ace around the waist. “Breakfast.” “She called me tiny.” “You are tiny.” “YOU TOO?” Elisa moved safely around the other side of the table. Brenda was laughing again. Reyes drank coffee. “I'm glad I came.” Ace pointed at Elisa. “This is not finished.” Elisa smiled in Bea's bright voice. “Twenty-five thousand.” Ace froze. Mai buried her face against Ace's hair. Iris laughed. Brenda slapped the table. Reyes stared. Then: “Okay, I've definitely missed something.” “Several days,” Iris managed. Reyes looked at Elisa. “Twenty-five?” Elisa smiled. “My rate.” Reyes nodded slowly. “Right.” Ace sat back down. “Don't encourage her.” “I didn't.” “You looked approving.” “She committed to the joke.” “Traitor.” Reyes smiled. --- Sera appeared ten minutes later. Bare feet. Loose silver-white hair. Sleep shirt. She entered the kitchen, saw the crowd, and went directly for coffee. Reyes looked over. “Morning.” “Morning.” Sera poured. Reyes watched her hair settle around her shoulders. Then looked at everybody else's. “Finally. One person whose hair makes sense.” Sera turned. Saw Ace. Mai. Iris. Brenda. Elisa. Then Reyes. “That's a low bar.” Ace: “Fuck you.” Sera smiled. Reyes looked at Ace. “The voice.” “I know.” “No, I'm reminding you.” “I hate you.” “Good.” Sera sat at the table. Elisa looked at her. “Two extra days approved.” Sera smiled. “Nice.” “Very.” “Bea too?” “Yes.” “Good.” Elisa smiled. Nobody questioned why. Nobody needed to. --- Reyes finished breakfast. She checked her agent once more. Then stood. “I have to go.” Ace looked up. “Merc work?” “Later.” “Now?” “Appointment.” Mai looked at her. “Anything interesting?” “No.” Reyes picked up her jacket. That was enough. Elisa stood as well. “Reyes.” Reyes turned. “Yeah?” “Thanks again.” “For moving the work?” “For all of it.” Reyes looked at her. Then nodded. “Enjoy the extra days.” Elisa smiled. “I intend to.” Reyes headed toward the door. Behind her, Ace said something in Mandi's voice. Reyes stopped. Turned. “No.” Ace looked innocent. “I said goodbye.” “I know.” “What's wrong with goodbye?” “Nothing. Everything is wrong with that voice.” Ace smiled. “Bye, Reyes.” Reyes pointed at her. “Fix yourself.” Mai: “Technically Victor did this.” “Then I'm going to complain to him.” Ace laughed. Reyes left. --- Victor looked at Reyes from across the clinic. “No.” Reyes stopped. “What?” “You're here to complain about somebody else's voice sculpt.” Reyes stared. Victor stared back. “How the fuck—” “You have that expression.” “What expression?” “The one people get after living around my work for too long.” Reyes laughed. “Five people at breakfast sounded wrong.” Victor nodded. “Working as intended.” “Ace's face with Mandi's voice is fucking disturbing.” “Yes.” “Mai's is worse.” “No.” Reyes thought. “Fair.” Victor leaned back. “So.” Reyes sat. “Birgitta.” Victor's expression changed from amused to professional. “How long?” “Short.” “Define short.” “Couple of days.” “Good.” He checked something on the terminal. “Same voice profile?” “Yes.” “Any problems last time?” “No.” “Strain afterward?” “No.” “Swallowing?” “Fine.” “Pain?” “None.” Victor nodded. Then looked at her. “I’m not giving you the old version this time.” Reyes narrowed her eyes. “What did you change?” “Persistence and clearance.” “That sounds reassuringly vague.” “It means you’re the first practical user of the second-generation extended sculpt.” Reyes stared at him. “First.” “Yes.” “As in nobody else has worn it outside this clinic.” “Correct.” Reyes leaned back. “Victor.” “You asked for Birgitta. This is the version I’m willing to use.” “How long?” “Maximum active window, seven continuous days.” Reyes's eyebrows rose. “I need two.” “Good. Maximum is not a target.” “And after?” “Natural return toward baseline in roughly twenty-four hours once it dissolves.” “Roughly.” “Yes.” “Comforting word.” “Accurate word.” Reyes looked at the equipment. “Risks?” “Same categories as before. Pain, strain, swallowing trouble, breathing trouble, control drift. You know the list.” “And if it misbehaves?” “You call me. Immediately.” Reyes looked back at him. “You really want me to be first.” “I trust you to notice when something is wrong and not pretend it isn’t.” Reyes gave him a flat look. “That was almost flattering.” “Don’t get used to it.” She sighed. “Fine. Do it.” Victor prepared the biosculpt. No ceremony. No speeches. Same Birgitta voice target. Different generation underneath it. He knew exactly what the cover required. So did Reyes. The process was uncomfortable. Briefly unpleasant. Then strange. Then finished. Victor stepped back. “Say something.” Reyes swallowed once. “Something.” The voice that came out was not Reyes. Higher. Brighter. Lighter on its feet. The same voice Birgitta had used before. Reyes stared at Victor. Victor smiled. “There she is.” Reyes listened to herself breathe. Then: “Oh, fuck.” The bright voice made it sound almost cheerful. Victor laughed. Reyes pointed at him. “Don't.” “Still stable.” “Yes.” “Pain?” “No.” “Strain?” “No.” He checked the readings. “Good.” Reyes stood. She looked exactly like Reyes. Red hair. Her own face. Her own eyes. Practical clothes. And when she spoke, Birgitta answered. “This is fucking ridiculous.” Victor nodded. “Professionally ridiculous.” Reyes picked up her jacket. “Anything I need to know?” “You've done this before.” “Yes.” “Then you already know.” “Good.” She headed for the door. Victor returned to his terminal. Reyes stopped. Looked back. “Five people.” Victor looked up. “What?” “Five different wrong voices at one breakfast table.” Victor considered. Then smiled. “I should charge admission.” “You'd make a fortune.” “I already do.” Reyes laughed. In Birgitta's voice. That made her stop. Victor's smile widened. Reyes stared at him. “Fuck you.” “Voice is perfect.” “Yeah.” She shook her head and walked out. The clinic door closed behind her. --- ## Chapter 41 — Birgitta Panam's agent buzzed while she was drinking coffee. She looked down. **Birgitta:** _You working tonight, Owner?_ Panam smiled. **Panam:** _Obviously._ The answer came almost immediately. **Birgitta:** _Excellent._ **Panam:** _That word worries me._ **Birgitta:** _You worry too much._ **Panam:** _Occupational hazard._ Three dots appeared. **Birgitta:** _I think I'll come in tonight._ **Panam:** _Think?_ **Birgitta:** _I enjoy keeping you interested._ Panam snorted. **Panam:** _You've been in my messages every fucking day._ **Birgitta:** _And yet you're still interested._ **Panam:** _Unfortunately._ **Birgitta:** _See you tonight, Owner._ Panam typed: **Panam:** _Behave._ The reply arrived before she could put the agent down. **Birgitta:** _No._ Panam shook her head. Sera sat across from her with coffee. “You're smiling.” “No, I'm not.” “You were.” Panam put the agent face down. “Birgitta.” Sera nodded. “Coming in?” “Apparently.” “Nice.” Panam narrowed her eyes. “That sounded suspiciously normal.” Sera drank her coffee. “What did you want? Applause?” “Some recognition of my suffering.” “You message her just as much.” “That is not the point.” “It usually is.” Panam flipped her off. Sera smiled. --- Birgitta arrived at Lizzie's shortly after nine. Panam saw her before she reached the bar. Muted smoked copper-grey hair. Very light brown eyes. Elegant clothes that looked almost conservative until she moved. Bright smile. Warm eye contact. Easy confidence. Birgitta spotted Panam. “Owner.” Panam smiled despite herself. “There you fucking are.” Birgitta opened her arms. Panam accepted the hug. “You missed me.” “I spoke to you this morning.” “Text is not a hug.” “You also messaged me yesterday.” “And Sunday.” “And Saturday.” Birgitta smiled brightly. “You remember.” “Unfortunately.” “Yet you always answer.” “Because if I don't, you send more.” “Effective system.” Panam kissed her. “Welcome back.” “In person.” “Yes.” Birgitta looked toward the room. “Who's working?” Panam answered naturally. “Mandi, Nova, Vega and Sera.” Her four other Stable women. Then she gestured separately toward the rest of the club. “Dalia and Deja are around too.” Birgitta nodded. Panam added: “And somebody you haven't met yet.” Birgitta looked back. “Oh?” “Later.” Birgitta smiled. “That sounds interesting.” “It isn't a fucking mystery.” “You made it sound like one.” “I said one sentence.” “Very dramatic sentence.” Panam groaned. --- Mandi arrived fifteen minutes later. Neon-orange hair. Black contacts. Premium wardrobe. She spotted Birgitta and grinned. “Well, look who physically exists.” Birgitta hugged her. “I have always existed.” “Owner occasionally mutters at her agent, so presumably.” Panam called from behind the bar: “She is relentless.” Birgitta looked at Mandi. “She loves me.” Mandi nodded seriously. “Obviously.” Panam: “Fuck both of you.” Birgitta smiled. “See?” Mandi laughed. Nova and Vega came in together a little later. Nova saw Birgitta first. “Well. Hello.” Vega turned. “Oh, excellent.” Birgitta opened her arms. “That's the correct reaction.” Vega hugged her first. Nova followed. “You've been absent from the floor,” Nova said. “Not from Owner's life.” Panam: “Unfortunately.” Birgitta looked pleased. Vega glanced at Panam. “You really do talk every day?” “Every fucking day.” Birgitta touched her chest. “Consistency is important in a professional relationship.” Panam stared. Nova laughed. Mandi leaned toward Vega. “She means harassment.” “I gathered.” --- Dalia and Deja arrived together. Dalia in neon pink, reflective green contacts and thigh-high boots. Menthol lollipop between her lips. Deja beside her in cream and ivory, venom-green hair under the club lights. The leash was clipped. Dalia held it loosely. Birgitta noticed. Deja noticed Birgitta noticing. “No.” Birgitta blinked innocently. “I didn't say anything.” “You were about to.” “I genuinely wasn't.” Dalia laughed around the lollipop. “That somehow makes it worse.” Birgitta hugged Dalia. Then Deja. She stepped back and looked at the leash again. Deja pointed at her. “Don't.” Birgitta smiled. “Still not saying anything.” “I hate you.” “No, you don't.” Dalia gave the leash a tiny affectionate tug. Deja glanced at her. “Don't encourage her.” “I didn't say anything either.” “Fuck both of you.” Birgitta laughed. Panam passed them carrying a drink to the other end of the bar. She didn't ask Dalia whether she was taking clients. Didn't ask Deja what she planned to do. Didn't need to. --- Bea arrived twenty minutes later. Ice-blue chin-length hair. Full face mesh. Contacts. Premium clothes. Thigh-high boots. She walked into Lizzie's and found the usual faces. Then stopped. There was one woman at the bar she had never seen before. Smoked copper-grey hair. Very light brown eyes. Elegant clothes. Bright expression. Birgitta looked toward the newcomer at almost the same moment. They stared at each other for perhaps a second. Recognition without recognition. Names connecting to descriptions. Nothing more. Panam happened to be near enough to notice. She looked between them. Then smiled. “Right.” Bea looked at her. Birgitta did too. Panam gestured. “Birgitta. Bea.” Then the other way. “Bea. Birgitta.” Birgitta's eyebrows rose. “Finally.” Bea smiled. “So you're number one.” Birgitta's smile widened. “Joining order.” “I know.” “Good.” Bea stepped closer. They hugged. Brief. Friendly. Completely new. Birgitta stepped back and looked at Bea properly. Not suspiciously. Curiously. “So you're the one I've been hearing about.” Bea laughed. “That depends entirely on what you've been hearing.” Birgitta looked at Panam. Panam held up both hands. “Don't involve me.” Bea looked at her. “You've been talking about me?” “I talk to Birgitta.” “Daily,” Birgitta said happily. Panam pointed at her. “You are not helping.” “I wasn't trying to.” Bea smiled. Then looked back at Birgitta. “I've heard about you too.” “Good things?” Bea considered. “Mostly.” Birgitta laughed. “From Mandi?” “Among others.” Mandi, from several seats away: “I heard that.” Bea called back: “You were supposed to.” Birgitta's eyes moved briefly to Bea's boots. Then back to her face. Bea noticed. “Don't.” Birgitta blinked. “I didn't say anything.” “Apparently that's a popular defense tonight.” Deja called from a booth: “IT DOESN'T WORK.” Birgitta laughed. Bea looked toward Deja. Then back. “Okay. I see the problem.” Panam muttered: “Welcome to my life.” Birgitta leaned slightly toward Bea. “She loves us.” Panam: “I can hear you.” “Good.” Bea laughed. It was easy. No strange familiarity. No implied history. Just two women who had heard about each other finally occupying the same room. --- The evening built gradually. Music climbed. People arrived. Conversations formed and dissolved. Birgitta slipped back into the floor with no adjustment period. A man approached her near the bar. She smiled. They talked. Ten minutes. Then twenty. No booking. No transaction. Just conversation. He told her about an absurd restaurant opening in Charter Hill. She told him his restaurant standards were terrible. He laughed. Bought her another drink. They kept talking. Eventually he asked: “Are you working tonight?” “Yes.” “Can I book you?” Birgitta looked at him. Considered him. “One hour?” “If you want.” “I do.” She smiled. “Thirty-two thousand.” He nodded. “Fine.” Only then did Birgitta glance toward Panam. Panam had already noticed. She came over. “Everything good?” Birgitta nodded. “One hour.” Panam looked at her. Not at the money. At her. Birgitta's answer remained yes. Panam nodded. “Have fun.” Birgitta smiled. “Planning to.” She left with the client. --- Across the room, Bea was talking with a woman in a dark green jacket. They had been talking for almost half an hour. Panam saw them once while crossing the floor. Kept walking. A few minutes later the woman asked Bea something. Bea answered. The woman laughed. They stayed exactly where they were. No booking. No need for one. At another booth, Dalia sat with one leg crossed over the other while Deja leaned against her shoulder. Two people were talking with them. Dalia occasionally rolled the lollipop between her teeth. Deja said something that made one of the clients choke on a drink. Whatever happened there was between the four of them. Panam wasn't involved. --- Sera sat at the bar with a woman who had recognized one of her paintings. They had been discussing it for nearly forty minutes. Not business. Not a booking. Art. Sera listened while the woman described what she thought the piece meant. Her silver-white hair developed a faint ionized sheen when the interpretation surprised her. “No,” Sera said eventually. The woman laughed. “Completely wrong?” “Completely.” “Fuck.” “But interesting.” “That is artist language for wrong.” “Yes.” They kept talking. No clock. No money attached to conversation. Just Sera being interested enough to stay. --- Birgitta returned almost exactly an hour later. Panam saw her emerge from the corridor. Birgitta caught her eye. Smiled. Panam knew that smile. “Good?” Birgitta reached the bar. “Very.” Panam gave her water. Birgitta drank. Mandi drifted over. “How good?” Birgitta looked at her. “Nosy.” “Professional curiosity.” “Three.” Mandi nodded appreciatively. “For you?” “Yes.” “Him?” “Two.” Mandi: “Respectable.” Birgitta: “Very.” Bea had wandered close enough to catch the exchange. She looked between them. “So this is what Stable meetings are like.” Mandi turned. “This isn't a meeting.” Birgitta looked at Bea. “This is research.” Bea laughed. “Of course.” Birgitta took another drink. Then looked at her. “Your turn.” “My turn what?” “Anything worth reporting?” Bea smiled. “No.” “Nothing?” “I've had conversations.” Birgitta nodded. “Good conversations?” “One very good one.” “Booking?” “No.” “Still good?” “Yes.” Birgitta smiled. “Then good.” Bea studied her for a second. Then smiled back. “Yeah.” Across the bar, Panam saw the exchange. She didn't interrupt it. Didn't manage it. Didn't need to. Birgitta had met Bea. Finally. And five minutes later they were already arguing about whether thigh-high boots counted as practical workwear. Panam decided she wanted no part of that conversation. She walked away before either of them could ask her opinion. --- ## Chapter 42 — One Hundred Million The man asked for Madame. Suzie Q looked at him. Not because the request was unusual. Because the man making it was. Expensive suit. No visible bodyguards. No corporate insignia. No attempt to make the room notice him. He had the relaxed posture of someone who had never needed to demonstrate that he could afford anything in it. Suzie leaned against the bar. “Which Madame?” He smiled. “The one with the Stable.” That narrowed it down considerably. Suzie looked toward Panam. Panam was near the far end of the room talking with Nova and Vega. “Name?” He gave it. Suzie recognized it. Not personally. Enough. She looked at him again. “You been here before?” “A few times.” “You cause problems?” “I try not to.” “That wasn't the question.” He smiled. “No.” Suzie considered. Then waved Panam over. “Madame.” Panam looked across. Stable members called her Owner. Clients didn't. She finished what she was saying to Nova and came over. “What?” Suzie indicated the man. “He wants to talk.” Panam looked at him. He offered a hand. She ignored it. He lowered it without offense. Good start. “What about?” “A party.” Panam waited. He looked around Lizzie's. “Private event.” “That narrows it down to half of Night City.” “A small one.” “How small?” “About twenty guests.” Panam folded her arms. “What do you want?” He smiled slightly. “Your Stable.” Panam's expression didn't change. “All of it.” Still nothing. “And whoever else you'd personally recommend from here at the same level.” Panam looked at him. Now that was different. “For what?” “Social evening.” Panam stared. He laughed softly. “Yes. I know how that sounds.” “It sounds like bullshit.” “Fair.” He glanced around the room. “Twenty people who are all very wealthy, very important, very used to being the most important person in whatever room they're standing in.” Panam nodded. “Sounds exhausting.” “It is.” “And you want joytoys.” “I want people who can make them stop behaving like twenty separate corporate monuments for one evening.” That got the smallest reaction from her. “Drinks?” “Yes.” “Food?” “Yes.” “Dancing?” “If they want.” “Conversation?” “Absolutely.” “And sex?” He didn't answer too quickly. “If someone wants something private, they make an offer separately.” Panam's eyes narrowed. “To the woman.” “Yes.” “Not to you.” “Yes.” “Not included.” “No.” “Not guaranteed.” “No.” “Not purchased by the event fee.” “No.” Panam studied him. He seemed perfectly comfortable with all of that. “What exactly are you buying?” “The room.” “The women aren't the room.” “I know.” “What are you buying?” He thought about the wording. “Attendance.” Better. “Social time.” Better. “Help getting twenty people to relax enough to actually talk to each other instead of comparing aircraft, companies and inherited grudges.” Panam's mouth twitched. “Specific problem.” “Very.” “And if nobody fucks anybody?” “Then nobody fucks anybody.” Panam nodded once. “Good.” The man waited. Panam asked: “Why us?” “Suzie.” Panam looked at Suzie. Suzie shrugged. “He asked who I'd trust for something like that.” Panam looked back at him. “And?” “I asked someone else too.” “Who?” “Rogue.” Panam's eyebrows rose. That was slightly more interesting. “What'd she say?” The man's mouth curved. “About me?” “Yes.” He looked briefly amused. “‘Idiot. But an honest idiot. Keeps his word.’” Suzie laughed. Panam did too. “That sounds like Rogue.” “I chose to focus on the final sentence.” “Probably wise.” He nodded. Panam leaned one hip against the bar. “Date?” He told her. Soon. Not tonight. Enough time to organize it. “Location?” He gave her a private venue. Panam knew it. Not corpo headquarters. Not a hotel ballroom. Something expensive, discreet and controllable. “Security?” “My people outside. Yours inside if you want.” “I do.” “Fine.” “No recording.” “Already planned.” “No braindance.” “None.” “No hidden cameras.” “None.” “No guests bringing unlisted plus-ones.” “Agreed.” “No drugs slipped into drinks.” His expression hardened slightly. “Absolutely not.” “No touching anyone who hasn't invited it.” “Obviously.” Panam stared. “Nothing is obvious when money gets large enough.” He accepted that. “Then explicitly agreed.” Panam nodded. “Now the number.” He looked at her. “One hundred million.” Panam did not react. Not visibly. Suzie did. A tiny lift of one eyebrow. Panam said: “For what I just described.” “Yes.” “Attendance and social entertainment.” “Yes.” “Eight joytoys.” “If you can get eight.” “And me.” “Yes.” “I'm not a ninth joytoy.” “I know.” “My presence is management.” “And social.” Panam tilted her head. “Careful.” He smiled. “You're good at people.” “Sometimes.” “I'd like you in the room.” “You get me running the room.” “Fine.” “You do not get personal access to me.” “I understand.” “If you want that, you ask separately like anybody else.” “I understand.” Panam watched him. “One hundred million.” “Yes.” “Half before.” “Yes.” “Half on arrival.” “Yes.” “Non-refundable if one of the women changes her mind before the event.” He paused. Panam watched. Then he nodded. “Yes.” “Good answer.” “I was told you'd ask unpleasant questions.” “Who told you?” “Suzie.” Suzie smiled. Panam looked at her. “You enjoy this.” “Immensely.” Panam turned back. “Who are the guests?” He produced a shard. Panam didn't take it. “Read-only?” “Yes.” “Send it.” He did. Her agent chimed. Twenty-one names. Panam scanned. Very rich. Very recognizable. Very annoying. Probably. She saw enough familiar companies and families to understand the scale. She also saw enough names she personally disliked to make one corner of her mouth tighten. “You know half these people hate each other.” “Yes.” “That your entertainment?” “My problem.” “You're paying one hundred million to solve your problem.” “Yes.” “Why?” He looked around Lizzie's. Then back at her. “Because last time we tried this without help, two people left after twenty minutes, one threatened to buy a competitor's building just to demolish it, and nobody discussed the actual reason we'd gathered.” Panam stared. Then laughed. “Okay.” He smiled. “So?” “No.” He blinked. Panam held up a hand. “Not no to the event.” He waited. “No to an answer right now.” “Why?” “Because you didn't ask me for eight assets.” He nodded. “You asked for eight women.” “Yes.” “I need to ask them.” “Of course.” “Every one.” “Yes.” “And if six say yes, you get six.” He considered. Then nodded. “If that's the answer.” “If five say yes?” “Five.” “Three?” “Three.” “One?” He smiled. “One very expensive evening.” Panam finally smiled back. “Good.” She pushed away from the bar. “Come back in two hours.” “Here?” “Yes.” “You'll have an answer?” “I'll have answers.” Plural. He noticed. “Understood.” He stood. Then paused. “One more thing.” Panam looked at him. “What?” “If any of them want to bring someone for security or comfort—” Panam cut him off. “They decide that with me.” “Fine.” “You don't need to solve that.” “Also fine.” He nodded to Suzie. Then Panam. And left. --- Suzie waited until the door closed. Then: “One hundred million.” Panam looked at her agent. “Yeah.” “For eight women and you standing around yelling at rich people.” “I don't yell.” Suzie stared. Panam sighed. “I yell selectively.” Suzie laughed. Panam opened the guest list again. “You trust him?” “I trust Rogue's read.” “That's not what I asked.” Suzie considered. “Yes.” Panam nodded. “Enough.” She turned toward the room. Mandi was with Birgitta near one of the booths. Nova and Vega were talking with a pair of women at the bar. Sera was still deep in art conversation. Her four other Stable members. Five with Birgitta. Those were Panam's first conversations. Then came three completely different ones. Dalia. Deja. Bea. Not her Stable. Not hers to book. Not hers to sell. She would ask. Nothing more. Panam looked at Suzie. “Back room.” Suzie nodded. “Stable first?” “Yes.” Panam started walking. Then stopped. Looked back. “And after that I need Dalia, Deja and Bea separately.” Suzie smiled. “Busy two hours.” Panam looked at the hundred-million-eddy offer glowing on her agent. “Yeah.” She turned toward Birgitta and Mandi. “Owner meeting.” Mandi looked up. Birgitta smiled. “That sounds expensive.” Panam stared at her. “You have no fucking idea.” --- ## Chapter 43 — Eight Answers The soundproof back room was built for difficult conversations. This one began with Mandi looking at Panam and saying: “How many zeros?” Panam closed the door. “Eight.” Mandi stared. Nova: “Total?” “Yes.” Vega leaned back. “One hundred million?” “Yes.” Birgitta smiled slowly. “Well.” Sera's silver-white hair lifted faintly around her temples. Panam looked at all five of them. “Before anybody gets excited, listen to the structure.” Mandi folded her hands in her lap. “Owner.” Panam ignored the tone. “Private event. Roughly twenty guests. Very high-end crowd. Social networking thing.” Vega made a face. “That sounds awful.” “It probably will be.” Birgitta: “Promising.” Nova looked at her. “You heard ‘awful.’” “I know.” Panam continued. “Host wants the entire Stable plus anyone else at the same level I'd personally recommend.” Sera: “What does the hundred million buy?” Panam looked at her. “Attendance. Social time. Conversation. Drinking. Dancing if you want. Helping twenty rich assholes stop measuring each other's fucking towers long enough to talk.” Birgitta smiled. “Actual towers?” “Probably.” Mandi: “And sex?” “Separate.” The room settled immediately. Panam continued. “Nothing private is included in the event fee. Nothing sexual is guaranteed. If a guest wants private time, they make a separate offer. You decide whether you want it.” Nova: “Through you?” “Yes. For Stable bookings, yes.” Vega: “Normal system.” “Normal system with stupidly rich clients.” Mandi: “So no one gets to wave the hundred million around later and say they already paid.” “No.” Sera: “Host understands that?” “I made him say it.” Birgitta: “Good Owner.” Panam looked at her. “Don't.” Birgitta smiled. Panam sent the guest list to all five of them. Agents chimed around the room. Nobody spoke for several seconds. Mandi scrolled. Then stopped. “Oh.” Nova: “You know someone?” “Know of.” Vega laughed once. “I know of six.” Sera's hair shifted. Panam noticed. “You?” Sera kept reading. “Collectors.” “How many?” “Three I've met. At least five know my work.” Mandi glanced at her. “That'll be cheap.” Sera looked over. “Nothing about this is cheap.” “Fair.” Birgitta was still reading. Her expression had gone from playful to interested. “This is ridiculous.” Panam: “Yes.” “In a good way.” “That remains to be seen.” Nova looked up. “Security?” “Host outside. Ours inside. No recording. No BD. No hidden cameras. No unlisted guests.” Vega: “Drinks?” “Yes.” “Drugs?” “No slipping anything into anybody's drink. Explicit.” Nova: “Touch?” “Invitation only.” Sera: “Private rooms?” “Yes.” “Locked?” “From inside.” “Emergency access?” “Ours.” Sera nodded. Panam watched all five. “Now the important part.” Mandi looked at her. “You're going to ask us individually.” “Yes.” Vega smiled. “Of course you are.” “Because one hundred million doesn't buy five yeses.” Birgitta: “It barely buys one good maybe.” Panam looked at her. “You're first.” Birgitta blinked. “Oh.” “You wanted interesting.” “I did.” “Do you want this?” Birgitta thought about it. Actually thought. Her agent still showed the guest list. She scrolled once more. Then locked the screen. “Yes.” Panam: “Any conditions?” “Same ones you already gave him.” “Anything personal?” Birgitta considered. “No. If I hate somebody, I'll avoid them.” “You don't owe anybody private time.” “I know.” “Good.” One. Panam looked at Mandi. Mandi already had her answer. “Yes.” “Why?” Mandi smiled. “Because it sounds fun.” Panam waited. “And?” “And because twenty absurdly wealthy people trying to act normal around eight joytoys sounds like something I want to watch.” Vega laughed. Panam: “Conditions?” “Normal boundaries. No surprise touching. No recording. Private offers are private offers.” “Good.” Two. Nova. Iris's cover sat composed and elegant, white void eyes unreadable. “Yes.” Panam tilted her head. “That fast?” “I've read the guest list.” “And?” “It improved my answer.” Vega looked over. “That sounds dangerous.” Nova ignored her. Panam: “Conditions?” “The same.” “Anything else?” “No.” Three. Panam looked at Vega. Vega stretched her legs out. “One hundred million for socializing.” “Yes.” “And if somebody wants me privately, they make another offer.” “Yes.” “Which I can laugh at.” “Yes.” “Or accept.” “Yes.” Vega smiled. “Fuck yes.” Panam: “Very thoughtful.” “I thought.” “For three seconds.” “Efficiently.” Four. Sera was last. Panam didn't rush her. Sera was still looking at the guest list. Her hair had changed twice while reading it. Small movements. Interest. Recognition. Calculation. Panam waited. Eventually Sera put her agent down. “Yes.” Panam: “Because?” Sera looked at her. “Because I want to.” Panam nodded. Enough. Then Sera added: “And because three people on that list have tried to buy work from me before.” Mandi grinned. “There it is.” Sera's hair lifted. “Shut up.” Panam: “Any problem mixing Sera-the-artist with Sera-the-joytoy?” “No.” “You sure?” “Yes.” “They will know who you are.” “They already do.” “Fair.” Sera leaned back. “If they want art, they can talk about art.” Mandi: “And if they want something else?” “They can make a believable offer.” Silence. Then Birgitta started laughing. Vega joined her. Panam closed her eyes. “Dalia is going to murder you.” Sera smiled. “I improved it.” Panam pointed. “No.” Sera's hair lifted brightly. Five. All five Stable members. Five separate yeses. Panam looked around the room. “Okay.” Mandi: “That's suspiciously calm.” “We're not done.” Birgitta looked toward the door. “The others.” “Yes.” Nova: “Do they know about the offer?” “No.” Vega: “Good.” Panam looked at all five. “This stays in here until I've asked them.” Nobody argued. --- Dalia was first. Not because Panam owned her. Because she happened to be alone when Panam stepped back onto the floor. Deja was talking with someone near a booth. Bea was at the bar. Dalia stood near one of the columns, lollipop between her lips, watching the room. Panam approached. “Got a minute?” Dalia looked at her. “For you?” Panam gave her a flat look. Dalia smiled. “Yes.” “Back room.” Dalia followed. Once the door closed, Panam didn't sit. “I've got an offer.” Dalia leaned against the wall. “For me?” “For an event.” Dalia waited. “Private party. About twenty guests. Very rich. Very private.” “How rich?” “Hundred-million event.” The lollipop stopped. Dalia slowly took it out of her mouth. “One hundred million.” “Yes.” “For what?” Panam explained. Attendance. Socializing. Conversation. Drinks. Dancing. No sexual access included. Any private booking separate. Any private offer hers to accept or reject. Dalia listened without interrupting. Then: “Who's going?” “Stable said yes.” “All five?” “Yes.” Dalia nodded once. “Who else?” “I haven't asked Deja or Bea yet.” “Good.” Panam watched her. “I'd like you there.” Dalia looked at her. That phrasing mattered. Not _I need you_. Not _you're booked_. I'd like you there. “Why?” “You're good at people.” Dalia smiled. “You mean I'm good at rich men who think they're clever.” “That too.” “Host?” “Seems straightforward.” “Rogue?” Panam blinked. “What?” “If this is that rich, you checked somebody.” Panam smiled slightly. “Suzie did.” “And?” “Rogue says he's an idiot, honest, keeps his word.” Dalia laughed. “That sounds safe enough for Night City.” “Answer?” Dalia put the lollipop back between her lips. Thought. Then: “Yes.” Panam nodded. “Conditions?” “My own bookings.” “Obviously.” “My own price.” “Obviously.” “Nobody sends someone to me because they think one hundred million bought a turn.” “They won't.” “If Deja comes, she makes her own decisions.” “Of course.” Dalia's eyes sharpened slightly. “And if we work together, that's ours.” “Obviously.” “No invented pair rate.” Panam almost smiled. “Make a believable offer.” Dalia grinned. “Good Owner.” Panam stared. Dalia laughed. “Sorry. Habit.” “You're not Stable.” “I know.” “Good.” Dalia opened the door. Then looked back. “Hundred million.” “Yes.” “That's fucking stupid.” “Yes.” “I like it.” “I know.” --- Deja came next. Dalia didn't tell her why. Panam noticed that. Good. Deja entered the back room with the leash still clipped, its handle now looped loosely around her own wrist while Dalia stayed outside. She closed the door. “What?” Panam told her. Everything. No shortcuts. Deja listened. At the hundred million, her eyebrows rose. At twenty guests, they lowered. At private offers being separate, she nodded. When Panam finished: “Dalia?” “I already asked her.” “And?” “Her answer is hers.” Deja smiled slightly. “Good.” Panam waited. Deja thought longer than Dalia had. “What exactly do you want me doing?” “Nothing I don't want you doing.” “That's not what I asked.” Panam nodded. “Social floor. Talk to people. Drink if you want. Dance if you want. Make twenty rich people less fucking stiff.” Deja: “That sounds like work.” “It is.” “Sex work?” “Not unless you choose to make it sex work.” Deja considered that. “Private offers through you?” Panam shook her head. “For you? No.” Deja nodded. “Good.” “You handle yours. Same as here.” “Event host understands that?” “Yes.” “Dalia and me?” “Separate people.” “And together?” “Your business.” Deja's mouth curved. “Good.” She looked down at the leash. Then back up. “Can I wear this?” Panam shrugged. “Why the fuck would I care?” Deja laughed. “Fair.” A few more seconds. Then: “Yes.” “You sure?” “Yes.” “Reason?” Deja smiled. “I want to see what twenty of the richest people in Night City look like when they're trying to pretend they're relaxed.” Panam laughed. “Valid.” “And if somebody interesting makes an offer?” “You decide.” “Then yes.” Seven. --- Bea was last. Panam found her at the bar. She was alone. Suzie had just put a glass of water in front of her. Panam stopped beside her. “Got a minute?” Bea looked up. “Sure.” “Private.” Bea glanced at Suzie. Suzie said nothing. Bea followed Panam into the back room. She sat. Panam stayed standing for a moment. Then decided against it and sat opposite her. “This isn't Stable business.” Bea nodded. “Okay.” “I want to make that clear before I ask.” Bea's attention sharpened. Panam told her about the event. The guests. The structure. The purpose. The host. The separate private offers. Then finally: “One hundred million total.” Bea blinked. Once. Then: “For eight?” “Yes.” “And you.” “Management.” Bea nodded. Not impressed by the number in the way Panam expected from most people. Interested in what it meant. “How many hours?” Panam told her. Bea calculated something silently. Not the money. Panam could tell. “Guest list?” Panam hesitated. Then sent it. Bea opened it. Her face changed. Only slightly. Panam noticed. “You know some?” Bea scrolled. “Yes.” “How many?” Another scroll. “Most.” Panam stared. Bea looked up. “What?” “Most?” “Different amounts.” “You know twenty-one people on this list?” “I know who twenty-one people on this list are.” Panam waited. Bea sighed. “Some personally.” “How personally?” “That matters if I say yes.” Panam nodded. “Okay.” Bea looked at the list again. One name. Another. Another. “No one can recognize Bea as me.” Panam didn't ask who _me_ meant. She knew. “You trust the mesh?” “Yes.” “Voice?” “Yes.” “Hair?” “Yes.” “Behavior?” Bea smiled. “Yes.” Panam leaned back. “Then what's the problem?” “I didn't say there was one.” Panam smiled. “Right.” Bea kept scrolling. “These people talk.” “That's the point.” “No, I mean they talk about people who aren't there.” Panam understood. “And you might know what they're talking about.” “Yes.” “Can you keep your mouth shut?” Bea gave her a look. Panam smiled. “Had to ask.” “Yes.” “Can you handle somebody talking about Elisa in front of Bea?” Bea paused. That one took longer. Then: “Yes.” “Sure?” “Yes.” Panam nodded. “Okay.” Bea looked at the list again. “What do you want me there for?” Panam answered carefully. “Because you're good with people.” Bea waited. “Because you can talk to almost anybody.” Still waiting. “And because you're good enough at this that I would recommend you.” Bea's expression softened slightly. “But.” Panam pointed between them. “You're not Stable.” “No.” “I don't book you.” “No.” “I don't set your rate.” “No.” “I don't decide your clients.” “No.” “This is me asking whether you want to join an event I'm coordinating.” Bea smiled. “Good.” Panam: “So?” Bea looked down at the guest list. Then up. “Yes.” Panam let out a breath through her nose. “Conditions?” “My identity stays mine.” “Obviously.” “No one gets information from me about people I know outside Bea.” “Obviously.” “If somebody wants private time, they ask me.” “Yes.” “Not you.” “Yes.” “My rate is mine.” “Goes without saying.” “And if I spend two hours talking to somebody because I'm enjoying the conversation, nobody starts a fucking stopwatch.” Panam laughed. “No fucking stopwatch.” Bea smiled. “Then yes.” Eight. --- Two hours after the first conversation, the man returned. Exactly on time. Suzie spotted him. So did Panam. He came to the bar. “Well?” Panam looked at him. “Eight.” His eyebrows rose. “All?” “All eight.” He smiled. Panam held up a finger. “Do not misunderstand what that means.” His smile faded into attention. “It means eight women agreed to attend.” “Yes.” “Nothing else.” “Yes.” “Five are Stable.” “Yes.” “Three are independent.” “Yes.” “You make private offers through me for Stable.” He nodded. “For the other three?” “You ask them.” “Directly?” “Politely.” He smiled. “Understood.” “And I remain management.” “Yes.” “One hundred million.” “Yes.” “Half now.” His agent was already in his hand. The transfer hit seconds later. Fifty million. Panam looked at the number. Then at him. He looked back. “Anything else?” Panam thought. Then smiled. “Yeah.” “What?” “Don't fuck this up.” He smiled. “I was told you'd say something like that.” “Rogue?” “Suzie.” Suzie laughed from behind the bar. Panam shook her head. Then accepted the booking. Fifty million eddies became real. Eight women had said yes. Separately. For their own reasons. That was the only part that mattered. --- ## Chapter 44 — The Guest List Panam waited until the host had been gone for five minutes. Then she checked the transfer again. Fifty million. Still there. Suzie Q noticed. “You've looked at it three times.” “I know what fifty million looks like.” “Apparently not.” Panam locked the agent. “Fuck you.” Suzie smiled. Birgitta approached from the other end of the bar. She didn't stop at conversational distance. She stepped straight into Panam's space, one hand settling against her waist. “What happened?” “Nothing.” Birgitta looked at her face. “Something.” Panam slid an arm around Birgitta's lower back. “Half the event fee arrived.” Birgitta's eyebrows rose. “Fifty million.” “Yeah.” A slow smile. “Well.” “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “That smile did.” Birgitta leaned in and kissed Panam. Warm. Unhurried. Panam kissed her back and kept her close afterward, thumb moving once against her side. Suzie watched from behind the bar. “Should I charge you two for the floor space?” Panam didn't look away from Birgitta. “Put it on her tab.” Birgitta kissed the corner of Panam's mouth. “She loves me.” Suzie: “Clearly.” Panam finally looked over. “You are both unbearable.” Birgitta remained tucked against her side. “Owner meeting?” “In a minute.” “Good.” Her fingers found Panam's hand. Stayed there. --- The soundproof back room filled slowly. Five Stable women. Three independent joytoys. Panam. Nine women altogether. Mandi took one end of the couch. Nova and Vega sat together. Sera claimed a chair. Dalia sat with Deja close beside her, leash resting loosely between them. Bea took the remaining end of the couch. Birgitta reached the last chair at the exact same time Panam did. She sat in it. Panam stared. Birgitta smiled up at her. “What?” “That was my chair.” “You were slow.” Mandi covered her mouth. Vega immediately leaned forward. Panam sighed. Then moved behind Birgitta and rested both hands on her shoulders. Birgitta leaned back into her. Entirely satisfied. “Better,” she said. Panam squeezed her shoulders. “Keep talking.” Birgitta tipped her head back. “Is that a threat?” Panam bent and kissed her. Brief. Familiar. Then straightened. “Yes.” Birgitta smiled. Sera's silver-white hair lifted faintly at the temples. Panam pointed at her. “Not one fucking word.” “I didn't say anything.” “Your hair is laughing.” “Take it up with my hair.” --- Panam sent the guest list. Eight agents chimed. “Twenty-one names,” Panam said. “We are not building dossiers on them.” Mandi looked disappointed. “I could.” “I know.” “That sounded judgmental.” “It was.” Everyone opened the list. The room quieted. Sera recognized several names immediately. Her hair reacted before her face did. Collectors. Patrons. People who moved through the same circles as expensive art. Nova and Vega recognized corporate names. Dalia recognized reputations. Deja knew some through work and ordinary Night City osmosis. Birgitta read carefully. Then there was Bea. She reached the bottom of the list. Scrolled back to the beginning. Read it again. Panam noticed. So did Mandi. Mai behind Dalia's face noticed. Sera noticed. None of them said the wrong thing. Panam asked only: “Useful?” Bea looked up. “Yes.” “How useful?” Bea considered. “I know something about most of them.” Birgitta turned slightly in her chair. “Personally?” Bea smiled. “Different amounts.” That was all. Birgitta nodded. No second question. No curiosity sharpened into intrusion. Just accepted information. Panam's hand remained on Birgitta's shoulder. “Anything you can give us without crossing lines?” “Yes.” Bea looked back at the list. “Social behavior.” “Perfect.” “Nothing private.” “Obviously.” “Nothing that came from somebody trusting me.” Panam nodded. “Good.” Bea started at the top. --- She didn't give them secrets. She gave them rooms. “This one hates being physically boxed in.” Nova looked up. “Meaning?” “Don't trap him between people and furniture. He'll stay polite, but he'll stop listening.” Panam made a note. Another. “She usually carries a drink. She barely touches it.” Vega: “Why?” Bea shrugged. “Something to hold.” No explanation of how she knew. Nobody asked. Another. “He talks too much when he's nervous.” Dalia smiled around her lollipop. “That could be entertaining.” “It can also become exhausting.” “Better.” Another. “She likes art.” Sera's hair shifted. “How much?” “A lot.” “Collector?” Bea looked at the name. “Yes.” Sera nodded. Enough. Another. “He'll look arrogant.” Vega: “Is arrogant?” Bea smiled. “Sometimes.” “That was diplomatic.” “He gets worse when people agree with him because they're intimidated.” Mandi: “So disagree.” “If you actually disagree.” Nova nodded. “Not performance.” “Exactly.” Birgitta looked interested. Another name. Bea tapped it. “She hates hierarchy games.” Birgitta: “Oh.” Panam looked down at her. “You want that one.” “I didn't say that.” “You made the face.” “What face?” “The one where you've decided somebody sounds fun.” Birgitta smiled. Panam's fingers slid from her shoulder to the side of her neck. Birgitta leaned into the touch. “Maybe.” --- Bea moved down the list. “One of them tends to dominate conversations without realizing it.” Deja: “Asshole?” “No.” That answer came immediately. “Just used to people waiting for him to finish.” Nova: “So interrupting him won't offend him?” “It might surprise him.” Vega smiled. “Excellent.” Bea looked at her. “Don't turn it into sport.” “No promises.” Nova: “I'll supervise.” Vega stared. “You are my working partner, not my parole officer.” “Tonight remains young.” Dalia laughed. --- Another name. Bea paused. Not because something was wrong. Because she was choosing what could safely be said. “She doesn't like being the center of attention.” Panam: “Despite being at this party.” “Yes.” “Useful.” “She'll probably stay near one or two people rather than circulate.” Birgitta: “Does she like conversation?” “Yes.” “Then leave her somewhere comfortable and don't mob her.” Bea looked at Birgitta. “Exactly.” Birgitta smiled. They were learning each other's rhythm. Not each other's secrets. --- Panam eventually asked: “Anybody on here we should be worried about?” Bea thought. “Worried how?” “Boundary-pusher.” “No one I'd flag without evidence.” Panam nodded. “Violent?” “Same answer.” “Drugs?” “I don't know.” “Good.” Bea smiled faintly. “You like that answer?” “I like people admitting when they don't know.” “Then you'll love me occasionally.” Mandi: “Occasionally?” Bea looked at her. “Orange.” Mandi pointed. “Blue.” Birgitta looked between them. “What the fuck is that?” “Long story,” Bea said. Mandi: “She started it.” “You started it.” “You called me tiny.” “You are tiny.” Panam looked down at Birgitta. “Do not join.” Birgitta was already smiling. “Wasn't going to.” “You absolutely were.” “Owner, your lack of trust wounds me.” Panam bent down and kissed her temple. “You'll survive.” Birgitta caught Panam's hand before it moved away and kept it. --- Sera had been reading separately. She lifted her agent. “Several of these people move through the art circuit.” Bea nodded. “Yes.” Sera looked at her. “You know that too.” “Some of it.” “Anything useful?” Bea considered. “One is much more interested in process than ownership.” Sera's hair shifted. “Meaning?” “Will probably ask how you work before asking what something costs.” Sera nodded. Another. “One likes emerging artists more than established ones.” “That could be useful.” “Maybe.” Mandi smiled. “Look at Sera accidentally going to work.” Sera stared at her. “This is work.” “Different work.” “Still work.” Panam: “And nobody is charging thirty-two thousand because somebody talks to her about a painting for an hour.” Sera looked at Panam. “Obviously.” Panam nodded. “Just making sure everybody understands the structure.” Birgitta tilted her head against Panam's hand. “Owner had a philosophical breakthrough.” Panam tightened her fingers lightly around Birgitta's. “I can still throw you out.” “You won't.” “Confidence.” “Evidence.” Panam laughed despite herself. --- The conversation moved from people to space. Panam opened the venue plan. “Host security stays outside the event space.” Dalia: “Ours?” “Inside.” “Lisa?” “Yes.” Mandi smiled. “Good.” Panam enlarged the layout. “Main room. Two quieter side rooms. Terrace. Dining area. Private rooms down this corridor.” She pointed. “If any of you leave the main social space with a guest, security needs to know where.” Bea looked up. “For location only.” “Yes.” Dalia: “No approval.” “No.” Deja: “No booking details.” “No.” Bea: “No price reporting.” “Of course not.” Panam looked at the three independents. “That applies to you three. I need to know where bodies are because I'm coordinating the event and security.” Dalia nodded. “Reasonable.” Panam looked at her Stable. “For you five, booking flow still runs through me like usual.” Birgitta squeezed Panam's fingers. “Owner.” “Yes.” “Very managerial.” “That's literally why I'm there.” Birgitta smiled. “I know.” Panam shook her head. --- Nova studied the floor plan. “What happens if three guests approach one person?” Panam shrugged. “She chooses what she wants.” Vega: “What if they start bidding?” “They can make offers.” Mandi: “How stupid can the offers get?” “Given the guest list?” Panam thought. “Extremely.” Sera: “And no still means no.” “Yes.” Birgitta: “What if they think a larger number changes that?” Panam looked down at her. “They find out it doesn't.” Birgitta smiled. “And after that?” “Depends how annoying they are.” Mandi: “Scale?” Panam: “Polite explanation.” Vega: “Then?” “Less polite explanation.” Deja: “Then?” Panam: “Lisa.” Everyone laughed. --- Bea returned to the guest list. “One more thing.” Panam looked over. “Go.” “Don't treat them as one category.” Birgitta: “Rich assholes?” “Exactly.” Dalia took the lollipop from her mouth. “Some of them are rich assholes.” “Yes.” “Good.” “But not because they're rich.” Dalia smiled. “Better.” Bea looked around the room. “Some grew up in rooms like this.” She indicated the guest list. “Some didn't.” “One person may enjoy being recognized. Another may hate it.” “Some will want to talk business even though the entire point is getting them not to.” Vega: “Idiots.” “Some people hide behind what they're good at.” Nova glanced at her working partner. Vega noticed. “Don't.” Nova smiled. Bea continued. “Some will flirt immediately because it gives them something easy to do.” Mandi: “Reasonable.” “Some won't flirt at all unless somebody makes it safe first.” Birgitta: “Also reasonable.” “Some will hate the entire idea for twenty minutes and then have fun.” Panam nodded. “That is exactly what the host is paying for.” “Probably.” Panam looked at Bea. “You'll tell me if you see the room going wrong?” Bea paused. Important distinction. Then: “If I notice something useful, I'll tell you.” Panam nodded immediately. “Good.” Not a job. Not an assignment. Not Panam turning Bea into unpaid event intelligence. Just an independent participant willing to help if she chose. --- They talked another half hour. No pairings. No targets. No names written beside joytoys. Panam refused to turn social information into assignments. “They're adults,” she said. “So are you.” Mandi: “Debatable.” Panam ignored her. “You go in. Talk. See who you like.” Sera: “And if we don't like anyone?” “Eat expensive food and make the host wonder why he paid a hundred million.” Birgitta smiled. “I can do that.” Panam looked down. “You're very talented.” “Thank you.” Birgitta lifted Panam's hand and kissed her knuckles. Panam's expression softened. Bea saw it. So did everyone else. No one made anything of it. It wasn't new to them. Only new to Bea. And Bea was smart enough to understand the difference. --- Eventually Panam locked the venue plan. “Enough.” Nova stood. Vega followed. Dalia rose and picked up Deja's leash. Deja stepped close enough for Dalia to settle it comfortably in her hand. Mandi stretched. Sera collected her drink. Bea stood. Birgitta remained exactly where she was. Panam looked at her. “Moving?” “No.” “Why?” “I like the chair.” “You like being difficult.” “That too.” Bea passed them on the way to the door. “Good night, Birgitta.” Birgitta looked up. “Not leaving?” “Floor.” “Right.” Bea smiled. “Nice meeting you properly.” Birgitta smiled back. “Likewise.” Properly meant exactly what it should. Bea and Birgitta. Nothing underneath it. Nothing disclosed. Nothing stolen from either of them. Bea left. Sera was last at the door. She glanced back. Panam's hands had returned to Birgitta's shoulders. Birgitta had reached up and covered one of them with her own. Sera's hair lifted. Panam saw it. “What?” “Nothing.” “You've been saying nothing all night.” “Very successfully.” “Bullshit.” Sera smiled and closed the door behind her. --- Silence. Birgitta tipped her head back. “Alone.” “For thirty seconds.” “I can work with that.” Panam laughed. Birgitta stood. She turned directly into Panam. No hesitation. Arms around her waist. Panam's hands found her automatically, one settling low against her back, the other sliding up between her shoulders. Birgitta rested her forehead against Panam's. “You're tense.” “I'm coordinating a hundred-million-eddy party for twenty-one people with too much money.” “And eight joytoys.” “Yeah.” “And you're worried you'll miss something.” Panam looked at her. “Maybe.” Birgitta kissed her. Slowly. Panam answered just as slowly. When they separated, neither moved away. Birgitta's fingers traced once along Panam's cheek. “You won't.” “You don't know that.” “No.” A second kiss. Shorter. “But you're good at this.” Panam's thumb moved along Birgitta's waist. “You're biased.” “Very.” Panam smiled. “Good.” Birgitta rested against her. For a while they simply stood there. No Owner. No Stable number. No hundred million. Just Panam holding Birgitta close because she wanted to. Then someone knocked on the door. Panam closed her eyes. Birgitta laughed quietly against her shoulder. “Thirty seconds.” “Fuck off.” “Apparently I was optimistic.” Panam kissed her forehead. Then opened the door. ---- ## Chapter 45 — Doors Open The venue looked expensive enough to have opinions. Not ostentatious. That would have been easier. This place had been designed by somebody who understood exactly how much money could be hidden inside restraint. Dark stone. Warm wood. Glass that seemed to disappear until light touched it. Long low seating. A private bar large enough to serve fifty people without ever looking crowded. Beyond the main room, two quieter lounges opened toward a terrace overlooking Night City. The private corridor stayed discreetly separated from the social floor. No signs. No numbers visible from the room. Panam approved. Mostly. She stood in the middle of the main space with an agent in one hand and Lisa beside her. “Camera sweep?” “Clean.” “Again?” Lisa looked at her. Panam looked back. Lisa: “Already did.” “Good.” “Twice.” “Better.” Lisa smiled faintly. Panam checked the security map. Their people inside. Host security outside. No overlap unless requested. Entrances controlled. Guest list fixed. No plus-ones. No recording devices. No BD capture. Private rooms secured from inside with Mox emergency override available. Exactly what had been agreed. Panam locked the screen. “Okay.” Lisa looked around. “Relax.” “No.” “Worth a try.” --- Sera was already there. She had arrived early for the art. Not because the venue was exhibiting her work. Because the host had apparently decided that if he was spending one hundred million on an evening intended to stop rich people acting like rich people, the walls should at least be interesting. Sera stood in front of a large abstract piece by someone else. Panam approached. “Well?” Sera's silver-white hair carried a faint ionized sheen. “The room is good.” “The art?” “Mixed.” “That's diplomatic.” “Some of it is excellent.” “And the rest?” “Expensive.” Panam laughed. Sera glanced at her. “Security?” “Done.” “Private rooms?” “Done.” “Emergency access?” “Done.” Sera nodded. Then her gaze dropped to Panam's agent. “You're checking everything again.” “Yes.” “Owner.” “What?” “Stop.” Panam looked at her. Sera smiled. “You're ready.” Panam stared for a second. Then put the agent away. “Fine.” Sera's hair settled. “Good.” --- Birgitta arrived next. Panam heard her before she saw her. Bright voice. Easy laughter. Then smoked copper-grey hair appeared around the edge of the entrance. Birgitta saw Panam. Everything else in her attention disappeared for several seconds. She crossed the room. Panam smiled. “You're early.” “You're here.” “That isn't an explanation.” “It is to me.” Birgitta reached her. One hand slipped naturally around Panam's waist. Panam's arm went around her back. The kiss was warm and familiar. Not long enough to become a performance. Long enough to be theirs. Birgitta stayed close afterward. “You're tense.” “Sera already complained.” “Smart woman.” “Don't start.” Birgitta's thumb moved once against Panam's side. “You look good.” “So do you.” “I know.” Panam laughed. “That voice.” “You like it.” “I like you.” Birgitta smiled. “Better answer.” Panam kissed her forehead. “Go check the room.” “Order?” “Suggestion.” “Good.” Birgitta moved away eventually. Eventually. Panam watched her go. Sera, several meters away, was absolutely not looking. Her hair was. Panam pointed without turning fully. “Don't.” Sera: “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” --- Mandi and Dalia arrived together. They did not look subtle. Mandi in neon orange. Dalia in neon pink. Black contacts and reflective green eyes. Premium clothing engineered around very different kinds of confidence. Dalia had a menthol lollipop. Of course she did. Panam looked at them. “No.” Mandi blinked. “We haven't said anything.” “Preventive.” Dalia smiled. “Effective?” “No.” “Then why bother?” Panam sighed. Mandi looked around the room. “This is nice.” Dalia: “Meaning expensive.” “Same thing tonight.” “No.” Mandi looked at Panam. “She's being difficult.” Panam: “She's correct.” Dalia smiled. Mandi: “Traitors everywhere.” They moved deeper into the room. Not checking in. Not asking permission. Just arriving. Panam watched them go. Good. --- Deja came in alone. Venom-green hair. Cream and ivory. No leash in sight. Panam noticed. Did not ask. Deja saw the glance anyway. “Dalia has it.” Panam smiled. “I didn't ask.” “You looked.” “Occupational hazard.” Deja moved closer. “Anything I need to know?” “Nothing beyond what we covered.” “Good.” “Your bookings are yours.” “I know.” “Tell security if you leave the common space.” “I know.” “Don't—” Deja stared. Panam stopped. “Right.” “Good Owner.” Panam narrowed her eyes. Deja smiled and walked away. --- Nova and Vega entered together. The Marlows, perfectly in cover. Coordinated but individually distinct. Nova controlled. Vega already visibly amused by something. Panam looked at them. “What?” Vega: “Nothing.” Nova: “She saw the champagne tower.” Panam looked toward the dining room. There was, in fact, a champagne tower. “Of course there is.” Vega: “I want to knock it over.” Nova: “You are not knocking over the champagne tower.” “I know.” “Good.” “I still want to.” Panam: “Please don't destroy anything until guests arrive.” Vega looked offended. “Owner.” Nova: “She means expensive guests.” Vega: “I know what she means.” They kept walking. Panam watched them. Lisa appeared beside her. “Good group.” “Terrible group.” “You're smiling.” “No.” “Yes.” Panam ignored her. --- Bea arrived last. Ice-blue chin-length hair. Full cover. Thigh-high boots. She paused just inside the entrance. Not because the room intimidated her. Because she was reading it. Entrances. Sightlines. People already present. Host staff. Security. Then the seating. The art. The bar. Panam watched her finish. Bea approached. “Nice place.” “Yeah.” “Guest list unchanged?” “Yes.” “No substitutions?” “No.” “Good.” Panam looked at her. “You okay?” Bea smiled. “Yes.” “Anything you need?” “No.” “Good.” Panam started to turn away. Bea: “Panam.” She looked back. “Yeah?” “I'm going to pretend I know less than I do.” Panam nodded. “I assumed.” “If I get weirdly quiet around somebody, don't rescue me unless I ask.” “Okay.” “If I change the subject fast, let me.” “Okay.” “And if somebody talks about someone I know—” “You're Bea.” Bea smiled. “Exactly.” Panam nodded. “Got it.” Bea moved into the room. No further questions. --- By the time the first guest arrived, all eight women had found their own places. Not positions. Places. Mandi had claimed one end of the bar. Dalia stood nearby but not attached to her. Deja was talking with Lisa about something that looked suspiciously like shoes. Nova and Vega occupied one of the low seating areas. Sera stood near the art. Birgitta had somehow migrated back to Panam. Of course she had. Bea stood near the terrace doors with a glass of sparkling water. Panam checked the time. Exactly on schedule. The first guest entered. Then another. Then four more. The room changed quickly. Not louder. Denser. Names became faces. Faces became voices. The host moved through them greeting people personally. No speech. No announcement. Good. Panam hated speeches. Within fifteen minutes, twelve guests had arrived. Within twenty-five, all twenty-one. And the room behaved exactly as Bea had warned. Hierarchy everywhere. Invisible. But obvious if you knew how to see it. Who approached first. Who waited. Who pretended not to notice whom. Who chose the center. Who chose walls. Who carried a drink without touching it. Who checked the room before sitting down. Who began talking business almost immediately. Mandi noticed too. She caught Panam's eye once from across the room. Panam nodded. Mandi smiled. Then turned back to the man speaking to her. --- Birgitta stayed close for the first half hour. Not glued to Panam. Never that. She circulated. Talked. Laughed. Made one nervous guest forget to be nervous. Then returned to Panam with a drink. “She's terrified.” “Who?” Birgitta subtly indicated a woman near the terrace. “Not terrified of us. Terrified of everyone else.” Panam looked. Bea had said something similar about one of the names. “You talking to her?” “Already did.” “And?” “She relaxed.” “Good.” Birgitta stepped close. Panam's hand settled at her waist automatically. Birgitta leaned into her. “One minute.” “What?” “I'm stealing one minute.” “You're working.” “So are you.” “That isn't an answer.” Birgitta kissed her cheek. Panam smiled despite herself. “Thirty seconds.” “Forty-five.” “Thirty-five.” “Forty.” Panam laughed. “Fine.” Birgitta stayed there. Forty seconds. Almost exactly. Then she kissed Panam once and walked back into the room. Panam watched her. Lisa, passing behind: “Forty-three.” Panam turned. “What?” “Seconds.” “Fuck off.” Lisa kept walking. --- Sera had been captured by art people. Not literally. Yet. Three guests had gathered around her. One was discussing a painting. Another was listening. The third looked increasingly interested in Sera rather than the painting. Sera appeared perfectly happy with all three facts. Her hair carried a faint electric shimmer. Panam left her alone. No clock. No booking. No invisible eddy meter. Just Sera talking because she wanted to. --- Bea was doing something more dangerous. She was blending. Not disappearing. Never that. She belonged too well. That was the strange part. People spoke to her as if they expected her to understand references that most joytoys wouldn't. She did. Then she deliberately answered half a step sideways. Enough knowledge to be interesting. Never enough to reveal why she had it. A woman laughed at something Bea said. Bea laughed too. The woman's posture relaxed. Another guest joined them. Bea adjusted instantly. Panam saw it. No intervention. Nothing needed fixing. --- Mandi had three people laughing. Dalia had somehow acquired two chairs while sitting in neither. Deja had started talking to a woman who looked like she had spent the first twenty minutes wishing she were anywhere else. Now she was smiling. Nova and Vega were separated across the room. Good. No need for them to operate as a pair. Nova was speaking quietly with an older woman near the dining area. Vega had found a man who apparently enjoyed arguing. Judging from both their faces, they were having a wonderful time. --- The host found Panam near the bar. “Well?” Panam looked around. “Too early.” “They're talking.” “They talk all the time.” “Not like this.” Panam glanced at him. He looked genuinely pleased. Not triumphant. Relieved. “You've still got three people pretending this is a board meeting.” “I know.” “One woman hasn't relaxed at all.” “I know.” “And two men keep checking who is watching them before they say anything honest.” He smiled. “You've noticed.” “That's what you're paying for.” The host looked around. “Worth it so far.” Panam: “You've paid half.” “Still worth it.” Panam laughed. --- An hour in, the room had changed again. Not transformed. Loosened. Jackets open. Shoes abandoned under chairs. Drinks actually being drunk. People interrupting each other without offense. Someone had changed the music. Nobody knew who. Mandi was dancing with a woman near the center of the room. Not provocatively. Just enough to make several people realize dancing was permitted. Dalia joined another guest. Then Vega. Then Birgitta. Within five minutes there were nine people moving instead of standing. The host stared. Panam stood beside him. “You wanted relaxed.” “I did.” “You look surprised.” “I didn't expect it to work this quickly.” Panam smiled. “You hired professionals.” --- Birgitta returned flushed from dancing. She walked directly to Panam. Panam gave her water. Birgitta drank half. Then handed it back. “Owner.” “What?” “I want you to dance later.” “No.” Birgitta smiled. “Yes.” “No.” “You're part of the event.” “Management.” “Social.” “Management.” Birgitta stepped closer. Panam's hand found her hip. “You're impossible.” “I know.” Panam looked into those very light brown eyes. Bright with amusement. The lively voice belonged completely to Birgitta's social rhythm. Birgitta smiled. Panam kissed her. Quick. Private enough despite the room. “Later.” Birgitta's smile widened. “I win.” “You got a maybe.” “From you?” “Don't.” “That is practically written consent.” Panam laughed. “Go.” Birgitta went. --- The first genuinely absurd private offer arrived eleven minutes later. Not through Panam. Through Bea. A man had been talking with her for nearly forty minutes. He liked her. That much was obvious. Bea liked him too. Also obvious. He asked quietly: “Private time?” Bea tilted her head. “How private?” “An hour.” “Doing what?” “Whatever we both want.” Good answer. Bea looked at him. “Offer?” He named a number. Two million. Bea's eyebrows rose. Not because she needed two million. Because it was objectively ridiculous. “For one hour?” “Yes.” “You know my normal rate is twenty-five thousand.” “Yes.” “And you're offering two million.” “Yes.” “Why?” He smiled. “Because I want your attention more than I want the money.” Bea considered. Panam, across the room, saw none of the conversation. Didn't need to. Bea looked at the man. Then smiled. “Okay.” His expression changed. Pleasant surprise. Bea pointed toward the corridor. “We tell security where we're going.” “Of course.” They found Lisa. Bea gave her the room number. Nothing else. No price. No explanation. No permission. Then Bea and the man disappeared down the private corridor together. --- The second offer came to Stable. Nova. Panam was called over by the guest. He didn't waste time. “One hour.” Panam looked at Nova. Nova looked at him. “Offer?” “Three million.” Panam did not react. Nova did. Slightly. Not awe. Interest. She looked at the man again. “You're serious.” “Yes.” Panam waited. No push. No recommendation. Nova's decision. “Okay,” Nova said. Panam nodded. “Room three.” Nova stood. The guest followed. Vega noticed from across the room. She raised one eyebrow. Nova ignored her. Mostly. --- The numbers escalated after that. Not because anyone announced them. Because people talked. Rich people always talked. One guest learned somebody had offered two million for an hour. Another heard three. Then someone decided four was a more appropriate starting point. Then six. Panam heard the first eight-million offer and laughed directly in the man's face. Not because the offer was insulting. Because the situation had become absurd. He laughed too. “Too low?” “No.” “Too high?” “No.” “Then?” Panam shook her head. “Nothing. Continue.” The offer was for Vega. Vega looked at the guest. Then at Panam. “Eight million.” “Yes.” “For ninety minutes.” “Yes.” Vega considered. The woman making the offer was attractive. Confident. Not pushy. Vega smiled. “Okay.” Panam: “You sure?” “Yes.” The woman: “Good.” Vega pointed at Panam. “She has to ask.” “I know.” Panam smiled. “Room five.” --- Within another hour, the event had crossed into territory nobody bothered pretending was normal. Millions moved around in offers spoken with the same casual tone most people used for ordering dinner. Some were accepted. Some weren't. A five-million offer to Sera got a polite no because she was enjoying her conversation. The guest accepted it without argument. Ten minutes later, Sera was still discussing sculpture with someone else for free. A seven-million offer to Birgitta got a smile. Then no. The man asked: “More?” Birgitta smiled warmly. “No.” He understood. “Fair.” Panam saw it. Loved her a little more for the way she handled it. Birgitta returned to Panam afterward. “Seven.” “Heard.” “You're not impressed.” “I know your answer.” Birgitta slipped an arm around her waist. “That wasn't what I asked.” Panam kissed her temple. “I'm impressed by you.” Birgitta's expression softened. “Better.” --- Mandi got her first truly stupid one just after midnight. A woman offered twelve million for two hours. Mandi looked at her. Then at the woman's companion. Then back. Panam was called over. The woman clarified: “Both of us.” Mandi's eyebrows rose. Panam looked at her. Mandi looked between the two guests. “What exactly are you asking?” The woman answered directly. Not coy. Not euphemistic. She wanted both of them with Mandi at the same time, one vaginally and one anally. Mandi understood exactly what she was being asked to choose. Mandi went still. Not offended. Thinking. Then her mouth curved. Panam recognized the expression immediately. “Oh, no.” Mandi looked at her. “What?” “You're curious.” Mandi smiled. “Maybe.” Panam closed her eyes. The woman laughed. Mandi looked at both of them again. Then: “The money isn't the interesting part.” The second guest smiled. “We hoped not.” Mandi thought a little longer. Then nodded. “Yes.” Panam looked at her. “Sure?” Mandi's smile sharpened. “Very.” Panam sighed. “Of course you are.” Mandi leaned closer. “Owner.” “What?” “This is professional development.” Panam stared. Mandi smiled brightly. “Room six?” Panam pointed. “Go.” Mandi left with both guests. Panam watched her disappear. Birgitta appeared beside her. “Professional development?” “Don't.” Birgitta laughed. --- Room six was quiet enough that Mandi could hear all three of them breathing once the door closed. That helped. The novelty had been the reason she said yes. The people were the reason she stayed yes. They checked again before anything changed. Mandi answered clearly. Still yes. The first kisses took the edge off the strangeness. Hands followed. Clothes became less relevant without anybody rushing the process. Then came the moment Mandi had actually been curious about. She looked from one partner to the other. Both waited. Mandi smiled. “Do it.” They did. One joined her vaginally. The other joined her anally. At the same time. Mandi’s breath caught hard enough to erase the smile for a second. Her eyes closed. Then opened again, bright and astonished. “Oh.” Both partners paused. Mandi pulled them closer. “Don’t fucking stop.” That was enough. The room found its own rhythm from there. Not neat. Not performative. Occasionally funny. Very physical. And, to Mandi’s increasing delight, much better than the idea had been in her head. By the time pleasure finally broke through her composure completely, she had stopped thinking of the arrangement as an experiment. Later they ended up tangled across the bed, breathing hard and laughing at nothing. Nobody moved for a while. Mandi stared at the ceiling. Then turned her head toward one partner. Then the other. “Okay.” One of them smiled. “Okay good or okay terrible?” Mandi laughed. “Okay repeatable.” --- Nova returned before one. Very satisfied. Vega returned eighteen minutes later. Also very satisfied. They saw each other. Stopped. Nova: “How was yours?” Vega: “Excellent.” Nova: “No complaints.” Vega smiled. “Good.” Friendly. Nothing more. Then Vega leaned closer. “How much?” Nova told her. Vega laughed. Nova: “You?” Vega answered. Nova's eyebrows rose. “Nice.” Panam walked past. “Don't start comparing.” Both: “Too late.” Panam kept walking. --- Bea returned almost exactly an hour after she had left. She found water. Drank. Dalia appeared beside her. “Well?” Bea looked at her. “Very good.” “How good?” Bea smiled. “Two.” Dalia nodded. “For you?” “Yes.” “Him?” “One.” Bea looked at her. “You people really do this every time.” Dalia put the lollipop back in her mouth. “Professional benchmarking.” Bea laughed. “Apparently.” Panam saw them talking. Kept moving. Bea didn't need debriefing from her. --- By one-thirty, the host had stopped pretending he wasn't delighted. People were dancing. Eating. Arguing. Flirting. Talking business despite instructions not to. Then abandoning business halfway through because somebody said something more interesting. Private rooms had started cycling. No pressure. No entitlement. Ridiculous offers. Actual choices. And enough yeses that Panam was beginning to understand just how profitable this night might become. She stood near the bar. Birgitta returned to her again. “Dance.” Panam looked at her. “No.” Birgitta held out a hand. Panam looked at the hand. Then at Birgitta. Birgitta smiled. “Forty seconds.” Panam laughed. “That is not dancing.” “Fine. One song.” Panam looked around. Everything stable. Lisa present. Sera free. Mandi occupied. Nova and Vega back. Dalia and Deja fine. Bea fine. Nobody needed her for the next four minutes. Panam took Birgitta's hand. “One song.” Birgitta's smile lit her entire face. “Owner.” “Don't ruin it.” They moved toward the music. Birgitta stepped close. Panam's hand settled at her waist. Birgitta's arms went around her shoulders. Not performance. Not booking. Not management. Just the two of them moving together while a hundred-million-eddy room slowly forgot why it had ever been stiff in the first place. --- ## Chapter 46 — Escalation Panam danced exactly one song. Birgitta made sure it lasted the entire song. Not forty seconds. Not half. Every beat. Panam's hand stayed at her waist. Birgitta stayed close enough that conversation was unnecessary for most of it. By the time the music changed, Panam was smiling. Birgitta noticed. Of course she noticed. “There.” Panam narrowed her eyes. “What?” “That.” “What?” “You're having fun.” “I've been having fun.” Birgitta smiled. “Management fun.” “That counts.” “No.” Panam kissed her. “Done.” Birgitta kissed her back. “Again later.” “That wasn't part of the deal.” “Renegotiation.” Panam laughed. Then Lisa appeared at the edge of her vision. Not urgent. Work. Panam stepped away reluctantly. Birgitta's fingers stayed in hers until the last possible second. --- The next offer was for Sera. It began with art. Naturally. A woman in a dark silver dress had spent nearly an hour discussing one of Sera's older pieces. Not buying it. Not asking whether it was for sale. Just talking. Sera had remained because she enjoyed the conversation. No booking. No clock. Then the woman asked: “Would you spend some time with me privately?” Sera looked at her. “What kind of time?” “Whatever we both decide.” Sera's hair lifted faintly. The woman smiled. “You really do that.” “My hair?” “Yes.” “Unfortunately.” “I like it.” That made the static worse. Sera looked away. The woman laughed softly. Then: “Five million for two hours.” Sera looked back. “No.” No hesitation. No drama. The woman nodded. “Fair.” And kept talking about art. Sera stayed. Twenty minutes later they were still there. Panam saw the entire thing from across the room. Good. --- Mandi returned from room six looking like somebody who had discovered an entirely new branch of applied science. Panam saw her. So did Birgitta. So did Vega. So did practically everyone who knew Mandi well enough. Mandi walked toward the bar. Panam folded her arms. “Well?” Mandi accepted water from Suzie. Drank. Then: “Yes.” Panam stared. “That is not an answer.” “It is the answer.” Birgitta appeared on Panam's other side. “Repeatable?” Mandi looked at her. Long pause. Then: “Yes.” Vega made a strangled sound from nearby. Nova turned away and covered her mouth. Sera's hair lifted violently. Panam closed her eyes. “Of course.” Mandi looked incredibly pleased with herself. “The interesting part wasn't the money.” “We know.” “Very educational.” Birgitta: “Professional development?” Mandi pointed at her. “Exactly.” Panam: “No.” Mandi: “Owner.” “No.” Mandi grinned. Vega leaned closer. “How educational?” Mandi looked at her. “Enough.” “That's evasive.” “Yes.” Nova: “Was everybody happy?” Mandi smiled. “Very.” That ended the interrogation for several seconds. Then Birgitta: “How very?” Mandi started laughing. Panam: “All of you, fuck off.” --- Two new guests approached Dalia and Deja together. They were a couple. That was obvious. Comfortable with each other. Comfortable in the room. Interested. Dalia listened. Deja listened. Panam did not move toward them. Not her booking. The couple made an offer. “Forty million total,” the woman said. “Three hours. Both of you.” Dalia's eyebrows rose. Deja's did too. Panam saw that from across the room. Forty million had apparently cleared the threshold of absurdity. The conversation continued. Dalia asked something. The woman answered. Deja asked something else. The man answered. No rush. Then Dalia looked at Deja. Deja looked back. A conversation without words. Dalia smiled. Deja nodded. They accepted. Panam only became involved when Deja came over afterward. “Room seven.” Panam nodded. “How long?” “Three hours.” “For security?” “Yes.” “Got it.” Nothing about money. Nothing about what they were doing. Nothing about approval. Deja smiled. “Good.” Dalia waited near the corridor, holding the leash. Deja joined her. The four disappeared together. --- The event crossed two in the morning. Nobody cared. The host certainly didn't. Dinner had become snacks. Champagne had become water for some. Coffee for others. The terrace had become one of the busiest places because Night City looked better when nobody was pretending to own it. Private-room traffic continued. Offers climbed. A man offered Nova twelve million. She declined. He accepted it. Ten minutes later, he spent forty minutes talking to Vega about cars. No booking. No resentment. Another woman offered Birgitta fifteen million for two hours. Birgitta looked at her. Interested. Not enough. “No.” The woman smiled. “Worth trying.” “Yes.” Then Birgitta kissed Panam on the cheek on her way past. Panam watched her go. “Fifteen?” Birgitta called over her shoulder: “Wrong woman.” Panam laughed. --- Then two couples found Nova and Vega. Not together at first. The first conversation began with Nova. A woman had been talking to her for nearly thirty minutes. Vega noticed. The woman's partner eventually joined them. Then another man arrived with Vega. Four people. The Marlow duo. Two obvious pairs forming independently. Panam noticed the geometry. So did Nova. So did Vega. The eventual proposal came from the woman. Direct. Clear. She looked between Nova and Vega. “We had an idea.” Vega smiled. “Those are dangerous.” The man beside her laughed. The woman continued. “You each stay with your own partner.” Nova's expression remained composed. “Go on.” “One pair first.” A pause. “The other pair watches.” Vega's smile changed. Interested now. “And then?” “We switch.” Nova looked at Vega. Vega looked back. Not sexual between them. Never that. Just two working partners suddenly presented with an extremely interesting social experiment. The woman added: “No partner swapping.” Nova nodded. “Good.” “Two separate couples.” “Yes.” “Same room.” “Yes.” “Alternating.” “Yes.” Vega folded her arms. “How much?” The offer came. Twenty million each. Nova blinked. Vega laughed. “Each?” “Yes.” “Two hours?” “Yes.” Nova looked at Panam. Not because she needed permission. Because Stable booking flow ran through Owner. Panam came over. “What?” Nova explained. Panam listened. Then looked at both working partners. “Interested?” Nova: “Yes.” Vega: “Very.” Panam looked at the two guests. “Twenty million each.” “Yes.” “For two hours.” “Yes.” “No assumption beyond what they just agreed.” “None.” Panam looked back at Nova and Vega. “Still yes?” Nova nodded. Vega grinned. “Yes.” Panam: “Room four.” --- The room was large. Private. Comfortable. Designed for exactly the kind of wealthy person who never wanted to ask whether something was possible. Nova entered with her partner. Vega with hers. Nobody rushed. The four talked first. Boundaries. Order. Touch. Watching. What counted as participation. What did not. The arrangement remained simple. Two couples. One active. One watching. Then switch. No crossing between the working partners. No blurred roles. Nova went first. Her partner kissed her. Slowly at first. Nova answered. Vega sat close beside her own partner on the other side of the room. Watching. And Nova knew. That was the point. She knew exactly where Vega was. Knew exactly where Vega's partner was. Knew they were watching. The awareness changed something. Not performance. Not acting for applause. Just the unmistakable heat of being observed by people who had been invited to look. Nova drew her partner closer and opened the space between them deliberately. Her partner paused long enough to meet her eyes. Nova nodded. When they joined, Nova's breath caught. For one rare second the careful control on her face simply disappeared. Her hand tightened against her partner. Then she exhaled and pulled closer. There. Chosen. Good. And still watched. Nova leaned into it. Allowed herself to enjoy it. Her partner noticed. “So you like this.” Nova's answer came after a breath. “Yes.” Across the room, Vega smiled. Nova looked at her. Vega lifted her glass slightly. Nova laughed. Then forgot about everything except her partner again. The room settled into rhythm. Affection. Attention. Pleasure. The knowledge of an audience. Vega discovered quickly that watching was not passive. Her own breathing changed. Her posture changed. Her partner noticed too. “You like watching.” Vega looked at them. “Yes.” Very much. By the time Nova and her partner reached the quiet stillness afterward, Vega had stopped pretending she was merely waiting for her turn. Nova noticed. Of course she did. She smiled. Vega pointed. “Don't.” Nova's smile widened. “I didn't say anything.” “Your face did.” --- Then they switched. No ceremony. Nova and her partner moved to the watching side. Vega stood. Her partner reached for her. Vega answered immediately. A kiss. A pull closer. Then Vega guided the next step herself, settled into position and looked once toward Nova before committing to it. Nova was watching openly. Not with anything sexual directed at her working partner. Just attention. Witness. The kind Vega had agreed to. Vega looked back to her partner. “Yes.” When they joined, the first rush of pleasure hit her harder than expected. Her mouth opened on a breath she had meant to control. She laughed once, startled at herself, then pulled her partner closer. And then the dynamic reversed completely. Nova watched. Vega knew she was being watched. That hit almost as hard as the pleasure itself. Much harder than expected. Her own partner saw the moment. “You okay?” Vega smiled. “Very.” They continued. The awareness stayed. Not intrusive. Not embarrassing. Heat layered on heat. Vega had known she liked watching. She had not known being watched would feel this good. That realization remained with her long after everything slowed. Afterward the four stayed together. Water. Quiet conversation. No rush back to the floor. No awkwardness. Eventually Nova looked at Vega. “How was it?” Vega stared at her. Nova waited. Then Vega sighed. “I know what you're going to say.” Nova smiled. “No, you don't.” “Yes, I do.” “Then say it.” Vega looked at her own partner. Then Nova's. Then back to her working partner. “I liked being watched.” Nova's smile sharpened. “A lot.” Vega pointed at her. “Don't.” Nova: “I didn't say anything.” “You did with your face.” Nova laughed. Their partners did too. Vega shook her head. Then smiled. “Fine.” Nova: “Repeatable?” Vega considered. “Very.” Nova nodded. “Agreed.” --- Back on the main floor, Panam was beginning to lose track of how ridiculous the numbers had become. Not the accounting. That was easy. The scale. Twenty million here. Eight there. Twelve declined. Five ignored. Fifteen declined. Millions moving through conversations as casually as drinks. And still the most important word of the night remained: No. Or: Yes. Everything else came afterward. --- Bea received another offer. Four million. Two hours. A woman this time. Bea liked her. Panam saw that before she knew there was an offer. The woman laughed differently around Bea than she did around anyone else. Bea leaned closer when she spoke. Then came the question. The number. Bea looked at her. “Four million?” “Yes.” “For two hours.” “Yes.” Bea smiled. “Okay.” No Panam. No negotiation. No approval. Bea found Lisa. “Room two. Two hours.” Lisa nodded. “Enjoy.” “Planning to.” They left. --- Birgitta slid into Panam's side again. “How much has moved tonight?” “Don't know yet.” “You absolutely know.” “I know roughly.” “How roughly?” Panam looked at her. “Enough.” Birgitta smiled. “Owner.” “Don't.” Birgitta's hand slipped around Panam's waist. Panam pulled her closer. “You're enjoying this too much.” “I'm enjoying you enjoying it.” Panam looked into her eyes. “That sentence was annoying.” “True?” “Yes.” Birgitta kissed her. Panam kissed back. They separated slowly. Then Birgitta glanced over Panam's shoulder. “Hm.” Panam knew that sound. “What?” Birgitta smiled. “Nothing.” Panam turned. A woman had just entered from the terrace. Tall. Dark hair. Confident. Beautiful. Not theatrical. Not trying too hard. She looked directly at Panam. Held the look. Then smiled. Panam stopped. Just for a fraction too long. Birgitta felt it. Because she was still touching Panam. Her smile changed. Panam looked at her. “No.” Birgitta said nothing. That was worse. “Do not.” Birgitta's eyes were bright. “I haven't said anything.” “You're about to.” “No.” Panam looked back toward the woman. The woman was still there. Still looking. Still smiling. Birgitta leaned closer to Panam's ear. Very softly: “She is very pretty.” Panam closed her eyes. “Birgitta.” “Owner.” “Not one word.” Birgitta kissed her cheek. “Of course.” Panam opened her eyes. The woman had started walking toward them. Birgitta's smile became absolutely unbearable. --- ## Chapter 47 — Quarter Billion The woman stopped in front of Panam. Close enough to make her intent obvious. Not close enough to assume anything. Birgitta remained beside Panam with one hand resting lightly at her waist. The woman noticed. Did not misread it. Good. “Madame.” Panam looked at her. “Yeah?” “I've been told you occasionally accept personal offers.” Panam's expression changed by almost nothing. Birgitta felt it anyway. Her fingers moved once against Panam's side. “Occasionally,” Panam said. The woman smiled. “I was also told you once accepted an eight-figure one.” Panam stared at her. “People talk too much.” “In rooms like this?” “Yes.” “Agreed.” Panam folded her arms. Birgitta's hand stayed where it was. “So what exactly are you asking?” The woman looked directly at Panam. “Several hours.” “How many?” “Four.” Panam waited. “Private.” “Yes.” “Doing what?” The woman smiled. “Whatever we both want.” Better answer than most. Panam: “And your offer?” The woman named it without blinking. “Two hundred and fifty million.” Silence. Not in the room. The party kept moving. Music. Conversation. Glass. Laughter. But inside the little space around Panam, Birgitta and the woman— Silence. Panam stared. Birgitta stopped moving entirely. Then Panam: “Two hundred and fifty million eddies.” “Yes.” “For four hours.” “Yes.” Panam looked at her. “That is an extremely stupid amount of money.” “I know.” “You understand it doesn't buy a yes.” “Yes.” “It doesn't buy anything I don't want.” “I know.” “It doesn't buy the right to extend the time.” “I know.” “It doesn't buy exclusivity afterward.” “I know.” Panam's eyes narrowed. “Then why?” The woman considered. “Because I wanted to make sure you understood I wasn't making a casual offer.” Panam looked at her. The woman continued. “I heard the number you'd accepted before.” Panam's jaw shifted. Birgitta saw that too. “And decided you needed to beat it?” “Yes.” “That competitive?” “A little.” Panam snorted. The woman smiled. “But mostly I wanted your attention.” “You have it.” “I noticed.” Birgitta's mouth started to curve. Panam felt it without looking. “Do not.” “I said nothing.” The woman glanced at Birgitta. Birgitta smiled pleasantly. “I'm being extremely professional.” Panam finally looked at her. “You're enjoying this.” “Immensely.” “Go away.” “No.” Panam almost laughed. Almost. The woman waited. No pressure. No sales pitch. No attempt to use the silence against her. That mattered. Panam looked at her again. Tall. Dark hair. Strong shoulders. Calm confidence. Nothing brittle about her. No need to dominate the room. No performance of wealth. Panam liked the way she held eye contact. That mattered more. Birgitta knew exactly when Panam's assessment stopped being professional. Her smile became dangerous. Panam saw it. “Don't.” Birgitta: “Still nothing.” “Your face is loud.” “Occupational hazard.” Panam looked back at the woman. “What happens if I say no?” “You keep the evening you already have.” “No argument?” “No.” “No higher number?” The woman smiled. “Would it help?” Panam considered. “No.” “Then no.” Another good answer. Panam exhaled slowly. Birgitta leaned closer. Not whispering. Not hiding. Just enough for Panam to feel her beside her. “Interested?” Panam looked at her. Birgitta smiled softly now. Not teasing. The real question underneath it. Panam looked back at the woman. “Yes.” The woman didn't smile wider. Didn't celebrate. Just nodded once. “Then I'm still interested too.” Panam's mouth twitched. “Fuck.” Birgitta kissed Panam's cheek. “There she is.” Panam turned her head. “You are going to be unbearable.” “Yes.” The woman laughed quietly. Panam looked at her. “Four hours?” “Yes.” “Two hundred and fifty million.” “Yes.” Panam studied her one final time. Then: “Okay.” Birgitta inhaled dramatically. Panam pointed without looking. “Not one word.” Birgitta: “I am a monument to restraint.” Panam: “You're a menace.” “Affectionately.” Panam looked at the woman. “Give me ten minutes.” “Of course.” She stepped away. No hovering. No checking the time. Just left Panam room to arrange her own work. Birgitta waited until she was out of hearing range. Then: “Two hundred and fifty million, Owner?” Panam closed her eyes. “Fuck off.” “You said yes.” “I know what I said.” “You took almost four minutes.” “I was thinking.” “Exactly.” Panam opened her eyes. Birgitta's grin was magnificent. “She is very pretty.” “Birgitta.” “And you like her.” “I said yes.” “That isn't the same thing.” Panam stared. Birgitta stepped closer. “You like her.” Panam tried to hold the glare. Failed. “Yeah.” Birgitta smiled. Not jealous. Not territorial. Delighted. “Good.” Panam's expression softened. Birgitta reached up and touched her cheek. “Have fun.” Panam put a hand around Birgitta's waist. “You're not going to spend four hours telling everyone.” “No.” Panam narrowed her eyes. Birgitta added: “I'll need less than ten minutes.” Panam laughed. “Bitch.” Birgitta kissed her. Warm. Lingering. Then stayed close enough to murmur: “Two hundred and fifty million.” Panam groaned. --- Mandi learned in under three minutes. Vega learned in four. Nova in approximately the same moment because Vega turned toward her with the expression of someone carrying explosives. Sera knew when Mandi approached her and said: “Quarter billion.” Sera's hair lifted. “For what?” Mandi pointed discreetly toward Panam. Sera looked. Panam saw. Closed her eyes. Sera's hair became considerably more amused. “No.” Panam pointed at all of them. “No.” Vega: “We haven't said anything.” Nova: “Technically true.” Mandi: “Owner.” Panam: “I will fire the entire Stable.” Birgitta: “No, you won't.” Panam turned. Birgitta was leaning against the bar with an expression of absolute serenity. “You started this.” “I merely observed.” “You told them.” “I communicated relevant organizational information.” Sera's hair flashed. Panam stared at her. “You too?” Sera: “I still haven't said anything.” Mandi: “So, four hours?” Panam: “Fuck off.” Vega: “That's a yes.” Nova: “Apparently.” Panam rubbed both hands over her face. “Do any of you have clients?” Mandi: “Eventually.” Vega: “Maybe.” Sera: “I'm talking to someone.” Panam: “Then go do that.” Birgitta walked over and slipped an arm around Panam from the side. “Owner is flustered.” “I am not.” “You are.” “I've managed firefights calmer than this.” “Exactly.” Panam looked down at her. Birgitta smiled. Then kissed her once. “Go.” That landed differently. Panam nodded. --- Panam handed floor authority for Stable emergencies to Sera. Not general control. Not Madame replacement. Just the practical thing needed because Panam would be unavailable for several hours. “If anything actually goes wrong, call me.” Sera nodded. “If it can wait?” “It waits.” “If somebody wants a booking?” “They can make an offer. You already know how your own Stable bookings work when I'm occupied.” Sera nodded again. Panam looked at Lisa. “Security?” “Fine.” “Private corridor?” “Fine.” “Host?” “Happy.” “Good.” Lisa's mouth twitched. “What?” “Nothing.” Panam stared. Lisa: “Quarter billion.” Panam: “Fuck you too.” --- The woman was waiting near the terrace. Not impatient. Panam approached. “Ready?” “Yes.” The woman looked at her carefully. “You sure?” Panam smiled. “I said yes.” “That wasn't the question.” Panam's smile changed. Better. “Yes.” They walked toward the private corridor. Birgitta watched from across the room. Panam caught her eye once. Birgitta lifted two fingers to her lips and blew her a kiss. Panam shook her head. Smiling. Then disappeared into the corridor. --- The room was quieter than the main floor. Warm light. Large bed. Low seating. Water already waiting. Panam closed the door. Locked it. Turned. The woman had removed nothing. Assumed nothing. Panam liked that too. “You really paid two hundred and fifty million for this.” “I offered it.” “You haven't paid yet.” “I can.” Panam looked at her. “Later.” The woman's eyebrows rose slightly. “After?” “After.” “Interesting.” “What?” “You're not worried I'll leave.” Panam smiled. “You won't.” The woman laughed. “Confident.” “Evidence.” Panam stepped closer. Now there was no party. No Stable. No management. No floor. No twenty-one guests. Just two women who had spent too long looking at each other from across a room. The woman reached out. Stopped before touching. Panam closed the remaining distance herself. The first kiss answered most of the questions. Strong. Immediate. No hesitation after contact. Panam's hands found her waist. The woman's hands settled against Panam's back. They separated once. Barely. Panam looked at her. “Still good?” “Yes.” “You?” Panam kissed her again. That was the answer. The second kiss went longer. Heat built quickly. Not because of the money. Not because either needed to prove anything. Because they fit. Panam discovered that almost immediately. The woman kissed like she paid attention. Moved like she listened. When Panam pulled her closer, she came closer. When Panam slowed, she slowed. When Panam changed direction, she followed without trying to take control back just to demonstrate that she could. Panam liked her more by the minute. Clothing became less relevant. Then mostly irrelevant. They reached the bed without hurry. The first hour disappeared almost completely. Not rushed. Just full. Kissing. Hands. Laughter when something nearly went wrong. A brief collision with the edge of the bed that made both of them stop and laugh harder. Then back into each other. The first shared release left Panam flat on her back staring at the ceiling. The woman beside her breathed: “Worth the offer?” Panam turned her head. “Ask me in three hours.” The woman smiled. Panam pulled her back in. --- They drank water. Talked. Not much. Enough. Then started again because neither had any reason not to. The second time was slower. More familiar already. Panam knew what the woman liked now. The woman had learned Panam's reactions just as quickly. No performance. No client voice. No Madame voice. No attempt to turn pleasure into a professional metric. Panam simply wanted her. And the woman wanted Panam. That was enough. When they finally slowed again, considerably later, Panam was laughing against her shoulder. “What?” Panam shook her head. “Nothing.” “That is not nothing.” Panam looked at her. “You're very fucking good at this.” The woman smiled. “So are you.” “I know.” “Modest.” “No.” They kissed again. --- Four hours became an approximate concept. Not because the woman tried to buy more. She didn't. The time reached its edge while they were lying together, sweaty, tired and extremely unwilling to move. The woman looked toward the clock. Panam followed her gaze. “Four.” “Yes.” Neither moved. Then the woman said: “I won't ask.” Panam looked at her. “Good.” A pause. Panam smiled. “I'll stay another twenty minutes.” The woman smiled back. “No extra offer.” “Good.” “Because you want to.” “Yes.” That mattered. They spent most of the twenty minutes doing almost nothing. Touch. Quiet. A few kisses. Water. Then Panam finally sat up. “Okay.” “Okay.” Neither sounded enthusiastic about clothes. Eventually they managed. The woman completed the transfer before Panam reached the door. Panam's agent chimed. Two hundred and fifty million. She looked at it. Then at the woman. “You actually did it.” “I told you I would.” Panam shook her head. “Insane.” “Satisfied?” Panam looked at her. Then smiled. “Very.” The woman smiled back. “Good.” Panam opened the door. Then stopped. Turned. Walked back. Kissed her one more time. Not part of the booking. Not purchased. Just because Panam wanted to. Then she left. --- Birgitta saw Panam first. Of course. Panam made it halfway across the main room before Birgitta started smiling. Not the teasing smile. Not yet. The other one. The one that said she had already read everything important from Panam's posture. Panam approached. Birgitta opened her arms. Panam stepped straight into them. Birgitta held her. Warm. Close. Familiar. Then leaned back enough to look at her face. “Well?” Panam: “Don't.” Birgitta's smile widened. Mandi noticed. Vega noticed Mandi noticing. Sera's hair betrayed the entire room. Panam sighed. Birgitta touched Panam's cheek. “You had fun.” Panam looked at her. “Yeah.” Birgitta: “A lot.” Panam tried to glare. It failed completely. “…yeah.” Mandi made a noise. Panam pointed. “No.” Vega: “Owner looks relaxed.” Nova: “Unusually.” Sera took a drink. Her hair had become an electrical crime scene. Panam: “All of you can fuck off.” Birgitta slipped both arms around her waist. “Apparently somebody already handled that.” Silence. Half a second. Then the entire group broke. Mandi folded over laughing. Vega nearly lost her drink. Nova covered her face. Sera's hair lifted so dramatically that she gave up pretending. Panam stared at Birgitta. Birgitta looked absolutely delighted with herself. “You.” “Yes?” “Bitch.” Birgitta kissed her. Panam kissed her back. Still smiling. And that, unfortunately for Panam Palmer, told everyone exactly how successful the last four hours had been. ---- ## Chapter 48 — Still Climbing Panam remained inside Birgitta's arms longer than she intended. Mostly because Birgitta had no intention of letting go. “You smell expensive.” Panam laughed against her shoulder. “What the fuck does that mean?” “I don't know.” “Then don't say it.” “Quarter-billion smell.” Panam pulled back enough to look at her. Birgitta's smile was unbearable. “You're never letting this go.” “No.” “Thought so.” Birgitta's hand moved slowly along Panam's back. Not teasing now. Just familiar touch. Panam relaxed into it despite herself. Mandi was still grinning from the bar. Panam pointed at her. “You're next on my list.” Mandi blinked. “For what?” “Retaliation.” “I've done nothing.” “You existed while I came back.” “Cruel standard.” Vega: “She was laughing.” Mandi: “Traitor.” Nova: “She was.” Sera's hair lifted again. Panam looked at her. “Don't.” Sera took another drink. “I continue to say nothing.” “Worst one of all of you.” Birgitta kissed Panam's cheek. “She means that affectionately.” “No, I don't.” “Yes, you do.” Panam looked at her. Birgitta smiled. Panam kissed her once. “Maybe.” --- The event had changed while Panam was gone. Not structurally. Socially. The invisible walls had mostly fallen. People who had spent the beginning of the evening calculating status were now sprawled across couches with shoes off. Two men who Panam knew belonged to rival companies were arguing about music. Not acquisitions. Music. One woman had commandeered a plate of desserts and was refusing to share. Somebody had started a card game on the terrace. The host was sitting on the arm of a sofa laughing at something Vega had said. Panam looked around. “Fuck.” Birgitta: “What?” “It worked.” Birgitta looked around too. Then squeezed Panam's hand. “Yes.” Panam glanced at her. “You sound surprised.” “No.” “You should.” “I've met us.” Panam laughed. --- Nova and Vega had separated again. Their shared private booking had left both of them visibly pleased, but neither had become attached to the other for the rest of the night. Nova was talking with an older woman near the windows. Vega had joined the card game. Panam heard her say: “That is statistically impossible.” The man opposite her replied: “You don't know the statistics.” “I know you're cheating.” “I am not.” “You're rich enough to cheat better.” He laughed. Good. --- Bea returned from room two. Her hair was slightly disordered. Her expression was not. She went directly for water. Dalia and Deja were still away. Mandi saw Bea first. “How was it?” Bea drank. Then looked at her. “Excellent.” Mandi: “Numbers.” Bea stared. “You've become intolerable.” “Professional benchmarking.” Bea sighed. “Three.” Mandi nodded. “For you?” “Yes.” “Her?” “Two.” Mandi looked impressed. Bea pointed at her. “Do not start making a chart.” “I wasn't.” “You were thinking about it.” Mandi smiled. Bea laughed. Then leaned against the bar. Birgitta wandered over. “How much?” Bea looked at her. “Four million.” Birgitta's eyebrows rose. “For two hours.” “Yes.” “And?” Bea smiled. “Worth saying yes.” Birgitta nodded. That was enough. Not _worth four million_. Worth saying yes. Different thing. --- A man approached Mandi twenty minutes later. He looked familiar from the guest list. Bea noticed him. Said nothing. The man spoke with Mandi for a while. No hurry. No visible pitch. At some point he made her laugh. That was useful. Then he asked quietly: “Private again tonight?” Mandi looked at him. “Maybe.” “One hour.” “Offer?” “Ten million.” Mandi smiled. “That's ridiculous.” “Yes.” “Good.” He laughed. Mandi looked at Panam. Panam walked over. “Interested?” Mandi looked back at the man. “Yes.” Panam nodded. “Then yes.” Nothing more complicated than that. Mandi disappeared toward the private corridor with him. Birgitta watched. “She's going to be insufferable tomorrow.” Panam: “Tomorrow?” “Good point.” --- Sera's evening remained stranger. The woman in the dark silver dress had never left. Not physically attached. Not hovering. She had simply stayed somewhere near Sera for most of the night. They talked about art. Other people joined. Other people left. The woman occasionally disappeared for food or a drink. Always came back. Sera noticed. So did Panam. Eventually the woman said: “I think my earlier offer was badly framed.” Sera looked at her. “How?” “I offered for private time before I knew whether you wanted private time with me.” Sera's hair shifted. The woman smiled at the reaction. “So I'm going to ask the other part first.” Sera waited. “Do you?” Sera looked at her for a long moment. “Yes.” The woman's smile softened. “Good.” “Now you can make an offer.” “Twenty million.” Sera blinked. “For?” “Three hours.” Sera looked at her. The woman added: “And if we spend all three talking about art, fine.” That did it. Sera smiled. Actually smiled. “Okay.” The woman looked pleased. Panam was close enough that Sera only needed to catch her eye. Panam approached. Sera: “Three hours.” Panam looked at the woman. “Twenty million?” “Yes.” Then Sera. “You want it?” “Yes.” “Good.” Sera's hair was already bright with anticipation. Panam stepped away. No lecture. No second interrogation. Sera had answered. --- Before they left, the woman touched Sera's arm. Stopped. “Can I ask something stupid?” “Yes.” “Does the hair get worse during sex?” Sera stared. Panam nearly choked. The woman immediately raised both hands. “Sorry.” Sera's hair lifted around her face. “It gets more expressive.” The woman looked fascinated. “That is not helping.” Sera looked at Panam. “Owner.” Panam turned away. “Nope.” “You're laughing.” “No.” “You are.” Panam walked off before the conversation got worse. Behind her, Sera said: “Room eight.” Lisa answered: “Logged.” And that was that. --- Birgitta found Panam again five minutes later. She always did. Panam was checking something with Lisa. Birgitta waited until they finished. Then stepped close and slipped her fingers into Panam's. “You've been back less than an hour.” “Yes.” “And already working.” “Yes.” “Terrible.” Panam looked at her. “What do you want?” “You.” “That answer is suspicious.” Birgitta smiled. “I also have an offer.” Panam's eyebrows rose. “Ah.” “A woman I've been talking to.” “How long?” “Most of the evening, on and off.” “Interested?” “Yes.” “How interested?” Birgitta leaned closer. “Enough.” Panam smiled. “Offer?” “Eighteen million.” “For?” “Two hours.” Panam looked toward the woman Birgitta indicated. Elegant. Late thirties, maybe. Short dark-blonde hair. Calm expression. She wasn't watching Panam. She was watching Birgitta. Good. Panam looked back. “You like her?” “Yes.” “Then why are you still here?” Birgitta smiled. “I wanted my Owner to ask.” Panam's hand settled at her waist. “You're impossible.” “I know.” Panam kissed her. A little longer than necessary. When they separated: “Go have fun.” Birgitta touched Panam's cheek. “Jealous?” “No.” “Not even a little?” Panam thought. Then smiled. “Enough to want details.” Birgitta laughed. “You'll get them.” “Too many, probably.” “Definitely.” One more kiss. Then Birgitta stepped away. Panam watched her cross the room toward the woman. The woman smiled when Birgitta reached her. Birgitta took her hand. They disappeared down the corridor together. --- Sera gone. Birgitta gone. Mandi gone. Nova and Vega still on the floor. Panam looked around. Three of her Stable occupied. Two present. Manageable. And for the first time all evening, nobody was physically attached to her. Lisa appeared. “You look abandoned.” Panam looked at her. “Don't.” Lisa smiled. “How was the quarter billion?” Panam stared. Lisa's expression remained perfectly neutral. Panam: “Very fucking good.” Lisa nodded. “Thought so.” “You too?” “I have eyes.” Panam groaned. --- Dalia and Deja finally returned. Three hours had left visible evidence. Not damage. Satisfaction. Dalia's lollipop was gone. Deja's hair looked like somebody had made a sincere attempt to reorganize it by hand and failed. They reached the bar together. Suzie gave them water without being asked. Bea looked over. “Oh.” Deja pointed at her. “No.” Bea smiled. “I didn't say anything.” Dalia drank half her water. Mandi wasn't there to start the interrogation. Vega was. Unfortunately. She appeared beside them. “How many?” Deja looked at her. “You people have one fucking question.” Vega: “No. I have several. That's first.” Dalia looked at Deja. Deja sighed. “Five.” Vega: “For you?” “Yes.” Dalia: “Six.” Vega's eyebrows went up. Nova had arrived now too. “And them?” Dalia considered. “Four and three.” Deja corrected: “Four and four.” Dalia looked at her. “Right.” Bea started laughing. Deja: “What?” “You forgot one.” Dalia: “Long night.” Nova: “Successful?” Dalia and Deja answered together. “Yes.” That made everyone laugh. --- Panam walked over. Not to debrief their booking. Just because they were friends and had been gone three hours. “Good?” Dalia looked at her. “Very.” Deja nodded. “Excellent.” Panam smiled. “Good.” That was all. No price question. No details demanded. Their booking belonged to them. Vega, however, had no such restraint. “Position?” Deja: “Fuck off.” Vega: “That's not an answer.” Dalia smiled. “It might be.” Nova: “You started this earlier.” Vega: “And I remain committed to research.” Bea: “I'm beginning to understand Stable culture.” Panam: “Please don't.” --- A new burst of laughter came from the terrace. The host walked toward Panam. He looked tired. Happy. Slightly drunk. Still functional. “This is better than I hoped.” Panam looked around. “Yeah.” “I've had three people ask whether we can do this again.” Panam looked at him. “No.” He laughed. “I didn't ask.” “Good.” “Yet.” “Still no.” “Fair.” He looked toward the private corridor. “Everyone okay?” “Yes.” “Good.” He hesitated. Then: “I heard about your offer.” Panam closed her eyes. “Of course you did.” “Quarter billion.” “Yes.” “Congratulations?” Panam looked at him. He smiled. “I don't know the etiquette.” “There isn't any.” “Was she worth it?” Panam stared. Then laughed despite herself. “Very.” The host nodded. “Good.” Panam pointed at him. “That does not leave this room.” He looked around the room they were standing in. Panam sighed. “You know what I mean.” “Yes.” --- Around three-thirty, the event had become comfortably ridiculous. A seven-million no. A fifteen-million no. Ten accepted. Twenty accepted. Four accepted. Eighteen accepted. Two hundred and fifty accepted. Nobody knew the total anymore except the agents recording transfers. Nobody cared enough to stop and calculate. The women weren't chasing numbers. The guests weren't buying obedience. Offers were invitations with absurd punctuation. Sometimes the answer was no. Sometimes yes. And every yes so far had ended well. That mattered more than everything else. --- Nova was the next to notice the pattern. She stood beside Vega near the bar. “Everyone who's come back has been happy.” Vega looked around. “Yes.” “Unusually happy.” “You complaining?” “No.” Vega smiled. “Good.” Nova looked toward the private corridor. Then at her working partner. “The watching thing.” Vega immediately knew. “What about it?” “You liked it.” Vega stared. Nova waited. Finally: “Yes.” “Being watched too.” Vega sighed. “Yes.” Nova smiled. “Noted.” Vega pointed. “You are never allowed to say that word again.” “Noted.” “Fuck you.” Nova laughed. No romance between them. No sexual touch. Just close working partners who now knew considerably more about each other's preferences than most working partners ever would. And apparently had no intention of letting each other forget it. --- Panam saw Birgitta return at almost four. She knew before checking the time. Something in her attention simply found her. Birgitta emerged from the private corridor. Smoked copper-grey hair less controlled than before. Very light brown eyes bright. Smile soft. Panam opened one arm. Birgitta came directly into it. No hesitation. Panam pulled her close. “Well?” Birgitta rested against her. “Excellent.” Panam smiled. “How excellent?” Birgitta leaned back. “You wanted details.” “I did.” “Four.” Panam's eyebrows rose. “For you?” “Yes.” “Her?” “Three.” “Good.” “Very.” Panam touched Birgitta's cheek. “Repeatable?” Birgitta smiled. “Yes.” Panam nodded. Then kissed her. Birgitta kissed back, warm and tired and entirely satisfied. When they separated, Birgitta looked at her. “And yours?” Panam stared. Birgitta smiled. “Come on.” Panam sighed. “Five.” Birgitta's eyebrows rose. “For you?” “Yes.” “And her?” Panam paused. “Four.” Birgitta's smile became dangerous. Panam: “Don't.” Birgitta: “I said nothing.” “You were about to.” “Yes.” Panam kissed her again before she could. That worked. For approximately six seconds. When they separated: “Quarter billion.” “Birgitta.” Birgitta laughed into Panam's shoulder. Panam held her there. And somewhere behind them, Vega whispered: “Five?” Nova: “Apparently.” Panam didn't even turn around. “Both of you can fuck off.” The laughter that followed carried across half the room. --- ## Chapter 49 — Worth Remembering By four in the morning, nobody was pretending the event would end on schedule. The host had stopped checking the time. Panam had stopped reminding him there had ever been one. The city outside the glass had gone from bright night to that strange dead-hour stillness Night City occasionally managed between one kind of trouble and the next. Inside, the party had become comfortable. Dangerously comfortable. Shoes under furniture. Half-finished plates. People sitting in places that had definitely not been intended as seats. A billionaire arguing about bad horror movies with Vega. Two corpo executives playing cards with Deja and losing badly. Nova standing near the terrace doors with a woman who had spent the first two hours of the evening refusing to speak to anyone for longer than thirty seconds. Now they had been talking for nearly forty minutes. No booking. No offer. No reason required. Panam looked around. Then down. Birgitta was still tucked against her side. She had returned from her private booking with that soft satisfied brightness still clinging to her. Panam's arm rested around her waist. Birgitta had one hand under the back of Panam's jacket. Not doing anything. Just there. Warm. Familiar. “You're thinking again,” Birgitta said. “I do that.” “Dangerous habit.” “You're one to talk.” Birgitta smiled. Panam glanced at her. “You really liked her.” “Yes.” “Seeing her again?” Birgitta considered. Then reached for her agent. Panam watched. Birgitta opened a private contact note. No shared Stable list. No Owner database. Hers. She added something. Panam tried to look. Birgitta turned the screen away. “No.” “What?” “Private.” “I'm your Owner.” “You are not the owner of my good-fuck list.” Panam stared. Then laughed so suddenly that Lisa looked over from across the room. “Your what?” Birgitta locked the agent. “Exactly.” Panam's smile widened. “You have a list.” “Of course I have a list.” “How long?” “Private.” “Categories?” “Panam.” “Oh, there are categories.” Birgitta covered Panam's mouth with her hand. Panam kissed the palm. Birgitta narrowed her eyes. “That was unfair.” Panam moved her hand away. “You started it.” “I told you nothing.” “You told me enough.” Birgitta leaned closer. “Maybe you're on it.” Panam stared. Birgitta smiled brightly. “That bothers you, doesn't it?” “No.” “Yes.” Panam caught her around the waist and pulled her closer. “Now you're definitely lying.” Birgitta laughed into the kiss. --- Mandi returned from her latest booking while they were still arguing about the existence of Birgitta's list. She walked past them toward the bar. Stopped. Backed up two steps. Looked at Birgitta. Then Panam. “What list?” Panam immediately pointed at her. “See?” Birgitta: “You have one too.” Mandi's expression became offended. “Obviously.” Panam looked between them. “You both have lists.” Mandi: “Everybody has lists.” Birgitta: “Exactly.” Panam: “Everybody?” Mandi looked toward Nova. “Likely.” Nova, still across the room, somehow noticed being looked at. She frowned. Mandi looked away. “Definitely.” Panam stared. “You people maintain personal records of your best clients.” Mandi picked up water. “Not records.” Birgitta: “Memories with contact information.” Mandi nodded. “Better.” Panam rubbed her face. “Jesus Christ.” Mandi looked at her. “You have one now.” Panam slowly lowered her hands. “No.” Mandi: “Quarter Billion.” Panam: “That is not her name.” Birgitta: “Excellent contact label.” Panam: “No.” Mandi was already laughing. Panam pointed at her. “How was yours?” Mandi smiled. The question changed the expression. Not dramatically. Enough. “Very good.” Panam noticed. Birgitta did too. Mandi took out her agent. Panam stared. “You're doing it right now.” “Doing what?” “Adding him.” Mandi glanced at the screen. “Maybe.” Birgitta leaned toward Panam. “Good-fuck list.” Panam: “Stop calling it that.” Mandi: “What do you call yours?” “I DO NOT HAVE ONE.” Vega shouted from the card table: “YOU DO NOW.” Half the room looked over. Panam closed her eyes. The host started laughing. --- Sera returned twenty minutes later. Panam noticed her first because the hair came around the corner before the rest of her. Silver-white. Disordered. Not dramatically. Enough to suggest three hours had been used enthusiastically. The woman in the dark silver dress walked beside her. They were holding hands. Panam's expression softened. Sera saw her. The woman said something quietly. Sera laughed. Her hair brightened. Then they stopped near the bar. The woman touched Sera's cheek. Sera leaned into it. A kiss. Warm. Unhurried. Then another. When they separated, the woman smiled. “Call me.” Sera looked at her. “Yes.” Not _maybe_. Not professional ambiguity. Yes. The woman left. Sera watched her go. Then immediately took out her agent. Panam stared. Sera looked over. “What?” Panam pointed. “You too?” Sera glanced at the agent. Then at Panam. “Of course.” Birgitta made a triumphant little gesture. Panam: “No.” Sera's hair lifted. “What?” “Nothing.” “You're all impossible.” Mandi leaned across the bar. “Did you add her?” Sera finished what she was doing. Locked the agent. “Yes.” Mandi nodded. “Good.” No interrogation. No statistics. No demands for positions. The answer was already obvious. Sera looked very happy. Panam handed her water. “Good?” Sera took it. “Extremely.” Panam smiled. “Good.” Sera drank. Then looked at her. “And she commissioned something.” Panam blinked. Mandi: “During?” Sera stared. “No.” Mandi smiled. “Had to ask.” Sera's hair lifted sharply. “She wants a piece.” “Specific?” “Not yet.” Panam: “Price?” “We didn't discuss it.” Panam nodded. Because of course they hadn't. Art conversation was not a joytoy booking. A commission would become its own business if Sera wanted it. Different structure. Different decision. Sera leaned against the bar. “She asked if I would design something around the idea of being observed without being possessed.” Silence. Mandi slowly smiled. Sera looked at her. “Don't.” “I wasn't going to.” “Bullshit.” Mandi laughed. Panam looked at Sera. “You like the idea.” Sera's hair answered before she did. “Yes.” “Then make it.” Sera smiled. “Maybe.” --- The host came through carrying a bottle of something nobody needed. He stopped near them. “Still alive?” Panam looked at him. “Barely.” “You're smiling.” “Fuck off.” He looked toward Sera. “Good evening?” Sera: “Yes.” Then Mandi. “Yes.” Then Birgitta. “Very.” The host looked at Panam. Panam stared. He raised both hands. “I wasn't going to ask.” Birgitta: “She had an excellent evening.” Panam turned. “BIRGITTA.” The host laughed. “Apparently.” Panam considered throwing something. Instead she took Birgitta's drink and finished it. Birgitta stared. “That was mine.” “Consequences.” --- The card game exploded twenty minutes later. Not physically. Financially. Vega had somehow talked the table into playing for numbers so absurd that even she had started laughing. Nothing compared to the private-room offers. Still stupid. Deja sat opposite her. The leash was back with Dalia now, though Dalia was standing nearby talking to someone else. The man between Vega and Deja put down his cards. Vega stared. “No.” He smiled. “Yes.” “You cheated.” “No.” Deja looked at the cards. Then at Vega. “He didn't.” Vega pointed. “You're supposed to support me.” “I support reality.” “Terrible friend.” “We met under six hours ago.” “Details.” The man collected the pot. Then looked at Vega. “Rematch?” “Yes.” Deja: “No.” Both turned. Deja stood. “I have better things to do.” The woman who had been sitting beside her for the last half hour stood too. Vega looked between them. “Oh.” Deja smiled. “Exactly.” No Panam. No Stable flow. The woman looked at Deja. “Still yes?” “Yes.” “Offer still acceptable?” “Yes.” Vega looked interested. “How much?” Deja turned. “None of your fucking business.” Vega put a hand over her heart. “Horrible.” Deja walked away with the woman. On the way past Dalia, she stopped. Dalia turned from her conversation. Deja said something quietly. Dalia smiled. Then unclipped the leash. No permission. No negotiation. Just familiarity. Deja kissed Dalia briefly. Then left with her client. Dalia watched her go with a pleased expression and returned to her own conversation. Panam saw all of it. Kept doing what she was doing. Exactly right. --- Bea had found the terrace again. She was sitting on the low wall with a man beside her. No touching. They were talking. Panam recognized him from the guest list. One of the wealthiest people in the room. He looked completely ordinary while laughing. Bea said something. He stopped. Looked at her. Then laughed harder. Good. Eventually he asked something quieter. Bea considered. Then shook her head. No. The man nodded. The conversation continued. Ten minutes later they were still there. No sulking. No escalation. No higher offer. Just a no that had changed nothing else about the conversation. Panam smiled. Birgitta noticed. “What?” Panam nodded toward the terrace. “That's how this is supposed to work.” Birgitta looked. Saw Bea and the man. Understood. “Yes.” Then Birgitta leaned into Panam again. “Your event is good.” “Not mine.” “You're running it.” “Host's event.” “Your room.” Panam considered arguing. Didn't. “Fine.” Birgitta smiled. “Owner.” “Careful.” --- Nova returned to the bar alone. Vega looked up from her rematch. “You disappeared.” “I was ten meters away.” “Emotionally.” Nova stared. Vega grinned. Nova got water. Then looked toward the terrace. The woman she had been speaking with earlier was leaving. Nova watched her. Vega noticed. “Interesting?” Nova looked over. “Very.” “Booking?” “No.” “Wanted one?” Nova thought. “Maybe later.” Vega smiled. Nova: “Don't.” “I said nothing.” “You're smiling.” “So?” Nova opened her agent. Vega immediately stood from the table. “Aha.” Nova turned the screen away. Vega: “You have a list.” Nova: “Sit down.” “You absolutely have a list.” Mandi called from the bar: “Everybody has a list.” Panam: “Apparently.” Nova looked at Panam. “You didn't?” “No.” Vega: “Quarter Billion.” Panam: “I hate that name.” Birgitta: “You should save her as that.” Panam: “I am surrounded by children.” Sera: “Expensive children.” Panam looked at her. Sera's hair lifted. “Sorry.” “No, you're not.” “No.” --- Somewhere after five, the host ordered breakfast. Not because the event had ended. Because enough people had reached the stage where eggs seemed rational. Nobody objected. Food appeared. Real food. Not little decorative corpo plates. Breakfast sandwiches. Fruit. Coffee. Something involving potatoes that Vega immediately claimed was medicinal. People ate wherever they were sitting. Private bookings still happened. Fewer. Slower. The energy had changed. Not dying. Softening. A room of people who had finally stopped performing wealth at each other. One of the men who had spent the first hour barely speaking was now sitting on the floor arguing with Mandi about whether motorcycles should be allowed indoors. “They should,” Mandi said. “No.” “Coward.” “They leak.” “Bad ones.” “All of them leak eventually.” “That is defeatist.” “That is engineering.” Brenda would have loved that argument. Vega, three meters away, turned. “I heard engineering.” Mandi: “Stay out of this.” Vega immediately joined. --- Panam sat down for the first time in what felt like days. Birgitta sat beside her. Then changed her mind. Moved closer. One leg pressed against Panam's. Their shoulders touched. Panam handed her coffee. Birgitta accepted it. “You remembered.” “You've had the same thing all night.” “Romantic.” “Efficient.” Birgitta kissed her cheek. “Romantic efficiency.” Panam smiled. They sat quietly. Around them, the room continued. Sera talking with another collector. Mandi and Vega arguing about motorcycles. Nova listening to a woman explain something with both hands. Dalia laughing at the breakfast table. Deja still private. Bea on the terrace. Lisa near the corridor. Everything functioning. Birgitta took out her agent. Panam looked sideways. “List?” Birgitta smiled. “No.” “What?” “Message.” “To?” Birgitta looked at her. “Private.” Panam narrowed her eyes. Birgitta finished typing. Locked the agent. Then rested her head against Panam's shoulder. Panam's arm went around her. “Secretive bitch.” “Yes.” They sat like that. No management required for several minutes. --- Bea came in from the terrace eventually. Alone. She picked up coffee. Sat near Nova. Mandi looked over. “You said no.” Bea stared. “How do you know?” “I have eyes.” “Yes.” “Still talked to him.” “Yes.” “Good?” “Very.” Mandi nodded. Bea took a drink. Then smiled slightly. “I added him.” Panam looked over. “No.” Bea blinked. “What?” “You too?” Bea looked around the room. At Mandi. Sera. Nova. Birgitta. Then Panam. “You don't?” Everyone laughed. Panam put both hands over her face. Birgitta wrapped an arm around her. “It's okay.” “No, it isn't.” “You can start.” “I DON'T NEED A FUCKING LIST.” Mandi: “One entry.” Vega: “Quarter Billion.” Panam: “STOP CALLING HER THAT.” The host, passing with coffee: “Who?” Eight people answered simultaneously: “NOBODY.” He stopped. Looked around. Then wisely kept walking. --- Panam lowered her hands. Birgitta was still smiling. Panam looked at her. Then took out her agent. The room went silent. Birgitta's eyes widened. Mandi slowly grinned. Panam: “If any of you say one word, I delete all your booking histories.” Mandi: “You can't.” “I'll find a way.” Vega leaned across the table. Panam opened a new private contact note. Typed. Birgitta tried to see. Panam turned away. “No.” Birgitta laughed. “What did you call her?” “Private.” “Quarter Billion?” “No.” “Pretty Woman?” “No.” “Five?” Panam stared. Birgitta covered her mouth. Panam finished. Saved it. Locked the agent. Mandi: “Repeat?” Panam looked around. Everyone waiting. Even Sera. Her hair practically vertical. Panam sighed. Then smiled. “Yes.” The room erupted. Panam leaned back against Birgitta and accepted the consequences. --- ## Chapter 50 — Call Me Again The event finally ended at six-forty-two in the morning. Not dramatically. Nobody announced it. Nobody turned the lights on. The room simply reached the point where every remaining conversation had acquired the slow softness of people who had been awake too long and enjoyed themselves too much. The host stood near the bar with coffee in one hand. Panam was beside him. “You survived,” he said. “Barely.” “You say that like you regret it.” “I don't.” He smiled. Then his agent chimed. Panam's did too. She checked. The remaining fifty million. Exactly as agreed. Panam looked up. “Paid.” “Told you.” “Rogue told me.” “That hurts.” “She has a better reputation.” “Fair.” He looked around the room. The last guests were collecting coats, shoes, agents, dignity. Some had lost one or more of those. “I meant what I said.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “About doing this again?” “Yes.” “No.” He laughed. “One day.” “Still no.” “Ask me after you've slept.” “That won't improve your odds.” “Worth trying.” Panam offered her hand. He took it. “Good night.” “Morning.” “Fuck you.” He laughed again. --- The departures happened in pieces. Nova and Vega left together because their ride was already waiting. Nothing romantic in public. Two working partners, exhausted and immaculate enough to pass inspection from twenty meters away. At five meters, not so much. Vega looked at Nova. “You look terrible.” Nova: “You have lipstick on your collar.” Vega looked down. “Not mine.” “I know.” “Jealous?” “No.” “Coward.” Nova opened the car door. “Get in.” Vega did. --- Mandi left next. She stopped beside Panam. “Alive?” Panam: “Unfortunately.” “Good.” Mandi hugged her. Then Birgitta. Then Sera. “I'm sleeping until Thursday.” Sera looked at her. “It is Wednesday.” Mandi paused. “Excellent.” She left. --- Dalia and Deja took longer. Mostly because Deja had lost one earring. It was eventually found underneath a sofa. Nobody knew how. Nobody asked. Dalia clipped the leash back onto Deja before they walked out. Deja smiled at her. Panam noticed. Said nothing. Dalia looked over. “Night.” “Morning.” “Don't start.” Panam smiled. They left. --- Bea hugged Sera. Then Birgitta. Then Panam. The last one lasted a little longer. “Good event,” Bea said. Panam: “Ridiculous event.” “Both.” “Get some sleep.” Bea smiled. “You too.” Panam looked at Birgitta. Birgitta looked back. Neither said anything. Bea noticed. Her smile widened. “I'll leave you to whatever this is.” Panam: “Go away.” Bea laughed and did. --- Sera was the last of the others. Her silver-white hair had finally settled. Mostly. She hugged Panam. Then Birgitta. Panam asked: “You good getting home?” “Yes.” “Message.” “I will.” Sera glanced between them. Then smiled. Panam narrowed her eyes. “What?” “Nothing.” “Go.” Sera went. --- That left Panam and Birgitta. And Lisa. Lisa stood near the door. Panam looked at her. “You still here?” “I work here.” “Right.” Lisa looked at Birgitta. Then Panam. Then back at Birgitta. “Good morning.” Birgitta: “Good morning.” Panam: “Don't.” Lisa smiled. “I didn't say anything.” “Everyone keeps saying that.” “Maybe you're paranoid.” Panam took Birgitta's hand. “Come on.” Birgitta followed. Lisa called after them: “Quarter Billion!” Panam stopped. Birgitta nearly folded laughing. Panam turned slowly. Lisa was already walking away. “Coward!” --- They did not go somewhere together. Not this time. At the curb, Birgitta hugged Panam. Long. Warm. Panam's hands settled at her waist. Birgitta kissed her. Then again. “Sleep.” Panam: “You too.” “I will.” “Message me.” Birgitta smiled. “I always do.” Panam touched her cheek. “I know.” One more kiss. Then they separated. Different cars. Different directions. Nothing wrong with that. --- Morning arrived brutally. For some of them, technically, morning had never left. ### Mandi Ace woke at eleven-twenty-seven. She opened one eye. Her agent was blinking. She considered ignoring it. Then checked. A message. From last night's man. > **I had an extraordinary time.** > > **Fifteen million. Two hours. Any evening you choose this week.** > > **If you're interested.** Ace stared. Then smiled. A second message had arrived ten minutes later. > **No pressure. I simply wanted you to know the offer stands.** Ace saved the contact. The note already existed. She added: **Definitely again.** Then dropped the agent onto the bed. Mai, beside her, opened one eye. “Mandi?” Ace: “Fifteen million.” Mai's eye closed again. “Good morning.” --- ### Nova Iris woke to two messages. The first came from the woman from the shared watching arrangement. > **I want to do that again.** > > **Twenty-five million for two hours. Same structure, if Vega is interested too.** The second followed: > **And if she isn't, I'd still like to see you alone. Ten million for an hour.** Iris stared at the screen. Brenda, half buried in pillows beside her, muttered: “What?” Iris handed her the agent. Brenda read. Then reached for her own. She had a message too. From her own partner. > **Same offer from me. Twenty-five million for two hours if Nova agrees.** > > **Or twelve million for ninety minutes with you alone.** > > **You were fucking incredible.** Brenda smiled. Slowly. Iris looked at her. “You like that.” “Yes.” “The offer?” “That too.” Iris laughed. Brenda rolled toward her. “They want the same setup.” “Yes.” “Again.” “Yes.” Brenda's smile widened. “Interesting.” Iris kissed her forehead. “Very.” --- ### Sera Shammy's agent contained three messages. One was about art. One was about breakfast. One was about sex. The woman in the silver dress had sent all three. > **I still want the commission. No rush.** > > **Also, breakfast sometime when neither of us has been awake all night.** > > **And thirty million for three hours if you want another private evening.** > > **Those are three separate invitations. You can say yes to none, one, two, or all three.** Shammy read it twice. Her hair lifted gently. Then she replied: > **All three.** She stared at that. Added: > **Not necessarily in that order.** Her hair brightened. She put the agent down. Picked it up again. Read the message once more. Then smiled. --- ### Birgitta Birgitta woke considerably later than she intended. Still Birgitta. Still the same woman who had walked out of Lizzie's several hours earlier. The covers were twisted around one leg. Her hair had lost the argument with the pillow. Her agent was blinking beside the bed. She reached for it. Last night's woman. > **Eighteen million was unfair to me.** > > **You were worth more.** > > **Twenty-five million for three hours next time.** > > **Dinner first, not counted.** Birgitta stared. Then laughed softly. A second message followed. > **And yes, there should be a next time.** Birgitta opened the private contact note. Added: **Absolutely.** Saved it. Her agent chimed again. Panam. > **Awake?** Birgitta smiled. > **Unfortunately.** The answer came almost immediately. > **Good morning, gorgeous.** Birgitta sank deeper into the pillow. > **You sound suspiciously alive.** Panam: > **Coffee.** > > **Violence.** > > **Regret.** > > **In that order.** Birgitta: > **Quarter Billion regret?** A longer pause. Then: > **Fuck you.** Birgitta laughed. > **That sounds like a yes.** Panam: > **Did yours message?** Birgitta looked back at the other conversation. > **Yes.** Panam: > **Good offer?** > **25M. Three hours. Dinner first.** A pause. > **She really liked you.** Birgitta: > **Apparently.** Panam: > **You going?** Birgitta didn't need long. > **Yes.** Panam: > **Good.** Then: > **Still want details afterward.** Birgitta smiled. > **You always want details.** Panam: > **Correct.** Birgitta: > **And what exactly do I get in exchange?** Panam: > **My charming personality.** Birgitta: > **Refund.** Panam: > **Bitch.** Birgitta: > **You like me.** The reply took several seconds. > **Unfortunately.** Birgitta smiled at the screen. --- ### Bea Elisa woke under a blanket she did not remember pulling over herself. Her agent showed four messages. Two were ordinary. One was from the man she had refused. > **Thank you for saying no without making the rest of the evening awkward.** > > **Dinner sometime? Just dinner.** Elisa smiled. The other was from the woman she'd spent two hours with. > **Six million for two hours.** > > **Same boots.** > > **Please.** Elisa stared. Then laughed into the pillow. She opened Bea's private note. Added: **She remembers the boots.** Then replied: > **Yes.** A second later: > **To both conditions.** She buried her face in the pillow again. Still laughing. --- ### Dalia and Deja Mai woke first. Kiro was asleep with one arm thrown across her. Mai's agent buzzed. Then Kiro's. Mai checked hers. The couple from the night before. > **We would very much like both of you again.** > > **Forty million total for three hours.** > > **Same arrangement, unless you want something different.** Mai read it. Looked at Kiro. Kiro's eyes remained closed. “Deja.” “No.” “Forty million.” One eye opened. “For?” “Both of us. Three hours.” The other eye opened. Kiro reached blindly for her agent. Mai watched. Kiro had two messages. One from the same couple. The other from the woman she had left the card game with. > **Eight million. Two hours.** > > **I liked you even more alone.** > > **Call me.** Kiro stared. Mai smiled. “Well?” Kiro: “I need coffee.” “That wasn't the question.” “I know.” Mai kissed her temple. Kiro looked at the two messages again. Then opened both contact notes. Neither was deleted. --- ### Panam Panam woke at twelve-forty. Her head hurt. Her legs hurt. Her entire body had filed a formal complaint. Her agent was on the floor. She reached down. Missed. Tried again. Got it. Three messages. One from Sera. One from Birgitta. One from her. Panam became significantly more awake. She opened the last one. > **Good morning.** > > **I meant what I said.** > > **I would like to see you again.** > > **Three hundred million. Four hours. Your choice of evening.** > > **Or dinner with no booking attached, if that's what you want instead.** > > **Both offers are real. Neither depends on the other.** Panam stared at the screen. Once. Twice. “Fuck.” Another message appeared. > **And before you ask, yes. I had that good a time.** Panam dropped back against the pillow. Covered her eyes with one hand. Then started laughing. She switched back to Birgitta. > **Anything interesting?** Birgitta: > **Depends.** Panam: > **On?** Birgitta: > **Whether you're finally admitting Quarter Billion messaged you.** Panam stared. > **Go back to sleep.** Birgitta: > **She did.** Panam: > **Maybe.** Birgitta: > **How much?** Panam hesitated. Then: > **300.** Nothing. Five seconds. Ten. Then: > **MILLION?** Panam: > **YES.** Birgitta: > **HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA** Panam threw the agent onto the bed. It buzzed again. She refused to look. Buzz. Again. Panam grabbed it. Birgitta: > **GOOD-FUCK LIST** Panam: > **I HATE YOU.** Birgitta: > **No you don't.** Panam stared at that. Then smiled despite herself. > **No. I don't.** Another message arrived from Quarter Billion. > **Dinner first?** Panam looked at it. Looked at the ceiling. Then opened the private contact note she'd sworn she didn't need. Changed one line. **Repeat: yes.** And finally answered. > **Dinner first.** --- ## Chapter 51 — Enough Ace noticed it first because she tried to calculate something. That was the mistake. She sat at the kitchen table with coffee, still wearing the neon-orange hair because removing it required more motivation than she currently possessed. Mai sat opposite her. Neon pink. Whiskey-and-smoke voice still active. Neither had bothered fixing anything yet. Ace looked at her agent. Then at Mai. Then back at the agent. “Mae.” Mai looked up. “What?” Ace turned the screen around. Mai looked. Numbers. Transfers. Last night's event payment. Private bookings. Previous Mandi work. Previous Dalia work. Business income. Investments already sitting behind all of that. Mai stared for several seconds. Then: “What are you trying to buy?” “Nothing.” “Then why are you looking at it like that?” Ace turned the screen back. “I was thinking about the next set of blades.” Mai drank coffee. “Buy them.” “They're stupid expensive.” “Buy them.” Ace frowned. Mai looked at her. “Ace.” “What?” “Buy the fucking blades.” Ace stared. Then slowly smiled. “Oh.” “Yes.” “Oh.” Mai's smile appeared. There it was. Not wealth. They'd had money before. Enough money to live well. Enough money to operate. Enough money to make choices. This was different. Ace looked at the number again. “If Lena tells me something costs half a million now…” Mai: “You say yes if you want it.” “If Victor says some ridiculous custom system costs two?” “If we want it.” “If somebody says a job needs a five-million equipment package?” Mai took another drink. “We buy the package.” Ace leaned back. A strange expression crossed her face. Not excitement exactly. Recognition. “What the fuck.” Mai laughed. --- Iris reached the same conclusion with considerably less drama. She had spreadsheets. Of course she had spreadsheets. Brenda discovered this when she walked into the living room carrying two coffees and found Iris staring at financial projections. “No.” Iris looked up. “What?” “No spreadsheets after sex parties.” “This isn't about the party.” “It literally has last night's income in it.” Iris looked at the display. Then at Brenda. “Fine.” She closed one window. Opened another. Brenda put the coffee down. “That was another spreadsheet.” “Yes.” “What are you doing?” Iris leaned back. “Checking something.” “What?” “How much we actually need.” Brenda stopped. That changed the question. She sat beside her. Iris moved the display between them. Not just last night. Everything. Current assets. Work. Investments. O'Sullivan money. The extraordinary burst from the event. Future offers already waiting. Brenda stared. Then whistled. “That much?” “Yes.” “And that's after…” “Yes.” Brenda leaned closer. “And if neither of us took another paid booking for five years?” “We'd be fine.” “Ten?” Iris moved something. “Yes.” Brenda: “Twenty?” Iris looked at her. “Brenda.” “Humor me.” More calculations. Then Iris stopped. Brenda watched her face. “Well?” Iris slowly closed the spreadsheet. “We'd be fine.” Silence. Brenda sat back. “Fuck.” “Yes.” Brenda looked around their home. Nothing had changed. Same furniture. Same coffee. Same woman beside her. Yet something fundamental had. She looked at Iris. “So if I want to spend six months building something completely useless…” “You can.” “If you want to spend a year doing Administrative Operations and nothing else…” “I can.” “If neither of us wants to fuck a client…” “We don't.” “If we do…” Brenda smiled. Iris smiled back. “We do.” Brenda picked up her coffee. “This is going to be dangerous.” “For whom?” Brenda thought. “Probably everybody.” --- Shammy did not calculate. She painted. That was how Sera understood money. Not as numbers. As time. She stood in front of a blank surface large enough that transporting it had already been annoying. Her agent sat nearby. Thirty million waiting if she wanted another evening with the woman in silver. A commission waiting. Other work. Other money. More than she needed. Shammy looked at the blank surface. Normally there was always some quiet calculation somewhere. Materials. Studio space. What might sell. What could justify the time. How long she could disappear into something before ordinary life demanded attention. She stared at the blank surface. Then opened a supply catalogue. Selected the material she'd rejected twice because it was absurdly expensive. Added it. Special pigments. Added. Custom substrate treatment. Added. Delivery. Added. The total appeared. Shammy looked at it. Her hair lifted. She pressed purchase. No hesitation. Then sent one message to Panam. > **I think I just understood something.** Panam answered several minutes later. > **What?** Shammy: > **I can paint whatever I want.** The reply took longer. Then: > **Yeah.** Another. > **You can.** Shammy smiled. She put the agent aside. And started. --- Kiro understood over coffee. Mai was still in the kitchen when Kiro arrived. Ace had apparently gone somewhere to investigate expensive blades. Kiro dropped into a chair. Mai pushed coffee toward her. Kiro drank. Then: “I could quit.” Mai looked at her. “What?” “Everything.” “You're not going to.” “No.” Kiro drank again. “But I could.” Mai smiled. “Yes.” Kiro stared at the coffee. “I don't need netrunning money.” “No.” “I don't need merc money.” “No.” “I don't need Deja money.” “No.” Kiro looked up. “That is fucking weird.” Mai laughed. Kiro's agent chimed. She checked. Another message from the woman from last night. No new offer. Just: > **Coffee sometime?** Kiro looked at it. Mai watched her face. “Going?” Kiro nodded. “Yes.” Mai smiled. “Because?” Kiro looked at her. “Because I want to.” There it was. Kiro stared at the message again. Then smiled. “Fuck.” Mai: “Exactly.” --- Elisa's realization was different. Money had never constrained her. That wasn't new. What was new was everyone else. She sat on the edge of the bed with her agent in her hand, staring at the shared chatter slowly waking across several different conversations. Mandi buying something expensive. Sera talking about materials. Nova making a dry comment about long-term projections. Vega responding with: > **NERD.** Deja complaining that she had just realized she could replace an entire netrunning rig simply because she disliked one interface. Dalia: > **Then replace it.** Deja: > **THAT'S THE PROBLEM.** Elisa laughed. She understood. For the first time, some of the people she cared about could inhabit the same basic relationship with money she always had. Not identical wealth. Not identical scale. But the important part. Price no longer got the first vote. She typed into the conversation: > **This means we can do stupid things.** Mandi answered immediately. > **We already do stupid things.** Elisa: > **More expensive stupid things.** Dalia: > **Do not encourage her.** Bea: > **I am her.** There was a pause. Mandi: > **That somehow made it worse.** Elisa laughed harder. --- Panam understood when she spoke to an accountant. Not because she needed one to explain that a quarter billion was a lot of money. She wasn't an idiot. But there was a difference between seeing an absurd transfer and hearing someone who dealt professionally with money say: “You don't need employment income anymore.” Panam sat very still. “What?” The accountant repeated it. More carefully. Even after taxes, structures, long-term reserves, conservative investment assumptions, and refusing to count any future joytoy income at all, Panam could maintain an extremely comfortable life indefinitely if she didn't become catastrophically stupid. Panam leaned back. “How stupid?” A pause. “Please do not take that as a challenge.” Panam laughed. “Noted.” The call ended. She sat alone. Then checked the message from the woman who had offered three hundred million. Dinner first. Booking optional. Panam smiled. That suddenly mattered in a new way. She didn't need the three hundred million. Not even remotely. If she went, she went because she wanted the woman. Panam opened the contact note. Looked at: **Repeat: yes.** Then added: **Money irrelevant. Still yes.** She stared. That felt good. Very good. Her agent buzzed. Birgitta. > **Alive?** Panam: > **Unfortunately.** Birgitta: > **Still rich?** Panam: > **Apparently forever.** A pause. Then: > **That sounds inconvenient.** Panam smiled. > **Extremely.** Birgitta: > **What are you going to do?** Panam looked around her apartment. For years, that question had always contained invisible qualifications. What can you afford? What work is available? What needs doing? Who needs paying? What can wait? Those qualifications were gone. She typed: > **Whatever the fuck I want.** Birgitta's answer arrived immediately. > **Good.** Panam stared at that single word. Then smiled. --- Birgitta understood the same thing alone. She sat on the edge of the bed, still wearing the full cover. Smoked copper-grey hair. Very light brown eyes. Face that belonged to Birgitta. Voice that belonged to Birgitta. Her agent showed the numbers. The event. The private booking. The next offer. Other work. Other resources sitting behind them. Enough. More than enough. She didn't need another client. Birgitta looked at the twenty-five-million offer. Dinner. Three hours. She still wanted to go. That was the difference. She opened the note. Under **Absolutely**, she added: **Even for zero.** Then laughed at herself. Deleted it. Too sentimental for a client note. But true. --- By afternoon, the realization had spread without anyone formally announcing it. No meeting. No declaration. No champagne. Just small messages. Small calculations. Small moments of stunned laughter. Nova: > **We may need to redefine “expensive.”** Vega: > **NO. KEEP EXPENSIVE. IT'S FUNNY.** Mandi: > **Agreed.** Sera: > **I bought the pigments.** Dalia: > **Which pigments?** Sera sent the price. There was silence. Then Mandi: > **HOLY SHIT.** Sera: > **Exactly.** Deja: > **I approve.** Nova: > **You don't know what they are.** Deja: > **I approve financially.** Vega: > **WE HAVE BECOME TERRIBLE PEOPLE.** Bea: > **No. You have become people who can afford terrible ideas. Different problem.** Dalia: > **That is not reassuring.** Bea: > **It wasn't intended to be.** --- Ace returned with the blades ordered. Not delivered. Ordered. She entered the kitchen with an expression Mai recognized immediately. “You bought them.” Ace nodded. “How much?” Ace told her. Mai whistled. Ace waited. Mai took another drink. “Happy?” Ace considered. Then smiled. “Yes.” “Then good.” Ace climbed into Mai's lap. Mai automatically wrapped an arm around her waist. Ace settled there. For a minute neither spoke. Then Ace said: “We can actually just do things now.” Mai rested her chin lightly against Ace's head. “Yes.” “Not everything.” “No.” “Still have to survive them.” “Yes.” “Still have to want them.” “Yes.” “Still have to deal with consequences.” Mai smiled. “Definitely.” Ace thought. Then: “But price?” Mai laughed softly. “No.” Ace's smile became dangerous. “That is going to be a fucking problem.” Mai kissed her temple. “Oh, absolutely.” And neither of them sounded particularly worried. ---- ## Chapter 52 — Because I Want To The blades were ordered. That should have satisfied Ace. It did not. Mai noticed before Ace said anything. Ace had spent most of the afternoon pretending to do ordinary things. Coffee. Messages. Equipment checks. Another coffee. Ten minutes staring at nothing. A brief conversation with Kiro that somehow ended with both of them insulting an interface manufacturer. Then more staring. Mai watched from the kitchen. Ace sat sideways on the couch with one leg tucked under her. Natural face. Violet eyes. Short black hair again. No Mandi. No Amber. Just Ace. Thinking too loudly. Mai took her coffee and walked over. “What?” Ace looked up. “What what?” “That.” “What?” Mai sat beside her. Ace immediately shifted closer. Mai waited. Ace waited longer. Mai drank coffee. Ace sighed. “I was thinking.” “I noticed.” “About the Palace.” Mai's mouth twitched. Ace saw it. “No.” “I didn't say anything.” “You were about to.” Mai looked completely innocent. Ace stared. Mai's innocence became less convincing. Finally: “Marcus?” Ace closed her eyes. “Fuck you.” Mai started laughing. “I asked one question.” “You knew the answer.” “Yes.” “That makes it worse.” Mai put her coffee down. “So.” “No.” “So.” “Mai.” “You want to go back to the Crystal Palace.” Ace folded her arms. “Yes.” “Alone.” “Yes.” “To see Marcus.” Ace stared at the opposite wall. “…yes.” Mai smiled. Ace pointed at her without looking. “Don't.” “I haven't done anything.” “You're enjoying this.” “Very much.” Ace finally turned. Mai was smiling openly now. Ace narrowed her eyes. “You're a terrible person.” “I've been told.” “You're supposed to support me.” “I do.” “This doesn't feel supportive.” Mai leaned closer. “You want Marcus to fuck your ass again.” Ace's entire face changed. Not embarrassment exactly. More like someone had reached into her thoughts, stolen a sentence, and read it aloud at the dinner table. “MAI.” Mai broke. She laughed hard enough that she had to lean against Ace. Ace shoved at her shoulder. Not seriously. “You absolute bitch.” Mai was still laughing. “Was I wrong?” Ace glared. Mai waited. Ace looked away. Silence. Then: “No.” That only made Mai laugh harder. “Goddammit.” Ace got off the couch. Mai caught her wrist. “Come back.” “No.” “Ace.” “You're impossible.” “Yes.” Ace let herself be pulled back down anyway. Mai wrapped an arm around her waist. Ace settled against her with deeply offended dignity. Mai kissed her temple. “So why are you hesitating?” Ace was quiet. Then: “I don't know.” Mai waited. Ace looked down at her hands. “It feels ridiculous.” “Why?” “Flying to the Palace just to see one person.” Mai shrugged. “You can afford it.” “That isn't the point.” “You enjoyed him.” Ace gave her a look. Mai smiled. “Very much.” “Fuck you.” “You keep saying that.” Ace leaned back against her. Mai's hand moved slowly along her side. “Did he make you feel good?” “Yes.” “Did you like being with him?” “Yes.” “Do you want to do it again?” Ace answered immediately. “Yes.” Mai kissed the side of her head. “Then I don't see the problem.” Ace went quiet again. That was the problem. There wasn't one. No mission. No business reason. No group schedule. No need to coordinate eight people. No justification beyond desire. Ace wanted something. She could simply go get it. The realization still felt strange. Mai felt her relax. “Better?” “A little.” “Good.” Ace looked up at her. Mai's expression changed. Just enough. Ace immediately noticed. “No.” Mai: “What?” “That face.” “What face?” “You're going to say something.” Mai smiled. Ace groaned. “Don't.” “How many?” Ace stared. “No.” Mai's smile widened. “You know exactly what I'm asking.” “Yes.” “And?” “You already know.” “I want to hear you say it.” Ace tried to get up again. Mai held her around the waist. “Nope.” “Let go.” “No.” “Mai.” “How many orgasms?” Ace covered her face with both hands. Mai kissed her shoulder. “Ace.” “You are never getting an answer.” “More than ten.” Ace went very still. Mai: “That's an answer.” “I said nothing.” “You didn't need to.” Ace lowered her hands. “You're enjoying this way too much.” Mai looked at her. “I know exactly how good that can feel.” That stopped Ace. The teasing remained in Mai's eyes. But underneath it was understanding. Real understanding. Ace's expression softened. “Yeah.” Mai kissed her. Warm. Slow. When they separated: “And you loved it.” Ace hesitated only a moment. “Yes.” Mai smiled. “Then go.” That simple. Ace looked at her. “Just go.” “Yes.” “For Marcus.” “Yes.” “For sex.” “Yes.” Ace stared. Mai's smile returned. “And because you want his cock in your ass again.” “GODDAMMIT, MAI.” Mai collapsed against her laughing. Ace grabbed a cushion and hit her with it. Once. Twice. Mai caught the third. “You asked.” “I DID NOT ASK.” “You were thinking it.” “That isn't asking!” Mai laughed. Ace tried to pull the cushion away. Mai refused. They fought over it for several seconds until Ace ended up half across Mai's lap. Both laughing now. Finally Mai let go. Ace nearly fell backward. “Bitch.” “Happy bitch.” Ace threw the cushion at her. Mai caught that too. --- Ten minutes later Ace had her agent open. Mai sat beside her. No teasing now. Ace looked through Palace availability. Transport. Room. Access. Nothing complicated. Nothing remotely difficult. She could leave almost whenever she wanted. Ace stopped. Mai looked at the screen. “What?” “I keep expecting the price to matter.” Mai smiled. “It doesn't.” Ace looked at the cost again. Private transport. Palace suite. Everything. Once, it would have been a serious decision. Now it was a number. Ace selected the dates she wanted. Two nights. Mai noticed. “Two?” Ace didn't look up. “Yes.” Mai's eyebrows rose. “I thought you were going to see Marcus once.” Ace kept working. “I might want a rematch.” Mai stared. Ace finally glanced sideways. “What?” Mai started laughing again. Ace pointed at her. “Don't.” “You booked two nights for contingency ass fucking.” “MAI.” “I'm proud of you.” “Shut up.” Mai kissed her cheek. Ace completed the booking. Confirmation appeared. Done. Just like that. She stared at it. Mai looked over her shoulder. “When?” “Friday.” “Coming back Sunday?” “Yes.” “Amber?” Ace nodded. “Easier.” “And Marcus knows?” “Not yet.” Mai's smile became dangerous again. Ace saw it. “No.” “I didn't say anything.” “You keep doing that.” “Are you going to message him?” “Yes.” “Tell him why you're coming?” Ace stared at her. Mai smiled sweetly. Ace opened the message window. Typed. Stopped. Deleted it. Typed again. Mai tried to look. Ace turned the screen away. “Privacy.” “Coward.” “Bitch.” Ace finished the message. Sent it. Mai waited. Ace refused to show her. A minute passed. Then the agent chimed. Ace read. Her expression changed immediately. Mai noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “Ace.” “Nothing.” Mai reached. Ace pulled the agent away. “No.” Mai lunged. Ace scrambled across the couch laughing. “You menace!” “Show me.” “No!” Mai caught her around the waist. Ace squeaked. The agent nearly escaped. Mai stopped immediately. “Careful.” Ace settled. Then looked at the screen again. Her smile returned. Mai saw it. “He said yes.” Ace nodded. “Obviously.” “What exactly did he say?” “Private.” “Ace.” “No.” Mai narrowed her eyes. Ace smiled. Very pleased with herself. Then finally handed over the agent. Mai read the reply. Stopped. Read it again. Looked at Ace. Ace's expression was almost smug. Mai slowly handed the agent back. “Well.” Ace: “Exactly.” Mai leaned closer. “So now you're definitely going.” “I was already definitely going.” “Mm-hm.” Ace locked the agent. Mai kissed her cheek. “Have fun.” Ace looked at her. “I intend to.” “I know.” Ace narrowed her eyes. “You're going to make fun of me when I get back.” Mai looked offended. “I would never.” “You absolutely will.” “Depends.” “On what?” Mai picked up her coffee again. “How carefully you sit down.” Ace stared. Mai managed three seconds. Then lost it completely. Ace threw the cushion again. This time Mai did not catch it. --- ## Chapter 53 — What We Want By Thursday, the messages had become ridiculous. Not constant. Not overwhelming. Just ridiculous. Mandi had three repeat offers waiting. Nova had two. Vega had four, one of which made Brenda stare at the number for nearly a full minute before saying: “Okay. That's fucking stupid.” Iris looked over. “Interested?” Brenda checked the name again. Then smiled. “Yes.” “Then apparently not stupid enough.” Brenda laughed. --- Sera's woman had increased nothing. Thirty million remained thirty million. Breakfast remained breakfast. The commission remained separate. Shammy liked that. No competitive bidding. No attempt to purchase more enthusiasm. Just: > **Friday?** Sera answered: > **Yes.** Then went back to painting. --- Dalia and Deja had their forty-million repeat offer. Another couple had found them independently and offered more. Mai read the message. Kiro leaned over her shoulder. “How much?” Mai told her. Kiro blinked. “Jesus.” “Interested?” Kiro read the names. Thought. Then: “No.” Mai deleted nothing. They might change their minds someday. But not because the number was large. That had stopped mattering. --- Birgitta received another offer before Panam finished breakfast. Different client. Different night. Very serious money. She forwarded Panam exactly one thing: > **Apparently I have become expensive.** Panam replied: > **You were already expensive.** Birgitta: > **More expensive.** Panam: > **Still going?** Birgitta considered the person. Then: > **No.** Panam: > **Then no.** Nothing else required. --- Bea's woman wanted the boots again. The man Bea had turned down wanted dinner. Another guest wanted three hours and offered enough money that Elisa laughed when she read it. Not because the amount was small. Because it wasn't. She saved the contact. Did not answer yet. She wanted to think about the person. Not the offer. That felt important. --- By late afternoon, Elisa's borrowed two extra days were over. No Bea face. No ice-blue hair. No borrowed voice. Elisa stood by the Safehouse door with the same single bag she had arrived with and considerably more ammunition for everybody else's jokes. Ace looked at the bag. Elisa pointed at her. “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “Your face did.” Mai handed Elisa the last thing she had almost forgotten. Then Ace said, far too innocently: “Remember to thank him for taking such good care of you.” Elisa went still. “I will fucking murder you.” Mai's mouth curved. “Which you?” Elisa turned on her. “MAI.” Ace folded in half laughing. Mai lasted perhaps two seconds longer. Elisa looked between them. “I hate this house.” “No, you don't,” Ace managed. Elisa picked up her bag. “No. I really fucking don't.” The secondary operative Reyes had put on the paperwork was already waiting downstairs. No name offered. No unnecessary conversation. Just the same clean security logic Elisa respected: know what the transfer required, know nothing you did not need. The route ended at the approved handoff point. Her own security team was already there. Same manager. Different pickup detail. Elisa stepped out. The two sides verified identity, timing, and transfer authority. Responsibility changed hands. Her manager looked at her. “Good weekend?” Elisa held his gaze for one perfectly controlled second. Then smiled. “Very good, actually.” He nodded. Professional. Completely unaware. Elisa climbed into the armored vehicle before her expression could betray her. Only after the door closed did she cover her face with one hand. “Fuck.” The vehicle pulled away. Her agent vibrated. Ace: > **Did you thank him?** Elisa stared at the message. Then typed: > **I am blocking you.** Mai replied before Ace could. > **Which you?** Elisa closed the agent. Some problems survived wealth. Apparently this was one of them. --- And Panam's woman remained spectacularly unreasonable. Three hundred million. Four hours. Dinner first. Panam had stared at the offer often enough that Birgitta eventually sent: > **You can stop pretending you're considering the money.** Panam: > **I'm considering her.** Birgitta: > **Exactly.** Panam smiled. Then accepted dinner. Everything after that could wait until dinner. --- Ace had received offers too. Some through Mandi. One was enormous. Another was frankly obscene. A third proposed an entire weekend and a number large enough that Ace showed it to Mai purely because it was funny. Mai looked at the screen. Then Ace. “Interested?” Ace shook her head. “No.” Mai handed the agent back. “That easy?” “Yes.” Ace closed the message. Done. Mai watched her. “You've changed.” Ace looked suspicious. “How?” “Six months ago you'd have at least thought about that number.” Ace looked at the closed message. Then shrugged. “I don't need it.” “No.” “I don't want him.” “No.” “So.” Mai smiled. “So.” Ace went back to packing. Not much. Two nights. Palace. Amber. Mai watched from the doorway. Ace noticed eventually. “What?” “Nothing.” “That's never true.” Mai leaned against the frame. “Just appreciating the situation.” “What situation?” “You turned down an absurd amount of money.” “Yes.” “And now you're spending an absurd amount of money.” “Yes.” “To fly to the Crystal Palace.” Ace stopped packing. Mai's smile appeared. Ace immediately pointed at her. “No.” Mai ignored that. “To visit one specific man.” “Mai.” “Because you want him to fuck your ass again.” Ace closed her eyes. “Goddammit.” Mai laughed. Ace threw a shirt at her. Mai caught it. “You can't even deny it.” “I DON'T WANT TO DENY IT.” That stopped Mai. Ace opened her eyes. Mai was still smiling. But now differently. Ace took the shirt back. Folded it. Put it into the bag. Then: “I loved it.” Mai's eyebrows rose slightly. Ace continued before she could interrupt. “I loved Marcus. I loved what he did to me. I loved how many times he made me come.” Mai stayed quiet. Ace glanced at her. “And yes, I want his thick cock in my ass again.” Mai's mouth twitched. Ace: “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “You're about to explode.” “Yes.” Ace laughed despite herself. Then sat on the edge of the bed. Mai walked over. Ace looked up at her. “Twelve last time.” “I remember.” “I want to see if he can do it again.” Mai touched her cheek. “Then go find out.” Ace smiled. Simple. No guilt. No justification. No financial calculation. No group negotiation. No mission. Just want. Mai kissed her. Ace caught her around the waist and held her there for another. When they separated, Mai looked toward the bag. “Amber?” “Amber.” “Two nights?” “Yes.” Mai's smile became dangerous again. Ace groaned. “Don't.” “Contingency.” “Fuck you.” Mai laughed. Ace pulled her closer again. --- That evening, the group conversation became impossible. Vega: > **ANOTHER ONE.** Nova: > **How much?** Vega sent the amount. Mandi: > **WHAT THE FUCK.** Deja: > **Are you going?** Vega: > **YES.** Sera: > **Then good.** Dalia: > **I got one too.** Mandi: > **Same person?** Dalia: > **No.** Bea: > **Mine remembered the boots again.** Vega: > **THE BOOTS HAVE THEIR OWN CLIENT BASE.** Bea: > **Apparently.** Birgitta: > **We need better problems.** Panam: > **No we don't.** Mandi: > **Too late.** Then Mai entered the conversation. > **Ace is going to the Palace tomorrow.** Ace, sitting beside her: > **YOU BITCH.** Immediate responses. Vega: > **WHY?** Deja: > **Marcus?** Sera: > **Marcus.** Birgitta: > **Marcus.** Panam: > **Who is Marcus?** Mandi: > **NOBODY.** Mai: > **A man who made Ace come more than ten times last time.** Ace stared at Mai. Mai stared back. Then the agent exploded. Vega: > **MORE THAN TEN?** Bea: > **Oh.** Nova: > **That explains the return trip.** Deja: > **Extremely reasonable.** Sera: > **Agreed.** Panam: > **I have several questions.** Ace grabbed Mai's agent. Mai was already laughing. Ace typed: > **NONE OF YOU ARE GETTING ANSWERS.** Birgitta: > **Your ass is going to hurt again, isn't it?** Ace: > **FUCK YOU.** Vega: > **THAT MEANS YES.** Ace threw the agent onto the couch. Mai nearly fell over laughing. Ace pointed at her. “This is your fault.” “Yes.” “I hate everyone.” “No.” “No.” Mai kissed her forehead. Ace sighed. Then smiled. “No.” --- Friday morning, Amber stood by the door. Bag packed. Travel arranged. Palace reservation confirmed. Marcus expecting her. Mai handed her coffee. Amber drank. Mai looked her over. Then: “Have fun.” Amber smiled. “I intend to.” Mai kissed her. Long enough that Amber almost forgot she had somewhere to be. When they separated, Mai whispered: “Try not to break twelve.” Amber stared at her. Mai smiled sweetly. Amber picked up her bag. “I'm going to fuck Marcus out of spite now.” Mai laughed. “Wrong direction.” Amber opened the door. Stopped. Looked back. That wicked little smile had returned. “No.” She shook her head. “Definitely the right direction.” And left. Not because she needed money. Not because anyone had hired her. Not because the Palace had summoned Amber O'Sullivan. Ace simply knew exactly what she wanted. And for once, nothing stood between her and going to get it. --- ## Chapter 54 — Still Time By Friday, the offers had started to slow. Not stop. Slow. The first morning had been ridiculous. The second had still been busy. By Friday afternoon, most of the people who had wanted to make a repeat offer had already done it. The numbers remained absurd. The urgency faded. That suited everyone. Mandi had accepted one. Declined two. Nova and Vega had agreed to another shared evening with the same couple. Sera had breakfast scheduled. Dalia and Deja had not yet decided whether they wanted their couple again. Bea had dinner. Panam had dinner too. Dinner first. Anything after that would be decided at dinner. And Birgitta still had time. That mattered. She was still Birgitta. Still smoked copper-grey hair. Still very light brown eyes. Still the brighter voice. Still the woman Panam knew. Her cover had not expired yet. Neither had her curiosity. So when another message arrived Friday afternoon, Birgitta opened it without any sense of obligation. The woman from Wednesday. Not the one she'd already agreed to see again. Someone else. They had spoken twice during the event. No booking. No private room. Just conversation. The message was short. > **I didn't ask Wednesday because you seemed happy where you were.** > > **You also seemed very happy when you came back.** > > **If you're still working as Birgitta this weekend, I'd like to invite you to dinner.** > > **And if dinner goes well, twenty million for two hours afterward.** > > **If not, dinner is still dinner.** Birgitta read it twice. Then smiled. Not because of twenty million. That part barely registered anymore. Because the woman had noticed. Noticed Birgitta was already occupied. Not pushed. Waited. Asked later. Birgitta opened the contact note. There wasn't much there. Interesting conversation. Good smile. Sharp. Patient. Birgitta considered. Then replied. > **Dinner sounds good.** > > **We'll decide the rest afterward.** The answer came almost immediately. > **Perfect.** Birgitta smiled. Still time. --- Panam received the message ten minutes later. > **Another dinner.** Panam: > **You collecting them now?** Birgitta: > **Maybe.** > **Twenty million after if I want it.** Panam: > **Interested?** Birgitta thought. > **In her, yes.** Panam: > **Then go.** Birgitta smiled. > **You make this very easy.** Panam: > **It's supposed to be easy.** A pause. Then: > **Do you want her?** Birgitta: > **Maybe.** Panam: > **That's enough for dinner.** Birgitta leaned back against the couch. That was exactly right. Not yes. Not no. Not yet. Dinner first. She had time. --- Amber arrived at the Crystal Palace with considerably less uncertainty. The moment the shuttle doors opened, she knew she'd made the right decision. Not because of the Palace. She already knew the Palace. The impossible architecture. The luxury. The gravity games. The rooms designed by people who had apparently decided moderation was a personal insult. None of that was why she was smiling. Marcus was. Amber checked into her suite. Dropped her bag. Looked at the room. Then looked at the time. Too early. She had arranged to meet him later. She considered waiting. That lasted perhaps twenty seconds. Amber picked up her agent. > **I'm here.** The reply arrived quickly. > **I know.** Amber smiled. > **How?** > **You think I wasn't watching arrivals?** Amber sat on the edge of the bed. > **That's slightly creepy.** > **You came back.** > **That's slightly flattering.** A pause. Then: > **I was hoping you would.** Amber's smile changed. There. That was why. No negotiation. No professional invitation. No Palace-wide event. Marcus wanted to see her again too. Amber typed: > **How soon are you free?** His answer: > **Forty minutes.** Amber stared at it. Then: > **Thirty.** > **Demanding.** Amber: > **You like demanding.** Marcus: > **Sometimes.** Amber grinned. She put the agent down. Twenty-nine minutes suddenly felt unreasonable. --- Mai's message arrived while Amber was changing. > **Alive?** Amber: > **Unfortunately.** Mai: > **Seen Marcus yet?** Amber looked at herself in the mirror. Then at the message. > **Thirty minutes.** Three dots. Then: > **That fast?** Amber: > **Shut up.** Mai: > **You flew across space for his cock. I'm allowed to enjoy this.** Amber stared. Then laughed. > **Yes.** > > **I did.** Mai: > **Good.** Amber paused. Typed: > **And yes, I still want it.** Mai: > **I know.** Amber: > **A lot.** Mai: > **I KNOW.** Amber laughed again. Then the next message arrived. > **Have fun, sweetheart.** That softened everything. Amber touched the screen with one finger. > **I will.** She meant it. --- Marcus arrived three minutes early. Amber opened the door. Stopped. So did he. For a moment neither said anything. Then Marcus smiled. “Amber.” “Marcus.” “You came back.” “You sound surprised.” “A little.” Amber stepped aside. He entered. She closed the door. Marcus looked at her. Not politely. Not clinically. The way she wanted him to. Amber felt the reaction immediately. “You're staring.” “Yes.” “Good.” Marcus laughed. “Still direct.” “You liked that too.” “I did.” Amber moved closer. Marcus's hand settled at her waist. Easy. Familiar enough already. Amber looked up at him. “You know why I'm here.” Marcus's expression changed. “Yes.” Amber's pulse quickened. She didn't look away. “I've been thinking about it.” “About me?” Amber smiled. “Partly.” Marcus laughed quietly. “And the rest?” Amber moved even closer. She answered against his mouth. “What you did to me.” His hand tightened slightly at her waist. Amber kissed him. No hesitation. No warm-up conversation required. She already knew she wanted him. Marcus kissed her back. When they separated, Amber was smiling. “More than ten.” Marcus: “I remember.” “I want to see if you can do it again.” Marcus looked at her for a long moment. Then: “That's why you flew here?” Amber's smile became wicked. “Yes.” Marcus laughed. Actually laughed. Amber loved that too. “You're insane.” “Probably.” “And if I can't?” Amber shrugged. “Then we'll have to keep trying.” Marcus stared. Amber raised an eyebrow. “What?” “You booked two nights.” “Yes.” Marcus understood. His smile changed. “So you planned ahead.” Amber caught the front of his shirt. “I learned from experience.” He kissed her again. This one lasted longer. Amber felt the familiar heat build. Fast. Much too fast. She didn't care. Marcus pulled back just enough to look at her. “You still want the same thing?” Amber answered immediately. “Yes.” No embarrassment. No teasing shield. Just yes. Marcus touched her cheek. Amber leaned into it. Then smiled. “Actually…” He waited. “I want more of it.” Marcus laughed softly. Amber kissed him again. And somewhere very far away, Mai would have been absolutely unbearable if she'd heard that. Amber didn't care. Not now. She had come back for exactly this. Marcus. His hands. His attention. The particular way he had made pleasure pile up until counting had become ridiculous. And yes. The thick cock she had spent the entire trip pretending she wasn't thinking about every five minutes. Amber smiled against his mouth. Marcus noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “That isn't true.” Amber looked at him. Then said it anyway. “I really fucking missed your cock.” Marcus went still. Then laughed against her forehead. Amber grinned. There. No mystery left. Exactly what she wanted. Exactly why she'd come. And absolutely no reason to pretend otherwise. ---