pink.
She tightened her fingers on the armrest. "Who are you? Where's Mateus?" She hadn't heard the door open.
"Mateus is taking a short break. He'll be back as soon as we're done here."
She tried to sit up and found she couldn't. Invisible threads cobwebbed her nerves. He leaned close and his gaze pinned her, tugged on someething embedded deep inside her, as if trying to pull it out.
Nadice drew a sharp breath.
"Don't worry." The man grinned, revealing rows of triangular teeth. "This won't hurt a bit."
_______
She woke to a dull, bone-deep ache. Her mouth felt parched, her tongue swollen. It hurt to swallow, all the way to the base of her spine.
"What it do, gurl? How ya feelin'?"
Mateus bent over her. Nadice swallowed, forced a spike of air deep into her lungs. "What happened?"
"Ware ain't ready yet. Needs another day or two, I guess, before it's okay to rip it out. Too early, and it gets hulled."
"To you, I mean. Who was that guy?"
Mateus worked his jaw from side to side. "He works for the man."
"What man?"
"The one ballin' for this shit."
Her gaze drifted past him to the d-splays. "So what does that mean? What happens now?"
"Means we got to do this again in a couple days, gurl. Whenever we get the call. Feel me?"
"Then that's it, right? After that, we're done." She could put all this behind her.
"Not exactly."
Nadice stiffened. "You said this was it. All I'd have to do."
"I got another delivery to make." Mateus wet his lips. "In Singapore. You're the only mule I got availlable."
"We had an agreement."
"Shit happens, gurl." A resigned shrug in his voice. "You know how it is."
"No." Nadice went to push herself out of the chair. "You can find someone else."
Mateus gripped her arm. Hard. "You give me any trouble on this, gurl, and I turn you in to Atherton. That what you want?"
She bit her lower lip against the pain. His grip tightened, squeezing tears from her eyes, until she finally shook her head.
His grip eased. "Good." He patted her. "That's what I like to hear."
11
"Nice philm, " Marta said. "How long have you been waring it?"
Pelayo watched her twirl a partially empty water glass on the glossy green surrface of the table between them. "Not long."
"Who's it supposed to be? Or is that some deep, dark secret you're not allowed to talk about?"
Pelayo spread his hands, nolo contendre .
They sat at a table in the Jade Dragon, a fast-food franchise where Little Shanghai rubbed shoulders with the Zona Sagrada. As expected, there were a lot of people philmed in Hip Sing and Fuk Ching gangware, along with the standard Bruce Lee, Jet Li, and Fu Manchu aficionados. Speakers from the ceiling blared music from an alt prog band called Bali Lama. The aroma of soy sauce seasoned with habanero peppers spiced the courtyard outside the main restaurant.
"New clothes, too," she observed. "They part of the 'skin? Or is that proprietary, too?"
Pelayo leaned forward and picked up the menu in front of him. The subwoof bass from the speakers kicked at his eardrums, heavy as steel-toed boots. "I saw Lagrante this morning," he said.
Ice rattled in the glass. "He rip the new ware?"
"He said you talked to him."
She shrugged, and he knew he'd touched a nerve. She watched him from behind a veil of indifference. He said nothing, content to wait her out, and ,after a moment she ran one finger along the curve of one ear, tucking back long black hair and exposing the lithe outline of her neck.
"You could have come to me," he said.
"No."
"Why not?"
She looked up from the glass. "None of your busi- ness."
Pelayo weighed her gaze, but couldn't tell if she was trying to protect him or avoid him. "I might be able to help," he said.
"What makes you think I need help? Your help?"
Good question. "What kind of trouble we talkin' about?"
She shook her head. "There's nothing you can do."
"How do you know?"
"Don't," she said.
"What?"
"Just leave me alone." The hair behind her ear slipped free, fell
She tightened her fingers on the armrest. "Who are you? Where's Mateus?" She hadn't heard the door open.
"Mateus is taking a short break. He'll be back as soon as we're done here."
She tried to sit up and found she couldn't. Invisible threads cobwebbed her nerves. He leaned close and his gaze pinned her, tugged on someething embedded deep inside her, as if trying to pull it out.
Nadice drew a sharp breath.
"Don't worry." The man grinned, revealing rows of triangular teeth. "This won't hurt a bit."
_______
She woke to a dull, bone-deep ache. Her mouth felt parched, her tongue swollen. It hurt to swallow, all the way to the base of her spine.
"What it do, gurl? How ya feelin'?"
Mateus bent over her. Nadice swallowed, forced a spike of air deep into her lungs. "What happened?"
"Ware ain't ready yet. Needs another day or two, I guess, before it's okay to rip it out. Too early, and it gets hulled."
"To you, I mean. Who was that guy?"
Mateus worked his jaw from side to side. "He works for the man."
"What man?"
"The one ballin' for this shit."
Her gaze drifted past him to the d-splays. "So what does that mean? What happens now?"
"Means we got to do this again in a couple days, gurl. Whenever we get the call. Feel me?"
"Then that's it, right? After that, we're done." She could put all this behind her.
"Not exactly."
Nadice stiffened. "You said this was it. All I'd have to do."
"I got another delivery to make." Mateus wet his lips. "In Singapore. You're the only mule I got availlable."
"We had an agreement."
"Shit happens, gurl." A resigned shrug in his voice. "You know how it is."
"No." Nadice went to push herself out of the chair. "You can find someone else."
Mateus gripped her arm. Hard. "You give me any trouble on this, gurl, and I turn you in to Atherton. That what you want?"
She bit her lower lip against the pain. His grip tightened, squeezing tears from her eyes, until she finally shook her head.
His grip eased. "Good." He patted her. "That's what I like to hear."
11
"Nice philm, " Marta said. "How long have you been waring it?"
Pelayo watched her twirl a partially empty water glass on the glossy green surrface of the table between them. "Not long."
"Who's it supposed to be? Or is that some deep, dark secret you're not allowed to talk about?"
Pelayo spread his hands, nolo contendre .
They sat at a table in the Jade Dragon, a fast-food franchise where Little Shanghai rubbed shoulders with the Zona Sagrada. As expected, there were a lot of people philmed in Hip Sing and Fuk Ching gangware, along with the standard Bruce Lee, Jet Li, and Fu Manchu aficionados. Speakers from the ceiling blared music from an alt prog band called Bali Lama. The aroma of soy sauce seasoned with habanero peppers spiced the courtyard outside the main restaurant.
"New clothes, too," she observed. "They part of the 'skin? Or is that proprietary, too?"
Pelayo leaned forward and picked up the menu in front of him. The subwoof bass from the speakers kicked at his eardrums, heavy as steel-toed boots. "I saw Lagrante this morning," he said.
Ice rattled in the glass. "He rip the new ware?"
"He said you talked to him."
She shrugged, and he knew he'd touched a nerve. She watched him from behind a veil of indifference. He said nothing, content to wait her out, and ,after a moment she ran one finger along the curve of one ear, tucking back long black hair and exposing the lithe outline of her neck.
"You could have come to me," he said.
"No."
"Why not?"
She looked up from the glass. "None of your busi- ness."
Pelayo weighed her gaze, but couldn't tell if she was trying to protect him or avoid him. "I might be able to help," he said.
"What makes you think I need help? Your help?"
Good question. "What kind of trouble we talkin' about?"
She shook her head. "There's nothing you can do."
"How do you know?"
"Don't," she said.
"What?"
"Just leave me alone." The hair behind her ear slipped free, fell
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