Two Can Play (Entangled Ignite) (14 page)

Rick started the meeting then, so Rena turned toward the head of the table. First came updates, and they went around the table. When it was Rena’s turn she explained her Dome plans, her voice shaky at first, but Lionel chimed in, and by the end she could tell everyone was getting excited about it.

When the applause ended, she handed her stack of brochures to Leland so he could take one and pass the rest. “I’m certain many of you have seen the Girl Power Project brochure we’re passing to you, but you probably don’t know that Nigel and Naomi have given us their support. They believe we need more girls in the Life and more girl managers. In fact—”

“Excuse me,” Rick interrupted. “You’re new, Rena, so you don’t know our process. Agenda items must be e-mailed in advance for approval, so we can allot the appropriate discussion time, should we decide the item worthy.”

“Worthy? The Blackstones support it, so of course it’s worthy. The concept is quite simple. It shouldn’t take more than—”

“Nothing about this is simple.” His smile was cold. “Not to be blunt, but a feel-good scheme like yours has significant morale, staffing, and budget implications. Even if it didn’t, we can’t possibly consider any new initiatives until long after the launch.”

She’d been bitch-slapped, all right, but that was Rick’s style. “It’s the right thing to do, Rick.” She looked straight at the two other girl managers, who sat together across from her, hoping for support, but they ducked her gaze.

“As I said, submit your item and we’ll see. Now, Leland? Your report?”

Rena sat down, but she wasn’t giving up. She would send Rick his godforsaken agenda item and keep sending it until she got action. If only Nigel had been here. He would have defended her, for sure. She hoped it would go better with the managers in Seattle.

The rest of the meeting was a blur of information about staffing, schedules, and news from other Lounges. Seattle was short-staffed again and Rick urged managers to encourage Phoenix Lifers to consider transferring there.
What was wrong with that Lounge?
It was the first Real Life Lounge. She would have assumed people would never want to leave.

Gage would be welcome there as a temp, she could see. She pictured them on the motorcycle, tucked so tightly together they would seem like one person melded to the machine that carried them along the coastline, the ocean crashing far below. Her heart skipped a beat.
She wanted that ride. It just felt right
.

“That’s it for today,” Rick said finally. “Get Mason your contributions before you leave.” Everyone stood, talking and moving toward the door. Each person handed Mason an envelope.

Rena gulped, her throat dry. Next month she’d have to cough up her share, too. Where would she get the money?

As she neared the door, she felt a tug on her sleeve. It was Maya. “Good for you for speaking up,” she said, squeezing Rena’s forearm, her face tilted up to look at Rena. In Rena’s mind, Maya always seemed taller than five foot three.

“I can’t believe he called it a feel-good scheme,” she muttered. “And why didn’t the other female managers speak up?”

“You’re an idealist, Rena. We all make compromises. Sometimes you just have to be patient.”

Rena noticed Maya held an envelope, too. “Is that your contribution?” she asked.

“Yes. From the Arizona Psychology Group. It’s for the charter school.”

“I wish I had a group to ask. I’m completely freaked about the idea.”

“You can make cold calls or staff a booth at the electronics convention, but you get more from people you know. Think of everyone you can.”

“There’s no one,” she said.
No way could she ask Bingham for money
.

“Tell you what”—Maya looked at her watch—“why don’t you go up and talk to Nigel? He’d have been here, but he’s not well.”

“I don’t want to bother him if he’s ill.”

“Trust me, he wants to talk to you. Our donor program is number one with him. He’ll give you a pep talk and you’ll cheer him up. It’ll be good for you both.” She handed Rena a key card. “Slip this under my door afterward. I have to roll—details, then packing for Lounge Tour.” Maya held Group with other Lounges via webcast, but she visited all the Lounges regularly. “I’ll let him know you’re on your way.”

The last thing Rena wanted to do was whine to Nigel, but soon she was being welcomed into the penthouse. This time, the light was dim, the fountain and chimes were silent, and the room smelled dusty. She found Nigel seated on a cushion beside the Buddha statue, a gold cushion beside him.

“Nigel? I’m sorry to bother you. I know you’re not well.”

He seemed to force a smile over a grimace of pain. “Nonsense, Genevieve. You are welcome light on a dark day.”

The Asian woman brought a tray of steaming tea which she placed on the wooden frame of the black rocks, then left.

Nigel took Rena’s hands in his, winced, then let go to fumble in a pocket for a pill bottle, from which he took two pills.

Rena poured tea for him to wash them down with, but he waved away the cup and swallowed them dry. “Please enjoy,” he said.

She poured and sipped, getting tingling peach again.

In a moment, Nigel seemed to breathe easier. “Migraines flare when there are certain woes,” he said. “Especially financial. I cannot release my attachment to solvency.” He winced again. “Another favor? Do this?” He pressed his palms to his temples. “My arms get weary before long.”

She stood over him to squeeze his skull between her hands, embarrassed by the sudden intimacy. Nigel seemed so human, so frail. She closed her eyes to erase the idea and pressed away his pain with all her might.

After a few minutes, he waved a hand for her to stop. “Thank you so much.” His face was still gray, but he seemed calmer. “The pressure helps until the medicine kicks in. Money, alas, causes more problems than it solves, yet it solves so much.” He smiled.

“Now, as to you,” he continued. “Your devotion is a bright sun on a horizon where thunderclouds loom.”

“I am honored by all you have given me.” She swallowed, not sure what to say next.

“But Maya tells me you are troubled?”

She dropped her head. “It’s the contribution. It seems impossible to me and I don’t want to fail you.”

“It’s not in you to fail us,” Nigel said. “Shall I tell you a story?” When she nodded, he began. “There was a time when Naomi and I needed money desperately. We had to bribe officials to obtain Ji Jin’s adoption, but we’d spent all we had. I knew one last place. My father. A wealthy man, but bitter toward me. He blamed me for my mother’s stroke soon after I departed home. I knew his heart was cold to me. We had not spoken since I left.”

Nigel leaned forward, then slipped his hands inside the sleeves of his tunic. “I meditated until I felt the warm pulse of assurance. My father would hear me. For the sake of family, he would forgive and give, I felt with certainty. I made a call. Collect, can you imagine? Asking the man to pay for a call from a son he’d disowned?” He shook his head. “I was brave in those days.”

“What happened?”

“He accepted the charges—his first gift to me. I was holding a paper with my prepared speech and my hands shook so badly I couldn’t read it, so I tossed it aside and spoke from the heart. ‘It is I, Father. Nigel, your only son, and I need your help.’” Nigel’s expression went tender with the memory.

“My father was moved by my words. He told me he had in his hand an annuity he had just received—a fund my grandparents had created for me when I was born. It was for precisely the amount we needed. He wired the money and we brought Ji Jin home.”

“That’s wonderful, Nigel…that it worked out…for you.”

“Sadly, I never spoke to my father again. My letter of thanks was returned unopened. The clouds blocked the sun forever after again. As you see, we are provided what we need and no more.”

“So, you’re telling me…?”

“That the spirit will move your family.” He put his hand over hers. “And I sense they will be far more generous than my father was.” He smiled. “Naomi, too, so wants your success. You are like a daughter to her.”

“I am? Really? That means so much to me.” It was her secret wish for Naomi to feel as close to her as she felt to Naomi.
You are like a daughter to her.
The joy of that possibility raced through her like a happy flame.

“Drink, please. Take a moment to think.”

She sipped more tea, enjoying the sting and the warmth. Her tension seemed to slip away—Nigel’s comforting presence, no doubt, along with knowing that Naomi truly was the mother of her heart.

After that, the decision burst into her brain like fireworks. She would ask Bingham for the money. Of course she would. She felt Nigel’s certainty. She would get what she needed and no more. For Nigel and Naomi’s sake. Still, the idea of facing him filled her with dread. How would she manage it?

“Perhaps there is an intermediary?” Nigel asked. “Someone to act as a buffer?”

Nigel knew her fear. What a relief to be understood
. Then it hit her: Geoffrey Harris, Bingham’s lawyer. He’d been the one to send the checks and they were from his firm, not Wingate Technology
,
her father’s company. “There might be someone, yes.”

“Good. You see. Once you’re settled, the truth will click in your mind, like tumblers in a lock, exactly right and true.”

She could call Harris and ask him to start up the monthly stipends again, avoiding Bingham altogether. She’d have him mail the checks straight to the NiGo Foundation, not take a penny herself. “I think that might work.”

“We are resolved then.” Nigel beamed at her, then stood, signaling the meeting was over. “Naomi and I will eagerly watch your new Dome battles.”

“I’m glad,” she said, then turned for the door. The housekeeper stood there, smiling like a doll. Rena smiled back, reassured. It was all good. This was her duty.
Pain led to growth
. If it were easy, everyone would be a Level Twelve. After she achieved this Quest she just might be as golden as some people seemed to think she was.

…

“Are we good to go?” Rena asked Lionel the next evening in the booth above the Dome, so nervous she bounced on the balls of her feet. “This has to be perfect.” It would be the first demo battle in front of a gamer audience and if it went well, more fighters would sign on. If it flopped, her plan was DOA. They’d had two strong practices, but the moves were complex.

“We’re set, I think,” Lionel said. “I’ve got water for when the mist nozzle freezes.” He lifted the small pitcher he held, his hands shaking a little. “You got the music cues?”

“Yep. You made a great mix, Lionel. It really gives atmosphere.”

“No problem.”

“Seriously…” She steadied her gaze on his face. “You’ve taken this whole project to another level. The special effects you set up are great.”

Lionel shrugged, ducking his head. “You asked for my help.”

“And you did more than I asked.” The man seemed like a new Lifer and she hadn’t smelled booze or weed on him once. This was the glory of Lounge Life—that it could bring out the best in those who lived it.

“It’ll go great,” Lionel said. “They’ll kick ass and so will you.” He started for the stairs, then turned back to lock eyes with her. “Thank you,” he said in a low voice, a world of feeling in those two words.

Rena replied with a Lifer salute. He nodded and took the stairs down to the battlefield.

Rena looked through the glass to where Gage was shifting cable spools into place. He’d been her go-to guy, rounding up props, fixing wonky equipment, even coaxing a couple of guys into the demo.

Now was the moment of truth. Dripping with nervous sweat, she fisted her hands and forced herself to breathe slowly.

Trust your fighters. Do your best
.

She walked to the control board. It was all hers. She’d mastered the technology of the Dome. Like a conductor directing a symphony, she knew what to switch and when. She loved this job. She looked down at her fighters, poised to begin, caught the go signal from Lionel, and sounded the call to arms.

Minutes later, she dimmed the lights, flicked on the background screen, and turned on the soundtrack. The audience went dead still and Rena’s heart thudded in her ears.
Here we go
.

At the beginning, her nervousness made Rena make each move along with the fighter below, but before long, her worries faded. The moves were electric, the tumbling magical. Holly managed a backflip that seemed impossible. Not one tossed barrel hit the ground and the battle flowed like a dance. When the winning fighters climbed the pyramid of bodies to leap the wall, the crowd rose to its feet, wild with delight, clapping, whistling, punching the air, and shouting.

Rena could hardly contain herself, she was so proud. She brought up the walkway lights so the audience of gamers could exit to the arena. The usual freestyle battles would begin soon, but the performers had a few moments to revel in their triumph, so Rena ran downstairs to join them. Sweaty and happy, they were high-fiving each other, critiquing their moves and cooking up new ones.

Holly noticed Rena and in true HyperChick style ran to jump into her arms, throwing her arms and legs around Rena’s body. “We were great!”

Rena staggered back, laughing. “You were. You really were.” She set Holly back on her feet as Gage approached.

“Great job,” he said, bumping knuckles with her. “Roland and his goons are sulking in the Watcher office. Turns out most Watchers were disgusted by the stunt he pulled with you.”

“Yeah?”

“If you can arrange a vote, you’d likely get a green light on a girl Watcher. They hate that guy.”

“How did you find all this out?”

“I got your back, Rena. We’re on the same team.” He sounded sincere. She so wanted him to be. “These people would walk hot coals for you.”

“For the Life and for each other, not for me.”

“You have no idea how good you are, do you?” He looked sad about that. Before she could speak, the gong sounded, silencing everyone. Eyes shot to the plasma overhead, which showed Nigel and Naomi, arm in arm.

Whispers and gasps rippled the room and Rena’s heart leaped. She’d forgotten Nigel’s promise to watch her Dome battle. Her nervous system went electric. Rena took in all the upturned faces, every eye gleaming with the same thrill she felt.