Two Can Play (Entangled Ignite) (5 page)

“You’d like it,” Rena said. “These are kids who got lost in the Dead World. Lots of foster kids. I go a couple times a week to tutor them in math.”

“Yeah?”

“Plus I get a chance to learn from Ji Jin, our top programmer. He’s Nigel and Naomi’s adopted son. The school is in his honor. He teaches classes there.”

“The Blackstones’ son is a programmer?” The
News Day News
article hadn’t mentioned that. “How did they find him?”

“A random orphanage. It was a miracle, since he was so good at just what they needed. He has twin sisters still over there. I think they’re ten years old, the girls. Ji Jin lives for the day they can be brought over and adopted.”

Forget it unless they know game code
. Maybe Gage was too cynical. “So Ji Jin teaches you programming?”

“Yes. He’s very patient with me. You’ll meet him on Lifer Monday. The K men are doing final tests of
EverLife
II
this week.”

“K men?”

“Our programmers are from Korea, so we call them that. Nigel and Naomi sponsored their work visas.”

No doubt.
Slave laborers who wouldn’t dare complain when the masters held their passports…if they even had passports. “Is that what you want, to be a game programmer?”

“I do what the NiGo Family wants me to do.”

“What about what you want? Doesn’t that count?”

“Nigel and Naomi choose paths that are in our best interest and for the greater good.” She gave him that look again.
What’s with you?

To change subjects, he grabbed one of her brochures. “Girl Power Project, huh?” He flipped it open, pretending to read it for the first time. “Equal rights for girl gamers? But the Life is supposed to be fair already.”

She frowned. “Guys got a head start in gaming and in the Life. Girls get intimidated, sell themselves short, settle for less.”

“So you came up with this.” He tapped the brochure. “That’s why all those girls were squealing over you in the Dome.”

“They’re fans of my avatar, but it gives me a way to encourage them.”

“It says here you want girls to be Watchers?”

“It’s an elite duty and there are girls who are qualified.”

“How do the Watchers feel about that?”

“Mixed. Some are cool with it—Zeke, he was at the entrance—and Boscoe, the guy I fought in the Dome.” She paused and he watched her face grow hard. “If we could just get past the knuckle-draggers who get their weenies in a twist—”

“Ouch.” He pretended to protect his crotch.

She flashed a smile. “You get my point.”

“I do. I’m down. Girl Power.” He raised a fist.

She looked skeptical. “So I can sign you up for Card Guy duty as the Prince of Persia?”

“Depends on how many points I get.”

She smiled, more relaxed now that the sex was over and they were talking about something she cared about. “Right now, my goal is to get Nigel and Naomi’s support. We want quotas and there are cost issues for training, so if they give the project a push, we’ll be light years ahead.”

“What can I do to help?”

She gave him a sideways look. “What are you after?”

“Nothing…well, maybe we could try out your bed again.”

She reacted with a shiver of desire, which gratified him, but she shook her head. “Sorry. No real reason. No points for repeats.”

God Almighty this was a crazy place. “What if I don’t care about points?”

“You’d better. You’re new. You need all the points you can get. Take it from me. It’ll take me a while to replace that phone.” She nodded at where it was plugged in. “You’ll have no trouble getting sex-point offers.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re good-looking and built.” She spoke flatly, reciting facts, but still her words set up a low buzz in his blood. “Mainly, you’re fresh meat.”

“You make me feel cheap.”

She laughed, a full, fun laugh, and he was glad he’d made her do it. “You’ll see what I mean on Lifer Monday. You won’t believe the points you can rack up.”

“I’ll bring a calculator.” He couldn’t believe they were estimating potential hookups like this. “I am serious about your cause, Rena. If there’s a way I can help I’d like to. You’re my guide, after all. I’m on the team.”

“You can sign the petition.” She pulled up the Girl Power Project website and waved him to the keyboard. “We need all the testosterone we can get.”

While he was waiting for the petition PDF to load, he spotted a charcoal drawing of a toddler pinned to the corkboard behind her monitor. He took it down. “This is you?” With those big, serious eyes and sweet mouth, it had to be.

“Yeah.” Her cheeks flashed pink again. She pinned it back up. “One of those, you know, sidewalk artists.” She was lying, he could tell, and he’d upset her again. Anything personal he touched or mentioned bugged her—her books, her portrait, hell, her climax. If he ever expected to get at her computer again, he’d better back out of her space. He grabbed a few brochures. “How about I pass these out?”

“Up to you, but we’re not going again.” But he could tell she was pleased. Score one for the home team.

Chapter Four

Usually, Rena loved Lifer Mondays so much it embarrassed her. The gaming, the gossip, the Dome battles, and hanging out with Lifers made her grin all day. Lifer Mondays felt like a family picnic from some sitcom.

That was usually. This Monday, not so much. Her stomach churned and her nerves jumped over what was to come with Cassie.

Plus the Gage situation irritated her. She sort of regretted the sex. Sex in the Life was supposed to be easy and friendly—for pleasure and points.
No
meant
no
and
yes
was always safe. So much better than the Dead World, where sex could get mean or dangerous in an unguarded heartbeat.

Lifers sometimes did overnights with each other or had crushes and flings, but regular hookups got weird—they set you apart, separated you from the group. Lifers were a Family. There was no need for couples. Because there were no points for repeat encounters, guys didn’t hound you. They just moved on. Everybody got what they needed.

Sex with Gage had been…different. He’d paid too much attention to her. He’d wanted it slower. Every time she thought about it, she got a pointless flutter in her parts.
Stupid. Move on.

On top of that, he’d made her uneasy in her own Quarters, looking around at every damn thing, reading between lines she hadn’t known were there. He’d looked through her books and God knows what all. She’d lied about her picture. No sidewalk artist had drawn it. It was Tiffany, the trophy wife of her adoptive father, Bingham Wingate III, the big daddy of networking software.

When Tiff thought being a mom might be a fun hobby, Bingham went right out and bought her a baby. Rena. Two years later, Tiffany ran off with her next hobby, her personal trainer. Why had Rena kept the sketch? She didn’t remember Tiffany. The house staff who’d been around that long did not speak kindly of her either.

Gage had picked up her lie, which she did not need. He made her feel…naked…exposed. She hated that.

At least he wasn’t due until nine, so she had time to clear her head with a Dome battle. She set off until a sharp pain in her head stopped her. The lights seemed to stab at her, the music seemed too loud, the Lifers frantic and sad. What the hell? Then she remembered she’d skipped her Electrique this morning. The fuzzy elixir was her wake-up coffee and calm-down nightcap. She cruised into Blood Electric for a restorative dose, where she found half dozen Lifers at the bar, a few at tables bearing down on programming manuals, working toward the beta team, no doubt. Beta work was a blast.

“Electrique, m’lady?” Baker said, after she eased onto a stool. He staffed the bar as a courtesy on Lifer Mondays. She nodded, accepting the bright red liquid, dense with bubbles, and downing it in one long, refreshing swallow.

“Word is you got an Owner Quest,” he said. “Congrats.”

All heads turned her way.

“What is it?” Rachel, one of Rena’s Recruits, asked. Her screen name, WrathGirl, suited her. She had a fierce temper and an arrest record for bar fights in the Dead World. Dome battles helped Rachel blow off steam and private sessions with Maya got her over a past with parents who would beat the shit out of her for not eating her peas. With her mad battle skills, Rachel would be a great Watcher. All Rena had to do was get her voted in.

“You know she can’t say,” Baker chided.

“But we’re your crew.” This from James, screen name GodofGame, who had a crush on Rena and trailed her on Mondays like a puppy. “Is it, like, dangerous?” He’d been a brilliant, friendless geek, expelled from five high schools over cracking the grading system or website or whatever amused him. He’d soaked up the Life like the desert sucked up rain.

“Prolly they’ll make you a GM and send you somewhere.” He sighed. “Wish you’d manage this Lounge.” He nodded toward Rick Bondurant, the general manager, working on the shift schedule a few tables away. Lifers disliked him for his blunt way of speaking and strict style. He wanted to run the Life like an army barracks, instead of easy and loving as Nigel and Naomi intended.

“This is the flagship Lounge so Rick wants us to set an example.” She disagreed with his methods, but supported his goal.

“Set an example, my sweet pink ass,” Rachel said. “He gives girls the crappy shifts and cuts the guys slack when they screw off. We need Girl Power.” She lifted a glass for a few halfhearted clicks from the others.

“You’re just pissed over that AAL for gaming on shift,” James said.

“Sure I’m pissed. Why was I singled out? Because I have no Y chromo, that’s why. Guys game all the time when we’re slow.”

Rena lifted a pinch of GPP brochures from her messenger bag and handed a few to Rachel. “Stop bitching and talk up the Project.” She put the rest on the bar. “Anyone shows interest, hand them one, would you?”

Baker nodded. “That AAL is petty bullshit,” he said. “If Bondurant had any sense about morale, he would leash back the new Watchers.”

“Damn straight. They’re needle-dick ass-hats,” Rachel grumbled.

Rena agreed, but held back, not wanting to ratchet up the resentment. She would love to manage a Lounge—more than she wanted to be a programmer, really—but GMs had to rise through the ranks. Rena was three levels below the lowliest supervisor job. Being GM, even with girl quotas in place, wouldn’t happen for at least two years.

“In the manager’s meeting, I heard they might fire the Seattle GM,” Baker said, flipping the Electrique fridge key around on a finger. “Revenues from the place are swirling the drain. Lifers keep transferring out. It’s staffed with mostly temps now.” That worried Rena, she had to admit.

“Yeah, but once
EverLife
II
rolls, all the Lounges will be swamped,” Holly said. Holly was Rena’s Recruit. Her screen name HyperChick was dead on. She was lively, ever cheerful, and a great beta gamer. Becoming a Lifer had literally saved her life. Her stalker boyfriend had set her Dead World apartment on fire, not knowing she’d moved into Level One Quarters. Watchers promised the guy a hospital stay if he came near her again. That was how Lounge Life worked.

Spotting Gage’s shift manager on a nearby stool, Rena leaned past Holly to get his attention. “How’d my Recruit do over the weekend?”

“Stone?” He tipped a can of E into a glass. “Not bad. He kept the Card Girls busy and repaired some machines…” There was doubt in his voice.

“But…?”

“Too much jabber-jaw with the crew. All the time talk, talk, talk.”

“Really?” Gage didn’t strike her as Mr. Chit-Chat. “I’ll warn him.”

He shrugged. “He’s smart and the techs need him. I don’t like my people pulled off task is all.”

“I’ll make sure he knows.” What the hell was he up to?

She finished her E and pushed to her feet, her headache gone, her energy restored. “I’ll be in the Dome for a while,” she said.

“But you’re leading the Quest, right?” James said, worship in his eyes.

“That’s the plan.” A highlight of Lifer Mondays was an all-Lifer Quest in
EverLife
. She felt honored by how often she was voted Mission Leader.

Now she picked up her pace, eager to battle. Dome battles reminded her of her first fight—the kick to her uncle’s crotch that ended her hell.

Rena had been eleven. After her best friend in the house—her father’s driver—got fired, she’d been so lonely. Hanging in her uncle’s playroom, playing
Tomb Raider
for endless hours, had helped.

Until the day he sat beside her on the couch—too close, and too quiet and urgent. He breathed all strange, as though he wanted something really badly. Too late she noticed they were alone, that the other kids, neighborhood boys, were out swimming. He pinned her, forcing his thick worm into her mouth. She’d gagged and bitten down, but he yanked her hair. “Be nice and you can play every day.”

He tried to shove her down again, but she’d imitated Lara, elbowing him off, kicking like Lara, too, until, to her amazement, he crumpled to the floor moaning. It was as if she’d dreamed herself into
Tomb Raider
, as if Lara had taken over and saved her.

After that, Lara lived within her. It was Lara who gave her the courage to take off at sixteen, riding the bus as far as she had money to spend. Phoenix.

Now she rounded the turn to the Dome and was surprised to see Gage doing a sideline practice with Zeke. He was early. Maybe he was more fired up than she thought. He wore silky black gym shorts and sweat made his naked chest shine. She felt a twinge down there.

Zeke showed Gage an axe stroke, which he performed, then spun into a nice roundhouse kick. The man knew martial arts, for sure. He was strong and predator-quick, with an animal grace that was a pleasure to watch. The man had moves.
In bed, too
.
Forget that
.

When the fighters separated, she held out a towel to Gage. She watched his pecs swell and recede as he caught his breath, his abs twist as he dried himself. She caught that great smell—spice and man—and got dragged back to the sex, dammit. “You’re early,” she said.

“I need the points,” he said. “Want to go? You and me?” It took her a sec to realize he meant a battle. “What’s a fight worth?”

“In points? If you win, tons. If you lose, utter humiliation.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to win.” His tone gave her an achy ping, but she made herself roll her eyes.

Zeke slapped Gage’s shoulder. “Prepare to get your ass handed to you, chief. Rena’s ruthless on the field.”

“I can take whatever she’s got,” he said, zeroing in on her.
Ping, ping, flash
. Her insides were a pinball machine. She hoped she wouldn’t light up and start ringing.

She led him into the battle space just as the previous fighters left. The Dome Commander hit the switch to sound the trumpets and it was game on.

Rena and Gage circled each other slowly, bouncing on their feet.

“Astra rocks!”

She glanced toward the familiar voice. Cassie lifted a V-Trique in her direction, distracting Rena enough that she failed to block Gage’s roundhouse kick. She stopped his cross punches, though, then let him get in a couple front kicks for the practice of it.

“Fight me,” he murmured. “Don’t lay back.”

“If you say so.” At least his ego was sturdy. She went at him hard, using her axe and shield, then did quick double-kicks and a spinning side thrust.

Gage adapted to each move. Points zinged, fast and furious. The Lifers loved it, hollering and stamping their feet. In the end, she bested him, her axe poised at the side of his neck, signifying imminent decapitation.

Gage grinned. She’d won, but he hadn’t been beaten. They walked off together to applause and whistles. It was eerie for a stranger to so quickly become a teammate. She was just a little shorter than him, so they were nearly eye to eye, equals, and their strides swung into an easy rhythm.

The next fighters started off with fancy moves, so Rena knew she and Gage had sparked a competitive spirit. That was good. Lifers needed to push themselves. You could never, never take the Life for granted.

It would be fun to work up demo battles, she thought, with actual Quests and lots of fighters. Too bad Lionel Dray, the Dome Commander, was so damned lazy. She looked up at the booth, where the guy dozed, drunk or stoned, she’d bet, even though both were prohibited on shift. There were so few rules. Did he have no respect?

“So, what did I just earn?” Gage asked her.

“Two K in training points, but you lost the battle, so—”

“Total humiliation?”

“Sorry.” She grinned, not sorry at all.

“If I’d won?”

“Twenty K.”

“That’s twice what I got for the sex.”

“Sex is easy.”

“With the right person, maybe.” He held her gaze, making her think about them on her big velvet bed, her on top, shaking through her climax, her cry ripped from her throat, the release so strong she practically passed out, then she’d fallen onto the guy, breathing with him, liking his arms around her so much she had to rip away. She’d felt so naked. Barer than bare.

“Sex is no big thing.” She had to escape him before her inner pinball pinged so loud he heard it.

“Yeah?” Holding her gaze, he used the towel around his neck to wipe sweat from her temples. “Seemed damn good to me,” he said very low.

Ping, ping, flash, clang
. She hated reactions she couldn’t control. “I saw God,” she said as flatly as she could manage. “Oh, oh, oh. Yes. Oh. Yes. Yes.”

“Ouch.” He laughed, deep and warm and relaxed. “How about we go again? Give me a chance to boost my score?”

“Like I said, no points for repeats.” She was smiling, all girly and flirty, which irritated the hell out of her. “It’d be a waste of time.”

“Oh, I doubt that.” A current surged between them, a crackling twist of raw energy, a cable with the insulation peeled back, pure danger.

“So this is the guy, huh?”

They broke apart. Rena was glad of the interruption until she saw it was Cassie, staring at Gage, standing close enough to dose the air with liquor.

Oh, Cassie
. Soon Rena would wreck her world. “Cassie, this is Gage Stone. Gage, Cassie Fletcher.”

“Nice to meet you,” Gage said, holding out his hand.

Cassie shook it, looking him over, swaying, but clearly trying not to. “Nice work out there. How about you and I fight the next round?”

“You’re in no condition to battle,” Rena said to her. “You’d get hurt.”

“See how she is?” she said to Gage, throwing her arm around Rena’s shoulder and hugging her. “Rena recruited me and now she goes all mom-bossy over every teensy-weensy slipup. You better watch out.”

“Oh, I will,” Gage said. “I’ll watch out.”

Rena pried herself gently from Cassie’s grip, sick at heart over what was to come. Cassie’s drinking had become insane, it was true. It was barely 9:00 a.m. Maybe the Life
was
enabling her. Maybe the eviction would lead to a cure. She could only hope. “The K men are here.” Rena pointed to where the Koreans were moving single file toward the largest group of consoles, solemn in their black gis.

“What’s with the uniforms?” Gage asked.