-1-

How To Say Farewell

They didn’t discuss it, but they both have the same idea to part on a long embrace.

 Perhaps a side effect of nearly seven years of agreeable marriage.

She was getting rose-colored glasses about leaving the house. 

She takes a long look at the remnants of black and silver bedroom they’d shared. The marble vanity where she’d carefully done her makeup and chosen her jewelry, the heirloom cabinet they secretly stored liquor in, the painting of the Mojave sky at night she’d had commissioned.

 The California King bed where they’d made love in every way conceivable to have a child. A feat they’d failed at and, in the last few years, practically given up on.

Secretly (or not so secretly) she was grateful for the unintended failure. Grateful he'd been too proud to get professional help for their inability to conceive. Now, she could go with no strings attached. It was an obvious, nearly unspoken fact, his new beloved wasn’t hers. 

But now he had his heir and the Washington and Donnelly families had become so entwined their once arranged alliance was hardly needed.

They’d done a lot together as a couple, but they could never truly fall in love. Their hearts pulled in opposite directions.

“I’ll take these last few bags, sweetheart.”

 He says the endearment out of trained habit.

She follows him out to the waiting car that will take her to her new apartment. Her final constellation prize is waiting for her; the man with the cross in his forehead in the driver’s seat. Her new bodyguard should someone try to settle an old argument with the  Donnelly heir now that she was in the Sprawl again.

“Will I see you at the sanctuary ?,” he asks.

“Only if you look for me,” she quips.

She turns to get into the car and turns quickly back. In one motion she slips off  her beloved diamond ring and places it in his palm. He slowly closes his fingers around it and as he pushes it into his pocket her identity is reclaimed.

 

***

This Is A Test

 

The dark haired, dark eyed baby sits wrapped and dressed in white, a near contrast to the life it screamed into. He looks complacently as the photographers wave to capture just the right angle,  each expression committed into an image.

The photographers pull in the parents and then grandma, the priest and friends. Then they want just the  men and then just the women. They shoot candids of other children playing with the one who would one day take their lives in his hand.

In the far corner of the sanctuary garden, a hand reaches out to Luce Grace.

He turns to see the woman he once called Aunt Ivy, but had recently outgrown that name. She’s dressed in a long green and black lace dress, something ironically befitting of her name. They both love the parents of this child in different ways but had  both been relegated to the shadows, left out of any photographic opportunities intentionally.

“I’m surprised they let us get this close,” Luce tells her, watching the changing of the poses.

“It’s a test,” she explains as the baby has finally had enough and starts crying. “It’s always going to be a test. How much can you be trusted to be near him.”

“I guess I’m passing.”

“You don’t pass," she smiles. “Trust me, they’ll always being watching us, testing our loyalty, waiting for us to fuck up. Never ever let your guard down."

“I’d never hurt him,” Luce scoffs

“You will one day,” she says. “When you realize his life will always be more important than yours.”

“It’s a good thing I know my life will be short.”

“Not short enough,” she laughs.

 

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-2-

Finally moving-

“Beautiful,” I say to Minnow.

The words just slip out when she asks me what I think and Jean stares on proudly at his work. She’s more modest than I’ve ever seen her in a gauzy gold dress that swishes around her knees. He hair is put in some elaborate braided style , she’s wearing  leather elbow length gloves the cover her missing finger.

But she’s still sexy, the corset  makes her waist unbelievably tiny, which only accentuates everything else.

She smiles at me.

Maybe she was pissed as hell at me yesterday, but  Jean had stayed home for more than 24 hours so she was in a good mood.  They’d both been up since 5AM getting ready, while I woke up 20 minutes ago, threw some water on my face and put on the tailored suit as I’d been instructed.

“Shoes?,” Minnow says to Jean, pointing her metallic  heels out at him.

“They’re…fine,” he responds

“Fine ? Shit, I knew I should have gotten the boots.”

He laughs thickly.

“Rayne isn’t going to let you turn tricks today, who are you trying to impress ?”

“Everyone.” she reminds him sternly. “Look, let’s go to Dolce Vita, I’ll put the order in now--”

“We don’t have time,” Jean says with a headshake. “ She’ll kill me if I’m late.”

“Fine. I’ll meet you there,” she says, picking up a small purse.

“You know you shouldn’t go there alone, not after that shooting at Luxor last night--,” Jean starts

 “Alan’s coming with me,” she says

“I am ?,” I ask as she takes my hand.

She stares at Jean, daring him to forbid us or something.

“Don’t you two dare be too late,” Jean warns as we head for the door.

Outside of Treasure Island, Griffin stands attentively by the door of a jet  black ultra luxury car. Jean slips into the backseat of the car and I put my arm over Minnow’s shoulder as we walk past the car. I’m not quick enough and Griffin jerks my arm back causing Minnow to stumble.

“Grif!,” Minnow shrieks as she loses balance.

“Where the hell do you think you are  going ?,” he asks me, his hand is on his gun and I realize my hand is on mine too.

“Seriously ?,” Minnow sighs loosening his grip on me. “Come on Grif ,I have to go the West side of the strip for shoes, we’ll just  take the train to Mojave.”

“I’ll take you,” he tells her. “I have the car.”

“Rayne’s expecting you to bring Jean.,” she reminds him. “Stop acting like an idiot.”

He cuts me a dark look before releasing my arm, he is too chickenshit to talk back to Minnow so he slides  into the driver’s seat of the car.

Of all of the things I expected from joining the Cartel  I’d never expected to fall in the middle of a love triangle. Not that I’m sure I even love Minnow,  our relationship seemed mandatory almost. Our everyday life consisted of constant intensity and extreme intimacy. We did practically everything together and witnessed the demands of our lifestyle press down on each other.

But Griffin on the other hand was in love with her; mostly because he couldn’t see that most of what she did with him was manipulation. He had her on a high pedestal and one snap of her fingers and he was on his knees.

Griffin hated me for being so close to Minnow, but he couldn’t actually do anything to me without getting himself killed.  Even though he was one of Rayne’s personal bodyguard, being Ivy's cousin---a Donnelly-- meant his life was negotiable. His loyalty lied with Ivy not necessarily Rayne.

I’d shown loyalty to Rayne countless times by going out on jobs and surviving while Griffin guarded the front doors of our apartment. If it turned into a he said/he said  Rayne would  always take my word over his.

We board the train to the West Strip, which is technically Mjollner territory if such a thing could exist. The West Strip had their restaurants, their brothels, their bars and somewhere their headquarters.  I’d learned there were no real boundaries to stop us from entering, but it was always smart not to advertise Cartel membership. I let  my obsidian and diamond Cartel ring drop into the suit pocket as the train slowed.

“Shit!,” Minnow screams and grabs on to my arm.

I snap my head up and as the train sweeps into it’s stop, I catch the blur of a face smash into the window leaving a trail of thin blood before falling into the track.

I turn to see if Minnow saw what I just saw—someone jump into the train’s path—and she is staring at me with a hand over her mouth.  Minnow holds on to my arm unsteady as the doors swing open, but I’m no steadier than she is.

“Hey, that’s number 9!,” a woman selling coffee in the terminal shouts to the station engineer.  

A few other vendors in the terminal laugh.

“I don’t get it,” Minnow says to one of the men who is laughing beside us.

“It’s the lights on the train, they attract the users for some reason,” he explains and shakes his head before running to catch a connecting train.

There are only a couple different people who spend a lot of time in the West Strip train station; addicts, soon to be addicts, Mjollner and their  unnaturally beautiful hookers. The station perfectly summed up the Mjollners business ventures and interests; drugs and women. On paper they should be the most profitable cartel, but they aren’t because we offer the one thing they can’t; a way out of the draft.

An RLA public safety officer is monitoring the elevator when we get in and she’s staring us down like I’m going to sell drugs to Minnow, which is kind of hilarious.

Minnow pulls my face down and starts making out with me just to mess with the officer. My hand lands on her waist and when she gets on her toes to kiss me harder my hand slips down to cup her upper thigh. 

When we get to the top, Minnow breaks away from me and sprints for the shoe store across the street. I wait outside, watching the crowds sweep hurriedly through the strip.

After  Secretary General Barrister-Finch came into office, all the typical sprawl blueboys were  replaced with military trained public safety officers. They didn’t fuck around and now most of the streets in the sprawl had gone practically dead. These officers couldn’t be as easily bribed to look the other way.  They were just looking for a reason to send young men to reformation camps to join the RLA.

I’m not sure who Rayne is paying off to keep the Luxor and Treasure Island from being raided.

Minnow clicks out the store in a pair of gold embellished black leather knee boots with a killer heel.  She kind of has a badass pirate vibe. When she holds her dress up and  walks I catch the smallest glimpse of the pistol strapped to her thigh.

“Let’s go!,” She says breaking into a full run and jumping on my back, her heels thumping against the muscles in my stomach.

“Ow.”

“Oh, come on cyborg boy,” she sighs into my ear. Her breath is medicinal, she must have taken something when she was in the store.

“Android boy,” I remind her and she laughs. “I’ll only carry you if you promise not to be mad at me anymore.”

“Fine,” she agrees.  “But just don’t ever give that Persephone bitch an $800 tip, she’s just a user who wants to sleep her way in. She couldn’t kill anyone if Rayne paid her a bajilion dollars.”

Fuck, so that’s what Minnow was so mad about. I don’t remember doing it.

“I did that ?,”  I ask her as we head back down the elevator. “I don’t remember.”

“It was last week … I guess I got you super high first.”

“So, if Perse is a user trying to sleep her way in,  what are you ?,”I tease her.

“Hey, I’ve showed my allegiance plenty of time and  well…I guess I’m practically family,” she says

I put her down when we get to the train track and she starts modeling the boots again.  Minnow puts her hands on her hips and stomps up and down the train platform, aggravating the addicts and drawing eye rolls from the Mjollner girls.

She’s looking me dead in the eye as she stomps back towards me. The old me would be embarrassed by this but now ? What the fuck ever.

From the top of the station steps a solo slow clap starts, loud and purposeful. The Mjollner pimp, Dakota  descends the stairs. His face is just as vaguely disfigured as ever and his hair is an even faker shade of orange. He’s smiling and his eyes flick to me for a moment, but he only really has eyes for Minnow.

 “Minnow Dory. I heard some Shy Cartel were in town...I have to say I’m really glad it was you,” he smiles.

I put my arm around her and reach for my gun.

“Oh, relax, collarboy just making conversation,” he says lightly, but I don’t trust him and keep my hand on my weapon.

“Fine,” he teases.  “Go ahead and try to shoot me, see what happens. See how this crowd likes it when you hurt the person who gives them their favorite fix. These psychos would probably eat you alive.”

Minnow pulls my hand away from my weapon.

“How the fuck long are we going to do this, Dakota ? The answer is still no, I don’t want to be your property,” Minnow says.

“Don’t say it like that. I take care of my girls,” he tells her. “I can buy you all the shoes you want. The only thing I’d change on that body is put some ink on it. Hell, I won’t even make you audition with me like the other girls do.”

“Are you trying to make me fucking sick?,” she smiles. “I’m going to be Shy Cartel, why can’t you get over it?”

“I know we’ve had this conversation, but this time I really mean it,” he says, his voice suddenly intense. “Rayne doesn’t respect you, I hear you get treated like the nanny. Come with me and you’ll be treated like a princess, no one’s going to mutilate you or tell you what drugs you can’t have. This is your chance before shit gets bad. “

Minnow rolls her eyes.

“Dakota, there’s a war going on, threats of nuclear attacks, the RLA are throwing us in jail left and right, the Sprawl is in constant lockdown . How  exactly can shit get worse ?”

“Oh, they can. I’m giving you a chance,” he pleads and  glances at me. “You too, collarboy. There’s got to be a story with you if you’ve stayed with that lot for so long.”

I am mildly  fascinated about what it would have been like had I found myself in the middle of the Mjollner cartel. They don’t seem to have as many rules as Rayne did and, if I hadn’t seen so many of them on dead bodies, I’d probably find the back tattoos kind of hot.

Minnow jerks my arm as our train pulls into the station in a flash of pink and purple warning lights.

A woman from behind  Dakota bolts toward me, I think she is going to attack me but she rushes past and right into the blaring lights of the decelerating train in a sickening crunch. The impact probably wouldn’t have been fatal, but she falls underneath the tracks and I can hear body snap.

I wonder if I wasn’t such  fuck up if I could put her back together.

 Minnow yelps and grabs on to my arms.

“What the fuck are you giving these people ?,” she shrieks at Dakota. “Atleast chrome didn’t make you suicidal.”

“It’s some good shit,” he says. “ I don’t know the make up but in small doses it’s amazing. It make people’s minds clear, gives them clarity. But too much and they start hallucinating real bad. I'll give you a free sample next time.”

“10 !,” The coffee salesman shouts as we board the train.

 

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