-1-

No one told me there'd  be so much god damn blood.

It seeps into the fine lines of the hardwood, it floods into the kitchen, it forms waves and sloshes against corners. The odor turns my stomach. It smells raw and coppery.

For 2 hours I  carry blood soaked towels to the stainless steel bathtub and I know it’s not working and I know I can’t leave it like this. The impossibility of the job and the importance of my duty weigh on me.

Shit.

“I need your help,” I choke into the  mark’s com phone.

He comes almost instantly. He’s a kid, barely 18.  He should be back in school in the shiny bubble of Fort Perch but I know he’s probably been fucking around on the streets. He appears at the door with the same unreadable expression of horror he had three months ago when he saw Derek’s body. 

He doesn’t ask questions, he  just joins me. We wordlessly come up with a strategy to use the mops and brooms to ferry the blood into the bathroom and into the tub. When the thickest of it is gone we use hospital grade absorbent towels to wipe and sterilize.

“Didn’t think we’d be doing this again,” Jean jokes, bleaching the corner of the bloodied tub.

And dammit I laugh. I laugh harder than I should at the memory of cleaning my husband and son’s blood of my bedroom wall. Is that was this life does to you ? Am I that fucked up now ?

I position the knife as instructed to make it look like the  mark had killed himself.

Putting on jackets to cover the blood stained clothes  I follow Jean  to the edge of the street where the car his parents bought him is parked in front of a children’s playground. The children are running and gliding across the equipment and I have to breathe through my nose not to cry.

We used to go to parks like that. My son would run and scream more than any other child. He had my wild spirit and Derek’s relentlessness.

“Come on !,” Jean calls and I watch as a little girl runs off a swing and over to him.

“Who the hell is that ?,” I ask. “You bought a child here ?”

“She’s my little sister, she had a bad day at school I couldn’t leave her,” he explains as the girl catches up to him. “Minnie, this is my friend Sara,”

The girl stares at me accusingly and doesn’t offer a greeting.

“Can you take me to Mojave ? I need to get to the hospital,” I ask Jean. “Maybe you should come in with me, I’ll tell Mr. Washington you deserve something… for helping.”

He shakes his head.

“No way,” he tells me. “I know Luce needs the money more.”

I wonder where the boys like Jean Dory were when I was his age. Before Derek all of my boyfriends had sucked me dry of everything I could give.

“I’ll take care of Luce. You need the money, I  don’t like the idea of   you working on the streets--”

“I’m at home,” he sighs.

“And are you going to stay ?,” I ask.

His little sister looks up at him expectantly.

“I’m… really going to try this time,” he tells me and his sister starts jumping around clapping.

***

They’ve put my son in a fucking coffin and it terrifies me.

It’s got plenty of tubes and monitors to remind me he is still alive and it’s clear enough that I can see him, but the shape and immovability still make me think coffin.

Derek would know the technical term for it, Derek would trust this doctor even if he does work for Ivy Donnelly, Derek would know what they were doing, but Derek is gone.

 Or at least the Derek Grace I loved is gone.  The doctor here had done an autopsy and found his brain implant had been hacked and might have lead to his mania.  The doctor said it was a complex and nearly impossible hack, but I had him take my implant and Luce’s out. I was never touching that kind of technology shit again if I could help it.

Luce doesn’t look like he is sleeping, he looks  dead and that sight turns my stomach every damn time.  I get up from the rocking chair and press against his little coffin, it’s freezing cold for reason I don’t understand. I  let  my breath fog the glass, hoping to breathe some life into him and then I’m  crying.

His only company inside the coffin is Blossom, a small pink  lamb toy  that I’d given to him because it was the only thing I really had left of my home. Dad had given it to me as a baby and it had survived my parent’s funeral, the foster home and had slept with Luce every night since he was born. He’d been holding it when we found his body, which means Derek wanted him to have it when he killed him.

I’m not sure if I like that or not.

“Mama did a very bad thing for you today,” I whisper through to Luce. “Today’s going to be different…but, it’s okay.”

I killed a man today.

But I killed a man for him.

“Eww, what happened ?,” a voice shrieks

I look through the curtain of my hair to see Jean’s little sister, Minnie had entered the hospital room. She is a fair distance away, but she can see into the coffin. She skips up to it fearlessly and peers inside.

“Can he get up to play with us ?,” she asks, not at all bothered by seeing tears in my eyes.

“No...um, not yet,” I sigh as Jean runs into the room and pulls her back with an apologetic look.

“Sorry,” he mumbles and gives the coffin a quick glance. “How’s our boy doing ?”

“His body is going,” Minnie tells Jean. 

I recoil at  this description.

“It's not going, he's just missing his leg. Now come on silly, girl let’s go home,” Jean says picking her up and putting her over his shoulder. He goes in the hallway, spinning her around, I hear her giggling and protesting going home.

I settle back into the rocking chair, one hand on the glass and  stare into his still face. This is my usual spot, I never tire of watching him breathe and can usually sit for hours. I have nowhere better to go. I liked staying at Ivy’s fancy apartment, but she seems to always be entertaining.

 “Ms. Grace,” a deep voice calls.

Rayne Washington  leans against the door of the room, his lean tall figure filling up the space. His tanned angular face carefully composed.  As always, he’s dressed head to toe in black which makes it look like he is always in mourning. He seems tired, his black eyes are red around the rims.

“Hello, sir,” I stumble, still not sure how to address him. He was only about 10 years older than me, close to Derek’s age.  To me he was always just Ivy’s family friend, but now I was employed and deeply indebted to him. He was also second in command to his…family business. I’m not even sure what to call it; crime family, cartel, gang ?

“The doctor is here, Sara,” he says.

I nod as the angry doctor comes into the room. I never catch his name and he never speaks to me. He stares me down until I get out of the rocking chair and exit the room before he  desensitizes  and open the coffin. I’d like to watch him work from the hall   though the room’s viewing glass, but mostly I can’t because he treats Luce like a piece of meat.

But today is different.  I’ve finally paid enough for him to measure Luce for his new  leg so when he does wake up, he’ll be able to play like he should.

I lean close to the viewing pane, I want the doctor to know I’m watching him. Someone touches my wrist and I turn to come eyes to chin with Rayne.

 “I wanted to tell you that you did a great thing today,” he tells me   “I know the first kill is hard, but you killed one man and  saved countless lives.”

He speaks so freely of hits and family business because the hospital is the Washington-Mojave Private Hospital,  his family paid all the bills and only allowed  certain people  admittance and expected secrecy from all it’s employees.

“Countless lives ? How ?,” I scoff at him

“I can’t tell you that, unfortunately,” he says. “We've got a report that the blueboys found the body. They don’t suspect foul play you did a heck of a job. I’m concerned about your hair color though, it’s unique so next time you—“

“I’m not doing that, again,” I tell him sternly. “That was just so I could pay for Luce’s leg. I told you, I’m a hacker not an assassin. Don’t you have hacking work ?”

I bite my lip  as the  doctor closes the curtains on the viewing panel and turns off the live feed. 

“Hackers are a dime a dozen,   it won’t pay what a good kill will pay. I spoke with Blackbird. Your son is going to need a lot of work  and that’s not free.  If you ever want your son to live you’ll have to get used to kills. It’s just the way things are done.”

“I’m a widow and a mother. I can’t handle murder. Can’t you make an exception for me ?”

“Not yet,” he says. “I don’t make the rules. I’m still just second in command around here...well,  for however long that lasts.”

His voice breaks and then I remember what Ivy had told me about his family's current situation.

“That’s right. I’m sorry,” I say. “How is your father's health?”

“He’s holding on tightly, but…they can’t figure it out. All the drugs in the world and this disease is still eating away his brain We’re…preparing, whatever the fuck that means.”

I’d entertained a theory with Ivy that his father had been poisoned so Rayne could take over, but she’d dismissed it saying everyone knew Rayne  could be more ruthless than his father.  Watching Rayne Washington make a practiced attempt at holding back tears I couldn’t imagine his cruelty.

 “My father's not young, my grandfather lived well past their hundreds and I guess I thought I’d have more time for everything…” he rambles.

“I know,” I say.

“Of course you do,” he says quickly. “Ivy told me you lost both your--”

“Yeah, I did.” I nod and look at the curtain that hid Luce. “But I’m holding on and so will you.”

“Thank you, Sara,” he says. “And please know that  your son isn’t leaving this hospital until he is running laps around you. I promise.”

He puts his arm on my shoulder and the pressure is a familiar comfort.

“The surgery is  going to be a 10 hour process and Blackbird doesn’t have the best bedside manner, you should get some rest and come back.  I’ve  told the nurses to call you if anything happens."

“I can't leave, I don't even know what I would even do”

“Get a drink?”

I balk.

“Oh and did you want to join me ?,”

I make a slight turn of my head to see his reaction and his lips brush against me. They’re warm and soft, a mellow buzzing fills my ears and instinct tells me to hold on to him and pull him closer.  But an ugly  litany bangs in my head.

Derek loves you. Derek loves you. Derek loves you.

“Mr. Washington... I’m sorry, I can’t-”

“No—I’m sorry---I need to get back to father. Ms. Grace I shouldn’t have---please don’ tell--”

“I won’t,” I say as he walks briskly away.

-2-

***

There are a number of bars in Mojave, but I take the train all the way back to the Sprawl. I need familiarity  and I always find that at the Monte Carlo Lounge III.

 Ivy Donnelly is sitting at a black jack table flirting so hard with every man and woman they don’t realize she is counting the cards. She’s using a hack Derek and I had created to read the holographic cards. Ivy wins 2 grand and  stands on the table, letting the chips rain down on her body.

When she spots me, she has the dealer help her off the table and she throws herself in the stool next to mine. Her eyes are wild, like it’s already been a long night even though it's barely 5PM.  She puts her winnings on the bar.

“This is  for her tab,” she tells the bartender who nods.

“I only got one glass of wine,” I tell her.

“So, let’s bathe in Dom later!,” she suggests

I’d loved that wildness about her when we first met a decade ago and I’d been caught cheating in her family’s now defunct casino. She got me off the hook and we’d bonded over our need to break rules. I was a government ward, I had nothing to my name and she was some kind of Old World Irish mafia princess with the world at her feet.

 It shouldn’t have worked out, but it did.

We’d mostly kept her family business and wealth out of our friendship, we were just two redheads who liked to go to the arcade and drink and scream though the streets. I pretended not to notice how business owners stiffened in her presence, I didn’t comment when half her cousins were executed by the government  for their involvement in a mass murder and I looked the other way when strangers yelled at her about money her mother owed.

It wasn’t until my son was about to die and I needed help that her connections played into our friendship. She’d led me to Rayne who had infinite resources. She gave me a place to stay and brushed away my tears.

“How’s Luce ?,” she asked.

“He’s in a 10 hour surgery,” I tell her grimly.

“That’s good news,” she tells me squeezing my arm and yelling to the bartender. “Shots! Platinum shots, baby.”

“You’re in a mood.” I say.

We were the same age, but in such different places. She was a socialite party girl, while I’d been a wife and mother with a secret habit for hacking.

The bartender carefully pours two shots of a platinum gold flecked bourbon. It’s $100 a shot.

“Last regret,” she toasts,  lifting the shot.

I take down the expensive burn.

“Last regrets ? What the fuck kind of toast is that ?”

Ivy looks down and shuffles the glass around.

“Well...my aunt... arranged a marriage for me,” she says carefully.

“What the fuck ?,” I snap. “What century is it ?”

She wipes stray eyeliner and points to the glass to have the bartender fill it up again.

“Who is it ?,” I ask.

“Rayne Washington”

My heart feels heavy and I don’t know if it’s sympathy or jealousy. Either one seems awful.

“Do you like him ?, “ I ask. “He seems kind, just a little bit older.”

“It doesn’t matter if I like him, if he’s kind of or not. It’s  not about me it’s about the Donnelly Family existence,” she says.

 “So, what it’s some kind of alliance thing ?,” I ask

“You could call it that. The Mjollner, this other cartel, has been coming after what’s left of the Donnellys. We can’t afford to protect ourselves, so we need an alliance and my aunt wants us to absorb into the Shy Cartel. But alliances  have to be guaranteed and nothing is a better  guarantee than a good old-fashioned heir.”

The realization of it all hit me. Rayne’s father was dying and soon the stoic, grieving son I'd nearly kissed would be the head of the one of the most powerful chrome cartels in the Sprawl. Ivy had been chosen to be some kind of twisted breeding stock.

“How long until it happens ?,” I ask.

“A few weeks,” her voice breaks. “They want to do it before his father dies.”

I rub her shoulder. The Donnelly family was a matriarchy while the Cartel was a patriarchy by tradition. Which means Ivy would be required to immediately give birth to Rayne's son to guarantee the family line.

“It’s so fucking barbaric. You should run.”

“You don’t get it, Sara,” she sighs. “It’s my duty. If I leave my family and our people will be picked off by the Mjollner. People depend on us. I always knew I’d have to make sacrifices for the family eventually…I just didn’t think it’d be so soon.”

“Sorry,” I say just to say something. “I’m sure he’ll be good to you. He seems kind.”

She laughs again.

“They always seem kind,” she scoffs. “But maybe he is. Rumor has it he’s been celibate... so that will be new.”

“Too much information,” I tell her and she laughs, pointing to both our glasses again. The bartender quickly fills them and she snaps back the shot.

“You know,” Ivy says as I drain my glass.. “I’ve been thinking. Maybe you should  join the cartel. Like officially. I mean once I marry Mr. Washington I can look out for you and make sure Luce is okay.”

“Fuck no,” I say. “I’m doing what has to be done to get Luce better and then I’m out. ”

"That's what they all say," she teases.

I point to our empty glasses and the bartender fills them, the bottle is near empty now. I hold up my drink to finish up where we left off our toast.

"Last regrets."

"Last regrets."

----

I cannot even tell you how hard writing Sara's voice was and I'm still not sure it's right.

You: So, why did Sara stay with the Cartel ?

SHV: Luce's surgeries kept costing more so she pretty much has no choice.