Losing Nuka (Litmus Book 1) (7 page)

BOOK: Losing Nuka (Litmus Book 1)
13.26Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

“Must be nice living with that sort of privilege available to you,” he mumbles.

“It’s available to all of us. You just have to want it bad enough to chase it.”

“You have no idea what it’s really like out there for us, do you? Have you seen what it’s like in the Estates?”

“My uncle runs the Institute. He took us once when we were kids. I got to hang out with other kids who were just like me, which growing up in the world I did, I didn’t get to do a lot.”

Brett scoffs. “You wouldn’t say they’re fun if you saw them now.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’m sure you don’t. You know what they say, ‘Ignorance is bliss.’”

He stalks away from me, my mouth left agape.

 

 

***

 

 

“Is Brett always such an ass?” I ask Sasha.

She invited me for a swim in the pool this morning, and I thought it’d be a good wakeup after a restless night’s sleep. Brett’s voice kept repeating in my head, calling me ignorant. I don’t even know why it’s getting to me so much. No matter how hard I tried to forget what he said, nothing worked, and I spent the night tossing and turning.

“Yep,” is all she answers with.

“Thanks for the clarification.”

“You do know he’s probably listening in right now, yeah? His bedroom’s right there,” she says, pointing to the French doors I was looking out of yesterday when I used his phone.

I shrug before sinking into the pool and dipping my head under the cool, refreshing water.

“I get the feeling he’ll be listening in all the time with me,” I say.

Sasha sits on the side of the pool in a tiny bikini, her feet dangling in the water. “Arrogant much?” she says, kicking water in my direction.

“Hardly. I mean because it’s clear I can’t be trusted.”

I pull myself out of the water to sit next to her, and she looks at me sceptically. “Is that what that ridiculous fuss over dinner was about last night? Why I had to have dinner with Jonas? Thanks for that by the way.” She shudders. “What’d Mum say?”

“I don’t really want to get into it. She offered me a job at least, so I’ll be going to work with them tonight.”

“Me too. I have to earn my keep … according to Jonas anyway.”

“That’s what your mum said about me going to work there.”

“Yeah. They don’t let me do any of the fun stuff, though. I only bartend.”

“So that’s it? They run a
bar
?” Why couldn’t they just tell me that? “But more importantly, they let a sixteen-year-old bartend? Last time I checked, legal drinking age was eighteen.”

“Well, it’s not like I
drink
the alcohol,” she says with a liar’s smile on her face. “Did they not tell you about Litmus?”

“Litmus? What the hell is Litmus?”

She smiles. “It’s where you find out what you’re made of.”

She jumps into the water and starts doing laps. Is she really going to end our conversation like that?
‘It’s where you find out what you’re made of.’
That’s all I get?

After a gazillion laps, she comes back over to the side of the pool and climbs out, grabbing her towel off the ground.  “I’m going to head inside, you coming?”

“Uh, I guess so,” I stammer, fumbling for my clothes and towel before following her in. I catch up to her in the hall. “So that’s really all you’re going to give me?”

She smiles. “You’ll find out more tonight.”

“Why the big secret?”

She stops walking and turns to face me. “It’s not exactly … legal. That’s all I can say.” She leaves and starts heading upstairs.

As I turn down the hall to go to my room to get ready for my lunch with Declan, I can’t help thinking I’ve heard the term Litmus before.

“Litmus,” I mutter aloud, trying to jog my memory.
High school science, maybe?

Next thing I know, Brett throws his door open and trudges down the hall towards me. I raise an eyebrow at him, which only makes him look angrier. He grabs my arms and slams me into the wall next to my bedroom door, pinning me with his forearm against my chest, crushing me under his weight. I drop my towel and pile of clothes, and they hit the ground with a thud.

“What do you know about Litmus?” he growls.

“Wh—”

“Who told you?” The rage in his eyes is similar to what I saw when he pegged me up against the wall of the nightclub a few nights ago, only this time it’s even more intimidating. And I don’t even have a gun to my head this time.

“Sasha. Who else?”

“What did she tell you?”

My lip trembles, my body beginning to ache from being held in this position.

“Nothing. Just that she bartends and that it’s some kind of test. Whatever that means.”

He takes a step back, releasing me from his grip, but not looking any happier.

“I don’t exactly know what just happened, but next time you want to know something—just ask me.” My tone is quiet and mousy, not exactly how I was hoping for it to come out.

“When did Sasha tell you?” It’s obvious he’s trying to stay calm, though he’s talking through gritted teeth.

“Just before—at the pool. Weren’t you listening?”

“I tuned you out as soon as you called me an ass,” he says, managing a small smile. “You weren’t meant to be told about Litmus until tonight. You’ll go through all the security and confidentiality briefings there. When you muttered ‘Litmus’… I thought …” He struggles to talk. “I thought you might be here for other reasons.”

“What other reasons would there be?”

“We know who your adoptive family is.”

“You think
they
sent me? I’ve barely spoken to them for three years. You really think I’d be working for them? And what’s Litmus anyway? Why can’t you just tell me now instead of tonight?”

“You’ll find out tonight. Just stay at the house this afternoon, okay? At least then you can’t screw up.”

“What about my lunch with Declan?”

“Security risk.”

“But I’m not going to—”

“Cancel it.”

 

-7-

LITMUS

 

 


That’s
what you’re wearing?” Sasha asks as she enters my room without knocking.

“What’s wrong with jeans and a T-shirt?” I ask, looking down at my comfortable clothes. “Is there some kind of dress code?” It’s only then do I really take notice of what my sister is wearing, and it’s basically nothing. “Or is practical nudity a requirement?”

She assesses herself, turning in a circle as she shows off her cowlick halter-top that barely covers her boobs and exposes her midriff. Her barely there skirt—or is it a head scarf? I can’t tell—doesn’t leave much to the imagination, but that’s okay because her fishnet stockings cover her legs … just. I can’t help giving a disapproving stare.

She looks back up at me after inspecting herself and shrugs. “I didn’t pick it out.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Jonas picks what I wear when I work at the club.”

“And Cade is okay with you wearing … that?”

“You can call her Mum, you know.”

“I … I don’t think I’m there yet,” I stammer.

There’s a knock at my door before Brett walks in. “I brought your clothes for you,” he says, handing me a plastic garment bag.

“My clothes?”

“For tonight. Cade’s orders, probably passed down from Jonas.”

My heart starts thumping in my chest. Oh God … I’m going to have to dress like Sasha. I glance over at her, suddenly terrified of where exactly I’m going tonight and what I’ll be expected to do.
What kind of place is this?

I slowly unzip the garment bag, silently relieved when I see a pair of black pleather pants.
At least I won’t be wearing Sasha’s skirt.
My muscles tense when I see I have a top matching hers though.

“I …”

“It’s not negotiable, so don’t even try. See you both there,” Brett says walking out.

“There? You mean he’s not going to be hanging off us the whole time like the leech that he is?” I ask Sasha, making her giggle.

“He’s doing a showcase tonight, so he’ll meet us there. We’ll be tailed by the other leech tonight.”

“Well, I already like Drake better than Brett.”

“I like him better than Brett too, but I still wouldn’t say that I like him.”

“You’ve made out with him!”

“Because I was bored. And even making out with him was pretty boring. Maybe you should go for him,” she says casually, as if what she just said isn’t offensive.

“Gee, thanks. First for implying that I’m boring, and secondly, I’m not really into sharing guys with my sister.”

“Well, better get dressed—we’ll be leaving soon.” She leaves the room and I’m left pondering my outfit for a second time.

I’m not prudish when it comes to my wardrobe, but I’m not exactly this extreme. Slipping the pants on over my thighs, it’s like they meld to my legs. I’m surprised to find them comfortable and flexible.

The top, however, is harder to put on. It has a built-in bra and crossover straps at the back. Actually, the more I examine it, the more I realise it
is
a bra. It has a longer piece of material sewn into the stitching that covers my boobs, upper abdomen, and basically nothing else.
I’m going out in public in a bra.

“I feel naked,” I say when I open the door to find Sasha out there waiting for me.

“I heard you swearing a bit in there.” If she’s trying to hide her smile, she’s failing.

I cross my arms over my stomach, reflex I guess.

“Don’t cover up your sexy body,” Sasha says, making me cringe.

“Don’t ever say that sentence to your older sister again.” I try to say it seriously, but I can’t stop the laughter bubbling out of me.

“She’s right though,” a deep voice comes from behind us. We turn to see Drake walking towards us. “It is pretty sexy.”

“Please don’t call me sexy,” I say, bringing my eyes up to meet his.

“But we’ll still have the same problem no matter what I call you.”

“What problem is that?”

“The insane amount of sexual tension between us.”

Both Drake and Sasha are laughing now.

I roll my eyes. “I’ll try to keep it in my pants. Are we going?”

“Right this way, milady.”

“Don’t call me that, either.”

He laughs again and wraps his arms around Sasha and me. “Messing with you is fun.”

 

 

***

 

 

The loud thumping of the bass is no match for the heartbeat drumming in my ears. Drake has taken us to a nondescript nightclub, just like every other one I’ve been to in the city.

The flashing strobe lights trying to blind me? Check. Stocked bar with a huge line of waiting customers? Check. Dancefloor with people gyrating against one another? Check. Sticky floor? Double check.
Eww.

As Drake walks us through the club, nearly all eyes are on him. I’m guessing it has something to do with the fact he has a skanky blonde on each arm. I realise I just called myself skanky looking, but it’s hard not to when I’m only wearing a bra and skin-tight pants. Not to mention the six-inch heels Sasha handed me before we left.

Drake takes us to a cordoned-off VIP area, similar to the one Declan hired for my birthday, but this one is a long and narrow room with comfortable-looking couches lining the sides and a private bar at the back.

We’re the only ones in here. I’m about to ask why when Drake keeps leading us through, past the bar and to an unmarked back door.

He opens it to a set of stairs leading down into a black hole.

“What the—?”

“Welcome to Litmus,” Drake leans in over the loud music to yell in my ear.

Sasha goes first, and Drake gestures for me to follow.

My eyes need time to adjust to the poor lighting as I step down into the abyss. The music begins to fade as we start walking along the walls of the long, narrow tunnel before us. Soon the only sound to fill my ears is my still skyrocketing heartbeat and the gentle hum of some sort of generator, perhaps from the pipes and cables that run along the roof.

“Is this how everyone gets to Litmus? Or is this like a special entry?” I ask.

“This is a staff entry and emergency exit. There are four ways to get to the arena, but you’ll most likely always use this one,” Drake says. “It’s closest to the house.”

“Arena?”

Drake and Sasha share a glance. “Yeah. You’ll see what I mean,” Drake says.

“I’m getting really sick of this secretive thing,” I mutter.

“Just a little bit farther and we’ll be there.”

As we go along, the narrow tunnel begins to widen, the lights become brighter, and then we’re suddenly walking on slick tiling instead of hard concrete. Double doors are up ahead, but before we reach them, we get to a hallway leading left and right, doors lining the corridor until the ends where there are more double doors like the ones in front of us.

“This way,” Drake says, directing us to the left corridor.

We wander down to the double doors at the end where Drake puts a passcode into a keypad in a wall and holds the door open for us.

We come to a set of stairs leading up to the floor above us. We take to the stairs and reach another corridor. I count three doors as we pass them on our left, ending at the last one. Drake opens the door, stepping aside to let Sasha and me in.

“Ah. Welcome.” Jonas’ voice carries across the room as we enter.

There are people standing around, dressed to the nines, sipping colourful drinks in champagne flutes and seemingly enjoying themselves. Everyone has either a blue drink or a red drink that seems to be glowing in the dim light.

Floor-to-ceiling glass windows line the far wall overlooking the area downstairs, but I can’t see what’s down there from where we stand. There are waitresses and waiters floating around with trays of fine finger foods and more drinks, plus a barman at the end of the room behind a fully stocked bar.

Jonas walks over to us, gently taking my arm. “Welcome to the corporate box,” he says.

“Uh, thanks … I guess.”
What the frick is a corporate box?

“Come, we’ll talk business and then I’ll introduce you around.”

“Okay.”

He guides me by my elbow, taking me away from Drake and Sasha and through the small gathering of people. I notice Brett’s in the group, dressed in black jeans and a tight dark grey T-shirt. He’s much more casual looking than the rest of the party goers. He’s shaking the hands of men in suits, with a bright smile on his face. He nods to me as we continue past him but doesn’t leave his spot.

I’m taken to an adjacent room, much smaller than the corporate box. The small office has the same floor-to-ceiling windows on my right, a plain wooden desk in front of me with a plush pleather business chair behind it, and two less-comfortable-looking seats in front of it.

“Take a seat. Your mother should be here any minute.”

“I’m right here,” Cade says, entering the room and closing the door behind her. She sits in one of the chairs, and I take my cue, sitting in the chair next to her.

“Okay. First things first. Contracts,” Jonas says, sitting behind the desk and reaching into his drawer to pull out a manila folder.

I begin reading as soon as he hands them to me.

“You don’t really need to read it in depth. It’s a standard employment contract. Even Sasha’s signed it. The one you do need to pay great detail to is the confidentiality agreement.”

As I begin reading the confidentiality agreement, I get lost in a sea of legal jargon.


It is understood and agreed to that the below identified discloser of confidential information may provide certain information that is and must be kept confidential. To ensure the protection of such information, and to preserve any confidentiality necessary under patent and/or trade secret laws, it is agreed that …”

Blah, blah, blah. Okay, I get it. No talking about Litmus to anyone who doesn’t know about it. Safer yet, just don’t talk about it at all.

I sign the agreement, pushing the form over to Jonas’ side of the table.

“And the contracts?” he says, gesturing to the pile of paperwork still in front of me.

Hesitantly, I sign the two identical documents. One states that it’s the employer copy, and the other says it’s the employee copy. I pick mine up to carry it with me so I can read it later, but Cade takes it from me and puts it back on the desk.

“You can read that another time. Let’s show you around,” she says, standing.

“O … okay.”

Cade links her arm with mine and leads me over to the window.

The scene below is one I can’t comprehend. A well-lit square platform sits raised in the middle of the crowded room, stadium seats are positioned against the opposite wall, and there’s a standing section directly below us with a long L-shaped bar taking up the other two walls. In the dim light of the crowd, all I can see is more glowing drinks. Blue and red. The bass of the music vibrates through the place, and I can see shadowy figures dancing throughout the entire venue.

Corporate boxes fill the entire upper level where we are. At least, I assume they’re more corporate boxes. I can’t see into the other windows.

“What
is
this?” I ask in awe.

“Have you ever heard of Litmus paper?” Jonas asks, joining us by the window.

“I don’t think so. Litmus sounds familiar, but I’m having trouble placing it.”

“It was once used to check the pH levels in something. The more acidic something is, the redder the paper becomes. Alkaline turns the paper blue.”

“This doesn’t exactly look like a science lab,” I say as I start having flashbacks of high school science class.

Jonas laughs. “You’re right about that. It’s all metaphoric, of course; a gimmick. Are you strong or are you weak?”

“But doesn’t alkali neutralise acid, and vice versa? So how is one weaker than the other? Neither of them are weak or strong, they’re opposites.”

Jonas touches his nose. “Did well in science at school, did you?”

“Not really.”

“Sometimes you don’t need to be strong to neutralise your opponent. Take Brett for instance. To look at him, he’s a total Red. He’s built like a brick house. But his ability is extra-sensitive hearing, totally making him a Blue. That doesn’t help him in the arena at all. He could easily be taken out by someone of smaller stature with a powerful ability. Nobody knows if you’re a Blue or a Red until you reveal what you can do.”

“Well, that’s just bad science. It doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s a
gimmick,
” Jonas emphasises.

“What did you mean by taken out?” I ask.

“Just watch,” Cade says, pointing to the square platform below us.

A deafening roar loud enough to fill the room pierces my ears, even though we’re a floor above the noise. Spotlights start flashing, and a rumbling of stomping feet vibrates through the entire place. More screams, more shouts.

Other books

Call of the Siren by Rosalie Lario
No Second Chances by Malín Alegría
Moonlight Becomes You: a short story by Jones, Linda Winstead
Knives and Sheaths by Nalini Singh
Glamorama by Bret Easton Ellis
Martyr's Fire by Sigmund Brouwer
El Hombre Multiorgásmico by Mantak Chia & Douglas Abrams Arava
Broken Souls by Stephen Blackmoore