The Saffron Malformation (21 page)

             
Reggie looked over at him.  “Goods got nothin’ to do with shit in this world.”

             
Quey finished his drink, touched the big man’s shoulder and said, “Yeah, it does.”  Then he stood and went over to Rachel and Dusty.  Reggie watched the three of them standing, talking and finally laughing.

             
Drinking was a delicate equation with Reggie.  He liked to get enough booze in him to forget what he’d seen, the things he’d done during the southern continent conflict, but he could drink too much and bring everything bubbling to the surface.  That’s where he was now, on that edge, walking that fine line between bliss and madness.

             
Quey knew him well enough to see he was there, to know he needed some time to himself, some time to get his head right.  He’d heard a story or two from Reggie about that conflict.  A story about ordinary folks looking at the world and seeing the truth: they were living on a dying rock and no one was going to help them unless they helped themselves.  They weren’t terrorists looking to sabotage anyone’s way of life, or looking to destroy the world.  They were just people looking for a way out, a way to survive, a way off this fucking rock.  What Quey was saying about the wastes was true, Reggie knew it, he also knew it was madness to trust the assholes who fucked the planet up in the first place to fix it but what else was there to do?

             
Reggie took another drink.  He remembered bodies.  He remembered gunfire.  He remembered shooting.  He remembered a mother knocked off her feet while a son cried and a father stood shooting, tears streaming from the corners of his eyes and he was screaming.  He didn’t have time to think about that then, didn’t have that luxury while his gun jumped again and again against his shoulder.  Splat went a man’s head, thwack went another’s torso.  Twisted faces of agony screaming for a moment then falling silent and still.

             
He drank.

             
He had no time to consider it then, when he was in the thick of it.  But years later and a continent away he had nothing but time.  Regulator had nothing to do with ass, the nick had come from the war, they called it a conflict but Reggie knew a fucking war when he was in one.  They called him ‘Regulator’ because he was a natural shot and if you gave him a point to hold he would hold it.

             
“Motherfucker regulated that shit,” one of his comrades, more of a brother than a friend after what they’d seen, said one day about a warehouse of engine parts he was supposed to keep secure.  Blue Moon didn’t want anyone getting off the planet, Reggie knew that’s what all that death was really about.  If someone got off, the whole universe might know what was going on down here.  Of course they could never say that so they had to blame someone, luckily there was anti-corps.

             
Reggie started to open the bottle of ‘shine.  The line was shivering under his feet and he knew, staring at the clear liquid in the bottle, that one more drink would send him tumbling into the dark place.  One day he knew he’d spiral down that hole and never come back, just let it consume him and take away the bitter things he’s forced to keep; someone else’s bag of shit he never wanted and can’t get rid of.

             
What Quey said earlier about survival had struck him and he thought on it now.  Was that all he was doing out here in Fen Quada?

             
Reggie twisted the cap back on the bottle.

             
Maybe he would give up and fall out to that dark place someday, maybe he’d even just give up and drink the fucking water, but not today.

             
Quey was looking at him and nodded.  Reggie stood and left the bar.

             
“He alright?” Dusty asked.

             
Quey nodded, “Be fine.”

             
“Dancing Cheek to Cheek” began playing through the Jukebox, and Rachel said, “Oh, we have to, one more.”

             
Dusty smiled at her, “Love to babe but I think I’m a bit sideways.”

             
“How ‘bout you Quey?” she asked.  “You know, you still owe me a dance.”

             
Quey looked over at her, knowing what she meant.  The night she and Dusty met it was Quey who’d gone to try and pick her up.  Of course he was too deep in his shine for his own good and he barely got past asking her to dance before he threw up.  Rail had been pissed; Cal and Dusty thought the old man was going to toss Quey off the cliffs.  “I believe I do at that,” he told her.  “And I tell you what, I’m a man who pays his debts but I’m going to hold onto that one for just a bit longer.  You make sure to post an invite to this wedding of yours and I’ll show up with as much shine as your guests can drink and settle up before the night closes.”

             
Rachel smiled at him, “Sounds like a fine idea.”

             
“In the mean, I think I’m through for the night,” he announced.

             
“Yeah, probably a good idea,” Dusty agreed.

             
The three of them shut off the lights and locked the door behind them.  The sea air was cool and blowing hard off the ocean.  Dusty put his arm around Rachel when she shivered, and kissed her forehead.  “Be well you two,” Quey said and turned and started away.

             
In the dark of the guest bedroom at Rail’s house Quey lay in bed with his sheet propped up on his chest.  He was connected to the planetary network and staring at the search engine.  He wasn’t thinking, just feeling something heavy in his chest, something longing.  Something about Dusty and Rachel, seeing them together like they were.  Finally he touched the search bar and selected the last thing he’d typed in.  A girl named Rain.

             
There was a knot in his throat as his heart beat quicker in his chest.  He knew this wasn’t healthy but he clicked the website anyhow.  There she was, the picture of her next to her van.  He looked at her, vibrant and full of life, and remembered how every ounce of her experienced each moment so thoroughly.  He scrolled down looking through the other pictures.  One was of her sitting at a table working on a piece of jewelry.  Her face was scrunched with focus and he smiled.  She wasn’t the sort someone might put in an advert, but she was beautiful in her way.   Further down he found one of her positioned high on some cliffs with a chord around her legs.  She was naked and the caption said, ‘Yeah, I saw her last month cliff diving naked.  It was awesome.’

             
He smiled and scrolled further.  He knew what he was looking for and he found it easy enough.  A handful of people had posted video.  He selected one and watched.  It was a stationary shot of a rather nice hotel room.  She was sitting in a chair with a drink in her hand.  He felt his groin tingling and he scrolled through the video until the man came into frame and they went to the bed.  It looked like the man had simply set his sheet down and left it on and recorded the two of them together.  Quey started to feel his guts knot as he watched her with this guy.  It was different than he’d thought it would be and he realized he didn’t want to see.  He stopped the video and selected another.

             
She and another girl, who was only a bit taller than her with long blond hair, climbed out of a pool in bikinis, Rain wrapped a black sheer skirt around her waist before joining a group of people near a fire.  She lifted a stick with a marshmallow on the end out of the flames.  Quey watched as she inspected it.  She grinned at the camera and said, “It looks like one of those things.”

             
“What things?” a woman asked.

             
She looked somewhere else off camera.  “You know,” she answered, then started to dance with it, swaying her hips wide and wild and when she spun the stick the flaming marshmallow flew from the end and sailed off into the trees, missing someone’s head by centimeters.  She looked at the camera with wide eyes and a silly frown, then laughed.  “I’m sorry,” she told him hands raised and he lifted his bottle of brew to her to assure her it was all right.

             
“That was a good dance,” the camera man said.

             
“You liked it?” she asked him coyly.

             
“I thought it had potential,” he answered.

             
She loaded three marshmallows onto each end of her stick and said, “Here, maybe this time it’ll stay.”

             
The other girl from the pool came around to help her and got a stick of her own.  “Ready?” Rain asked.

             
“No,” the girl replied adjusting her marshmallows, then said, “Alright, go,” and they plunged their sticks into the flames, one end then the other and started dancing with them.  Someone turned up some music and the girls moved with it.

             
Watching her on the video he remembered their time together in the back of his rig, the passion that boiled through her as her hips writhed against him while she whispered and nibbled his ear.  Before he knew it he was hard and in his hand, watching Rain and the other girl dance.  Soon they were facing one another, and when their marshmallows were nothing but ash they dropped the sticks.

             
The camera began to zoom in but the girls moved closer and so he stopped and backed out.  Something about two girls dancing together inspired others to fill in around the fire behind them.  A pair of guys came over to them and they exchanged a glance and decided to give them a little thrill.  The other girl snatched the sheer skirt from around Rain’s waist and she set her ass, round and firm against one of the guys groins.  The way she moved against him stirred a memory in Quey and he could almost feel her again.

             
They pushed the guys away and the girls returned to dancing with each other.

             
“You sure?” one of the guys asked.

             
The other girl pulled Rain to her and kissed her.  Rain kissed back, tongue and all, then looked over at the boys and said, “Yeah, we’re sure.”

             
The camera stayed focused on them.  Rain raised her arms above her head and her hips swirled while she turned slowly around in a circle.  He watched her waist and how it swelled at her churning hips, then found the bounce of her small breasts pressed in her bikini.  The other girl was there but went unnoticed as he came close to being finished.  Her back was to the camera and he watched the lines of her as she moved snakelike to the music but he made himself wait until she turned around again.  He saw her face, smiling and lustful, and watched how her body moved and jiggled in all the right places, then finally, as he began to spasm, he found the sensuality in her eyes.

             
He sank against the bed, drunk on shine and endorphins and watched the girls laugh.  They exchanged another kiss, this one more intimate, and a whisper before taking each other’s hand and heading away.

             
“Want I should come?” the camera man asked.

             
They looked back, exchanged a glance and then the other girl answered, “Not tonight.”

             
Quey stopped the video and went to the bathroom to clean up.  He fell asleep with the comfort of fleeting satisfaction.

Rain and Fire

             
It had been over a year since Viona’s father had showed up to take Leone away from her.  She’d passed on going home for the holidays later that year but when they came around again she couldn’t take it anymore.  She had to see her brother.

             
The train ride was agonizing.  She dreaded seeing Gren and Voz.  She dreaded seeing her father, when she thought of him now all she could see was the fury in his eyes as he’d yelled at Leone and beaten her.  She dreaded also Mr. Stone.

             
“It’s a common last name,” her father had said but they all knew.  If anyone pressed the issue he got angry, so no one ever did.  Everyone knew there was a reason they never said his first name and no one else at Blue Moon knew who he was.  It was on the news wires.  Sticklan Stone will break your bones and death will follow after.

             
Viona had a little more info on the man as well.  She knew there was no record of him anywhere in Blue Moons files, at least not under that name.  Mr. Stone, whose eyes had always lingered until she passed from sight.

             
The thought made her skin crawl.

             
The train ride, getting a cab, the ride to the house, what had been so many hours now seemed short as she stood in front of the massive double doors in the front of her father’s house.  She stood there for a long time, looking up at the house she’d once considered home.  Now the warmth associated with that word was replaced by the foreboding cold of a tomb and she felt like a ghost returning to her grave.  Finally she rang the bell and seconds later a maid answered, a young woman with dark hair who was probably years younger than she looked.

             
“Any bags?” she asked, a broken spirit in a plain dress.

             
Viona shook her head and answered, “Just the one,” holding up her small duffel bag.  When her mother had been alive the staff was different.  They looked alive and smiled from time to time.

             
Viona’s heart skipped then, and her throat tightened as Leone came around the corner.  In her mind she’d pictured seeing him again and she’d thought about stooping to hug him but over the last year and a half he’d sprouted, only nine and he was as tall as her now, though that wasn’t saying much.  “You’re so big,” she whispered to herself and her eyes shimmered.  She’d seen him on the chat screen every week but it’s not the same.  He smiled and she grinned and hurried to him and held him, laughing.  She smelled his hair and kissed his forehead and he gripped her.  His head barely fit snug under her chin as she stroked his hair.

             
She looked up from him for a moment and noticed Mr. Stone, standing at the end of the hall, watching her.  After a moment he moved along, watching until he was gone.

             
Leone started talking to her, a string of sentences that ran on from the previous and into the next about everything from school to music.  She caught as much of it as she could but most would have to be repeated later.  Apart once again, she wiped the tears from around his eyes and smiled at him as he did the same for her.  He leaned close and whispered, “You and me.”

             
She touched her forehead to his and said, “Forever.”

             
He looked at her and his eyes surprised her, they were hard.  “Find a way.”

             
Emotion swarmed her, dizzied her, and ramped her heart.  She nodded to him and he nodded back.  ‘I will.  You better,’ they conveyed through those simple gestures.

             
Terrible curiosities trembled through her mind as she began to pose a question.  “Leone is some-”

             
“There’s my girl,” Richter Crow said from the end of the hall.  He approached, a looming presence, and added, “Glad to see you decided to join us this year.”

             
Viona nodded.  “Me too.”  She found it hard to look at him without remembering how violent he’d been.  Standing this close to him made her tense.

             
“Come with me V.  Let me pour you some wine and have a chat.  Then you two can run off and have all night to catch up before your brothers arrive in the morning.”

             
Viona looked at him, surprised.  “I thought they were already here.”

             
Richter nodded.  “When you said you were willing to come this year I pushed their arrival back.  Wanted to give you two a bit of space.  Would have been more but you kept delaying.”

             
It was a jab at her, she knew, and it worked.  It stung her heart to know she could have had all week with Leone if she had just come when he originally asked.  Though if she had, would he have delayed Gren and Voz at all?  She wasn’t sure yet.

             
They were in the study and not his office, and she preferred it this way.  He poured her wine, as promised, and though she wasn’t sure what sort, it was red and dry and she liked it.  He fixed himself a Whiskey and they both sat on black leather, his was a chair and hers a sofa.

             
“I used to love this room when I was little,” she said allowing the first sips of wine to lead her into nostalgia while she scanned the shelves of books and statues and awards and other trinkets of elegance.

             
Richter smiled, “You weren’t supposed to be in here when you were little.”

             
She smiled, “I’m not sure I’m supposed to be in here now.”

             
They shared a chuckle and a bit of the mistrust dispelled.  She remembered what he was like when she was young again, as opposed to the angry thing that kicked her ass and took her s… err brother.  It was hard to remember that distinction sometimes.

             
“My little girl,” he sighed, maybe with a bit of his own nostalgia.  Viona looked at him.  “I regret…” his voice trailed off.  It’s hard for a man like Richter Crow to admit he might have been wrong.  “I regret the way things have gotten between us.  And I know you love Leone.  I appreciate that, believe me, I do.  Part of me even thinks maybe I should just let you,” he trailed off.

             
Viona sat up slightly, eyes wide and heart speeding.

             
“I just can’t,” he finished.  “Its true, that Gren and Voz hold a higher place with me, that Leone will never be privy to the business of Blue Moon and running a world but maybe that’s why I can’t let him go.  Because he’s the one who’s separate from it and reminds me there’s a world outside.”

             
Viona’s eyes sank to her glass and she took a long drink while she fought the urge to cry.  ‘All I want for Christmas,’ she thought briefly.

             
“But I also don’t want us to be the way we’ve been this last year and some months,” he continued.  “I just hope we can put all that behind us.”

             
Swallowing hard, she began to nod, trying to deal with the heartbreak she felt.  She would have given anything to have him say, ‘When you go take Leone with you.’

             
“I’ve always been able to talk to you,” she began, not thinking just speaking.  “Gren and Voz used to hate the way I had your ear.  I knew it was wrong to try and keep him, that you would be angry.  I even thought you’d probably come and take him eventually but,” she stopped.  “I love him dad,” she said, eyes meeting his for the first time since she’d rung the bell.  “Not like a sister loves a brother either, I mean I LOVE him.”  She took a long sip of wine and Richter remained silent.  “And you made it that way.  You put it on me.”

             
He nodded slowly, somberly.

             
She went on.  “Before you showed up I knew you’d be angry but I thought I’d be able to talk to you.  Before you showed up I didn’t even consider you’d be able to,” she trailed off, “do that,” she finished.  “Then to cut me off like that, to not let him visit at all and limit our time on chat,” her agitation rose through the sentence and culminated in the way she picked up the bottle of wine and poured a second glass.  “I mean fuck.”

             
“I wanted to get you to come back.  Wanted to-”

             
“Ask!” she shouted.  “I mean fuck dad, just ASK!”  She drank from her glass, long and deep.  “I didn’t come home last year because of that shit.  Oh, I hated you.”  His eyes found her and there was a bit of hurt in them.  “That’s right, I fucking hated you.  I hated you all the way up until you told me Gren and Voz weren’t here so I could have time with him.  You understand that?  Do you get it?”  She finished her second glass of wine in a long gulp and continued under the courage it provided.  “I tried to give up.  I tried to tell myself that I’d lost him forever but you know what I learned?”  He didn’t respond.  “I can’t do that.  I would burn this whole world down for him.  You understand?”

             
Looking at her, at the calm certainty in her eyes he realized he’d seen a similar look before.  It was in Sticklan Stone.  He nodded.  “I don’t want to keep you from him anymore.  I just… you can’t have him.”

             
She took a long breath and nodded.  “Transfer me to Saffron U.”

             
He was shaking his head.  “You don’t understand.  I can’t have you here.”

             
She glared at him, “Why?”

             
He looked up at her.  “It’s not safe.”

             
“But it’s safe for Leone?” she asked, brow raised.

             
He sighed long and deep.  “I can’t explain.”

             
She held up her hand, “You know what?  I don’t want you to.  I just want to know that I can see Leone again.”

             
Richter nodded.

             
“I can call him, whenever I want and him me.”

             
Another nod.

             
She glared at him.  “He can come to visit.”

             
He sighed.  “If he comes back on time.”

             
She nodded.  It was fair.

             
Joy combined with the wine she’d drunk as she walked to Leone’s bedroom with a fresh glass in her hand.  When she opened the door to his room and saw him sitting at his desk she began to laugh and cry at the same time.

             
“What happened?” he asked.

             
Viona told him but he didn’t smile.  “But I can’t go live with you?” he asked sadly.

             
She shook her head and he started to cry.  “Hey,” she said, crossing to him and sitting on the bed across from him.  “What’s up?  We get to see each other again.  We can call whenever we want.  I’m sure you’ll visit anytime there’s a school break unless it’s a holiday and then I’ll come here.”

             
He looked up at her with fearful eyes that seemed to tremble.  For the first time since he was a baby he looked really small to her.

             
“Leone,” she said, her voice firm and terrified at the same time.  “You tell me what’s going on.”

             
He swallowed hard and replied, “He hurts me.”

             
Her heart sank as her eyes widened and she asked, “Who?”

             
“Stone.”  It was a whisper that gently flowed from his lips, a sound a pin dropping could have drowned.

             
She nodded slowly and thought of stabbing the man in the neck with a knife.  “Where?” she asked, trying to hold together.

             
Leone took off his shirt and Viona’s heart raced, her eyes flooded and rage boiled through her.  He had cuts and bruises all over his torso.  Suddenly something occurred to her and, trembling, she asked, “Does dad know?”

             
Leone nodded slowly.  “I don’t know for sure but I think he tells him to.  Stone says it’s for my own good.  Says I’m too soft.”

             
She was rocking on the bed, eyes far away, lost in a deep thought.  She wanted to kill them all.  She knew that would be stupid.  There was a smart way to go about this, but one thing was sure, the deal she’d made with her father, not even an hour old, was shit out the window.

             
Eyes full of tears he looked up at her and pleaded, “Please Viney, you have to do something.”  Then he wept and she pulled him against her and caressed his back like she did when he was a toddler and lay back on the bed with him while she plotted.

             
When Leone’s tears had run dry Viona tried to focus on something good.  She asked him about school and friends, teased him about girls he might like in his class.  It was good to see him smile, and it made her smile.  Five minutes after he was asleep she tucked the blankets around him and exited the room.