Saw a pack of Animals hovering around outside as we pulled up – good sign we’re in the right place, I guess. Though I didn’t expect them to be all the way out here. Normally they’re much farther south – were they encroaching onto 6th Street turf as well now? Here I thought they had enough problems with the Voodoo Boys, or what’s left of them after I mopped up Pacifica.

  River and I both parked alongside each other on the curb directly across from where I first met Panam, a funny coincidence. “Guess this is an Animals club,” I told River over the phone, “Take it you didn’t know?”

  “Nah, guess we’ll just have to rub their bellies, not expose our necks,” he chuckled slightly to himself, “Well, not like we have a warrant. You be alright?”

  “Won’t be a problem,” I said reassuringly, reaching into my trunk and getting my equipment, “I’ll let you know if I need any backup. In the meantime, I’ll need you to stay outside and tell me if anyone pulls up. It’s a club, so I’m expecting visitors at some point.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” River’s voice was tinged with that determination again. He seemed to be the sort of person with a good grasp of where his ‘on/off switch’ is, in a sense. I can tell he means business when he wants to, but I also have no doubt that he’d make for a good partner to a special someone. That’s a rare trait to find among NCPD’s ranks – a fair, honest guy. I didn’t know they existed.

  Alright, game-face back on, V. Let’s think for a second.

  Animals den… I’d probably be able to get in just straight-up if I told them I hit the Shaman. I’m sure they were gunning for her for far longer than I was, would probably receive a hero’s welcome, heh. But, as it stands today, it might be best if I not tempted fate by simply walking up to the front door wearing my noh mask and demanding entry. Even if I’d be allowed in there, I’m sure they’d see to it that any evidence is well-hidden before I reached the scene.

  “Hm, left a side door unlocked,” I told River over our phone call, “Someone’s getting sloppy with security.”

  “Alright, whaddyou see from your side?”

  “Looks like an open skylight. Highlighted in yellow. Probably a trap, but might as well check it out anyway.” This whole place certainly wasn’t big enough to house a raging club full of Animals, at least not outside of earshot. I might not have the best hearing in the world, but I probably should’ve detected some sort of commotion.

  That leaves me with three options. First is that River’s contact was jerking us off, which is a definite possibility, just leading us to an Animals den for the fun of it. Second was that the club was underground or in some sort of soundproofed area, also likely. Third is that it’s shut down, which wouldn’t make sense if there are still guards here. I guess there’s also the possibility that the place just wasn’t a club at all. Red Queen’s Race could be anything. A bar, an armory, a fighting ring, who the fuck knows. Guess we’ll find out.

  “Hm…” I hummed, “Looks like this place used to be a body shop, once upon a time… I see containers strewn all over the place. Bunch are in a large pile in the middle of the warehouse. Looks like a chop shop used to transport cars.”

  “Nah, club’s here, I’m tellin’ ya,” River restated, his voice gritty and full of fire.

  “Oh? Cop’s intuition?”

  “Somethin’ like that,” he joked.

  Well, that leaves exactly one place to store such a facility, inside of the pile of shipping containers. Bet one was likely to have a doorway leading inside. Such a trite and predictable location, but these things are predictable for a reason.

  Looks like four Animals on the main floor… easy enough to avoid.

  I slipped down to the first floor once the two within immediate eyesight had their backs turned, gently prying open the doors and letting myself in. Heh, guess the second guess was right. A literal underground club… how about that.

  The passageway was lit by fluorescent red lighting, leading to a lonely elevator descending into who-knows-where. They certainly put the money and time into building this place… it was no cheap, ad-hoc piece thrown together for a bachelor party. The guards outside, the disguised exterior… what the hell was Rhyne doing here, anyway?

  Actually, now that I think about it, what was he doing here? It’s not like this place could possibly offer anything that Lizzie’s was missing, maybe besides free muscle grafting and steroid pumps. Maybe the guy just had a really eclectic taste in music, or maybe some lost flame was here. Who knows. It certainly feels iffy from where I’m standing, though. This guy could’ve gone to Riot, Tech Noir, the Gates of Hell, anywhere but here. Rhyne never struck me as that big of an idiot, certainly not pre-war Rhyne. Maybe he was lured here…? Who’s to say? Guess I’ll find out in a few minutes.

  Errant thoughts invaded my mind in the elevator. Jackie? Why am I still doing this shit…? Accepting jobs in the vain hope that something will change, that tomorrow will be a better day. Is this what you wanted? Or did you just want to run your bar in peace? What will it take for me to find that peace, if I even can, or should I just say fuck it and work until I drop dead like every other corpo out there?

  An old friend used to tell me that life was a series of baby steps. You don’t really notice the changes, large or small. They simply happen all around you, but you’re carried along like a bird on a gentle spring breeze. Perhaps, then, I’m expecting too much. Perhaps I’m expecting a tempest when I should be focused on lesser– no, on, more important… Fuck. Alright, put that thought on hold. Here we go…

  “Alright, I’m in,” I whispered to River, noting a security booth to my right and immediately diving in. Man, this place is a mess… looks like a basic skeleton crew was here, cleanup duty, most likely. No wonder why I didn’t hear anything from up top or see any guests. “I’ll have a look out for an office of some sort, see if I can piece together what went down here…”

  “Sounds like you know what you’re doin’, mind me askin’ if you were law enforcement back in Japan?” River asked me with genuine curiosity.

  “No– well, not exactly,” I answered honestly, “Talk later.”

  The main floor was in shambles. Easy enough to sneak around these people – only two of them, plus a smattering of cameras. Likely there might be three or four in offices or booths having a grand old time, plus a boss overseeing the whole affair, someone who knew what happened. That’s my priority.

  Second story housed the bar, oh… Oh, nice. Single-malt, 23 years old. They may be gangers, but they have good taste, that’s for sure, I’ll have me some of that… Nice Sain Russeau as well. Hmph, pity I didn’t bring my backpack. I’m gonna have to offload this whole joint bottle by bottle. Normally clubs sell that watered down shit, this is properly fancy. I guess it’s needed for Animals, considering they’re so hopped up on whatever the fuck that they can’t taste anything but the best.

  Looks like someone else has the same idea… Don’t come this way, don’t come this way… I really don’t want to turn this place into a bloodbath if I can help it. I have no beef with the Animals. I never really did, unless they fuck around. Which they’ve been known to do, like any other gang, but a lot less… intensely.

  This pack could be different, though. Animals tend to operate in independent cells that they call ‘packs,’ each one with very different philosophies. I took down a pack that had raided this factory where people were protesting for better working conditions. What a fucking joke in this city. Pity none of them survived by the time I made it there… If only the call came in an hour earlier.

  These goons, I’m not so sure. From what I’ve seen, all they’re doing is running an underground BD club. Not really grounds to have one’s head cut off. Of course, that’s provided that none of them killed the late Mayor. I had no love for him, either, at least not now – but I don’t need an oracle’s vision to see a Militech raid in this place’s near future if I’m proven right.

  More of the same in the next room… Just more condensed. Seems that there are two stories of pure BD viewing booths, with little in the way of anything else. Interesting service for the Animals to provide – usually this was the Mox’s thing. Judy would certainly back me up on that. But the illicit BD market is a lucrative one, and everyone’s gotta eat, I guess.

  Interesting… One of the cameras seems to be out. Or down for maintenance – in either case, it isn’t moving. Positioned just outside of the hottest BD booth in here. I’m willing to bet that Rhyne spent more than a few times inside this very booth, watching God-knows-what on any number of illicit scrolls.

  Why he would go out of his way for this crap instead of just enjoying it in the comfort of his office, I have no idea. It’s not like anyone would tell him off for it. But I’m not one to question.

  What’s in here, anyway… Hmph. Looks like any other BD booth to me. Graffiti on the walls, the stench of piss and booze filling the air, blinding neon lights everywhere… I swear, these places are the literal opposite of sensory deprivation tanks. Staying in one of these without a wreath on is an almost guaranteed epileptic seizure waiting to happen.

  Looks like someone left their BD wreath on the couch. An odd place to see one, considering you’re generally gonna take the thing back home with you, or return it if you borrowed it from the place. Also strange to see random food containers strewn about the place, even by these standards. It’s not exactly a welcoming vibe to give to new customers. Nah, something doesn’t add up here… It feels heavy. If Rhyne died, this was the place. But how, exactly…?

  Let’s go check the feeds and see if they provide any more information. I doubt it – no cameras in here, certainly any footage would’ve long-since been scrubbed. But I won’t know until I try. Now, where is that office…

  Ah, there we go, just outside to the left. And it looks like it’s occupied by the boss as well, perfect…

  I drew Shinden before opening the door with an audible hissing sound, drawing the man’s attention straight away. I’m not sure whether he was stunned or terrified – either way, it’s clear he didn’t expect visitors, certainly not one with a hefty sword. Throwing all my body weight into it was enough to collapse him instantly, striking his temple with the flat of the blade so hard that blood shot out of his ear. I quickly followed up with a bash to his sternum, knocking the wind out of him before he could recover, pulling back and leveling the sword with his head.

  “Tell me what happened here,” I demanded, “Rhyne’s death a week ago. Talk.”

  “Mm-mmphhhphhh…” he coughed and hacked, trying desperately to get any air into his lungs again as he coughed up blood all over the carpet, “W-we weren’t th-there… J-just cleanup c-crew…”

  Fuck… Figures. Odd that they’re still here after all this time. It’s been a whole-ass week. “Alright, stay right there,” I ordered him, “I hope you don’t mind me looking through your files. If I don’t see anything worth my time, I’ll start with your legs. Feel free to scream at that point. I can use the rest of your crew, one of them might be a little more talkative.”

  Hm… First email shows some promise. Something about ‘Our Friend’ showing up after a rather significant event. Rhyne, presumably. Apparently this club’s getting more popular with VIPs as well…

  Second email’s even juicier. “Weldon - shit's fucked six ways to Sunday. Rhyne might be dead. I mean, pretty sure he's definitely dead. He came here, went straight to his booth. Nobody besides him, swear to god. But after five hours I was like, what the hell? Usually only stays for two. So I go in to look and fuck me the guy's flatlined. The fuck am I supposed to do now?”

  So the Animals didn’t do this on purpose? Then it really was a heart attack? No… no, I don’t buy that… No mention of drugs or anything else in these messages, either. Looks like the deputy mayor covered it up, too, had all the footage destroyed. Then refused to pay the Animals.

  “Sending you these messages,” I told River while looking over at my friend to ensure he’s still cooperating, “Let me get this straight, then. Rhyne walks into this shitty little club looking for a good time, goes into a back room presumably to watch a BD, doesn’t come out. The Animals are just as surprised as you and I are. So they call in the heavy-hitters because the last thing they need is all that heat on this place…”

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “Lookin’ for footage, V,” River instructed me, “Footage above God.”

  “Alright, uh…” I scrolled through various files before finding the latest on that one camera that was suspiciously turned off, “River…?”

  “What?”

  “It’s… your friend.” There was Han, clear as day, the detective sitting across from River in the coffee shop. Let’s rewind, see what he’s saying…

  “Yep, stiff as a board. You ask me, he’s been dead at least an hour,” Han told someone over a cellphone, “No, no Trauma card… guess he didn’t bring it on purpose… Club like this, you wouldn’t want TT bangin’ down the door while you’re bangin’ away and things start to hear up… Heart, probably… Must’ve gotten a little too heavy and messy…” Suddenly a corpse comes into view, already neatly packed away into a black body bag. Rhyne, I presume? “Okay, yeah… Let’s do that. Coroner’ll find him at home… I’ll tell him how to write it up. ‘Died in his sleep, quiet as a baby.’ Boys’re getting him outta here. Course nobody’ll find ‘em. No way… Yep… Yes, alright. I’ll buzz you later.”

  “You get all that, River?” I asked as I stepped over the fallen Animal and headed upstairs.

  “Shit… I… um… Get outta there, V,” he replied in a state of panic, though I was already way ahead of him, “I’m gonna tell ‘im to meet us at Chubby’s. And we’re goin’ straight there.”

  “Sure,” I confirmed, looking back at the Animal still lying there, “You can get up now, man,” I said politely, “Thanks for the information.”

  –

  River and I both had a quick nap in our cars, not fully realizing just how late it actually was. He called Han at the absolute crack of dawn, 5 AM, just after the sun rose and the morning dew was still settled over the bay. At this point, I didn’t really have much of a horse left in the race and probably could’ve left River to his own devices, but I figured I’d see it through regardless.

  Han pulled up about ten minutes later – I guess he lives close by. Or he works the night shift. Either way, he was sporting probably the most stereotypical detective getup I think I’ve ever seen, trench coat and all. I don’t understand these people and their fucking coats. Even at this early hour, it’s already like 30 degrees outside, how the fuck do you people do it? I mean, sure, maybe they have coolant implants, but damn, talk about style over substance.

  “Hmph, nice car, too,” Detective Han motioned over to Miyoko as he got out of his unmarked cruiser, “See you’re still hangin’ out with this punk, though.”

  “Shut it, Harold,” River snapped back, “I know what you did. Not about to ask why you covered it up. Not even why you jumped into this mess to begin with. Just wanna know – who gave the order?”

  Han ripped out a smoke and casually lit up, ignoring his question for a cool ten seconds while River paced around like a caged animal. “What’s it matter, River? Why d’you even care? Your conscience is clear, you can sleep at night. Ya know why? Cause I took all the responsibility. You got no idea how this city works. Think your goddamn inspirational idealist bullshit actually means something?” he shook his head, “It doesn’t. Never did. And don’t look at me like that, merc. You know I’m right.”

  “Right or wrong, it’s not my problem,” I told him bluntly, “Don’t pretend like you need my approval to justify your own corrupt practices.”

  “Then why the fuck are you even here, then?” he asked me with an unsurprising amount of rudeness.

  “Because River and I have something in common – we both require closure,” I replied more flatly this time, “Without that, people like him can’t sleep at night.”

  “Well boo-hoo. Let me give you a free piece of advice,” he said as he stomped out the cigarette butt, “If you’re driving to your house, walkin’ and talkin’ at the end of the day, got no reason to look the gift horse in the mouth. And if gettin’ there means following orders, then I’ll follow ‘em to the letter. You oughta try doin’ the same every once in a while, Ward. Might learn that your insomnia’s not so bad when you’re sleepin’ in a comfy bed and not some broken-down old trailer.”

  “Preciate the help, V, but this ain’t your biz,” River interjected, “I’ll take care of this.”

  “How’re you gonna do that?” Han looked at him incredulously, “What, you gonna arrest me?”

  “Got a scroll, got your motive, got a confession. So yeah, I might,” River replied through a toughened voice, “But it wouldn’t make much sense. You don’t even gotta say who ordered it, because I know anyway. So since our brass’s fingers are all over this, that means I gotta take it to Internal.”

  “They won’t do a thing, either,” Han brushed the air dismissively, “They’ll put you in their sights though… Look, just go home, wherever it’s parked right now. And go get some sleep. You’ll feel better about all this in the afternoon. I mean, that’s my plan.”

  With that, Han got back into his car and sarcastically waved at us as he drove off. Normally I’m not really one to care that much, but I really cannot stand conceited assholes like that. Apparently neither can River, as he found his way to the flood wall, leaning over the side and looking more morose than ever. All I heard as I approached was a silent, “Fuck…” over the idle sound of the water below.

  “So, what now?” I asked him as I approached.

  “I dunno…” River shook his head pensively, “I can’t let this go… No, I won’t.”

  “I’m no detective, but I think there’s more than enough here to get it reopened, at least,” I told him with a slight shrug, leaning up against the wall beside him, “What do you think happened, anyway?”

  “Holt murdered Rhyne. Wanted his seat, his authority. Oldest, tritest trick in the book. That’s why I believe it,” he sighed and stared off into the fog bank, “Probably got a spiked drink or BD. Maybe a virus, I’m not sure… Did you see anything at all in that room?”

  “Both, actually,” I said honestly, “There was a BD wreath on the couch with a scroll still in it, spilled food everywhere, too. No blood, though.”

  “Hmph, weird…” he lost himself in thought, “I’m gonna go head back, see if I can get that wreath. Give you a call later, tell you how it went.”

  “Sure thing,” I nodded, “I should call the Peralez’s. Tell them what happened. Good luck, okay?”

  “Yeah, you too.”

  Looking back, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the guy. Talk about fighting a Sisyphean battle. Just constantly rolling that boulder up the hill over and over and over again, only for the NCPD to push it right back down. I wonder when he’ll ask himself if it’s worth continuing on, if he ever gets to that point.

  “River!” I called out to him, “Be safe!”

  “You too,” he returned the courtesy, and I jumped in my car and dialed Elizabeth’s number.

  Sure enough, she invited me straight over. No hassle, no conversation. A welcome break, if ever there was one. I told her I was going to put on something more fitting and be over in about an hour or so, traffic notwithstanding. I guess it’s time to see how the one percent of Night City live…

  –

  The fog gave way to pouring rain halfway to her house; luckily I brought my backup umbrella. I really should go back to that warehouse and retrieve my other one, if it’s even still there. These oiled paper umbrellas are not cheap. Hell, some guard probably found it and hocked it for a few tens-of-thousands of eddies. Oh well, good for them, I guess.

  Huh, didn’t even need to bring it, as it turned out – the entrance to the apartment was beneath a pedestrian walkway. That’s convenient. Man, this place is huge, though… The building must be about 50 stories high. This is an apartment building? It looks more like a lavish hotel. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, all things considered, but still. You don’t earn a place like this unless you have proper drug and/or corruption money, that’s for sure.

  What’s funny is that a lot of people would probably assume that all samurai live like this back home, but that’s far from the truth. I have a particularly well-off family, and even with my father’s funding, we have a manor that’s only one story, just spread out laterally. Of course, Dad still has to house all the servants, so there’s that, too. For that, he built a barracks-like servants’ quarters, and it’s nicer than the shanties we found them in, that’s for damn sure. But this… This was on another level. Literally another level, as it turned out – Peralez buzzed me in to the penthouse. Of course, why wouldn’t they live in the penthouse…

  Man, the lobby even smells like actual ‘ganic produce. I wouldn’t be surprised if they laced the ventilation with some sort of fragrance, but whatever it is, it’s lovely. Having someone actually living here frankly doesn’t compute well in my brain. Maybe it’s just the perks of the job, but I doubt that. You need to be born into this life to even get the job in the first place. I spent a decade busting my ass and barely got a third of the way up the Tower; this guy was maybe ten years older than me and already had his own penthouse. Fuck that.

  Tch… There I go again. Jealousy. Is that you, Johnny? It wouldn’t surprise me if it was.

  Just like that, guess who suddenly appeared… “Just gonna tell ya one thing,” Johnny started.

  “No, Johnny, I won’t bomb this building, sorry,” I joked, hitting the elevator call button.

  “Shit, there goes that plan,” he rolled his eyes at me, reappearing in the elevator proper as it arrived, “Nah, was sayin’, whatever you do, don’t get involved. This muck runs deeper’n ya think.”

  I fixed my kimono’s obi and pensively swung my jaw from side to side. “Funny story. Once upon a time, someone tried to sue my father for putting nanites in the water. They claimed he was turning people into AI puppets.”

  “Uh-huh,” Johnny groaned passive-aggressively.

  “Look, people come up with wild conspiracy theories all the time. No matter what I tell these people, that won’t change anything. Best just to be honest, give ‘em all the facts, then get the fuck out, that’s my plan,” I told him definitively.

  “Just makin’ sure your head’s on straight,” he crossed his arms, eyeballing me from head to toe, “Not been the most rational person lately.”

  I placed both hands on my hips, staring right back at him. “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean–” Ah, elevator’s stopping… Right… “Nevermind, we’ll discuss this later.”

  “Fine, not like ya listen anyway,” he said with an irritated scoff as the doors opened, revealing Elizabeth standing at attention to greet me.

  The wealthy businesswoman gave me a courteous bow as I stepped into the penthouse suite, dressed impeccably and wearing picture-perfect makeup and contouring. Her pronounced cheekbones looked straight off a Greek statue. That woman was the closest thing to a walking painting on this side of the Pacific, a perfect complement to Jefferson, who was just as flawless. I wonder how much of that is down to genetics. If their looks are even ninety percent natural, their children will walk the Earth as gods.

  “V, welcome,” she smiled as I returned the bow, “Please, make yourself at home– Oh, no need to take off your footwear.”

  “You sure?” I asked out of concern.

  “Mhm, come with me.” Well she’s certainly unorthodox.

  The hallway was lined with gorgeous paintings, mostly oil on canvas by the look of it. I could hear distant classical music playing, with a grand piano resting in the far end of my view. God, this place was gorgeous… “You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Peralez,” I smiled at her, “Thank you for your generous hospitality.”

  “Thank you for your politeness,” she returned the gesture, “I was not expecting a mercenary to be so courteous. You seem well-versed in these affairs.”

  “Eh, another lifetime,” I replied half-jokingly, “Funny, the roads that our journeys take us.”

  “Thankfully this one’s nearing its end,” Elizabeth said with a deep sigh, turning the corner at the end of the hallway. The whole place opened up into a massive promenade – this wasn’t a living room, it was an apartment unto itself. Hell, this place was larger than some ballrooms I’ve been in. I also noted some stairs outside – I assume there’s a second story, just as large and grandiose as the first in every way.

  “Claude Debussy’s Clair de Lune,” I noted as I passed by the grand piano, a vintage Yamaha by the look of it.

  “Ah, and a good ear, too,” Elizabeth complimented, “You like it? Jefferson selected it. Oh, would you care for any refreshments?”

  “Some tea would be lovely, actually,” I asked politely, heading up the stairs to the landing that made up one of two or more living areas. Probably more – I had no doubt there was at least one more upstairs, plus the two I can already see down here. Just one of these platforms was large enough to dwarf my apartment. This place unquestionably costs a mid six-figure sum per month for several years, easily.

  “No problem, what would you like?” she asked me while heading over to the bar.

  “I would love some sencha hibiscus, if you have any,” I requested with a massive grin on my face.

  “Mm, you like tart flavors too, huh?” she looked back and nodded, “Sure, hang on.”

  Part of me was a little put off by their generosity. It didn’t necessarily feel ‘fake,’ per se… It felt… uncanny? My mother would offer her guests tea all the time, granted. My father would mostly ignore anyone not directly related to his work, family included, leaving us both as the main proprietors. I vividly remember my mother performing this ‘circus act,’ as I once called it in my teens, greeting guests for a party with this faux smile on her face. I knew it surface-level because I have seen her genuinely smile exactly one time in my entire life.

  These people, though? Their kindness doesn’t strike me as an act. At least, not on the surface. I’m not entirely certain of this sort of etiquette. How do I react, what do I say? Here I am, having been invited into this woman’s house, a woman easily worth ten times my value, and she’s preparing me warm tea. Not a servant, not a bot, she’s doing it with a kettle while pouring herself a glass of whiskey. I’m stunned.

  “Here,” she handed me the cup, “As thanks for going out of your way with the detective.”

  “Of course… Hmm… mmmhh…” Oh my God, this is delicious… “Oh– okay, excuse me, what did you put in this, it tastes wonderful.”

  “Heh, you like it?” she gave me a warm, genuine smile to match the absolute treat that was this cup of tea, “The trick is a cold brew. Let the leaves sit for about twelve hours, then steep the hibiscus and blend it together.”

  “Mm… And these are all organic leaves?” I asked after having another sip.

  “Naturally,” she nodded as Jefferson came walking in behind her.

  “Ah, V… I see you’re enjoying my wife’s confectionaries,” he interrupted with a lovely smile of his own, “She used to work as a bartender, once upon a time.”

  “Mmh… No kidding,” I licked my lips and set down the empty cup, “Anyway, onto business?”

  “Indeed. Elizabeth tells me you have answers for us?” Jefferson asked, leaning forward as his wife took a seat on the back of the couch behind him. I swear, this couple looked like they were carved out of marble.

  “I do,” I nodded, “River and I traced the death to a club called Red Queen’s Race, the one I mentioned before. Rhyne was a regular VIP there, and he paid the club a visit the night he died. The Animals who ran the joint found him dead in a BD booth – River is going back there to investigate the exact cause. But what we know right now is that the NCPD covered it up and made it look like an accident, which according to logs I found on the computer, was all done at the request of one Weldon Holt.”

  “So Holt is behind this?” Jefferson shouted, “I knew it, the fuck…” Wow… That’s a change of pace if ever I saw one…

  “We don’t have anything definitive,” I elaborated, “Just have Holt connected to the crime scene. We suspect there’s a murder, just waiting on the murder weapon to turn up.”

  “That’s good enough for me,” Elizabeth chimed in, “We’ll have to keep a close eye on Holt. And up our security.”

  “You’re right… as usual,” Jefferson smiled, stroking his wife’s arm, “Your fee, V.”

  “Actually, I had another request…” I interrupted before he could wire me the money, “I’ll take a hefty discount, on one condition…”

  “Oh…?” Elizabeth raised a curious eyebrow.

  “Can you give me your tea supplier…?”

  –

  “Faster,” Mom instructed, “Keep the wrist unlocked. Otherwise the recoil will snap your bones.”

  “Mom…?” I asked in a shy voice, setting down the bokken for a second, “What’s your favorite song?”

  “What?” Mom asked me incredulously.

  “A song… I want to see you dance…” I muttered, “I’m sorry…”

  –

  Nobody in my family ever played instruments… I’m not sure if it counts that Johnny can play a guitar through me. But I’ve caught wind of music at odd hours of the night. Music that sounded just like this. A slow, rhythmic piano…

  I wonder if my mother and father ever danced to it, behind their bedroom door late at night. I wonder if she put it on because she loved it. Or if he put it on because it helped him focus.

  Could I still be a dancer…?

  Should I survive the year, I want to try. I want to smile again.