By Minim Calibre
Written for LC in the Yuletide 2007 Challenge. Originally posted here.
At first, Max just gaped. Alec couldn’t have just said what she thought he said.
Then he repeated it, and yeah, she’d heard him right the first time. She put her palms flat on the desk, careful to avoid the stacks and stacks of paperwork generated by yet another round of negotiations with the city over their right to exist, and said through gritted teeth, “No.”
“Max, Max, Maxie – hear me out.” Ingratiating smile, check. Wheedling tone of voice, check. Headache starting? Check.
“Do your ears even register the word? Two letters, first one’s N, second one’s O.”
“Max-”
“I said no, Alec.”
He shrugged. “Fine. I’ll take it to the rest of the committee.”
“Yeah, and they’ll tell you no, too, ’cause it’s a stupid idea.”
“See, Max, that’s where you’re wrong. I’ve already talked to everyone on an individual basis, and you’re the only one who has a problem with it. Everyone else sees that Terminal City needs a steady, less illegal revenue stream.”
“It’s sick. It’s humiliating. They already see us as animals, and you want to give them a petting zoo?”
“Strip club, not a petting zoo.”
“Not a lot of difference, if you ask me. Putting us on display like some kind of freak show, letting scumbag men with nothing better to do drool all over us.”
“Hey, we’ll have Ladies’ Nights. Mole’s even volunteered to be the star attraction for them. C’mon, Max. Just because you’d suck at the job is no reason for you to object to it.”
She didn’t mean to throw the binder containing the draft copy of the Terminal City rules and regulations at his head.
It just kind of happened.
“You wanna tell me what’s got you down, boo, or do I have to pull it out of you?”
Max’s shoulders slumped a little more as she stared gloomily into her nearly-empty pint of beer. “Same old, same old. Me and mine jammed into twenty blocks of no man’s land, fighting for the right to live our lives, living with daily protests and death threats, risking my life to come out and hang at Crash with my girl.”
Original Cindy poured herself a pint and pushed the rest of the pitcher in Max’s direction. “Yeah, and last time you did that, it was ’cause you and Logan broke it off for good-good, so spill.”
Max looked at the pitcher, looked at her glass, then looked back at the pitcher tipped the pitcher up to her mouth, setting it back on the table with a thud once it was empty. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and glowered. “Alec wants us to open a strip club in Terminal City. Says it’s the best way we have of making money.”
“And you came all the way out here because of that.” O.C. shook her head. “What else?”
“Mole, Dix, Luke, and the rest of the Terminal City planning committee agree with him. Even Joshua thinks it’s a good idea.”
“So transgenic boys acting like normal boys is what brings you out to Crash at risk of life and limb?”
“Not killing my committee co-chair is what brings me out to Crash. I kinda lost my temper and started throwing things.”
There was no telling how long it would take to the whole story out of Max when she was in this kind of mood. O.C. signaled the bartender for another beer and dug a little more. “Cause he proposed a strip club.”
“Cause he told me I’d suck at the job.”
That sounded like Alec. Six or seven months ago. “Thought you and pretty boy were tight since the whole siege dealio.”
“Yeah, well, lately, he’s been working my last nerve. Maybe I shouldn’t have banned him from dating. At least then he’d have something to do with his free time other than come up with new ways to piss me off.”
Damn, beer hurt going down the wrong pipe. “You did what, boo? Fool, everybody in Terminal City is hooking up. Even Doggy Dog’s found himself one fine transgenic shortie, and you told Alec he couldn’t date?”
“Alec’s love life caused enough problems at Jam Pony. Two girls getting into a catfight over him there just meant extra runs. Two X5 girls getting into it could bring the National Guard down on all our heads. We can’t afford that. Anyhow, he’s the one who agreed he wouldn’t do it. Not like I could stop him if he decided to disobey.”
“You ever stop to think why he agreed to that sorry-ass plan? You and him need to talk. A little bird told Original Cindy that things devolved into literal pigtail pulling today. I think he likes you.”
Max transferred her glower from the table to the end of one tight braid. “Joshua needs to learn to keep his trap shut,” she muttered.
“Say what you want, boo, but it sounds to me like your boy’s got it bad.”
“He’s not my boy, and it’s not like that.”
O.C. raised her eyebrows and poured herself another beer. “Maybe not for you, it’s not, but no man agrees to give up doin’ the nasty out of the kindness of his own heart.” And because she was a good friend and a fine, upstanding human being, she absolutely did not laugh when Max grabbed the pitcher again and muttered, “I know.”
Which was too bad, because if she’d been laughing, she wouldn’t have choked on her beer for a second time when Max added in a small voice, “I’m just not sure I know what I’m gonna do about it.”
Oh.
So it was like that.
“Hey, Max, can I be the bearer of bad news, or are you in a shoot the messenger kind of mood?”
She looked over at Alec, who was leaning against the doorframe with his jacket on and a bag slung over his shoulder. With a sigh, she turned back to the video screen. “Gotta blaze, Logan.” She disconnected and looked back at Alec. “Depends. What’s the emergency?”
“One of the med center generators burned out. We’ve got someone willing to sell us the parts we need, but he’s over in sector 13 and doesn’t do delivery, so you and I get to make a supply run.”
“And make our way past all the protesters and counterprotesters and news trucks?”
“You’ve got it.”
Max pulled on her coat and grabbed her bag from under the desk. “Sounds like fun. You ever think sometimes that everything was easier before the news reporters and half of Seattle stopped referring to the siege at Terminal City and started calling this place a settlement, and we could just steal what we needed from drug dealers instead of this whole legit bitch?”
“Oh, for the good old days of being hunted like animals 24/7.”
“Or blending in outside, having a life.”
“Your nostalgia’s wearing rose-colored glasses, Max. Your definition of having a life was pining over a guy you couldn’t be with. Last I checked, that hadn’t changed.”
It was a three block walk to the vehicle. Max didn’t say anything until the last of them. “You’re wrong.”
“Please, enlighten me. What am I wrong about this time?”
She unlocked the door of the battered BMW SUV and slid into the driver’s seat. “Me and Logan. The virus isn’t going anywhere any time soon, so I told him not to wait for me.”
“That’s how many times now?”
“The last time. That’s all that matters, right?”
“Yeah, and you’ll fold in a week like you always do, then it’ll be back to ‘Oh, no, woe is me, we can’t touch, but we can’t let go.’ It’s not fair to either of you, Max.”
“Not this time. Logan and me, we’re really over.”
“No offense, but I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“You’ve seen it for two months, one week, five days, and thirteen hours, give or take a couple of minutes. That enough for you, Alec?”
“I’m impressed. Not as impressed as I would be if either of you showed any sign of moving on.”
Max kept her eyes on the road. “He has.”
“Come again?”
She maneuvered the vehicle around a knot of protesters. “What, was I not speaking slow enough for you to read my lips? I said he has. Logan’s been seeing Asha.”
Alec was quiet, which was never a good sign. Finally, he cleared his throat. “What about you?”
“I guess I’m still thinking about it.”
Picking up the part for the generator was easy. Getting back to Terminal City was not.
Alec closed his cell phone and swore under his breath. “That was Mole. Some idiot fired shots, and the whole place is under lockdown.”
“One of our idiots, or one of theirs?”
“Theirs, thankfully.”
“What’s the plan?”
“Go to ground, check in again in the morning.”
Before the pulse, most of sector 13 had been one of the poorest parts of the city. Post-pulse, it was mostly abandoned. Max pulled into a dirt alley behind a row of empty shacks. “Least we’ve got plenty of crash space to choose from.”
“I say the one on the left. It looks the least like strong breeze would knock it over.”
Most of the rooms were uninhabitable, but the kitchen would do for a couple of hours. Max sat down, her arms folded loosely across her knees, the two neat braids she’d taken to wearing blending into the dark fabric of her sleeves. She was dressed, like she always was for runs, in basic black, a rectangular notch in the fabric at the nape of her neck revealing her barcode. Alec sat down next to her. “That hair makes you look twelve, you know.” It made him want to reach out and touch the exposed skin, but that was neither here nor there.
“It shows who I am.”
“It shows who you were.”
“I don’t see you laserin’ yours away.”
Instead of reaching out and touching her barcode, he reached up and touched his own. “Yeah, well, freak pride. Gotta make a statement, you know.”
“Hey, Alec?”
“What?”
Max pushed him. Hard.
“Ow! What the hell was that for?”
“For suggesting we open a strip club.” She smiled sweetly and straddled his lap. “And this-” she pushed up against him, knocking him flat on his back, “is for saying I’d make a crappy stripper.” She leaned in closer, the tips of her braids tickling his neck. Her lips brushed against his, and she was still smiling when she pulled back.
“What was that for?”
“Being a pain in my ass.”
“This mean you’re done thinking about it?”
She kissed him for real this time. “Yeah.”