to get the guy vetted pronto, and make my way into my bedroom to crash.
Chapter Eight
When I enter the kitchen, Jonas is sitting at the table with a huge mug of coffee, an ice pack on his neck, and his head in his hands. “Hey,” I say softly. “Not doing so well?”
“Got a Hangover Zapper?” he asks, without looking up.
“Nope. Never had the need. I’ll call for one if you like.”
“Would you? That would be fantastic.” His head slips out of his hands, down to the table, and hits with a dull thud. The ice pack slides to the floor. “That’s better. One area of sharp, shooting pain instead of throbbing needles and dull ache everywhere.”
“Oh, honey, I hate to see you this way.” I pick up the ice pack and place it back on his neck.
“Jenner’s pulse-commed me fifteen times,” he says. “Or is it twenty? I’ve lost count.”
“Just turn the com off.” I reach into the cupboard for a bowl. “I don’t suppose you want anything to eat.”
“Hell, no. Just get that Hangover Zapper here soon and I’ll be fine.” He rolls his forehead side to side on the table. The ice pack drops to the floor once again.
“It doesn’t do much good on the floor.” I pick it up and set it next to him.
“It’s not doing anything on my neck.”
I shake my head and set about getting my breakfast. While I’m moseying around the kitchen, I pulse-com the pharmacy. “Can you deliver a Hangover Zapper? Rush order? Yeah, yeah, I’ll pay. Just get it over, fast.” I did just make a boatload of money. My mind drifts to the new client and his avatar. Strange guy. I make a mental note to vet him today. Find out who the hell he really is. And never talk with him again— ever. Why vet him then ?I ignore that pesky thought and pour myself a cup of tea.
“That counseling job must pay well,” Jonas mumbles from the table.
“It does.”
“I’ll pay you back. Those things are pricey.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s going to be worth it if you pitch Jenner.”
“Because you want me?”
I chuckle and take a bite of cereal. “Yeah, that’s it. I want you.”
“A guy can wish.”
The door-pulse hums and I head to answer it. The Hangover Zapper rests on the front stoop. I pick it up and wander back into the kitchen. I place it against the back of Jonas’s neck and press the on switch. A soothing trill begins, building in intensity. Blue light emanates from the Zapper. It spreads across Jonas’s head and moves through his body. It pulses orange when it finds muscles and veins that are tense, full of toxins, and sluggish. The light lingers until it’s restored to blue. Then, it seeks out the next place in need of restoration.
Within minutes, Jonas lifts his head, cocks his head left and right, and sighs. “Thanks, V. I can move again.” He regards me with his blue eyes. Once again there’s that openness. It’s like he’s inviting me in, without pressure. Letting me see him. Laying his cards out on the table, face up. Letting me see the sweet spot, that space inside that only gets revealed through intimacy.
It’s a disconcerting, beguiling expression. I’m starting to feel like a trout in a lake of possibilities, closing my mouth over that one juicy morsel attached to a hook—for me to take the bait means having to become intimate and transparent myself. Not going to happen. Good thing there’s still time to open up, let go the hook and slip away. I look away. “Hangover gone?”
“Not entirely, but it’s manageable. These things…”—he gestures to the device on the table— “aren’t that good. They can’t erase stupidity, only ease it.” He looks up at me, smiling. “Much better.”
I chew thoughtfully on my protein-and-grain snacks. Food hasn’t changed much over the years. Cereal is still cereal. This one just has added syntha-protein. “Want some?” I point to my bowl.
“Yeah, thanks. Now that the hangover has subsided, my stomach is growling.”
While I retrieve his
Chapter Eight
When I enter the kitchen, Jonas is sitting at the table with a huge mug of coffee, an ice pack on his neck, and his head in his hands. “Hey,” I say softly. “Not doing so well?”
“Got a Hangover Zapper?” he asks, without looking up.
“Nope. Never had the need. I’ll call for one if you like.”
“Would you? That would be fantastic.” His head slips out of his hands, down to the table, and hits with a dull thud. The ice pack slides to the floor. “That’s better. One area of sharp, shooting pain instead of throbbing needles and dull ache everywhere.”
“Oh, honey, I hate to see you this way.” I pick up the ice pack and place it back on his neck.
“Jenner’s pulse-commed me fifteen times,” he says. “Or is it twenty? I’ve lost count.”
“Just turn the com off.” I reach into the cupboard for a bowl. “I don’t suppose you want anything to eat.”
“Hell, no. Just get that Hangover Zapper here soon and I’ll be fine.” He rolls his forehead side to side on the table. The ice pack drops to the floor once again.
“It doesn’t do much good on the floor.” I pick it up and set it next to him.
“It’s not doing anything on my neck.”
I shake my head and set about getting my breakfast. While I’m moseying around the kitchen, I pulse-com the pharmacy. “Can you deliver a Hangover Zapper? Rush order? Yeah, yeah, I’ll pay. Just get it over, fast.” I did just make a boatload of money. My mind drifts to the new client and his avatar. Strange guy. I make a mental note to vet him today. Find out who the hell he really is. And never talk with him again— ever. Why vet him then ?I ignore that pesky thought and pour myself a cup of tea.
“That counseling job must pay well,” Jonas mumbles from the table.
“It does.”
“I’ll pay you back. Those things are pricey.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s going to be worth it if you pitch Jenner.”
“Because you want me?”
I chuckle and take a bite of cereal. “Yeah, that’s it. I want you.”
“A guy can wish.”
The door-pulse hums and I head to answer it. The Hangover Zapper rests on the front stoop. I pick it up and wander back into the kitchen. I place it against the back of Jonas’s neck and press the on switch. A soothing trill begins, building in intensity. Blue light emanates from the Zapper. It spreads across Jonas’s head and moves through his body. It pulses orange when it finds muscles and veins that are tense, full of toxins, and sluggish. The light lingers until it’s restored to blue. Then, it seeks out the next place in need of restoration.
Within minutes, Jonas lifts his head, cocks his head left and right, and sighs. “Thanks, V. I can move again.” He regards me with his blue eyes. Once again there’s that openness. It’s like he’s inviting me in, without pressure. Letting me see him. Laying his cards out on the table, face up. Letting me see the sweet spot, that space inside that only gets revealed through intimacy.
It’s a disconcerting, beguiling expression. I’m starting to feel like a trout in a lake of possibilities, closing my mouth over that one juicy morsel attached to a hook—for me to take the bait means having to become intimate and transparent myself. Not going to happen. Good thing there’s still time to open up, let go the hook and slip away. I look away. “Hangover gone?”
“Not entirely, but it’s manageable. These things…”—he gestures to the device on the table— “aren’t that good. They can’t erase stupidity, only ease it.” He looks up at me, smiling. “Much better.”
I chew thoughtfully on my protein-and-grain snacks. Food hasn’t changed much over the years. Cereal is still cereal. This one just has added syntha-protein. “Want some?” I point to my bowl.
“Yeah, thanks. Now that the hangover has subsided, my stomach is growling.”
While I retrieve his
Similar Books
