Master of None by Sonya Bateman

that didn’t matter. I only kept stealing because I didn’t know how to do anything else.
    “I took an out-of-town gig when I bailed on you,” I finallysaid. “Thought it’d be best to lay low for a while. Figured you could take care of yourself.”
    Jazz made a thick sound, not quite clearing her throat. “Where’d you go, Mars?”
    “No, Canada.” At the time, it was the most desolate place I could think of that was still habitable, and I’d wanted to get as far from humanity as possible, before I screwed anyone else over.
    “Is that where you found him?” Jazz indicated the still-slumbering djinn with a jerk of her head.
    I laughed. “No. He found me. I’ve tried to steer clear of partners, ever since . . . the thing with Lark.”
    “The hookup out in Fremont? What’d you do to him?”
    “You mean he didn’t spread the word? Thought he’d have a contract out on me by now.” I returned my attention to the window. This was one conversation I didn’t want to have.
    Jazz had other ideas. “What happened, Donatti?”
    “Nothing.” I clenched a fist. “Just me being me. I fucked up.”
    “Fine. Don’t tell me.”
    I groaned. One of the few things I’d learned about women was when they said something was fine, they actually wanted to rip your entrails out and strangle you with them. “We hit a place up in Albany,” I said. “Some Egyptian artifact—you know that stuff he collects. He was hot for this one. Practically drooling over it.”
    “I didn’t know Lark went out on active gigs. Isn’t he a techie?”
    “Yeah. But he wanted to be there, and I thought I could handle it.” I let out a shaking breath. “The place was wired to hell and back. Lark broke through everything in less than three, and we had a fifteen-minute window. I figured we’d make it in five, with two of us. So I brought him in.”
    “Jesus Christ.”
    I gave a weak laugh. “Seemed like a good idea at the time,” I said. “It should’ve been a simple in-and-out. I’d canvassed the place myself, but I missed something in the sweep. One lousy sensor, hooked to a separate rinky-dink tertiary system. Goddamned alarm sounded like a cheap doorbell. But it still triggered a downline. Everything sealed off before I could even remember where the entrance was.”
    Jazz shook her head. “You didn’t have a backup?”
    “Lark was the backup. At least, he would’ve been, if I’d left him outside.” My stomach clenched at the memory of what had happened next, but my mouth went ahead and spilled. “I brought us out on the roof. Didn’t know there was a little construction going on up there. And. . . well, Lark isn’t exactly sure-footed. I was helping him cross some open beams, and I kind of dropped him. Two stories.”
    “My God,” Jazz whispered. “You didn’t . . .”
    “No. He survived. I scaled down the back while the cops swarmed the front and dragged him into the van we were using. Drove him to the hospital. Told them we’d been out drinking, and he took a header down some stairs on his way to piss.” I couldn’t look at her anymore. “They told me his spine was damaged. That he might never walk again. I stuck around until he regained consciousness, and he gave me one chance to live. He said if he ever saw me again, he’d kill me. So I left.”
    No,
I countered silently.
I didn’t just leave. I ran
. From Lark, from the life and the guilt. From her and from myself. But I still hadn’t managed to get rid of me.
    “When did this happen?” Jazz asked after a moment’s silence.
    “Two days before I planned to hook up with you.”
    She didn’t react to the admission, but I suspected she’d formed her own opinion of my actions. Coward, she probably thought, or worse. The truth was that I hadn’t wanted anything to happen to her because of me. I didn’t want to ruin her life—or anyone else’s—the way I had ruined Lark’s.
    Apparently, I’d done it anyway. I left her alone to raise a child