in snorts.
“Nasir.” Sheeba sat up in bed.
She hadn’t been fully awake until that moment. I could sense this by the way she instantly jerked apart from Trencher and drew the covers up to her chest. Clearly, I’d rescued her just in time.
“Sheeba darling, we need you upstairs. I’m not interrupting, am I?” Though the words caught in my throat like clotted mud, I tried to sound urbane.
She pushed waxy fuchsia locks out of her eyes and sighed—with relief, I’m sure. “Give me a minute, Nass.”
‘Trencher.” I nodded in sullen greeting.
“Deepra.” He nodded back, equally grim.
When Sheeba and I were alone in the elevator, I ground my false dental implants and plotted revenge against Trencher. The worst of it was, I’d hired him. The guy had showed so much potential, I’d treated him as a friend. Now look, the dirtbag was sneaking around with my Shee—in my own condo.
Sheeba smoothed her waning pink foam to cover more of her body. “Who needs me upstairs?”
Frankly, I hadn’t considered why anyone might need Sheeba upstairs, but necessity is the mother of lies. “We’re planning a surf. You want to understand why we do it, so I thought you could listen in.”
“Oh.” She brightened and bounced on tiptoes, then stooped to kiss my cheek. “Thanks for remembering, Nass. You are totally sympathic.”
I kissed back, but in my woozy state, my lips missed her and sucked empty air.
In my absence, Verinne had rastered a virtual screen across the domed observatory ceiling, and the Agonists lay supine on couches and floor mats, gazing upward and arguing. The screen displayed a schematic view of A13, the orbiting satellite we surfers called Heaven. Blood rushed to my cheeks. Why couldn’t they forget that place? When Sheeba said, “Hello,” they sat up and scowled.
“Private session,” Kat said. “No outsiders allowed.”
Sheeba glanced at me, and her disappointment twisted my musty old heart inside out She said, “Pardon, I thought I was invited.”
“Screw you, Kat.” I drunkenly nudged Sheeba forward. “Shee’s my guest.”
“Sheeba’s a-okay with me.” Winston lifted his glass and sloshed daiquiri on my carpet.
“Too risky. This is a Class Ten surf, and she’s a freakin’ newbie.” Grunze lay back and laced his fingers behind his head.
Kat nodded. “Don’t take this to heart, Sheeba dear, but if you screw up, you’ll put the entire crew in danger.”
Sheeba lowered her voice. “I’m not your danger, Kat.”
“Leave her alone. She’ll do just fine,” I said without thinking. Never had it occurred to me that Sheeba might join our war surf. I’d brought her here to listen—to get her away from that Trencher slime. But I’d had too much to drink, and when my friends started razzing her, of course I took her side. “Sheeba’s in ”
“Beau.” She pushed my weaving hand away. “If they don’t want me—”
“But I want you, dear. Please stay.”
As she tilted her head back and studied the projection on the ceiling, her eyes got that twinkly transcendent gleam, and I knew more spiritual fizz was about to bubble forth. Sure enough, she breathed almost reverently and said, “This may be the dark canal.”
I glared at the crew. “Sheeba’s my guest. Any objections?’
My challenge was potent, because they were all my guests, eating my food, drinking my booze—not just at this party but at all the parties. I played host every time. My condo was the staging ground for all our surfs. Not only that, I underwrote our Web site and paid for our teleconference minutes. The others were cheapskates.
Kat flushed purple and lay back to study the ceiling screen. “It’s a stupid idea, Nass. Whatever happens, it’s on your head.”
Grunze was already drawing laser highlights on the schematic, tracing our proposed route. In a sour tone, he said, “Just keep her outta my way, sweetheart.”
Verinne said, “You’ll have to outfit her. She doesn’t have any
“Nasir.” Sheeba sat up in bed.
She hadn’t been fully awake until that moment. I could sense this by the way she instantly jerked apart from Trencher and drew the covers up to her chest. Clearly, I’d rescued her just in time.
“Sheeba darling, we need you upstairs. I’m not interrupting, am I?” Though the words caught in my throat like clotted mud, I tried to sound urbane.
She pushed waxy fuchsia locks out of her eyes and sighed—with relief, I’m sure. “Give me a minute, Nass.”
‘Trencher.” I nodded in sullen greeting.
“Deepra.” He nodded back, equally grim.
When Sheeba and I were alone in the elevator, I ground my false dental implants and plotted revenge against Trencher. The worst of it was, I’d hired him. The guy had showed so much potential, I’d treated him as a friend. Now look, the dirtbag was sneaking around with my Shee—in my own condo.
Sheeba smoothed her waning pink foam to cover more of her body. “Who needs me upstairs?”
Frankly, I hadn’t considered why anyone might need Sheeba upstairs, but necessity is the mother of lies. “We’re planning a surf. You want to understand why we do it, so I thought you could listen in.”
“Oh.” She brightened and bounced on tiptoes, then stooped to kiss my cheek. “Thanks for remembering, Nass. You are totally sympathic.”
I kissed back, but in my woozy state, my lips missed her and sucked empty air.
In my absence, Verinne had rastered a virtual screen across the domed observatory ceiling, and the Agonists lay supine on couches and floor mats, gazing upward and arguing. The screen displayed a schematic view of A13, the orbiting satellite we surfers called Heaven. Blood rushed to my cheeks. Why couldn’t they forget that place? When Sheeba said, “Hello,” they sat up and scowled.
“Private session,” Kat said. “No outsiders allowed.”
Sheeba glanced at me, and her disappointment twisted my musty old heart inside out She said, “Pardon, I thought I was invited.”
“Screw you, Kat.” I drunkenly nudged Sheeba forward. “Shee’s my guest.”
“Sheeba’s a-okay with me.” Winston lifted his glass and sloshed daiquiri on my carpet.
“Too risky. This is a Class Ten surf, and she’s a freakin’ newbie.” Grunze lay back and laced his fingers behind his head.
Kat nodded. “Don’t take this to heart, Sheeba dear, but if you screw up, you’ll put the entire crew in danger.”
Sheeba lowered her voice. “I’m not your danger, Kat.”
“Leave her alone. She’ll do just fine,” I said without thinking. Never had it occurred to me that Sheeba might join our war surf. I’d brought her here to listen—to get her away from that Trencher slime. But I’d had too much to drink, and when my friends started razzing her, of course I took her side. “Sheeba’s in ”
“Beau.” She pushed my weaving hand away. “If they don’t want me—”
“But I want you, dear. Please stay.”
As she tilted her head back and studied the projection on the ceiling, her eyes got that twinkly transcendent gleam, and I knew more spiritual fizz was about to bubble forth. Sure enough, she breathed almost reverently and said, “This may be the dark canal.”
I glared at the crew. “Sheeba’s my guest. Any objections?’
My challenge was potent, because they were all my guests, eating my food, drinking my booze—not just at this party but at all the parties. I played host every time. My condo was the staging ground for all our surfs. Not only that, I underwrote our Web site and paid for our teleconference minutes. The others were cheapskates.
Kat flushed purple and lay back to study the ceiling screen. “It’s a stupid idea, Nass. Whatever happens, it’s on your head.”
Grunze was already drawing laser highlights on the schematic, tracing our proposed route. In a sour tone, he said, “Just keep her outta my way, sweetheart.”
Verinne said, “You’ll have to outfit her. She doesn’t have any
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