Love Minus Eighty (28 page)

“I’m sorry, that information is confidential.”

Rob growled in frustration, nearly flung his handheld over the fence. He hurried toward the exit. There had to be a way to find out what had happened. Peter was a possibility. Maybe he should try to get in touch with Sunali, see if she could put him in touch with Peter. But the thought of waiting hours, even days, for Peter to get back to him was intolerable. He wouldn’t be able to eat or sleep until he knew. She could be out there right now. She could be gone forever.

He ran through the gate, headed across the parking lot toward his house.

But if she was out there, wouldn’t she have contacted him? He slowed, a wave of numbness sweeping over him. She was
dead. That’s why the Cryomed AI wouldn’t tell him. If she’d been revived, it would have told him.

She’d had visits, though. Tons of them. Even repeat visits from a rich guy. Peter said that rolled back the clock, that it was all decided automatically. Why would they bury her just as interest in her spiked? That made no sense.

Unless they’d discovered the hacked profile.

Rob paused in the parking lot, put his hands on his knees, tried to catch his breath and clear his vision. Maybe he should contact Nathan or Veronika. He tapped his handheld. They might have an idea about how to find out—

Rob froze.

If Winter was alive, she would have a com account. Maybe she didn’t want to speak to Rob, but she’d want to call others. Friends, her aunt and nephews.

Com search. Winter West. New York area
, he subvocalized.

Winter’s image materialized. He dropped onto his ass in the gravel lot, gaping at her smiling face, the flesh tones of life restored to it.

Staring down at his system, Rob willed Winter to ping. She was out there somewhere.

Rising from the edge of his bed, Rob retrieved his lute from the closet, went out back, brushed dried leaves and silt from an old porto-seat, and sat down. He let his fingers glide over the polished wood of the lute, then began playing “Polymnia,” an ancient piece he rarely played unless he was providing dinner music at a swanky restaurant.

She wasn’t going to call. If she were, she would have done so by now.

Two weeks was more than enough time.

He paused midsong. Maybe he should leave one more message? No. What could he say that he hadn’t said the first three times? Leaving a fourth message would only make him seem more pathetic. He carried on with the song.

His chest ached at the thought of Winter alive, laughing, living, with him no part of her life. Where was she, right
now? On Red’s estate? In an ultralight copter? Rob looked up at the sliver of sky visible below the roof of Percy Estate, saw a copter flitting its way to somewhere. Winter could be in it.

It was time to move on. No more calls. How sick was it for him to persist, if she didn’t want to speak to him? She owed him less than nothing.

Let her go. That’s what Veronika had said. His dad, too.

“Polymnia” gave way to “Laura Soave,” an aching melody, without Rob’s awareness. Everything was skintight. He would go back to hanging out with his friends.

He played a modern tune by Arctic Ice, plucking the strings with a vigor that bordered on abuse, his thoughts flitting across the conversations they’d had, seeking something, some explanation. On that last visit, when she told him she might be getting out, there had been such a sense of intimacy between them. Maybe not love, but a deep, close connection.

“You ready, Eddie?” Lorne called through the door.

“Yeah.” He’d forgotten they were going to the tubes for dinner. Rob stopped playing and headed up the back stoop.

The benches at the tubes were packed with diners. It was Saturday night, Rob realized. Once upon a time Rob had known exactly what day of the week it was, but when you worked every day, the distinctions became less crucial.

He had no idea why he was still working at the reclamation center. The money was decent, but so what? Maybe it was because he didn’t want to play for other people, and no other options for work had presented themselves.

His dad talked an Asian family into scooting down so they could squeeze onto the end of their table, then he dug right into his burger, making appreciative grunts as he chewed. Rob’s stomach was tight, wasn’t welcoming of food, but he
ate anyway. His dad deserved to enjoy himself. Rob forced a smile.

“Where do you think she is right now?” Lorne asked.

“I try not to think about it,” Rob answered.

“All you do is think about it.” When Rob didn’t reply, he asked, “What’s the rich guy’s name again?”

“I’m pretty sure the guy’s name is Redmond.”

Lorne lifted his cup of water, held it there until Rob finally relented and followed suit. “Here’s to Redmond. God bless his filthy rich ass.” They drank. Lorne lifted his cup again. “And to my son, who, against god-awful odds, figured out how to save the damsel in distress.”

Rob smiled wanly. “By posting naked pictures of her.”

Lorne burst into loud, easy laughter. The young girl squeezed in beside Lorne looked up at him, then laughed as well. The laughter spread down the bench.

Someone pinged Rob; he was still so unused to wearing a system again that the sound startled him. He looked to see who it was.

There was nothing but plain, unadorned text in the upper right corner of his vision. Nothing but a name.

Winter West.

Rob leaped from the bench. “Be right back.” He trotted out toward the big tubes, which were inactive at this time of day.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.” She sounded, what? Reluctant? Apologetic? Certainly not excited. The connection was voice-only; he wished he could see her.

“How are you?”

“I’m okay. I just got back from my honeymoon a few days ago.”

That explained her delay in getting in touch. Part of it, anyway. “You’re alive. I can’t believe it.”

“I’m alive.”

He waited for more.

“Are you free? Can we meet?” he finally blurted, trying not to sound as eager as he felt.

“Right now?” Her tone was like a lead weight in his gut. She sounded uneasy, as if she was trying to think of an excuse to decline. “I guess. I mean, I wouldn’t be able to stay long. Red’s coming home from a trip around eight.”

“That’s okay.”

“All right, then.” Again, she sounded almost pained.

“Great.” Once they were face-to-face, the awkwardness would melt away. They would fall into that comfortable intimacy they’d enjoyed in the cryocenter.

“Where?” she asked.

“Somewhere in Low Town? Stain’s Coffee?” Rob didn’t know where Winter was living, but thought it safe to assume it was in High Town.

“I don’t want to meet too close to where I used to live; it would be strange, bumping into people I used to know.”

He started to ask why that would be strange, then got it. She’d already contacted her closest friends. Others would be shocked to see Winter alive. Winter would have to explain how she managed to get revived, then there’d be an awkward exchange where the former acquaintance would convey to Winter that it was okay to be a bridesicle, that she had nothing to be ashamed of.

“I understand.” He didn’t care where they met; he just wanted to see her.

“Somewhere outside? It’s hard for me to be inside, since
the crèche. When Red is away, sometimes I sleep on the roof,” she laughed.

“No, I understand. How about Central Park? There’s a bridge with beautiful ironwork on the West Side—”

“I know which one you mean. Give me an hour?”

“See you then.” He didn’t want to give her an hour; he wanted to see her that very moment. She would be walking, moving her arms, breathing.

He trotted back to the bench, saw that Lorne was about three-quarters of the way through his dinner. Rob sat, made a show of eating some banana fries, though his heart was racing and he had zero appetite.

“Who was it?” Lorne asked, studying Rob.

“It was Winter. I’m meeting her in an hour.” Saying it, he felt a stupid swell of pride.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Lorne shook his head in wonder. “Be sure you record this. This is really something.” He looked down the bench, as if contemplating sharing the story with someone, then he clapped Rob on the back. “Go on, get going. I’ll see you at home.”

Rob sprung from the bench and jogged off.

Rob spotted the bridge ahead, a graceful curve of weathered steel spanning nothing but a walking trail, the railing decorated with ornate steel clover shapes. He stopped at the center, pressed his palm to the cool steel railing. He and Penny had broken up on this bridge. Under it, actually, on the walk that ran beneath. From where he was standing, Rob could see the little orange fire hydrant he’d propped his foot on while they talked.

He was twenty minutes early; he scanned for Winter in case she was early as well. He wanted to spot her when she was still far off, so he could watch her move without her being aware he was watching.

Rob wiped his sweaty palm on his thigh and set it back on the railing. What should he say as she approached? When he and Penny used to play romantic-comedy interactives with the scoring enabled, Rob always won, was always better at
snapping off those pithy romantic lines that racked up points. Now his mind was blank.

He watched an ultralight copter flit over the lake in the distance. Maybe he should say nothing, just wait until she was standing beside him at the rail, the two of them enjoying the view in silence.

The copter rose over the trees along the trail. Rob expected it to continue rising and fly away, but it paused, then touched down on the trail a hundred yards away.

Winter stepped out. She waved to the pilot as the copter lifted off, then turned toward the bridge.

She spotted Rob, lifted a hand. He waved back. She let her fingers drop, but kept her hand raised. She was simply beautiful. Coils of deep burgundy flowed across her bare shoulders; her lips were drawn in a half smile. She dropped her head and walked toward him, in no hurry.

Rob’s mouth was dry, his heart racing, as she joined him on the bridge. She was small—smaller than she’d seemed in the crèche and in the videos. There was a light dusting of freckles on her arms.

“It’s good to see you, Rob.” She made no move to hug him, only joined him at the railing, looking toward the spot where the copter had deposited her.

“It’s good to see you, too.” Not a line that would have racked up points in a rom-com interactive. “You did it. I can’t believe it.”

She chuckled, glanced at him, beautiful eyelashes rising over lively green eyes. “
I
did it? I could barely move my face, and I sounded like a swamp harpy. You and your musketeers did it. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have waited this long to thank you.”

It was another fine moment for an embrace that didn’t come. They watched a goose launch itself off the lake, honking enthusiastically.

“So what’s your life like?” Rob asked.

She rubbed her forehead, smiling, considering the question. “I wake up, tell a drone what I want for breakfast, take a bath in a tub the size of a swimming pool.” She shrugged. “It’s an easy life. Red warned me that he’s going to be gone a lot. Three of his kids live on the island—”

“The
island
? You live on one of those three-legged estates on the water?” All this time he’d been picturing her in a penthouse in High Town, when she’d actually been on an estate, a hundred feet above the water.

Winter nodded. “Out in the upper bay, close to the ocean. Along with Red’s extended family—kids, grandkids, nephews, nieces.”

“Nice people?”

“No.” She said it flippantly, as if it didn’t matter.

Rob frowned. “What do you mean?”

She sighed. “Mostly they ignore me, as if I’m a pet Labradoodle Red brought home.” She shrugged. “There are worse things.”

“Do they think you’re horning in on their inheritance?”

Winter guffawed. “Are you kidding? I don’t inherit anything; it’s all spelled out in the contract. You’re not in a strong negotiating position when you’re in a coffin. They just see me as a low person, someone to look nice at Redmond’s side at public events, and for him to fuck.”

Rob winced, trying to mask his reaction. “You’re on Red’s insurance now, though, aren’t you?”

Winter nodded absently. Rob assumed she was having a second conversation on her system, then realized she wasn’t
working her system, she was simply fidgeting with an emerald embedded in it. Her mind was elsewhere.

“What’s it like, knowing you’re guaranteed to live to a hundred and fifteen or twenty?”

The question drew Winter from her reverie. She looked at Rob, really looked at him with those green eyes, her face so very alive. “I’m not sure yet.” She dug at the emerald like she was trying to pry it loose. “I haven’t had time for it to sink in. It’s been hard enough adjusting to being alive again. I’ve been in touch with other women who’ve been through this; they’re the only people who can understand what’s happened to me. That’s been helpful.”

Rob nodded. “Have you been in touch with Idris?”

“Oh, sure. We went shopping after I got out. I didn’t have a thing to wear. Some inconsiderate person gave away all my clothes when I died.” She dropped her head, thinking; her hair gliding down to frame her face. Rob wanted to reach out and touch that hair, soft across his fingers. Instead, he laced his fingers and clenched his hands together on the railing. “It’s been a little awkward, trying to reconnect with Idris. She wants to pick up right where we left off, like it never happened. Like nothing’s changed.”

“I guess it’ll take both of you time to adjust.”

“I guess.” She was biting her lip, gone again. If Rob hadn’t watched hours and hours of Winter’s previous life, he might have thought this was who she was. Maybe it wasn’t surprising she wasn’t the same, after all she’d been through, married now to an old man she barely knew. Rob hated that old man, utterly despised him even though they’d never met. He only hoped Winter despised Red as much as he did. If she liked him, if somehow she learned to love him… he was afraid to ask, but he had to know.