Designer Genes - The Boyfriend Cut (7 page)

Lights on each side of the front door illuminated the front steps, welcoming me home. I lived in an older, two-story red brick home, nestled in a quiet neighborhood. A large porch spanned the front of the house with a wooden swing and a couple of rockers, their white paint chipped and faded.

Below each entry light, pots of wilted white petunias begged for a drink. Water from the sprinkler tube spattered against the pavement, splashing my bare legs and causing a shiver to pebble my skin. The front door squeaked and Rick stepped out, gathering me into a burly hug.

"Finally, you're home. Was that a limo I saw?"

Shuttles were the main mode of transportation. Some still owned private vehicles, but limousines were rare.

"Yeah. I think everyone in the neighborhood stared out their windows when we came down the street." I stretched out on the porch swing, kicking off my heels and dangling my bare feet over the side. Dad chose to sit in one of the rockers across from me.

"So? Tell me about the interview. I'm guessing by the private jet and limousine service, money isn't an issue for Mr. Mason," he noted with sarcasm.

"I hate that we can't meet. His mom did the interview, which felt more like I was applying for a job."
One I probably won't get.
"Their house is gorgeous with an awesome view of the ocean. Oh, and they own an island."

"An island? Figures."

I swiveled upright. "Jordan's twin brother, Jesse, was my pilot."

Rick stopped rocking. "Pilot? Like his brother? Remind me. How old is Jordan Mason?"

"Nineteen."

"
Nineteen?
You're not even out of high school, Marli. He's already got a year of college under his belt—"

"Almost three
,
" I corrected. Rick's lips flattened and I explained before the lecture started. "Jordan graduated high school early."

His heavy sigh wavered between disapproval and skepticism. "I'm not sure I approve of you jetting around with this Jordan character, or his brother." He raised his hand when I opened my mouth. "I know, not my decision. Anything else? I got nervous when they called to say you'd be three hours late and while I'm not so good with details, I can't help noticing your hair is now braided, and the make-up you spent an hour on this morning is gone."

"Jesse took me snorkeling on their yacht after the interview. That's why I'm late."

Dad leaned forward. "Let me get this straight. You're not allowed to meet the boy you could be assigned to for
life
, but gallivanting off with his twin brother is okay?"

"Not exactly."

"That's what I thought. Pushing my limits is one thing, daughter, but messing with the government? You better watch your step." When I didn't reply, he released another loud sigh. "So, how was snorkeling?"

I gave a recap of my adventure, sticking to marine life, not Jesse, although my expression must have given something away. Rick relaxed into the rocker, a wide grin stretching across his face.

"What?"

"You tell me, Mars. Maybe you should switch brothers. You seem rather impressed with this Jesse fellow. Falling in love the old-fashioned way beats this arranged relationship crap any day."

Telling Dad why Jesse could never be an option didn't seem the best idea. I moved from the swing to the porch steps, the cold concrete matching my sudden somber mood.

"You only get hurt when you let emotions rule your choices."

"Lately, Pumpkin, your impulsive choices have been completely based on emotion."

"Maybe, but it still doesn't mean I'm not afraid of a committed relationship. There's no guarantee of a happily-ever-after with any guy whether I pick him or he's chosen for me."

"That's a rather cynical view. True, there are no assurances, but if you're referring to your mom and me, don't let what happened to us decide your actions. Once-upon-a-time I loved your mother very much."

Mom's leaving hurt Dad more than he let on and whenever we came close to discussing those feelings, he changed the subject.

"Speaking of 'lost loves,' Sam's called at least a dozen times. The kid is so damn annoying. Please call him before I lose my last thread of patience. "

I brushed loose pebbles off the back of my skirt. "Dad? What should I do about Sam? I don't want to hurt him."

His rocker creaked when he rose. "Sorry, but nobody gets through life without being hurt some way. Sam will recover. It's you I worry about."

A hot shower and comfy clothes did nothing to settle the restlessness ticking through my body. I nestled into the window seat with my digital pad to work on homework, but Dad's comments about letting your heart decide your fate kept interrupting my concentration. Before today, I toyed with thoughts of dropping out of The Program, but my candidacy secured my family's future. Twisted blessings—even for my future children.

Children?
Mrs. Mason's declaration flashed in my thoughts like a warning beacon.
"…you could be become pregnant right away, which would also serve the greater purpose…"
Whose "greater purpose?" Hers? Jordan's? Not mine.

The cell receptor buzzed against my hip—Jesse! I shut off the video feed before answering. Rick's Ohio State T-shirt and sweatpants didn't exactly scream "sexy," but then again, why did I care? Because I did—I was seventeen. Didn't all seventeen-year-olds obsess about their looks, or just the ones who sucked the lips off their assigned mate's brother?

"Jesse?"

"Good, you're still awake."

"How did you get my personal number?"

"I have my ways. I wanted to know you arrived home safely. My co-pilot is taking a break so I figured I'd call. Technically, I'm not supposed to talk to you. It's against the
rules.
"

"Like you care," I teased, feeling brave with him thousands of miles away.

"Still holding a grudge, I see."

"Most hostages do."

"Brutal. If I'd formally asked you to spend the afternoon with me, would you have said yes?"

I paused a beat. "Probably not."

"Precisely my point. You would have missed out on a great learning experience, so technically, you should thank me."

"For kidnapping me?"

"Among other things."

"Jesse, don't go there, please," I warned, mostly because I'd been trying to avoid thinking about our kiss all night.

"I meant snorkeling."

My face flushed hot and I was glad the video was off. "Sorry. Guess I'm still worried."

"What if I told you didn't need to be? Got some info to share. Apparently, Mom hated the second candidate she interviewed. She told Jordan you made a much better impression."

"That's a shocker. The other candidate must have been a total loser."

Jesse laughed. "I was also right about the animal issue. She reamed Jordan for not saying anything and embarrassing her when you caught her off guard."

"How do you know all this?"

"I had a thirty minute delay before take-off, so I called Jordan. I wanted to make sure he got the bathing suit shot." Jesse's snicker bordered evil. "He did."

Air raced into my lungs so fast it hurt. "No one was supposed to know! Tell me you didn't say anything about the kiss."

"No! I'm not tired of living," he replied around a smile. "Jordan knows we went snorkeling, which he hated, but that's all. You can see other boys, Mars. Don't worry, our secret is safe."

Until discovered
.

Jesse's co-pilot returned, ending our conversation with a generic "good-night," warding off any suspicion he flirted with his brother's prospective mate
.
Unlike Jesse, I couldn't believe what happened this afternoon qualified as "acceptable" by The Program.

The Program. Organized about ten years before my birth, the government matchmaking service culled girls and boys with exceptional genetic markers for candidates, aligning them into pre-arranged life relationships. Rick claimed it was set up to create some superior society—"genetic wonders" that supposedly would be smarter, healthier, and stronger than our international counterparts. I couldn't shake the feeling there might be something more…something darker.

I touched the tiny lump behind my right ear where a microchip had been implanted at birth to track my development for some government mega database. Everyone born after the year 2040 had them, but unlike the bands that would eventually be removed, the chip remained attached to your skull for life—
property of the U.S. government.

Sam's instant message beeped me from my dark thoughts.
Hey babe, come outside.

Afraid he'd wake Rick, I wrapped myself inside the lap quilt off my rocking chair and padded quietly down the stairs. Sam waited in the shadows in the corner of the yard, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Good, you brought a blanket." He gathered me into his arms and his lips sampled my neck. "I missed you, babe. Why didn't you call? "

"It's so late I thought I'd wait until morning."

Sam didn't care about my reasons. His lips pressed hard, his tongue pushing through my reluctant lips, smearing Jesse's kisses away. His hand moved behind my head, holding me tight to his mouth a second time, mashing my nose against his cheek. I shoved against his shoulders.

"Sam, I can't breathe!"

He threw his arms in the air. "What? I thought maybe you missed me."

"Shhh! Keep your voice down. And I've only been gone a day."

Sam fisted his hair. "I can't stand this damn Program. You act like they own you—dropping everything to fly off to some stranger's house. For what? A stupid interview?"

My teeth ground together. "You know it's more than an interview and in a sense,
yes
, The Program owns me."

"Drop out!"

"I can't!" I hissed back. Sam didn't know the truth behind my illegal enrollment, nor could I tell him to help explain my reasons for staying. Gingerly, I took his hands, dropping my voice. "It's complicated...especially now."

He yanked his hands free. "Oh, I get it. Why settle for the small town boy when you can have the rich brat. Tell me—is he better looking, too?"

"Sam, it's not like that. I told you, The Program paired me with Jordan."

"
Jordan.
First names now, huh? No more numbers." When I wouldn't answer, Sam pulled me close. I turned my head to avoid his kiss.

"I need to get back inside before Rick discovers I snuck out."

After a careful kiss at the front door, Sam said "I love you." I couldn't return the sentiment because it no longer felt right. He walked away defeated and pangs of guilt punched my gut. Dad was right. I couldn't do this without hurting Sam.

I tiptoed back to my room and burrowed beneath my quilt. Memories I kept buried deep stirred, bringing a clear recall of the day I entered The Program.

…
A woman with a wide-brimmed red hat perched on her head, walks around me while I stand in the center of the principal's office. She strokes my hair and pulls back my slouched shoulders. "Absolutely perfect. I agree, she should definitely be submitted. I'll notify her parents immediately…"

The next day, a bright pink band holding four sparkling diamonds circled my wrist. I officially became a candidate in The Program. Later, my family ties unraveled. Mom and Dad had the worst fight ever. In the middle of the night, Mom placed Daniel and me in a taxi shuttle, and the three of us left for California. Without Dad.

4

KISMET UNLEASHED

A
n endless chirping from the oak tree outside my window woke me long before the alarm. I wished for a cat—a hungry one. I blew a long, noisy breath and kicked my covers to the floor in frustration. Staring at the ceiling, I studied how the lavender and gray shadows gave the sponge-painted clouds a realistic appearance.

Mom loved to "express herself" by painting murals on our walls to make our bedrooms our own private world instead of just a room within the house. Daniel's room once resembled a pirate's ship with his bed beneath a huge mast sporting a skull and cross-bones that scared the crap out of me when I opened the door.

Considered "the princess," my room had been painted to resemble a castle, my bedroom door a drawbridge, my bathroom one centered in a turret. Painted stone balusters joined at the window seat to look like a balcony, and out my window, the view of my kingdom. The ceiling was my sky, complete with stars painted in glow-in-the-dark silver paint scattered between the clouds.