25 - TYSE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

I turn to the waitress and order for both of us. Clara doesn't object, even though I have no idea what she eats. She's not thinking about food. She gives no fucks about what I order. She's trying not to cry and that's the only reason I take control like this. To give her an out. Just a few seconds to pull herself together.

When the waitress leaves and I once again look at Clara, she's wrestled that control back. But she's smaller now. Her shoulders are tucked forward, her hands in her lap. Like she's trying to withdraw into herself.

I decide to change the subject. "Would you like for me to put you up in a hotel?"

"What?" She's surprised by my question.

"So ya don't have to stay in the tower with me."

Her whole face crinkles up and I don't know her well enough to determine if it's confusion or frustration. But then, suddenly, like a switch has been flipped, all those wrinkles smooth out and she takes a breath. "That won't be necessary. If you don't want me to stay with you, I can take it from here."

"No, ya can't."

"What?"

I laugh. "You've got no chance at all of taking it from here, Clara. I mean, you'd pull through, I'm sure of that. But it would take weeks, maybe months, for you to sort it all out and find a way forward."

She huffs. "I don't understand what you're getting at."

"Yes, ya do. Just think about it for a moment. Would you like a hotel?"

Again, I get that crinkled face and I decide it's… annoyance. She's annoyed at me because I'm gonna make her say something here, and she doesn't want to.

"Would you like to stay in the city by yourself?"

Now she gets it. Because her crinkles become furrows and this is anger. "Why are you being a dick?"

"Because it's not up to me, it's up to you. And you're letting me make a lot of big decisions for you right now. It's really not my place. I'm only playing along because I've got no choice."

She scoffs, places her hands on the table, and makes to get up.

I reach out and grab her wrist. "Sit down. It's a stupid question. A really stupid question. And we both already know the answer. So why can't you just spit it out?"

She pulls her wrist out of my grip and leans back. "No. I don't want to stay in a hotel in the city. I want to go back to the tower with you."

"See? Told ya it was easy."

"Now it's your turn. Why are you being a dick all of a sudden?"

"I already told you. You're shuttin' down. And I don't like it. You can't let me take over. Because you'll get lost if I do. And I don't like lost people. I like people who know who they are. And you… well, you're lookin' for a hero. The conversation we just had about your man pretty much gave it all away, so don't bother denying it."

"Well. So? What's wrong with that? I mean, he's the frickin' man, right? Wasn't it his job to… protect me, or whatever?"

"Dunno. Was it?"

"Well." She huffs. "Yes. Duh. That's the whole point of having a man."

"The whole point, Clara?" I'm smirkin' at her when I say this. Which just makes her angry.

"Why are you being insufferable?"

"Why are you being weak?"

"Weak? I'm not weak. I can take care of myself. If I have to. But my point is, when you're so involved with a man that you're practically engaged, should I have to take care of myself?"

"He didn't live up to your expectations. I get it. But maybe you didn't live up to his, either?"

"I'm not supposed to be the hero! He is."

"Hm."

She makes a face at me. "What's that mean? That little hum of yours?"

"I'm just reflectin' on your general attitude about heroes. It's kinda dated."

"Dated?"

"Yeah. Out of fashion, so to speak. Women these days just save themselves. But you don't see yourself as a hero because you've never been in that kind of situation. Have you ever saved anyone, Clara? Name one person."

Again, I get a scoff. "Well, who the hell have you saved?"

I hold up a finger, ready to tick off a list. And one by one I do that. "Jast, Myra, Stepan, and Kirt. And that's just my team. Of course, they saved my ass many times as well. But my point is that I've been there. I know what it feels like to make choices like the one your man was presented with and I didn't cave. I didn't give in. I did my fuckin' job. I need you to be the kind of person who doesn't give in and does the fuckin' job. That's the only way you get to the other side of this better than you were when you got here. And forget about your man. He's worthless. We've already established that. He made his choices and that's that. Get it over it and move on."

"You hate him."

"That's stupid. I don't hate him. I don't even know him."

"Then why are you being so difficult right now?"

"He's a complete piece of shit for not trying to save you. Isn't that what you wanted me to say? There. I said it. I'm on your side."

"My side. I don't even understand why we're even talking about this. Why do you care?"

"I care because I need to know where I stand. But you know what's more interesting, Clara? The fact that you care that I care."

She smiles. Small at first, then it covers her entire face. All the way up to those dancing eyes. "You're acting like a fourteen-year-old boy. But it's kind of comforting that men are the same everywhere. At least I know where I stand."

"Yeah? And where's that?"

She sneers at me. It's real too. "The only reason you're helping me is because you expect to get something out of it. You expect to satisfy your curiosity ."

I simply shrug. "What's so wrong about that?"

"It's not gonna happen."

I sigh and start looking for our waitress.

"Nothing to say to that, huh?"

I look back at her with narrowed eyes. "I don't know why you're being such a Clara Birch to me right now. I'm helping ya. I said I'd keep helping ya. So what are you going on about?"

"You just sat here and spent three minutes forcing me to admit that I wanted to come back to the tower with you. The very least you can do is tell me that you're doing this because I'm pretty and you think you've maybe got a chance."

"Well. I didn't plan any of this. But … I wouldn't turn you down." I try and say this with a serious face but it's hopeless. She is pretty. I would fuck her.

Clara smirks. Like she won a prize.

"There. Is that what you were looking for? That I would fuck you if ya turned your skirts up?"

She tsks her tongue. "You're crass."

"And you're… haughty."

"Haughty?" She's got one eyebrow raised.

"The perfect word for you, actually. ‘Haughty.' An attitude only spoiled princesses and bitchy queens can pull off."

"Hmmph." She places her napkin in her lap, pretending to mess with it.

I'm not sure if she's pleased or offended that I put her in the same company as spoiled princesses and bitchy queens.

"Why don't we get back to the conversation?" I ask.

She looks up. "Which is… what?"

"You asking me for help."

Those eyes narrow again. "I already did."

"No. You didn't. You admitted you wanted to come home with me."

She sighs and it's loud and filled with frustration. "So you want me to… what? Beg you to help me?"

But I come right back at her. "And you want, what? Sympathy from me?"

"Well, yes ." She makes big eyes at me. Like I'm a literal idiot.

So I laugh, because it's cute. "I'm on your side. I already told ya that. I'm helping ya, aren't I? Consider us friends."

"Well, I'd hate to see how you treat your enemies."

I look to my left and side-eye her. "You do not, under any circumstances, want to know how I treat my enemies." Which is probably the wrong thing to say, because she recoils. "I just want you to make decisions. I took over for the hardest part. I let you sleep at my place, let ya take a shower, gave you some clothes, took you to the health center, waited around for your diagnosis, got ya more clothes, and took ya to dinner. I've met all your needs for this day. But I'm not gonna babysit ya, Clara." I'm pushing it here, but I've got a point, so I make it before she really does get up and walk out, because I can tell I'm pushing her limit pretty hard right now. "You need to participate. Otherwise you're just dead weight to me."

Her anger remains for a few moments as she internalizes all my words. But then she gives in and leans back, relaxing into the back of the booth. "Look, I'm… up-city Clara Birch. I… don't know what you're expecting of me. Stop playing games and just tell me what you want."

"Is that how you go through life, then? Exceeding people's expectations?"

Throwing those words back at her, when she meant them in the nicest of ways and I mean them as derogatory, makes her completely stop and reassess every word we've said to each other in the past ten minutes.

"I like you," I tell her. "You're very pretty." She doesn't smile. "And I'm in. You need a partner, I'm in. But you gotta pull your weight. You're heavy, Clara. I should know, I carried you up a million flights of stairs. And I'm not talking about how much you weigh, either. You know that. I'm talking about your…" Now I falter for words. Because I've never said anything like this to someone before, but at the same time, I realize I feel this way about all people, not just her. "I'm talking about your sense of self, I guess. Remember that girl I mentioned? Anneeta?"

Clara nods. Her face is slack now, but her attention is fully on me.

"She's seven years old. She was born addicted to spark. Mother died couple years back, at least. She's all alone. On her own. And do you know, even though I would help her, without hesitation, she has never asked me for help? She's never asked me for a single fucking thing. If I were putting together a go team, and I had pick of all the people in that tower, I'd take Anneeta with me and no one else. Because even though she's only seven, she knows exactly who she is. And you, up-city Clara Birch, haven't got a clue who you are. You're a liability to me. You're gonna get me killed. And I don't really care about that part, but I want to be in control of my death. I can get myself killed just fine, thank you, I don't need your help for that. So again, I like you, you're pretty, you're welcome to stay with me, and I'll help ya figure out what the hell happened to ya. But I'm not your fuckin' babysitter. I want you to make your own decisions. And if you want any more help from me, then you've got to ask for it. I'm not gonna try and read your mind."

I lift both my arms up and stretch them out on either side of me. "What you see is what you get. I'm an open fuckin' book. And if you and I are gonna be partners—in any way—then you will afford me the same courtesy. You will be straight with me and you will not lie to me. Because if I have your back, then you must have mine."

She continues to stare at me for many seconds. But I don't interrupt her silence or try and make her come to a conclusion too soon. I know she wants my help and I know she's gonna give in to my demands. But none of that is the point. The thing I really need from her right now is certainty. Not in me, but of herself.

I've been partners with people, business or otherwise, who take, but never give. And it's not even about the taking, really. It's the sense of entitlement that always surfaces when one person is doing most of the heavy lifting in a relationship, while the other comes along for the ride. And it doesn't take long to create this dynamic. If I had not said anything tonight, this is how Clara and I would be. Me making decisions for her instead of her thinking them through for herself.

And I don't want that. Even if this were about sex, I wouldn't want that.

Finally, she lets out a breath. "Can I stay at your place?"

"Sure."

"Can you… maybe… lend me a little bit of coin? So I could buy some things to get me through?"

I hesitate here. Not because I care about giving her money. I don't. But because she left something out. And she remembers this something while I'm hesitating because she hurriedly adds, "I… don't have any skills."

Which makes me laugh. "I wouldn't put that one on your resume."

This, in turn, makes her smile. "No. of course not. I just mean, I was preparing to be a wife. A… a social climber? Maybe?" She winces. Because even she understands this is kind of pathetic. Not the wife part, or even the social climber part, but the fact that she is realizing, in this very moment, that she has no dream. "But I'm smart," she continues. "I can learn. And anyway, coin is not the only way to pay things back."

I raise an eyebrow. "Did you just offer me sex?"

"What? No." She makes a face. "I just meant—you were the one talking about loyalty. So I was offering loyalty."

"Sure, sure."

She closes her eyes, shaking her head. "Whatever."

"I'm kidding about the sex. I know what you're saying. You can stay at my place and I'll give you some coin to get started. But don't offer that loyalty if ya don't mean it. Because that's worth more to me than coin."

She looks me in the eyes for this last part. All serious now. And she nods. "I understand. And thank you. Not just for taking care of me and giving me what I asked for, but for being so upfront. It's a rare thing, ya know?"

"People being honest?"

She nods. "Yeah."

"Would it have gone over better if that man of yours just told ya outright that he wasn't gonna save ya?"

"Well, he kinda did say that."

"He did?"

"Yes. But… I don't think I was listening."

"Mmm. Yeah. It's a common thing people do when they don't get the answer they're looking for."

"So my circumstances are probably more my fault than his. I mean, actually, it was all my fault. I signed up to be a Spark Maiden. I played the game and lost." She gives me a one-shoulder shrug. "It's as simple as that."

"Maybe. Maybe not. I mean, the world, it's stacked against you, Clara. You were never meant to win."

Our food arrives before she can say anything else and the heavy topics we were just discussing fade into the background as we eat.

But on the way home, when we're walking towards the ruins, I recite her words back in my head. I played the game and lost .

She's nothing special in that regard.

We all play and we all lose.

It's just the way of things.

We're climbing the stairs outside the tower when Clara turns to me. "Can you show me where you found me?"

I stop and pull her off to the side of the door, out of the flow of people. "Why?"

"Because I just want to see it. Haryet had to have gone somewhere. I know she's not gonna be there now, but it's the only clue I have left."

I press my lips together and nod. "Sure. But not tonight. It's a million levels below ground and we've still got to walk up ten flights of stairs."

She groans and looks at the building.

"I'll carry you on my back if you want."

I get a sharp look for that. "No, thank you."

"OK." We walk through the doors and into the lobby, which is pretty crowded still for being nearly ten at night. My gaze sweeps around the first floor, looking for Anneeta, but I don't see her. So we just hit the stairs.

The walk is painfully slow and Clara's draggin'. So I make my offer again as we head up to the third floor. "The piggyback offer hasn't expired yet."

"I'm not unfit, ya know. I lived on the ninth floor of my own tower and I walked up and down those stairs all the time. In heavy gowns, even."

"Let's race then."

She scoffs, side-eyeing me, but skips over my playful threat. "It just felt… quicker. I almost never walked up alone."

"Are ya alone?" I pan my hand at the—literally—hundreds of people all around us.

"No, I mean with my friends . We would gossip and stuff. It took my mind off the climbing. Never mind. It was just different."

"Did you just call me bad company?"

I get another side-eye. "Ya know, for a fuckin' cynic, you're awfully sensitive about what people think of you."

"Nah, I'm not. I'm just trying to make a good impression on ya. But I'm not sure it's working."

She smiles, but doesn't look at me. "Well, if that's true, it is."

"You like me."

"You like me ."

I laugh. "I do like you. Ya asked why I was being a dick? Well, that's why."

"You're a dick to me because you like me. Got it."

"It's not that. I just need to know what you're doing and why. Because I don't get invested in much these days, Clara."

"And you're afraid I'm gonna fuck you over."

"A little, but not really. I haven't got much for you to take. It's just… I haven't had a partner in a while. I don't mean women, either. I mean a partner . Someone I count on. Someone who counts on me."

She looks at me now, not smiling. "Your… soldier friends. That's who you named when you said you've saved people before. What happened to them?"

"What makes you think something happened to them?"

"Because you came here to Tau City to attend War College alone."

"I never said that."

"You didn't have to. It was… understood. So what happened to them?"

"Dead."

She frowns. "All four?"

"All four."

"It was some kind of battle?"

"I guess."

"That's… not a good answer."

"Why not?" She shrugs, not looking at me. "Come on, Clara. Fill in the blanks. Let's see what ya got."

"I don't know much about war. Not enough to fill those blanks in."

"No idea at all then, huh? Your brain is too simple?"

She takes offense to my characterization, but that was the point. "Fine. If it was something to do with war, but not exactly a battle, then… someone made a bad decision and it cost them their lives."

I huff. But don't say anything.

"It was you. You made a bad decision and cost them their lives."

"Keep going."

"Wow. That sucks."

"Keep going."

She thinks for a moment. We're just passing the eighth floor now, and as we do this, I scan the people waiting in line for jolts and jumps, looking for Anneeta. But she's not here.

Clara thinks for a minute. She answers as we pass the ninth floor. "Those things in your eyes. That make them go bright."

"The augments."

"They don't work right."

I stop, she as well, and then she turns to look at me. "Congratulations." I pan my hand to the space in front of us. "We're on the tenth floor and you didn't even have to think about it."

She doesn't move and neither do I. People come up behind us, parting around us like water, and she narrows her eyes. I'm expecting a question, but not the one she throws at me. "Can I sleep in your bed?"

I grin. "Absolutely."

She turns right towards my door and I come up behind her. When we get to it, she steps aside, allowing me to open it for her. She goes in, but I hesitate for a moment.

Because up-city Clara Birch has somehow gotten a hold of me. She's kinda weak, a little bit clueless, and I would never, not in a million years, be into a woman like her if she hadn't been dropped into my life without my consent.

But I like her and I'm glad she's here.

I step through, kick the door closed with my foot, slip my jacket down my arms, hang it on a hook, take off my shirt, and toss that on the floor.

Her eyes drop down to the floor where it lands, then dart back up to meet mine. She's got questions. I can practically see them running through her head as I watch. But she doesn't say anything. Or step aside.

"I was being a dick earlier," I say, "because I actually think you had unreasonable expectations of that man of yours. Most things are out of our control. And if this is something you've been conditioned to do—have unreasonable expectations of people, especially if you're trying to exceed them at the same time—then I'm gonna disappoint you eventually and it just feels like a setup."

"Wow." Clara takes off her jacket, drapes it over the arm of the chair, and then sits down, kicking her new boots up on my footstool. "You've got baggage, Tyse."

I grin as I take off my battle belt and hang it across the back of the spindly chair. She's not wrong.

"Also, I thought I was rigid with my two decades of ‘poised, proper, and polite' training. But you? Wow."

I walk over to the bed, the side closest to the chair, and sit down. Then I lean over and start unlacing my boots. "I'm just being upfront with you."

"No. That's not what you're doing. You're… preempting the disappointment. So when that day comes and I'm looking at you like you're a piece of shit for doing"—she waves her hand in the air, huffing—"whatever it is you did, then you don't have to feel guilty about it. You can just point to this night and say, ‘See? I told you I was gonna disappoint you.' And then you won't have to take credit for it."

"You mean blame."

"What?"

"You're confusing credit with blame."

I glance up just in time to catch her reaction. It's that crinkled face she likes to make. "Who cares?"

"Language is a precise thing?—"

"Oh, my god. Shut up ." When I start laughing, she leans back in the chair. Angry now. "Why are you being like this?"

Laces undone, I shrug and stand up and walk over to the door, kicking my boots off. When I turn back to her, she's standing at the foot of the bed. I have a flash of memory of her here. From yesterday when she was still wearing that slutty dress. Which actually wasn't even all that revealing—her stomach was showing, and the dress was hanging very low on her hips, so it was a lot of stomach, and her shoulders were bare, but the dress wasn't sleeveless. It was that off-the-shoulder kind that gets pulled down to look sexier.

The whole thing was alluring, sure. But it looked a little traditional too. Which makes sense if she really does come from a city the way she describes.

Right now, though, dressed like this—dressed in these clothes I got for her—she reminds me of Myra. I never slept with Myra. Not for lack of trying, but she was really into rules and the number one rule of a go-team crew is no sex. And thinking about that suddenly has me thinking about this—"How many, Clara?"

"How many what?"

"Let me guess. Seven?"

"Seven what? I don't even know what you're talking about."

"How many times do you make a man take you out before you sleep with him?"

Her face goes bright red. " What ?"

"I would just like to adjust my expectations accordingly." My grin is wild.

Her reaction is shock. She sputters for a moment, trying to find the right words to respond. "Because you think I want to have sex with you?"

"Don't ya?"

"Well…"

She kinda looks me over here. Not deliberately, but she can't help it, and it's all kinda funny.

So I smile pretty big. "Ya do, don't ya?"

She sighs, then wipes a hand through the air like she's pushing all these thoughts out of her mind. "I'm not talking about this."

"Why not?"

"Because you don't get to control all the conversations, that's why. I get a say in them too. And it's all fine and good if you expect truth out of me at all times, but that doesn't give you the right to ask any question you want. Nor does it oblige me to answer."

"It's more than seven, isn't it?"

She shakes her head, turns on her heel, then walks into the kitchen, disappearing into the bathroom. There's only a curtain, no door, so I just keep going. "Please tell me it's not more than ten. If so, we could double up on the dates, right? Count breakfast, lunch, and dinner as separate occasions?"

"I'm not having this discussion."

"Why though? Because it's more than ten? If it's more than ten, Clara, we need to talk about the meaning of the word ‘haughty.' Because you are absolutely the definition of that word if you demand more than ten dates before?—"

She pushes the bathroom curtain to the side with a dramatic swish of fabric and comes back out wearing nothing but the t-shirt. I'm talkin' bare feet and bare legs. She walks over to the foot stool and places her folded-up pants on top of it, flashing her fuckin' ass at me—which is covered in the cutest fuckin' lacy little panties I've ever laid eyes on. The entire back of her bum is covered in ruffles. It's the kind of fancy, over-the-top underwear you put on a child. A child going to a wedding or something. This is not the kind of underwear I've ever seen on a grown woman.

I cover my mouth, trying not to laugh out loud, but though it is stifled, it still comes out.

She whirls around, angry again. "What are you laughing about now?"

"What the hell is on your ass?"

"What?" She twists her neck, looking over her shoulder, trying to see her own ass. "What are you talking about?"

"What is up with that underwear?"

She rolls her eyes at me. "Oh, my god. Just go to bed or something. You're being obnoxious."

"Is that the kind of underwear women wear where you come from?"

She is so done with me. "I was being Extracted , Tyse. I was dressed up, OK? This is the lingerie they gave me for the occasion. And"—she twists, peeking at her ass again—"it's… I dunno. Just normal underwear for Spark Maidens. If you don't like them, don't look at them."

"Oh, I never said I didn't like them."

Her eyes find mine and she presses her lips together. "I'm not sleeping with you."

"Because it's more than ten, isn't it?"

"I don't even understand what you're talking about there. Seven. Ten. Whatever."

"How many dates did what's-his-name take you on before you slept with him?"

"That's none of your business. My private life is none of your business."

"It was eleven, wasn't it?"

She's about to yell at me, I can see it coming. But she catches herself before any words come flying out. I watch as that same composure she used to dismiss me earlier comes back into play, and again, I am reminded that she is not just some ordinary somebody. She is a very special somebody. "It was…" Her eyes roll up as she thinks. "A hundred and seventy-three."

"What?" I guffaw at this number.

But the laugh stops abruptly when up-city Clara Birch walks right up to me and places her hand flat against my bare chest. "A hundred and seventy-three."

"That's impossible. No man would wait that long for a woman."

Clara smirks up at me. "He was my childhood best friend, Tyse. We grew up together. We spent every bit of our lives together. We've practically been in love since we were born. When we got old enough, we dated. And right before I was chosen for Extraction, we had sex exactly one time."

"How old were ya?"

"Eighteen."

"How old are ya now?"

"Twenty-eight."

"You've only had sex once?"

"No. Don't be stupid. We met up while I was a Spark Maiden. Every couple of months."

"When was the last time you had sex with him?"

"The day I got here." That smirk of hers turns into a sympathetic smile as she pats my chest. Then she turns to the bed and crawls up it, flashing those ruffles at me.

"I've got no chance at all, have I?"

She chuckles as she slides her legs under the covers and turns onto her side, hugging a pillow. "Not even a tiny one."

Then she closes her eyes and puts me completely out of her mind.

Clara doesn't stir when I get in bed next to her. Maybe asleep, maybe just trying to torture me with her indifference. But either way, she won this night.

Because the only thing on my mind as I lie there, looking up at the ceiling, is her.