He knew his face still bore the Beltrider’s signature when he showed up at Stefanie’s place. She opened the door in a lavender turtleneck sweater that clung tight in all the right places.
“Oh, Remy, what happened?” Stefanie reached up and brushed her fingers to his face where angry red marks still scored his cheek. Her fingers were cool to the touch leaving a numb tingling in their wake.
Remy gave his best smile and shrugged.
“Nothing I can’t handle. Just part of the job.”
Stefanie narrowed her eyes. Remy had seen that look on a woman before. She didn’t believe him. Fortunately, she was nice enough not to say anything and took his coat.
“Go, take a seat, I’ll grab us something to drink.” She gestured to a balcony off the main entrance with a few chairs and a small couch surrounding a lit fire pit. It was snowing outside, but a net of silent drones hovered around the balcony’s edges keeping the interior heated and dry with an invisible net. He took a seat on the couch. Stefanie didn’t keep him waiting long.
God, she looked good, leaning over to pour two glasses of wine. Her hair was pulled back in a flawlessly messy bun and her painted red nails clinked softly on the glasses. He knew his eyes lingered longer than he’d like to admit. She handed him a glass and settled down next to him on the couch.
“Do you mind?” She asked, pulling a cinnamon scented cigarette free from a silver case.
“Not at all.”
She smiled and flicked the end, sending a swirl of spiced smoke around themselves.
Stefanie’s place was far nicer than any school teacher had a right to own. Not that school teachers weren’t important - they had been the central planners of the revolution, of course - but money never followed the things that were actually important. That was why unimportant fucks like Happy Jack had so much. Money did, however, follow those who could make people like Jack more money and her now-ex husband Colin had done that in spades.
The wine they sipped was older than the two of them put together, and Remy noticed the fine details of the balcony for the first time. While not aas flashy as the gaudy old money haunts near Revolution Plaza, the tiles were real marble, or a very expensive replication, and every feature looked hand-selected. Colin’s work had set them up fine. He hoped Stefanie would be able to adjust to a different lifestyle.
Remy shifted in his seat, eager to be through with this part.
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“Look, Stef. Your husband’s gone. I’m sorry.” He bit his lip. There was no good way to tell someone their husband was dead. Even if the news was unsurprisingly, it felt terrible to say, and worse to hear.
“So, that’s it then.” Stefanie said into her own wine glass. “I’ve feared the worst since our last chat.”
Remy swirled his own glass and stared into the fire in the pit before them. It smelled like a bouquet of spices Remy couldn’t quite place, but wood smoke was certainly no part of it.
“I don’t suppose I want to know anything else about the circumstances, do I? Probably best if I don’t know the details.” She sighed, brushing a finger along the corner of her eye.
“Probably best if you didn’t.” Remy confirmed. Colin had been a lawyer for JD’s gang, helping them hide money throughout the undercity. Happy Jack had found him and tried to tickle some information from the unfortunate attorney. Jack wasn’t very good at this so Colin had died before he revealing anything. What a surprise it must’ve been for Jack to see Remy St. Claire come plop down the very set of documents he’d been hoping to torture from the attorney. Small miracles.
They sat in silence listening to quiet, sad music, and watching snow fall outside. Cinnamon smoke swirled around them as Stefanie lit a second with a shaking hand. It was one of those afternoons where it was cold enough to snow but warm enough pleasantly walk around with a coat. He’d been in New Madison long enough to not take these days for granted because it was only ever a day away from one so cold your ass would freeze to the skiff seat and its anti-gravity units would need a good thumping before they started.
Remy finished his wine and set the glass on the table. He didn’t want to go, leaving her like this, but lingering was worse. Stewing in memories of dead husbands was no way to spend an afternoon. He’d call her again sometime. Not now though. Now, she needed time to herself. Mourning took all shapes and Remy didn’t care to see any of them. He started to stand.
“Well, Stef, I -”
She grasped his arm and pulled him back to the couch.
“Oh, you must think me terribly unprofessional, sitting here with my wine and my thoughts, while you wait to be paid. Here, wait just a moment.” She went back into the loft to her purse and returned with a small envelope. Remy didn’t say anything but he disagreed entirely. Woman had just learned she’d lost her husband; this was about as professional as she could be.
Stefanie placed the envelope on the couch between them and brushed over the back of his hand as she pulled away.
“Would you be willing to grab a drink with me tomorrow night? I’m afraid I didn’t really have many other friends and you’re the only one I can talk to about…well…any of this. I’d rather not be alone.”
Stefanie sniffed and turned back to her wine, drinking deeply from what remained.
Of all the things that could have happened at Stefanie’s loft that day, being asked out for drinks was pretty low on that list. He’d assumed it would be another night of cheap gin and reruns on the couch over a box of Asian food with Josie. Remy fumbled a reply.
“Uh, yeah, sure, of course. Where do you want to go?”
“Someplace I haven’t been. I don’t really want to think about my last time anywhere.”
His mind felt like it raced through mud. Frantic to answer, but in a delirious haze. His heart pounded in his chest, threatening to break bones.
“I know a place near the Plaza. School House around five?”
“Okay,” she smiled weakly, “It’s a date.”
Remy sure hoped so.