> In the news today: Tibet’s armies, led by the Dali Lama, defeated China’s People’s Liberation Army and achieved full national independence.
Stephanie glared straight into the camera. “Why can’t the stupid driver deliver the package after Daddy comes home?”
Alfred, impersonating Grainer’s AI, said, “Miss, the package is for you, and the delivery man insists on a signature.”
“But Daddy doesn’t like it when I talk to strangers. He’ll take me to the basement.”
***
Jason glanced up from the live video streaming on his phone. “The basement?”
Alfred replied, “Mr. Grainer reserves his more serious punishments for the basement.”
“What the hell goes on down there? Wait,” Jason waved any possible answer away. “I don’t want to know.”
“As you wish.”
“I don’t like that she’s still in her little girl role.”
“There may be more to the addiction than we know, or Miss Natalie may not fully understand how the bond works.”
There wasn’t anything good about either of Alfred’s comments. Just thinking about both made him angry. Once he had Stephanie safe, he’d take the time to sort it all out. Now, though, maybe he could use this ‘Daddy’ crap. The idea made him grin like a wolf. Jason glanced up to the portico surveillance camera—it was the closest thing to Alfred’s eyes. “Tell Stephanie...”
***
“Miss, Daddy wants you to get the package.”
During the lapse in their conversation, Stephanie had drifted away from the camera. When Alfred spoke again, she spun back. “He does? Why didn’t he tell me before he left?”
“I’m sorry, Miss, but Daddy doesn’t confide in me as he does with you.”
“That’s right!” Stephanie crowed. “You’re just a stupid AI, and I’m his little girl.” She turned and flounced towards the mansion’s front door.
As she approached the front door, Stephanie's steps faltered. She glanced around. Somehow, she’d ended up in the foyer and didn’t know why. Her usual daytime place was the kitchen or laundry. She turned back. Maybe she’d remember the reason along the way.
Stephanie had barely taken two steps before the household AI spoke. “Miss, did you forget the package?”
“What package?”
“A delivery person is at the door with a package, for you.”
“Really?” her cheeks tightened with a smile. “Is it from my mother?” She hadn’t heard from Mom in a while. How long? Years? Something was wrong with her memory.
“Once you accept the delivery, I’m sure you’ll find out.”
“Oh, yeah, I guess you’re right.”
Still, opening any exterior door was a big deal. It was, literally, one step away from a top ten no-no, leaving the house without Roger. It had taken years before she’d earned enough trust to have the run of the house.
“AI.” She asked. “Does Roger know I’m going to open the front door?”
“Miss, Daddy wants you to accept this package. I’m certain it will be fine.”
“Oh,” Stephanie shrugged. Roger and his daddy fixation. It wasn’t even the worst of his kinks, just the most consistent.
Before opening the door, she remembered to check the security panel. A mirror hung on the wall next to the door. A couple of taps in the right spots changed it to a video display of the portico. A bearded man wearing chinos and a polo shirt waited. He carried a clipboard in one hand and a neoplas box in the other. Just she opened the door, something drew her attention back. What was it? Sure, he was tall and cute, with curly hair, broad shoulders, and a slim waist. Just watching him brought an unusual clarity to her thoughts. And just like that, the remnants of her little-girl facade skittered away.
The few men Roger allowed on the property never caught her eye. Strangely though, this delivery man seemed familiar, which was impossible. Roger never allowed her to meet anyone.
An odd design emblazoned his uniform shirt. It resembled a winged man with a sword, slaying a dragon. It must be a new delivery company. He appeared harmless enough, so Stephanie opened the door.
The man smiled and stepped forward. Something made Stephanie take a long look. Other than a shameless gleam of interest in his brown eyes, there wasn’t anything that should hold her attention. So, why did his crafty little smile make her cheeks heat up? The last thing she needed to do was encourage some stranger.
“I have a package for,” he glanced at his clipboard, “Miss Stephanie Timms.”
Despite knowing she shouldn’t stare, her eyes lingered on his well-defined biceps. Not bulky like a bodybuilder, just nicely toned. Her interest triggered a slight wave of heat. What was up with her bond today? It usually stopped her long before noticing anyone other than Roger. Here it was, allowing, heck, encouraging her to ogle a random guy.
“Are you all right, miss?” His voice hit just the right notes, and a little buzz started, but just as fast a stomach cramp shut it down.
This guy was not only cute but attentive enough to catch her brief twinge of nausea. “Oh, I’m fine,” A deep breath helped, as did keeping her eyes to the side. “It’s probably just a touch of low blood sugar.”
“Chinese food is great for blood sugar,” he said. “Szechuan Chicken is my favorite.”
“Thanks.” Where had she heard about Szechuan cuisine before? Roger hated any kind of Asian food.
“If you’ll sign here, Miss.” He proffered the clipboard and a mechanical pencil.
“What? No pen?” The pencil felt kind of heavy, but it wrote well enough.
“It’s all I had with me.” She finished her signature with a tiny dot for each “i.”
“And here’s your package.”
The box was lighter than she expected. It rustled a bit when she checked the label. “Thank you,” she said as the man stepped back; it never hurt to be polite.
“Ah, miss?” The driver spoke before she closed the door. “I’ll be in the area for quite a while—in case you have any questions.”
She kept her eyes averted as the driver walked back to his truck. Stephanie had enough nausea for one day.
On the way back to the kitchen, Stephanie carefully considered the warmth so recently kindled. It was Roger’s fault. What passed as normal sex for him rarely resulted in any kind of pleasure for her. The few orgasms she managed to sneak while in his presence were barely enough to keep the pain away. House cleaning, exercise, and long hot showers only helped so much. When Roger got home, he’d better take care of her business. Until then, if she thought a random delivery man was cute, it was Roger’s own damned fault.
The kitchen comm display, in its default mirror mode, reflected her image as she passed. Had the cute delivery guy seen a matching glint of interest in her own eyes? Just thinking about the possibility sent another twinge of heat followed by a wave of nausea. Yuck, going about your day horny and queasy was the worst.
Stephanie sat the package on the counter. What had the delivery man said there at the end? Oh, yes, “I’ll be in the area if you have any questions.” Why would she have a question for him? Even if she did, how was she supposed to ask him? Strange, strange, strange.
The package beckoned. Roughly square and made of the ubiquitous tan neoplas. There wasn’t a return address, and Roger’s packages always had return addresses. Then again, he hadn’t sent her anything in a long while. She should call him. None of his rules covered this situation. Even though Roger flipped out if she bothered him at work, he’d probably be angrier if she opened the box without his permission. “AI,” she called.
“Yes, Miss?” Had the AI’s voice changed somehow? It almost had an accent.
“Call Roger.” The com panel switched from a mirror to a blank screen.
Seconds later, the AI replied. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Grainer’s line is busy. A faint busy signal sounded in the background.
Funny, not even a voice mail prompt. Huh, maybe Roger’s inbox was full? Today was chock-full of strangeness.
The package had her name and Roger’s address on it. Stephanie Timms, 1 Ault Park Drive, Cincinnati, OH 45208. Oh, what the heck, she’d open it. Maybe her estranged mother sent it? Not that Roger wanted her to reestablish that relationship. Nope, Roger liked it best when Stephanie focused entirely on him. Besides, all Mom wanted to talk about was old, boring stuff.
Shaking the package revealed little. It rustled a bit, and there might be a very faint metal-on-metal tinkle. Curiosity got the better of her, and she used a steak knife to carve the box open.
Inside, nestled within the bio-degradable packaging material, she found a small velvet-covered jewelry box. Had Roger sent her a gift? Maybe it meant he was coming home? Another twinge, this time all good, weakened her knees. The jewelry box sprung open with a touch. Inside, on a bed of matching velvet, lay a delicate rose-gold chain with two heart-shaped pendants. The larger of the two was a simple outline, the other, a smaller solid heart with a single engraved “S” and a tiny inset diamond. It was a lovely necklace but far cheaper than anything Roger usually gifted to her.
Under the bright kitchen lights, she noticed light scratches on the flat surfaces. Was this a used necklace? Why in the world would Roger send her used jewelry? Still, it was pretty, and the rose gold would complement her hair and eyes. Something about it seemed familiar. Maybe she’d seen one like it before? Stephanie stepped to the wall display, already back in mirror mode, and put the necklace on.
As if closing the clasp also completed a circuit, a latent memory of donning this same bit of jewelry flitted through her mind. A young man and a high school dance. How crazy. Roger would never allow her to do any such thing.
Thinking about Roger helped settle her thoughts. The memories must have come from a movie. Odd that the title slipped her mind; she usually remembered everything. This necklace and its disturbing fake memories needed to go. She’d put it away and leave it for Roger to explain. Back at the box, she noticed an envelope partially hidden under the padding. Inside, Stephanie found a picture. Her, wearing a red cocktail dress and a boy in a suit. He had curly, uncombable hair and warm brown eyes. The same gleam lurked there as had in the delivery driver’s eyes.
Barriers inside her mind crashed away. Six months’ worth of ten-year-old memories returned in a flash, each stampeding for a place in her heart. Like a highlight reel of her sixteenth summer and fall, snatches of events poured into her soul. The pain of remembering a lost life crashed down and took Stephanie into darkness.
***
When Stephanie collapsed, Jason dropped his phone and hammered the truck’s start button. “Get the gate and the front door open, Alfred, I’m going in.” The dashboard displays flickered as his Ford pickup hummed to life.
“Is that wise, Master Jason?”
Regardless of Alfred’s opinion, the vehicular traffic between Jason’s parking spot and the Grainer estate parted like the Red Sea. Jason’s eyes bugged out as cars and busses drifted to the curb. “Holy heck, buddy, I didn’t know you could do that.” Without waiting for a reply, Jason floored the accelerator and zoomed onto the cleared roadway. “Is she okay?”
“Miss Stephanie is still breathing.”
“That’ll have to do.” Not too far ahead, the steel gate, barring entry to the former public park, slid out of view. Seconds later, his truck whirred through the gap. Several more seconds passed, and Jason slammed on the brakes, and his Ford pickup screeched to a stop.
The mansion’s front door stood ajar, and Jason barreled through. From his and Alfred’s spying, he knew the floor plan. Jason dashed through the foyer, with its polished marble floor, down the hallways and skidded into the kitchen. His heart thudded when he found Stephanie crumpled on the floor.
Alfred barked a warning as Jason approached. “Be careful. Remember what Natalie said.”
The warning almost came too late. Jason stumbled and nearly fell. “That loyalty gene thing?”
“Exactly. If you trigger it, Miss Stephanie may become dangerous.”
The slow rise and fall of Stephanie’s chest told Jason she lived. “I can’t believe she’d ever hurt me.” Like before, when he delivered the box, the urge to embrace her nearly overwhelmed him.
“She may no longer be the girl you once knew. Please, Jason, be careful.”
***
Recollections of a lost life swirled in a confusing jumble. Mom laughing. Mom crying. Mom dazed and incoherent after Gene finished with her. A cold hatred swelled at the memory of her father, that worthless sperm donor. The three of them moving into and out of a series of houses. Then a bright spot, a teasing young man with a special smile. Chasing behind that image was Roger, the stern-faced, young/old man who owned her.
The reason for her mysterious attraction to the delivery driver resolved itself. Mom finally sent Jason. Great, now Roger can have everyone murdered.
Stephanie opened her eyes. Across the room, Jason, the delivery driver, sat on the floor. His eyes, like hers, were full of tears. Seeing him again, after all these years, produced a slew of emotions. Conflicting desires and contrary fears urged opposing actions. She needed to drive him away, almost as much as she needed him to hold her. The anticipation of his touch brought another, albeit far weaker, wave of nausea. Yuck, this sucked! Maybe, if she wrote it down, someone would etch it on her tombstone: Here lies Stephanie the slave girl, nauseated and horny.”
Jason, handsome and buff with his short beard and tight-fitting shirt, stirred. He’d be twenty-six now, the same as her. She found her voice. “What did you do?”
“I brought you back.” He grinned.
He didn’t understand. “No, Jay, all you did was fill me with her memories. I’m not your Stephanie, not anymore.”
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Jason shook his head in denial.
The stupid man. Barging in here without thinking and acting the hero. He’d be lucky to live out the week. Hell, she’d probably die too. There was no way Roger would forgive this.
Sighing, Stephanie used a corner of the table to help her stand.
Jason lurched to his feet, but he stopped before stepping any closer. At least he knew to keep his distance.
Sighing again, she waved her former boyfriend back, then pulled out a chair and sat. “Make yourself useful. Heat up the kettle for me.”
“Kettle?”
“Yes, Jason, the kettle.” She pointed to the cast iron teapot on the stove. “You know, to make tea?”
It became apparent that he couldn’t even manage this simple task. Even with Stephanie’s directions, every few seconds, his head would turn back to her, and a stupid grin would lift the corners of his mouth. It was kind of sweet and not a little flattering, but she needed the tea to help her think.
The big goof stood at the sink, making cow eyes at her while tap water overflowed from the kettle.
“Jason?”
“Steph, I-I missed you so much.”
“I know. You’ve told me twice already.”
“Oh,” his face clouded for a moment, but it cleared right back up. “I can’t believe we’re together again.”
“Look, Jay” she had to say it, “we’re not together again.” His face fell, and it broke her heart. Before Stephanie realized it, she stood at his side. One hand reaching to shut off the tap, her other hand, all by itself, reached out and touched his arm. An invisible spark, or something, jumped between them, and they both flinched.
“Whoa!” he said. “Did you feel that?”
“Yeah,” she said, trying to rub the tingle from her fingers. “It must be static electricity. I’ll have the AI check the humidifier.”
Jason reached a hand towards hers. “Can I try?”
Afraid it might happen again, Stephanie skipped back a step. “Better not. We don’t know what might happen.”
The look in his eyes disagreed.
“Tell you what, Jay, I’ll help with the tea. Then we’ll talk, ‘kay?” ‘Kay was Jasonese from back then.
They moved around the kitchen in an odd choreography. He kept his distance. She did as well. At the same time, they watched each other with an ever-increasing warmth.
“I’ll get the cups. You put the kettle on the stove, okay?”
He nodded, “You want it hot.”
The way he said it made her pause. A sneaky glance back revealed nothing. Jason had an innocent smile plastered across his face. All too aware of his intent, she nodded. “Yeah, boiling hot.” For good measure, she added, “Hot enough to hurt!”
All he did was smile.
Stephanie decided this occasion was special enough to warrant the full tea service. While Jason obediently watched the kettle heat, she got out the fancy tea stuff. Once or twice, she caught his eyes following her.
“You’re taller than I remember,” she said in passing.
“Yeah, I kept growing until my senior year in high school. It drove Mom crazy buying me clothes.”
“Isn’t that unusual?”
“Not so much. It runs in Dad’s family. We’re late bloomers.”
The ceramic teapot was in the cabinet to Jason’s left. At first, Stephanie thought to ask him to get it. No, he’d mess it up somehow. Casually, as if she hadn’t a care in the world, Stephanie passed close enough to raise goosebumps. It was daring to see how close she could get.
Jason said, “I don’t think I’ve ever been so aware of you before. It’s like I can close my eyes and still find you.”
“It sounds like you need to get laid.” She reached past him for the teapot inside the cabinet. If the side of her torso brushed his arm, it was entirely an accident.
“I’m not the only one,” he said. “It’s been a while for you too.”
Surprised, and not a little irritated, she spun to face him. He stood well within her personal zone. “What makes you think that?”
“It’s your eyes. They always gave you away.”
What? Stephanie’s mouth dropped open. Was Jason telling the truth? He’d never said anything about it before. Well, not that she remembered. It wasn’t any of his business anyway. “It’s not your problem,” she snapped.
The kettle whistled. Smirking, Jason turned back to the stove. While he fiddled with the controls, Stephanie slipped over to the wall display. Over her shoulder, she said, “Pour the hot water into the ceramic teapot, please. It needs to heat up before we make the tea.” She examined her eyes in the mirrored display. Did they really give her away?
When Jason turned towards her, she ducked back to the counter. “Dump out the water and refill the pot. I’ll fetch the tea.” His innocent expression was back. The rat better not be smirking at her.
After carrying the tea service to the table, Jason took the chair closest to the door. Stephanie sat at the opposite end. Not that it would help if something triggered her.
Neither spoke. A question she was confident lay on both their minds, “Wanna fuck?” almost made it to her lips. Instead, she sipped her tea and built a fortress of serenity in her mind.
At peace, she tried a neutral topic. “How’s your mother?”
“Mom’s good, but my parents and I don’t talk much anymore.”
His reply packed more questions than answers. “Why not?”
“After college, Dad and I got into a fight.” Jason shrugged and added, “We stopped talking.”
“Why? You looked up to him so much.” More memories socketed themselves into place. She’d envied Jason for having a real dad. It balanced well with her distrust of the inflexible, law-abiding man.
“Dad thought I spent too much of my life waiting for you to come back.”
“Oh?” A rush of selfish glee warred with her sudden guilt. He was supposed to have a real-life; it was one of her anchors.
“I disagreed with him.”
“What, you never dated anyone after me?” That guilty glee still did its crazy dance in the back of her mind.
“Well, no. I dated.” Jason met her eyes, and that damned smirk was back. “Remember Caitlin?”
Intended or not, Jason’s barb struck. Stephanie’s eyes narrowed. “That red-haired hussy from the dance?” Her fortress of calm turned out to be a sandcastle. Waves of irritation eroded its edges.
“Yeah, she and I dated, off and on, for almost two years.”
A calming breath stopped the erosion. Stephanie’s eyes dropped to his left hand. Nothing on his ring finger. “What happened? Married and divorced already? Any kids?”
“Nothing like that. We split up because I couldn’t commit.” His eyes lingered on hers. “She accused me of not letting you go.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said without the slightest sense of regret. “How many other girls did you date?”
“Before Caitlin and I split up for good, or after?”
Stephanie blinked. Irritated, she said, “In total. How many?”
“Do booty calls count? ’Cause, there were a few of those too.”
A wave of anger swept over her sandcastle. “You son of a bitch. I’m stuck here, and you turned into a man-whore!”
“Think of it as a compliment. I’ve known a bunch of women, and none of them ever came close to you.”
She wanted to jump across the table and strangle him. Instead, Stephanie took a deep breath and rebuilt her fortress. After regaining her center, she slid her empty cup across the table. It dinged his cup to the side, and both stopped short of the edge. “Make me another cup.”
Jason nodded and stepped back to the induction range.
He stood at the stove, his back to her. Her eyes traced his broad shoulders, trim waist, and tight…. He’d certainly improved with age. Then he spoke without looking back.
“There’s one thing still bothering me. Why didn’t you say something back then? Didn’t you trust me?”
The kettle whistled. Jason shut off the stove and fiddled with the tea-making supplies. Of course, he got it all wrong. He didn’t preheat the teapot, and he didn’t know to reuse the tea ball. Answers to his questions swirled in her mind. What to say? How to say it? How dare he ask if she trusted him! His fumbling got the better of her.
“Never mind,” she said in a huff, “I’ll make it.”
He turned towards her, just as she reached him. By then, it was too late to reconsider. Too late to step back. She was in his arms and the years vanished. Jason’s lips were chilled fire. A moment later, her lips parted, and their kiss deepened. A perfect storm of electricity built, swirling through her core.
There weren’t any restrictions. No promises to one parent or another. No reason for either him or her to hold back. Jason’s cool, knowing hands kneaded and teased. The bristle of his beard burned lines of desire across her throat. She’d never wanted him more than now. Together they sank to their knees. Then she onto her back, pulling him with her. The cold tile floor pressed against her. They were all business. Jason sat up; one hand fumbled with his belt, the other busy beneath her skirt. The gleam in his eyes was far brighter than she remembered.
“Master Jason?” The voice boomed from the comm panel.
“Not now, Alfred, we’re busy.” Belt undone, Jason switched to the button and zipper.
Alfred? Jason’s old AI? What was it doing here in Rog— Everything changed.
Somehow, an intruder had her down on the floor. She needed to inflict maximum damage and roll clear. Her legs were up, so she cocked her right leg back and kicked. The heel of her shoe struck the intruder’s forehead. He crumpled. In a flash, Stephanie popped to her feet, scanning for other intruders.
***
It was enough to make a cyber entity cry. Despite all the warnings and discussions, at Jason's first opportunity to "get jiggy" with Miss Stephanie, the impulsive young human ended up unconscious. And poor Miss Stephanie, now back in "Roger's Girl" mode, was completely out of control. To make it even better, there was the other crisis to manage. The one he hadn’t warned anyone about yet. He needed a human to intervene, but who?
***
Decades ago, Natalie discovered the value of a hot bath. Due to her original owner’s business travels, Pavlo sometimes left her alone for anywhere from a few days to a few weeks. The longing his absence created made her life difficult. If left alone long enough, she’d developed an influenza-like fever and achy joints. She recalled when Maryska, Pavlo’s wife, used hot baths to ease the flu symptoms in their children. Perhaps a hot bath would also help her?
The master bath in Pavlo’s townhouse included a huge claw-footed porcelain tub. She allowed the water to run hot before seating the rubber stopper. When the bathtub filled halfway, she slipped inside. The water’s temperature was far higher than her own, and the heat seeped into her bones. Warming up and relaxing, she nearly fell asleep.
After the water temperature dropped a few degrees, she opened the valve with her toes and added more hot. While the bath warmed, she thought about the sensations Pavlo stirred within her. Almost of their own volition, her hands dipped down. Perhaps she might elicit the same on her own? All Pavlo did was rub here and there, and she lost her mind. He made it seem so simple.
Thirty-odd years later, Natalie lived for her afternoon baths. She loved the indolence of a steaming hot soak, with the water almost hot enough to scald. Sharply scented bath salts completed the ritual. While she never achieved the level of sensation Pavlo or Gene brought, she got darned good at it. The trick was to draw it out. The longer the buildup, the better the culmination, and the more it reduced her withdrawal symptoms.
Today, with Jason set to rescue Stephanie, Natalie needed to deal with both the stress and her bond. If she didn’t, she’d be a wreck if a problem arose. From a shelf in the bathroom, she selected a bitter orange and pomegranate bath bomb. It turned the water a deep ruby red and filled the room with the heady scents of orange bitters and cloves. She slipped into the tub and got busy.
Her fingers drew gentle circles and dashes, holding herself on edge. This was the best part. Eyes closed, Natalie floated, free from aches and need. La petite mort hovered close. She considered reaching for it.
“Miss Natalie, I apologize for the interruption.”
Fragrant, red-tinged water splashed the walls and floor as Natalie surged out of the tub.
Automatically dropping into a Shaolin cat stance, her head panned left and right as she searched for the intruder. No one was in sight. “Who’s there,” she called. The intruder probably lurked in the bedroom.
“My apologies, Miss Natalie. I am Alfred, the Thomases’ AI. Jason and I need your assistance.”
The voice came from the ceiling-mounted speaker. An AI named Alfred had always answered the Thomases’ phone. Had Jason already left to rescue Stephanie? “Is this about my daughter? And how are you inside my house?”
“We have a crisis at the Grainer mansion. Stephanie has incapacitated Jason. If I patch you through, can you speak to her? In a rush, Alfred filled Natalie in.
***
Stephanie's attacker retched and rolled away. At least she didn’t have to see his face. Daddy’s rules were adamant. Thieves and other intruders were dealt with by his people, not the police. Whatever this man intended, he wouldn’t have a good ending. Stephanie turned to the comm panel and pressed the red emergency button.
Nothing happened. Stephanie jabbed it again.
The speaker crackled, and a woman spoke. “Stop whatever you’re doing, little miss. You’re making a huge mistake.”
Little miss? The only person who called her “little miss” was… “Mom?” A myriad of smiles and hugs, shared tears and hopes, images that meant “Mom,” blossomed in her mind. Stephanie hadn’t heard from her mother in…how long? Oh, yeah, ever since Roger told her to refuse Mom’s calls and dump all her emails. That bastard! But Roger meant everything to her. He was…a reflection from the panel’s mirrored surface caught the gleam of the necklace still around her neck.
It wasn’t fair. Events that shaped memories were supposed to happen one after the other. Instead, she had a jumble of three different lives to consolidate. The most vivid memories were of being Roger’s toy girl. Adding to those were the years growing up as Natalie’s daughter. Her intruder moaned and rolled onto his back. Crap, six months of loving Jason stirred themselves into the mix.
It was a lot for a poor genie to take in. Dizzy, nauseous, and still horny, Stephanie fell into a chair. “Mom,” she wailed, “what’s going on?”
“Sweetie,” The anguish in Mom’s voice stabbed Stephanie through the heart. “do you remember the plan?”
The plan? Yeah, Mom’s crazy idea. Jason rolling up to rescue her like Richard Gere in the old 2D movie, Pretty Woman. “I remember, but it wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”
“No, it wasn’t, but it’s what we have, sweetie. Jason came to get you. I’m sorry if you’re having problems.”
On the floor, her former boyfriend struggled to sit up. Before he moved more than an inch, Stephanie knelt next to him. “Don’t move. We may need to call an ambulance.”
“Hey, Steph,” Jay slurred her name happily. “Why are you blurry?” His eyes didn’t track. One pupil was normal, the other dilated.
“Mom,” Stephanie called out, “refresh my memory. What does it mean when a man has one eye dilated and the other’s normal?”
“Oh, dear,” Mom replied, “did you kick Jason?
“We were on the floor, and I thought he was an intruder.”
“What were you and Jason doing on the floor? Oh, never mind. Even with ten years to grow up, you two still can’t be left alone!”
Face hot, Stephanie retorted. “You’re not helping Mother.”
“He’s concussed.”
The craziness had gone on long enough. “All right,” Stephanie announced. Everyone fell silent. “Mentally, I’m as far back together as possible. Mom, I remember enough of the plan to know it will get Jason killed. He needs to leave.” Stephanie eased Jason into a fireman’s carry and turned towards the front door.
Mom’s voice followed her via the overhead speakers. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”
“Roger is about a hundred times worse than Yevgeny. He’s a cold-blooded, murderous bastard. He won’t come after us himself; he’ll hire professionals. I’m sure Jason’s just as wonderful as ever, but he can’t defend us.”
“Ahem,” Alfred interjected. “Miss Stephanie, I—”
Grunting under the load, Stephanie spared a breath to chuckle. “That’s sweet of you, Alfred. I don’t know how Jason uploaded you here, but you’re just a household AI. Your willingness to defend Jason is admirable, but—"
Alfred spoke in a stern voice, his words clipped. “Shut it, Miss Stephanie. Your owner, Roger Grainer, is on his way home. His ETA is less than ten minutes from now.”
Stephanie gripped Jason as tight as possible and flat-out ran for the front door. They were close to the foyer when Jason moaned, “Stop, I’m going to throw up.”
“No! Not here, Jason, wait till we get you outside. Do you have a car?”
She felt his head shake. “No, real men drive trucks.”
“Great, after I load you into your manly truck, you can throw up. I’ll even start the autopilot.”
They made it to the center of the foyer when Jason heaved. He slipped out of Stephanie’s grasp. He retched once, then vomited all over himself and the floor.
Stephanie stared down at the puking man. Once upon a time, he was her fairy tale boyfriend. She must still love him. Otherwise, she’d murder him. “This is so bad. Roger will be home any minute.”
Jason rolled onto his back, fortunately not through the pool of…yuck. His eyes opened. “Why do I see two of you?”
From off in the distance, Stephanie heard the high-pitched whine of turbines. Roger’s turbocopter was close. “Jason, you need to leave!”
“Miss Stephanie,” Alfred interrupted, “if Master Jason has a concussion, moving him to his vehicle might be fatal.”
“If Roger finds him, it will be fatal!”
“In that case, I suggest you hide him. I’ll take care of the truck.” From outside the still-open front door, Jason’s vehicle hummed to life; gravel crunched under its rubber tires as Alfred somehow drove it down the lane.
“Alfred, wait,” Stephanie wailed in frustration. “You have to take him with you!” The inbound turbine whine grew louder.
When Roger stepped into the foyer, he found Stephanie on her hands and knees, cleaning up the mess.
“What’s this?” he demanded. She could picture him, hands on hips, in his “outraged” pose.
Stephanie searched for an explanation that didn’t involve a concussed former boyfriend and the thoroughly useless Alfred. Her brow furrowed as she concentrated, and something amazing happened. For the first time in nearly a decade, she found it possible to lie to her owner.
“I-I got sick,” she said while keeping her eyes down. Roger never missed anything. If he saw any sign of falsehood, she and Jason would die.
“You got sick? Really?” He paused, and Stephanie cringed, waiting for the accusation. “I know exactly what that means, young lady!”
She couldn’t help it. Her eyes darted up to see Roger with a joyful smile stretched across his face. “Y-you do?”
“Yes, Daddy’s little girl is going to have a baby! Finally! Daddy despaired it would ever happen. He thought his little baby girl would always deny him a daughter.”
If she hadn’t been so frightened for herself and Jason, Roger switching into full Daddy-Dom mode would have made her vomit. Funny thing, though, his daddy role-playing never creeped her out so much before.
“Babygirl,” he said. “Get your mess cleaned up. Daddy’s hungry and wants his supper.” With a new spring in his step, Roger skipped to the stairs. Stephanie listened carefully. She didn’t know what she’d do if Roger opened the guest bedroom door and found Jason.
***
Far too frazzled to even think about returning to her tub, Natalie padded downstairs and put the kettle on. While setting up her teapot, she had a thought. “Alfred?”
Without hesitation, Alfred answered. “Yes, Miss Natalie?”
“How long ago had you hacked your way into my house?”
“Just before we spoke.”
“So, you weren’t spying on me for long?”
“Miss Natalie, I am an AI, not a corporeal being. While I can appreciate the aesthetics of your beauty, I do not have gonads. Your modesty is quite safe.”
“Well,” despite Alfred’s denial, his presence still unnerved Natalie. She was not used to speaking with a cyber entity. “In the future, stay out of my bathroom.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”