> In the News Today: The first documented transplant of a human brain into a genie body took place today in North Korea. The Korean Central News Agency reports Glorious Leader Kim Jong-lo will live forever.

With Jason and Stephanie on the road and safe for the moment, Alfred checked his message queue. The Charlie avatar stationed at the Grainer mansion had posted an update. Representatives of the Saudi Arabian prince were due to arrive today. Alfred did not want to miss watching Grainer admit he no longer had Miss Stephanie. If things went well, the prince would have Grainer murdered, and that would be lovely.

With a flick of concentration, Alfred spawned an avatar to keep an eye on his charges.

>avatar guardian/keep stephanie and jason safe, harry

Next stop, the transient flight services ramp at Cincinnati’s Lunken Airport.

Hacking into the airport’s security network was remarkably easy. An array of cameras, all neatly labeled, were available. What wasn’t available were microphones. How the bloody hell could he learn anything if he couldn’t hear the discussions? It wasn’t like lip reading was one of his skills.

>lipread.app

Oh, of course, why hadn’t he known? Didn’t every bloody cyber assassin have a lip-reading app. Alfred selected the transient flight services ramp and initialized the program.

A sleek Gulfstream G1550ER turned off the taxiway, and a uniformed attendant directed the aircraft to its parking spot. Other attendants darted under the fuselage and chocked the aircraft’s tires.

Hydraulics whined—apparently, the app provided ambient sound—and metal stairs extended from the aircraft. At the same time, a uniformed crew member opened and secured the passenger door. Moments later, an olive-skinned man with a full, dark beard and wearing a western-style suit exited the plane. He stood on the tarmac and glanced at his watch.

Another man, who until now had stood near the transient terminal, stepped into view. He extended his hand and, in passable Arabic, said, “Assalaam 'alaikum. My name is David Grant. I represent the seller. He has authorized me to negotiate any last-minute details.”

The bearded man nodded and replied in English. “And peace be upon you, Mr. David Grant. My name is Usamah Kahn. My apologies for any impoliteness, but is she ready? It is a long return flight, and my prince is eager to meet his new concubine.”

“There is a temporary setback. The girl has slipped away from her benefactor’s care. My client expects her safe recovery within the hour.”

“Pardon me, Mr. Grant, but I must inform my prince.” Usamah spun towards the aircraft door. “The phone, bring it to me!”

A crew member emerged from the cabin with a compact handset. The device's squat, tubular antenna identified it as a satellite-connected phone. Because the signal went almost straight up, these devices were thought impossible to eavesdrop upon. Alfred, via the emulation, knew better.

Usamah took the phone and strode towards the opposite wingtip. He faced away from the camera, cutting the audio off. The view shifted rapidly until another camera with coverage was located.

“My prince,” Usamah spoke in Arabic, but a translation program changed the words to English. “It may be as you feared. The unbelievers do not have the girl. They claim she ran away.”

Alfred considered the turn of events. It looked like an opening had presented itself.

***

“Twenty-three, Base.”

“Twenty-three.”

“Investigate a possible ten forty-eight at the Super Eight Motel in Elm Grove.”

A ten forty-eight? Not many people tried to impersonate a police officer anymore. Today’s holographic badges and identity cards were impossible to forge. “Roger base, ETA seven minutes.”

This early in the day, the Super Eight’s parking lot was nearly empty. Most travelers started early and kept driving until late. Big Steve and the other troopers cleaned up after the drivers who pushed too hard.

A white panel truck occupied the parking spot directly across from the pool. A man wearing a dark green Department of Homeland Security jacket stepped around to the front of the truck. His eyes bugged out at the sight of the cruiser.

In his seventeen years of service, Trooper Schaefer had “seen some shit.” Only the genuinely law-abiding or the smoothest of sociopaths managed to pull off an innocent look. The rest always looked guilty as hell, just like the man in the DHS livery.

“Base, twenty-three.”

“Base.”

“You got anything on a DHS operation at the Super Eight?”

“Negative, twenty-three. Do you request backup?”

Two men in disposable, neoplas coveralls stepped out from around the truck. They froze after spotting the cruiser.

“Yes, send backup and a lieutenant. DHS has a forensics team here.”

“Affirmative, twenty-three. Be careful.”

“You got it, base. Twenty-three out.”

The DHS agent advanced towards Steve with his hands in the open. Steve exited his cruiser and waited.

“Everything is under control, trooper.” The agent flashed a holographic badge slowly enough the logo popped into view, but not slow enough for Steve to read the man’s name.

Schaefer frowned. Feds were all the same. “Do that again but hold your ID so I can read it. Then show me your search warrant.”

Puffing out his chest, the DHS agent blustered, “I have all the jurisdiction I need.”

The two men standing by the truck held a brief but heated discussion. One of them turned and strode to Steve’s right, the other to the left. Their movements were slow and steady, just two, every day, regular guys in disposable, hooded coveralls strolling across a sunny parking lot.

This shift in the tactical situation set Big Steve’s cop senses to full alert. “You two,” he pointed with his left hand while shifting his right to the butt of his service pistol, “get back in front of your truck. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

The man in the DHS jacket raised his hands in an apparent attempt to diffuse the situation. “Trooper, please. This is all a misunderstanding. If you’ll just wait a second, I’ll—”

Whatever the man intended to say was cut off when Steve drew his pistol. The two men in neoplas had turned back towards their truck. However, while turning, the man on the right slipped a hand inside his coverall and withdrew a bulky military-grade Taser.

Tasers came in two flavors, civilian and military. Civilian models, the so-called “safe Tasers,” only allowed single-shot cartridges. They were powerful enough to incapacitate an attacker and allow the shooter to flee. Military tasers, like the one on Big Steve’s duty belt, were capable of multiple shocks or even one continuous, and likely fatal, discharge.

“Drop it,” boomed Steve. Neoplas rustled to his left, and Steve risked a glance. The other man had drawn a Taser as well. Steve threw himself back but kept his pistol on the target to his right.

A crack in the asphalt caught the heel of Steve’s boot. He stumbled and fell as a Taser’s twin barbs zipped past from his right, trailing a pair of loosely coiled wires. As Steve’s butt hit the ground, he centered his sights on the shooter’s torso. His pistol bucked twice, and two .45 caliber bullets punched through the target’s chest.

Tires squealed as another State Police cruiser entered the parking lot.

The DHS agent had his pistol in hand. He spun and double-tapped the other coverall-wearing man.

A state police lieutenant advanced with his service pistol in a modified Weaver stance. In the distance, a siren blared from another cruiser.

The DHS agent dropped to his knees, placed his pistol on the ground. He bellowed. “I have nothing to say until I speak with my lawyer.”

Holy shit! Trooper Schaefer climbed back to his feet and secured the DHS agent’s firearm. What the fuck just happened? The after-action shakes began.

***

“God damn it, David, if I had the little bitch, I’d turn her over.” Roger all but screamed into the phone.

“Calm down, Roger. All I’m saying is the prince isn’t pleased. He requires you to provide lodging for his people while you recover his property.”

“Fine,” Roger gritted his teeth. “I’ll take care of it.” He stabbed the phone’s off button and then stabbed the intercom button.

“Yes, Mr. Grainer,” the household AI spoke in its smooth gender-neutral voice.

“Secure suitable hotel accommodations for a party of eight. Then call David Grant and give him the details.”

“Length of stay, sir?”

Roger glared at the desktop speaker. “Indeterminate.”

With nothing to do except wait for word from David’s recovery team, Roger stood and walked smartly towards the kitchen. Sometime over the last ten years, he’d grown accustomed to the little bitch slinking around. She was rarely far away, no matter how he’d punish her. It was like an invisible rope linked the two of them. He’d assumed it was the loyalty gene controlling her. Then again, if the loyalty gene truly existed, how had his pet managed to run away? She’d had ample opportunities over the last few years.

It had to be her pregnancy. Human females experienced crazy hormonal swings daily. It’s what made them unstable and incapable of making sound decisions. One would think genie designers would eliminate such inconveniences from their products. As for his little bimbo, with her body a raging sea of maternal hormones, there was no telling what ditzy thoughts drove her.

While making a sandwich, something he hadn’t done for himself in years, the phone buzzed. It was probably David with another of the prince’s demands. He crossed over to the comm panel and answered the call. “Another problem, David?”

“Mr. Grainer, my name is Alexander Howzer. I’m an attorney. One of my clients asked me to contact you.”

“Mr. Howzer, I’m kind of busy. Please get to the point.”

“Of course. My client was part of a team sent to recover a certain property of yours. A NoJack ping led them to a particular motel. While investigating the scene, the state police involved themselves. My client attempted to distract the state trooper, but there was an altercation. The trooper killed one man. My client silenced a second. Your property was not recovered.”

“Oh, shit.” The words slipped out.

“Indeed, Mr. Grainer. If my client is to remain silent, he’ll need reassurance his legal bills and financial needs will be taken care of.”

Shit! “Mr. Howzer, I’ll connect you to my AI. Give it your contact information. One of my attorneys will contact you.” Roger made the arrangements and hung up. No longer hungry, Roger threw his sandwich in the trash and stormed back to his office. “I will beat the little whore to death.”

There was one option left. However distasteful it might be. From inside his safe, Roger removed a business card. Just reading the man’s name made his hands shake. He’d never hated anyone like this since high school.

Twenty minutes later, fortified from a shot of his favorite single malt, Roger dialed the number. Seconds passed with no ringing. What if the number was out of service? It had been nearly nine years. Then, an all too familiar voice answered.

“Ah, if it isn’t my diminutive friend, Roger Grainer.”

“Good day, Mr. Timms. You owe me a refund.”

“It’s a little late for that. You’ve owned the item for over a decade.”

“None the less, the item failed to operate per your guarantee. A refund is due.”

“All right, this line is secure. What are you claiming my genie’s daughter has or has not done?”

“She ran away yesterday. My agents tracked her to Wheeling, West Virginia.”

“Where did she escape from?”

“My residence in Cincinnati.”

“That’s…” Gene’s voice trailed off. Roger heard the clicks from a keyboard. “That’s over two hundred miles. Much too far for her to travel on her own. I take it you shared her with a friend or perhaps several friends?”

“Share her? Of course not. The very idea is disgusting. She’d be soiled.”

Timms hissed, and Roger wondered if he’d somehow offended the genie peddler. A moment later, Timms recovered and continued as if nothing happened. “As you say, Mr. Grainer. I’m merely trying to understand why a genie of her pedigree might commit suicide.”

“You think she’s trying to kill herself? But…but she’s pregnant.”

“Ah, now that clears everything up.”

“It does?”

“Think, Mr. Grainer. To whom do immature animals look to for protection?”

Flustered, Roger almost flung the phone into the woods. He called Timms for assistance, not for a quiz, and not for the peddler’s little jokes. Roger closed his eyes and shook himself. It always happened like this. The annoying bastard always got under his skin.

Timms chuckled. “Mr. Grainer, allow me to refresh your rather short memory. Her mother still resides in Wexford, Pennsylvania.”

Roger had studied maps all morning. Wheeling, West Virginia lay between Cincinnati and Pennsylvania. Everything became clear.

Roger said, “She’s running home to her mother!”

***

Jason clicked off the autopilot and manually backed his truck into the garage. “Hey, sweetheart, we’re here. Alfred, is the coast clear?”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Mr. Timms remains out of state. Shall I relay a discreet message to Miss Natalie?”

Next to Jason, Stephanie stretched. He watched in appreciation until she finished. Jason said, “What about it, Steph? Call, text, or would you rather run home and surprise your mom?”

“I’d like to see Mom again.” Her pale olive eyes studied the world beyond the open garage door.

“Alfred, can you make it so?”

“I have complete control over the Timms’ security network. There will not be a record of Miss Stephanie’s visit.”

The interior of the garage held Stephanie’s attention for a moment before she turned back to Jason. “What will you do while I’m gone?”

“Besides miss you with every fiber of my being? My truck needs some preventative maintenance, and Alfred and I have some business to discuss.” He opened the driver's side door and stepped out.

Stephanie slid across the seat and into his arms. She said, “Sleeping recharged my batteries.”

His voice suddenly husky, Jason said, “At this rate, you’ll be ready for the full ‘Jason Thomas experience’ pretty soon.”

“Oh,” Stephanie blinked, “what do you call last night?”

He grinned. “A light warmup. You’re still in training, padawan.”

An extra warm fingertip prodded his chest. “I think you’re full of it.”

“I think you’re the one who’s gonna be full of it.”

Stephanie’s eyes darkened; he and she were teetering on the edge of a severe public display of affection. Screwing in broad daylight with the garage door open wasn’t a good idea under the best of circumstances. Backing away from her wasn’t easy, but he managed to disengage.

“Sweetheart,” he said, “go visit your mom. Give her my thanks. I owe her everything and there isn’t any way I can ever repay her.”

“Jay,” Steph stepped close, her eyes bright again. “We’ll talk about it later, but Mom and I…well, it’s us who owe you.”

***

Except for the days when Gene visited, Natalie filled the hours with housework, exercise, and hot steamy baths. Since Alfred’s surprise visit, he occasionally checked in with a generalized update. Natalie knew her daughter and Jason were somewhere safe. That was enough. What she didn’t know, she couldn’t tell her owner.

The day’s chores were finished, and Natalie contemplated a light lunch before her afternoon exercise session. Lately, she’d switched back to a mixed martial arts regimen. The mix of strength, flexibility, and cardio complimented her abilities.

The lock on the back door clicked open, and a familiar voice called out, “Mom? I’m home.”

Mom and daughter hugged each other for a long, long time. Ten years is like forever when you miss someone you love.

Not wanting to let go, Natalie held Stephanie out at arm’s length, “I don’t know why you and Jason are here, but I’m glad to see you, sweetie. I’ll make us a pot, and we can talk.”

While their tea brewed, Natalie covertly examined her daughter. She was thin as a rail, probably because Roger hadn’t fed her enough. Then under her bright kitchen light, something else caught her eye. “Let me see your arms.” Once Stephanie held her arms out, the faint lines from old scars were visible. “Where else?”

“My back, my butt, and my legs.”

“Has Jason seen them?”

“I don’t think so. The light wasn’t right,” Steph took a breath. “They’re really faint, and you know how we heal.”

“If I can see them, he will too. Can you keep Romeo under control? If he goes gunning for Roger, it will give the whole show away.”

Stephanie grinned at her mother’s old nickname for Jason. “I don’t know if it matters. Jason’s done something to their household AI, and Alfred is like a movie supercomputer. He can do almost anything.”

“Oh, I’ve already met Alfred the All-Powerful.” Natalie pitched her voice towards the ceiling. “If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll stay out of my bathroom.”

“Mom?”

Natalie waved away her daughter’s concern. “Never mind. Don’t tell me where Jason is taking you. What I don’t know, Yevgeny can’t make me tell.” When Steffi glanced aside to avoid eye contact, Natalie leaned close. “He is taking you somewhere safe, isn’t he?”

“He says the safest place is where they won’t think to look.”

Natalie sat back and took a deep breath. If Yevgeny asked about Stephanie’s whereabouts, she could still say she didn’t know. She stood and opened the pantry. From behind a long unopened box of waffle mix, Natalie produced a bottle of homemade peach schnapps. “I need a drink. Join me?”

Natalie felt the buzz when she poured two more shots of schnapps. “I’m glad Jason managed a successful kidnapping.”

Stephanie accepted the glass and raised it to her lips. “Jason is good at a lot of things, but kidnapping isn’t one of them.”

“You two always worked better as a team. In any case, our plan worked, and now you’re free.”

“Ha,” Stephanie swayed in her seat. “You don’t know how close it came. I almost sent Romeo away. The plan never accounted for someone like Roger.”

“Oh, other than being male, what’s wrong with him?”

“Roger’s the kind of human who needs to hurt someone before he can get it up. Lucky for me, I learned to distance myself. I’d wake up after, bruised and sore. What little I remembered always felt like it happened to someone else.”

Natalie tossed back her drink. “Maybe your bond works differently than mine. I always remember everything until I pass out. Now that I’m older, sometimes even after.”

“Well, I remember almost everything me and Romeo did last night. I’m still a bit sore.”

“Oh?” Mom sat up straight, “Did he hurt you?”

“Not like you think. Jason’s…well, Jason grew a lot since we were kids. I think Roger stopped growing in third grade.”

“Oh?” Once Natalie understood what her daughter meant, she grinned so hard her cheeks felt tight. A little of her old teasing ways seemed appropriate. “Maybe I should let Romeo steal my kisses. You know, just to make sure he deserves you.”

Stephanie grimaced and muttered something under her breath. Natalie must have misheard, but it sounded like, “You must be one of the few he missed.”

After an awkward silence, Natalie tried a different question. “Speaking of the intrepid kidnapper, where is he?”

Despite the alcohol, all this talk about Jason brought her bond to life. Stronger now than ever, her bond felt as though Jason were at the bottom of a hill and she at the top. If she lost her grip, gravity alone would draw her to him. “He’s probably waiting for me.”

Natalie tipped her head back and spoke towards the ceiling. “Alfred, can you ask Jason to come over. It’s time I met the man who’s chasing after my daughter.”

Stephanie laughed and stood. The tea and alcohol were getting to her. “Excuse me. I need the bathroom.”

***

With a clean shop cloth in hand, Jason popped his truck’s hood. Electric vehicles didn’t require engine oil changes, but the brake and steering fluids needed checking. The washer fluid was low. Jason grabbed a neoplas jug and topped it off.

“Alfred, I’m having second thoughts about Grainer. What are my options?”

“A quote from Niccolò Machiavelli comes to mind, ‘Never do an enemy a small injury.’ For a man with Mr. Grainer’s means, stealing Miss Stephanie qualified as a ‘small injury.’”

“He’ll probably keep trying to find her.”

“Mr. Grainer hasn’t stopped. In fact, he’s come quite close already. The single response from Miss Stephanie’s chip led his agents to the motel.

Jason’s heart skipped a beat. He’d thought they were free and clear. “What happened?”

“I left an avatar running inside the motel’s security system. It detected a team searching room to room. I intervened and contacted the state police. They investigated, and a shootout occurred. Two of Roger’s henchmen were killed, and the third, a corrupt DHS agent, has been held for questioning. I expect it will be on the news tonight.”

Jason stomped to the trash bin and discarded the empty jug. What he wanted to ask for wasn’t easy. “I want to do Grainer a large injury.”

“A large and permanent injury?”

That old bastard didn’t deserve a quick death. Jason wanted to see him hurt the same as he’d hurt Stephanie. “Do we have an option for a lifetime of pain and suffering?”

***

Without Alfred asking, a manual on financial hacks and manipulations opened. Alfred overclocked and studied the contents.

Alfred refocused on the real world. “What if we take away everything Grainer has.”

“That is a good start, but I think we can do more.” Jason stood in thought, then smiled. It wasn’t a friendly smile. “How undetectable is your backdoor into Grainer’s phone?”

>code runs in volatile ram.

“According to the emulation, it’s undetectable.”

Now Jason grinned. “This is what I want you to do…”

Alfred stared at his human friend. What Jason proposed was vile, even loathsome, but oh, so justified. Another instruction manual popped into view. Alfred overclocked and read it without pause. He was now an expert on the TOR network, the structure of the darknet, where all manner of vile things hid.

When Alfred returned to real-time, he found Jason washing his hands at the kitchen sink. “Miss Natalie has invited you to visit. She said it’s time you and she met.”

“I’m on my way.”

***

Jason hadn’t been this nervous about meeting a girl’s mother in a long time. What would she be like? Probably a lot like Stephanie. There was the old legend about girls resembling their mothers. Natalie would have to be, what? Fifty years old? He’d get a chance to see what Stephanie might look like in thirty years or so.

A wealth of memories washed over him as he approached the Timms’ back porch. All those hot summer good night kisses. Other than a few planters full of flowers, the porch hadn’t changed. He pressed the doorbell.

From inside the kitchen, Stephanie called, “Come in, Jason.”

Jason opened the door and stepped inside. The layout reminded him of his mother’s old “everything’s manual” kitchen. Stephanie stood next to the sink and the open dishwasher. She’d taken the time to pull her hair back with a ribbon and tie an apron on. The sight brought back memories of how they’d clean his kitchen together. Back then, Mom and Dad would slip upstairs to “talk about their day,” leaving him and Steph unsupervised for an hour or more.

Stephanie's eyes glinted as if she’d told a particularly good joke. “Hello Jason, I—”

She didn’t have time to finish. Jason swept her up and kissed her with all the passion in his heart. The kiss didn’t go well. In fact, she stiffened up almost as he’d done something unwelcome.

A faint shuffle of footsteps came from the hall, then a loud sigh and Stephanie spoke. “Jay, why are you kissing my mother?”

Jason’s eyes popped open. He stared into a pair of peridot green eyes bright with amusement. How could he kiss Stephanie yet hear her speak from several feet away? Rattled and confused, he set this Stephanie back on her feet. She wore the biggest grin on her face and nodded to her right. Jason half-turned and found a second Stephanie with unbound, kinky hair.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

The kinky-haired Stephanie took his hand, then nodded to the Stephanie he had just kissed. “This is my mother, Natalie.”

Jason turned back to Natalie. She and her daughter might as well be identical twins.

Natalie smiled. “Sorry, Jason, but I tried to warn you.” She gestured towards the kitchen table. “Have a seat. Steffi and I can fill you in.”

They sat at Natalie’s simple kitchen table. Jason took a chair opposite Natalie with Stephanie in the middle. Sitting this close, the superficial differences, like Stephanie’s kinky hair and gauntness, stood out.

The amusement hadn’t left Natalie’s eyes. She winked at Jason. “I don’t know why you’re staring. If you’ve seen my daughter, you’ve seen me. We’re pretty much identical.” She smiled and lifted one eyebrow in the exact same way Stephanie did. The similarity between these two women boggled his mind.

The blunt toe of a tennis shoe smacking his ankle brought Jason back to reality. He took Stephanie’s hand and the contact settled him down. For the first time since confusing Natalie with Stephanie, his heart rate slowed.

“Mom,” Stephanie asked, “I’d have thought your loyalty gene would be back in full force by now.”

The question made Jason take notice. Yesterday’s experience with Stephanie’s defense mechanism had nearly killed him. And he still didn’t understand how it worked. Once upon a time he’d teased his girlfriend about her complicated issues. He’d had no idea what complicated really meant.

“I suppose,” Natalie said to Stephanie. That glimmer of deviltry hadn’t faded a whit. “he’s earned our trust.” The full impact of her olive eyes fell on Jason. “How about it? Want to learn my sordid secrets.”

“Ah,” he peeked at Stephanie, who didn’t have a definable expression. At lease she hadn’t kicked him again. “Sure, Natalie, bring on the dirty details.”

“While Stephanie was on the auction block, my owner used me to provide samples to potential buyers.”

“Samples?” The word slipped out before his brain finished processing the implication. If you were buying a sex slave, you wouldn’t want to sample her baking skills. Jason couldn’t help reacting and outrage made his mouth gape open.

“Shocked, Jason?” Natalie smiled. “It wasn’t terrible. I enjoy sex as much as anyone. With our genetics,” Natalie nodded towards her daughter. “We probably enjoy it more than most.”

One of Stephanie’s sneakers bumped his ankle. It might have been an accident, or it might be a “behave” message.

Natalie continued, “Yevgeny still pimps me out to men and women he does business with. But only when he can watch. It seems he’s developed a taste for,” Natalie’s grin widened, “spectator sports. There isn’t much of my loyalty gene left. I can bump uglies with almost anyone.”

Leaning in, Steph asked, “What about your addiction?”

“Oh, it’s still there, and it still needs regular fixes. The trysts Yevgeny arranges only provide a short-term relief.”

Jason said, “I’m not sure I understand.” Natalie’s revelations already cleared up a few things. He just needed confirmation.

“Your sweetheart and I are oxytocin addicts. But for the dose to last, it must come from sex with the person we’re addicted to.”

“How much is a dose?”

“Usually if we have an orgasm, there’s enough oxy to get us by.”

If one were enough…. “Does that mean I’m overdosing Stephanie?”

“Overdosing?” Natalie quirked an eyebrow.

“Well,” Jason knew his face was beet red, but he had to know. “I like foreplay and Stephanie usually has one or more orgasms before we have intercourse. Am I hurting her?”

Natalie blinked, then she blushed, and for a bonus, Stephanie simply patted his hand.

“What do you think, daughter? Is Romeo hurting you?”

“Romeo?” Steph turned and winked before facing her mother. “He says I’m still in training and he’s taking it easy on me.”

Jason endured a good half-minute of scrutiny before Natalie shook her head. “Once our oxy receptors are full, I think the rest is metabolized. You might want to do some research but that’s what I know.”

As if they’d overdosed on intimate revelations, the conversation died off until Natalie poured an inch of a murky liquid into a glass and gave it to Jason. “It’s my homemade peach schnapps.”

“Thank you,” he said and took a swallow. The first thing Jason noticed was the raw reek of alcohol, then an incredibly tart rush of fermented peach washed over his taste buds. It was so bitter he almost spit it back out. He’d eaten peaches and tried different schnapps in college, but neither came close to this concoction. Jason swallowed, then coughed. His throat felt as though he’d drunk a quart of gasoline and set fire to it. Distantly, he heard Steph chuckle and she began thumping his back. Natalie left the table and returned with a glass of water.

“Thanks,” he croaked, then drained the glass.

Natalie shrugged when Jason refused more than one shot of schnapps. Stephanie, though, matched her mother one for one. The longer he spent in their company, the differences between the two women became more apparent. Natalie was much more outgoing and seemingly lacked any remnant of a filter. She regularly embarrassed her daughter with bold earthy talk. Then there were her repeated references to how some unnamed man stopped growing after third grade. Sure, some men acted like children their entire lives. It wasn’t worth repeated mentions and knowing smiles, was it?

Walking home together, Steph was a bit wobbly. He’d never seen her drunk before. At the gate, she pulled him to a stop and asked. “Any second thoughts?”

“Hmm? No, not at all,” he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “More like how everything I ever wished for has come true. You’re back, and I may be the luckiest man in the world because I got a second chance at life.”

Alfred swung the door open at their approach. “Welcome home, Miss Stephanie. I have two-hundred and thirty-seven emails and text messages saved for you.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” Steph glanced at Jason. “I want to read each one.”

Jason froze. He remembered some of those angry emails and texts. “Ah, sweetheart, about those messages—”

“Jason,” Alfred interrupted, “your mother is trying to reach you. May I put her through?”

“What?” He had too many things to think about and glanced towards Stephanie. She and mom had always liked each other. A call from Mom seemed like a win-win. Mom would be happy he had his life back. “Sure, Alfred, put the call through.”

On the wall opposite the robochef, the Monet print dissolved, and an image of his mother appeared. It surprised him how much younger she looked. The gene therapy might have taken thirty years off. Mom’s eyes widened when she recognized who stood next to Jason. “Oh, my goodness! Stephanie! How… wait.” Shirley turned to her left and called out. “Robert, come here.” She turned back to her son. “Sorry, Jason, but your father needs to see this.”

Overjoyed with having Stephanie back, the reason for Jason’s feud with his father meant little. In fact, this would be the perfect time for apologies.

Robert Thomas, also looking much younger, stepped into view and froze. His mouth dropped open. “Stephanie?”

“Yes, Mr. Thomas. I’m back.”

On the screen, Dad frowned and opened his mouth as if to speak. He then reconsidered and turned to Mom. “Do you have that picture?” She reached for her purse and removed a key fob with an attached memory cube. Mom punched the button, and a glorious three-dimensional image of Jason and Stephanie, both sixteen-years-old, floated in the air. Dad glanced back and forth between the image his wife held and the one in front of him. His eyes narrowed. “Stephanie, how is it you look so young? Have you also received gene therapy?”

Irritated with his father’s suspiciousness, Jason blurted. “What does it matter? She’s back, we love each other, and I’m going to marry her as soon as possible.”

It could be argued who Jason surprised the most. All three individuals focused on him. Dad’s face flushed. Mom’s mouth dropped open, but she recovered fast and smiled. Stephanie, though, turned to Jason and shook her head. “You can’t marry me, Jay. It’s against the law.”

Not much slipped past Robert Thomas, especially concerning legal matters. Over his career, Counselor Thomas won more cases than most. “Jason,” Dad snapped, “you need to explain this. Why is it ‘against the law’ for you and Stephanie to marry?”

So much for making up with his father. The stiff-necked asshole would never change. It didn’t matter what Jason said, Dad would find fault, and they’d be right back to fighting. Well, to hell with it. Leaning towards the pickup, Jason smiled a broad, toothy smile. “Stephanie’s a genie, Dad. I just stole her back from the man who’d bought her. I love her, and I don’t care what you think.”

Robert reacted to his son’s revelation in the worst possible way. “That’s it! I’m finished with you. Take your gene engineered sex-toy and get the hell out of my house.”

Time took on the aspect of a roller coaster climbing the first hill. There was a sense of wild exhilaration with a hint of impending doom. Stephanie’s hand tightened on his arm. Their eyes locked. All the hurt she’d experienced reflected onto him. He thought as fast as possible, compiling his reassurances. But, as always, Stephanie proved to think much faster. She turned away and said, “I’m sorry.” Then faster than he believed possible, blurred through the still open back door.

By the time Jason reached the edge of his deck, Stephanie had already made it to her back porch. His longer stride helped, but it wasn’t enough. Her door closed in his face.

Moments later, Natalie answered the door. “What’s going on? If you hurt her….”

In a rush, Jason explained what had happened.

“Oh, dear,” Natalie tsked. “You know she’s not all the way back, don’t you?”

“No,” Jason shook his head. “I thought—”

“She needs time—time without you surprising her. Think about what she’s been through.” Natalie sighed. “I’ll talk to her. She may go back to you tonight or not. Either way, her addiction won’t allow her to stay away for long.”

Jason returned home and mentally thumbed his nose at his father. He’d resolve this mess with Stephanie, then the two of them would leave.

Inside the kitchen, the Monet print dissolved back into his mother’s face. “Jason, tell me everything.”