He rushes around the table to pull out K8’s chair. She decides she likes the custom and wonders why it fell away. Then she tunes in to her FRIENDS. Lessa is intently focused on a conversation with Oro1 about the merits of some outdated cosmetic procedure calledbreast implantsthat only off-market physicians will perform.
“But the implant procedure gives you results immediately,” Lessa is saying. “And from what I understand, they’ve eliminated the scarring the procedure used to cause.”
“The growth period for breast tissue after the first round of injections is only three days. The customer has their new breasts to their size requirement within two weeks,” Oro1 argues.
“Yes, but then the customer must get a monthly injection to keep them, otherwise they dissolve and you’re back to where you started. And the insert, by contrast—”
Their argument only seems like a mental exercise, because she’s fairly certain neither of them actually cares about the topic. K8 interrupts. “Your big news isn’t that you’re getting breast implants, is it, Les?”
Lessa spins to K8, only then noticing her presence. “Hello, K8, my lovely girl! Of course not. That would be absurd. I’m only suggesting with how fast trends change, more physicians should perform the procedure.” Lessa leans forward, staring at James. “What on earth happened to his face?”
“Appears to be a nice bruise. Did K8 give you that?” Jett asks.
Beside her, James chuckles. “I entered a contest in Y Quadrant. I used to box. You’re welcome to join us.” He nods to Oro1, who K8 plans to have a stern conversation with later. James leans back, sliding an arm around the back of K8’s chair like Jett did with Lessa the day she told them James was real. Ridiculous man.
“No more fighting, James. We agreed it isn’t worth the funds.”
“Sounds like you better do as she tells you,” Oro1 says, inclining his head toward her.
She considers bringing up what a bad influence he is on James right now, but Lessa clears their throat, redirecting the conversation. “Now that everyone is gathered . . .” They clap their hands excitedly, bouncing in their seat. K8 can’t fathom what news Lessa has to share. She’s drawn forward with anxious curiosity.
A slim man in a dark jumpsuit comes to stand beside her. “Have you had a chance to review the menu?”
K8’s first instinct is to snap at him to go away so she can hear Lessa’s news. James must be rubbing off on her. Taking a deep breath, she places her order, then James’s. “He’ll have the REAL Steak,enviro-greens, and the roasted vegetable medley, and we’ll both take a Spiral Apple.”
“Actually,” he cuts in. “I was thinking I’d have this Whisky Twist.”
Since the server likely doesn’t know James is supposed to be a manupartner, she lets his interjection slide.
“Excellent choice, sir,” the server says. The rest of the group rattles off their orders.
When the man finally leaves, K8 leans forward. “So! What is it? Don’t tell me you finally got that promotion you put in for.”
“Even better,” Lessa says.
Beneath the table, James moves his leg so it is pressed against K8’s vibrating knee, putting pressure until she stills. She doesn’t push it away because it feelsnicehelpful.
“The suspense is killing us, Les,” Oro1 says, glancing pointedly at K8.
Lessa’s chartreuse eyes are bright, bursting with joy as they say, “I won the lottery!”
K8 chokes on her sip of water. “The what?”
“The lottery! The Birthing Agency identified me as a candidate. I’m going to be a parent!” Across the table, Lessa beams.
K8 feels herself blanch, but forces a brilliant smile. She opens her mouth. Words get stuck in her throat. The lottery has always been her dream. Lessa never mentioned wanting to win the opportunity to have a child.
Thankfully, the others’ exuberance is enough to distract Lessa momentarily. But when their chartreuse eyes land on her, expecting a response, she’s still inert.
She’s trembling when James, somehow knowing exactly what to do, pulls her into an embrace. Relief floods through her as her panic, which is sure to be staining her features, is concealed by the safety of his chest. She soaks in his warmth and the momentary reprieve. But as her jealously spirals, tears prick in her eyes.
It was supposed to be me. I was supposed to win it.
The sob that shakes her shoulders is followed by another until she’s freely crying into James’s chest. She’s a terrible friend. Truly awful, but she can’t help the overwhelming emotions raging through her.
James holds her close as he says, “Lessa, we’re so excited for you. Look at sweet K8. She’s so excited, she’s a mess.”
The conversation buzzes in her periphery like flies swarming a dying animal.
