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“You told me the DA was out for blood. I figured if I just put pressure on him so you could walk free and resume your carefree life, he’d turn me down in a heartbeat. Bringing you here was partly to appease him, let him feel you would be doing time somewhere, even though it wouldn’t be in jail. And it was partly to reconnect. Even though your mom and I divorced, I should have reached out to you after she died.”
His expression is contrite. I don’t know why I hated him so much. Well, I do. I didn’t want an interloper coming between Mom and me. Besides, Mom had been so lenient, and he was so damned strict. But at this moment, I’m not sure why I’ve carried a grudge for so long after I grew up and left home.
“I’d like to reconnect, too.”
“And I think you can bring something to the project. You’ve got spectacular computer skills, and when this project gets closer to going public, I’m going to need you to keep your feelers out to see if any bad actors are planning to harm these males. I’ve become… attached.”
Slater does have a heart! Helikesthese guys, these splicers. He’s not stupid or naive. He knows as well as I do that there will probably be protesters at the front gates… if not worse.
“In the meantime, I thought you could take one or two of the guys under your wing. Teach them computers. It’s a life skill.”
He doesn’t say hacking, but I wonder if that’s what he’s hinting at.
“I don’t know what the scientists threw into the mix, but there isn’t one of these males whose IQ is under 200. You’ll fit in well.”
“A compliment, Slater? You don’t give them lightly. I’m honored.”
This time, he grants me a bigger smile.
“Keep your seatbelt on, Josie.” He starts the engine. “You’re about to enter Splicer Town.”
He might as well have welcomed me to the Twilight Zone. I’m halfway between terrified and more excited than I’ve ever been in my life.
Chapter Four
Chance
I back toward the mirror, then turn around, then turn the other way.
“Olivia, I can’t thank you enough.”
I should look at her when I speak to her. We learned the importance of eye contact our first few weeks after the military rescued us. It’s just that I can’t take my eyes off myself. The only time I’ve ever worn clothing was when the army staff tried to fit me with pants. Not only didn’t they work, they chafed and slid off at the most inopportune times.
Now, look at me. Olivia made me this spectacular kilt that will allow me to roam the area without worrying I’ll offend any women.
Noble has taken on the self-appointed task of being the informal leader of us splicers. When I didn’t leave my new room in the males’ dorm for three days, he pounded on my door until I opened it. Then, the lion-like male pressed me for answers until I told him why I was hiding.
“When you trotted into the dance number with Ty on your back, it was Olivia who played the bride. You might not know it, but she’s a fashion designer and seamstress. She almost wonFashion Frenemies.” He said that as though I should have known what he was talking about, though I didn’t. When I raised a questioning eyebrow, he said, “The TV show? It’s reality TV.”
Although I always scroll past those shows, I nodded as though I was sufficiently impressed.
After dropping all that on me, he took off, and half an hour later returned with a computer pad in hand. It contained four sketches of how I could join the women without scandalizing anyone. I gave some feedback, and just a few days later, Olivia, Ty’s girlfriend, returned to my room with her first draft.
It fit so well I wasn’t embarrassed to leave my room and happily clip-clop down Main Street to have her finish fitting me.
When I emerge from the dressing room, she examines me from all angles, pulling at the leather straps, tightening here and loosening there until it fits like a glove.
“I just don’t understand why the army personnel didn’t try harder,” she says, shaking her head, her nostrils flaring in disapproval. “It’s simply a take-off on a horse’s winter blanket, with a lower swoop from withers to rump.”
“Like a dress,” Ty helpfully interjects.
By the look on Olivia’s face, she’s no happier about that analogy than I am.
“More like a kilt, Ty. Some metal medallions and leather tassels even provide some bling. I’m going to order some leatherworking tools and a brass stamping kit. I can really zhuzh it up if Chance wants. It will be masculine. Sexy.”
Ty hisses at that and takes a step toward me.
“Other women will find it sexy, Ty,” she corrects. “Leave poor Chance alone. He has prey animal DNA and you’re 100 percent predator. Have mercy.”
