6 – Two Dogs

As Tony walked through the neighborhood, his hands in his pockets and an AI-generated playlist rumbling in his cheap Nano-link auditory augs, he couldn’t help feeling like things were going too well for him. He and Addie had completed three more jobs, and Torque was starting to take them seriously. They’d even had a few other fixers reach out, wondering if they were looking for more work. The gigs weren’t anything big-time—mostly just tail jobs or “data” acquisition. Addie’s skills with her drones made things easy, though, and people were starting to notice. They were building a rep.

So why wasn’t he happy? He supposed it had to do with a lot of things. Currently, he wasn’t too excited about where he was going—to meet Maisie for lunch. Of course, that was a whole other can of worms. Didn’t he like to eat? Didn’t he like pretty girls? What was the problem? “Pfft.” He dismissed that line of thought, shaking his head. No, the larger issue, under everything, was Addie. The problem wasn’t that he didn’t like Addie or that she was messing up somehow. No, the truth of the matter was that he liked her too damn much.

She was clever, sweet, and the more time he spent with her, the more he realized how damn pretty she was. He’d been trying to keep her at arm’s length, which had been going fine, but that didn’t mean they didn’t joke around all the time. That didn’t mean he wasn’t getting used to having her around. It didn’t mean he wasn’t worried about the fact that more and more interesting jobs were being offered to them. So far, he’d managed to pick gigs that didn’t require any sort of violence. What was he going to do when she actually had to use that little needler they’d been training with?

“Yeah,” he said, reviewing his thought process. That was the deal with the job; he was worried about their success because it meant more risks were coming their way. It only covered half the problem, though. He was worried that he wasn’t going to stay resolute—that he’d give in to his attraction. How badly would that mess things up? Worse, how long would she be cool with him being…cool toward her? She was putting herself out there all the time. How long would she accept his lack of interest before the rejection started to sting? How long could he keep up the oblivious façade?

He clicked his tongue and would have spat on the sidewalk if he weren’t walking beside a nice-looking older lady. “Round and round we go,” he sighed. It was true; he’d had that same mental debate a hundred times. What it all boiled down to was that he really needed to talk to Addie, but before he did that, he had to face some difficult memories. He had to come to grips with himself and what he was doing—where he was going. Deep down, despite his inability to face it head-on, he knew there was a part of him that was holding a match to a fuse. At some point, he might light it, and then he and anyone near him was going to blow up in the resultant explosion.

His dour musings were interrupted by his arrival at the restaurant. It was a noodle place—different from the one Addie liked to go to and in the opposite direction, a few blocks past Golden’s. He couldn’t read the sign, but Nora translated it as “Lucky Spring Noodles.” He saw Maisie sitting inside, at a table with a view of the street. He waved, she waved back, and he stepped inside.

“The restaurant is querying me for your order,” Nora announced.

“Just a minute,” he replied, walking past a few other patrons to the table where Maisie sat.

She wore a black sports top under a pink hoodie like she might be going to the gym afterward. When she stood and gave him a quick hug, he saw her matching black tights and cross trainers. Her hug was perfunctory, maybe made so by his lukewarm reception—turning his side a little and only wrapping one arm around her shoulders. “Hey, Tony,” she said, smiling shyly and sitting back down.

He sat across from her and tried to offer a friendly smile. “Hey. You’re looking good.” It was true; she looked much the same as when they’d met, and he’d thought she looked good then, too.

“You too! Where are all the bruises and cuts you usually have on your face?”

“Heh, been trying not to get beat up.”

She smiled with one corner of her mouth, making the dimple appear on that cheek. Tony liked how it did that; her face had character. She nodded toward the counter. “Did you order something?”

“Not yet. What’s good?”

“I like the Hot Sunday Ramen.”

Tony arched an eyebrow. “It’s Wednesday.”

She giggled and shrugged. “I don’t think it’s a perfect translation. Anyway, they serve it every day.”

“All right, I’ll get it.”

“Noted,” Nora interjected. “I’m ordering you some iced tea, as well.”

Tony didn’t respond, but Nora didn’t mind, knowing he was in a conversation. Not that she’d mind, anyway, but he tended to humanize his PAIs a little more than necessary. Meanwhile, Maisie had asked him what he’d been up to, so he shrugged and said, “Just trying to make some scratch. You know how it is.”

She nodded, tracing her finger in the condensation from her paper cup. He could see something orange inside the semi-transparent lid. Soda? “People are talking. I heard you’re doing runner gigs. Is it true that Addie’s working with you?”

Tony inhaled through his nose as he leaned back in the booth, shifting his gaze toward the ceiling. How should he even respond to that? He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that word was out. People in the Blast liked to gossip, and Addie wasn’t exactly low profile with her increasingly popular page on the city net. Still, they weren’t operating as Tony and Addie. Who was talking? Torque? Did Torque even know their real names? He decided to test Maisie’s confidence in the rumors. “Dunno who’s saying that. I mean, yeah, Addie and I have been hanging out, and sure, I do the odd job now and then. Wouldn’t call us operators.”

“Oh?” Maisie sipped her drink, and Tony could hear the bubbles fizz in the cup as she set it back down. “I guess that makes more sense. I can’t see Addie doing that stuff. I bet she likes to try to get vids for her page, though, huh?”

Tony made a noncommittal grunt. “Something like that.” He didn’t really want to sit there while she fished for details about things he didn’t want to talk about, so he changed the subject. “What about you? Noticed you’re back at the gym pretty regularly.”

“Yep. Still living with my aunt. Helping her with her kids and stuff. Golden’s letting me do training at the gym, too, though. I already have five regular clients.” She made a gagging motion, laughing as she added, “All Boxer execs.”

“Hah! That’s all right; their bits spend the same as anybody else’s.” Maisie nodded and was about to say something, but a chime sounded by the counter, and Tony looked to see two bowls of steaming soup and a big paper cup with a straw. “Our food?”

“Your order is ready,” Nora confirmed.

Maisie nodded. “Yep.”

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Tony stood and walked over to collect the tray. The ramen smelled terrific—rich and spicy with a tang of something fresh. When he set the tray on the table, Maisie pulled her bowl close, inhaling deeply with her eyes closed. She had little animated star tattoos that twinkled away from the corners of her eyes into the soft fuzz of her pink hair. He was pretty sure they were temporary; it was a popular makeup trend. He wanted to reach out and trace them with his fingertips, but he looked away, sitting down to unwrap his chopsticks.

As they both dug in, Maisie made some small talk about fights and training, and Tony nodded along, adding little anecdotes from his time in various gyms. It was a nice lunch, all in all, and he thought he might get away from there without any real awkwardness, but when Maisie pushed her near-empty bowl aside, she blurted, “I don’t hold anything against you, you know.”

Tony frowned, wiping his mouth on his napkin. “You mean about your uncle?”

“Yeah. The last time we got together, you told me you wouldn’t blame me if I decided I hated you. I don’t, though. Not even close. The more I learn about him and the more I remember how he treated me…” She shook her head and suddenly reached across the table to grab Tony’s left, human, hand. “He was a creep, okay? He started it with you, and he had it coming long before that.”

Tony pressed his lips together, not sure what to say. He didn’t want to smile and agree, but he also didn’t want her to think she was wrong for thinking that. He just shook his head and took a slow breath before saying, “Thanks for saying that, Maisie. Sorry if any of it’s been hard on you.”

“That’s just it, though. Things have been better for me. So, can we just put that all behind us?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Then, let’s go out. I mean, for real, not just for lunch. I want to spend time with you.” Her face was so open, her eyes bright. She seemed so good right then. He liked how the gloss on her lips made them just a little more pink than natural, picking up the same tints as her colorful irises and hair. Part of him wanted to see what they tasted like. When he didn’t say anything, Maisie huffed in frustration and leaned back, letting go of his hand. “Is it Addie? Are you with her?”

“No…” Tony started to protest, but it felt fake. He felt like he was lying.

Maisie leaned closer again. “Then what is it? You don’t like something about me?”

“I’m just not—” Tony cleared his throat and looked around, irritated by his awkwardness. “I’m just not looking for that right now. I’ve got…” He trailed off. What? What did he have? Baggage? A burning need for vengeance? A heart that was ripped in two, one half barely beating, the other fixated on a girl he knew he was no good for?

As his scowl deepened, Maisie pressed her case. “We don’t have to be soulmates, Tony. I like how you look. I think you’re sweet. Can’t we just spend time together and see what happens?”

They were reasonable words—more reasonable than Tony probably deserved, and he couldn’t stop himself from thinking it over. Why not? Why shouldn’t he “spend time” with her? He wanted an excuse to keep Addie at arm’s length, right? That would surely do it. The more he pictured himself with Maisie, though, the more he kept seeing Addie’s blue eyes looking up at him while she gave him a playful shove or called him “Tony Baloney.”

He shook his head. “Sorry, Maisie. I think you’re cool, and, shit, you’re prettier than I deserve, but that’s the whole thing. You don’t deserve what’s going on in here.” He tapped a finger to his temple. “I came to this place with some serious hooks in me. You understand? There are, like, invisible lines pulling me, and they aren’t pulling me to nice places. I’m happy to be your friend, but I like you too much to treat you as anything more than that.”

“Tony, I don’t care about all—”

“Hey, sorry”—Tony stood up, grabbing the tray of empty bowls and trash—“but I gotta get going.”

He could see the frustration in her eyes, the moisture gathering there. She wasn’t going to cry, but he could see she wasn’t taking his rejection well. She cleared her throat and sniffed; then, she surprised him by nodding. “All right, then. Friends. Maybe we could work out together or something sometime soon?”

Tony’s easy façade slipped back into place, and he smiled crookedly. “Sure. Hit me up.” He nodded toward the doors. “I’ll dump this on my way out. Talk to you soon?”

“Yeah. Sure.” She smiled weakly, nodding.

Tony turned, dumped the tray, and left the restaurant. He felt like he’d just done something dirty, but why? Was it his fault that part of him was dead to love and the other part was fixated on another girl? Had he done something to lead her on? He tucked his hands in his pockets and picked up the pace, motoring away from the restaurant like he’d committed a crime.

While he walked, he built up the analogy in his mind of his bisected heart. He borrowed a clichéd old example a fighting coach had given him—two dogs inside a man. In his imagination, one was hungry, scarred, and mean, and all it wanted to do was rip the throat out of the son of a bitch who’d made all those scars. The other one, though, was like a stray that might have been loved once but was left cold and starved in the streets. Still, it wasn’t too proud to come close for a scrap. It might even keep coming around, hopeful for more food and maybe a kind word here and there.

He wondered which dog inside him would win. He didn’t want to admit it, but the mean one, the junkyard dog with no patience for love, might be the sure bet. He was lean and angry, and Tony knew there was a hell of a lot of food for him buried away in the box where he kept his memories of Jen, Eric, and…Emily.

Before he went there, before he opened that box and spiraled into a meltdown like back in the Ninety-Nine, Tony shoved those thoughts away and thought about Addie. She was waiting for him; they were going to see Torque about their next job. He pictured her face, smiling wryly as she joked about how her poor spider had witnessed worse things than most people would ever endure. He heard her laugh echoing in his ears and felt her fingers where she liked to grip his arm as she leaned into him.

Before long, he was smiling as he walked, and if he’d taken the time to think about it, he’d have realized he was feeding the other dog—the one that was still open to living. When he got back to Clarence Avenue and saw Bert’s pawnshop sign, he bypassed his apartment above the florist shop and hurried toward it. He was eager to see Addie, and besides, they had some orders they needed to make with her dad.

When he opened the door, and the chime sounded, he expected Bert to call out a greeting, but he was occupied. A man in a suit—like a real corpo-asshole suit—was standing before him, a high-end crystal-glass tablet on the counter, and he was mid-sentence, speaking in a rather high-pitched, nasal tone. “…can see the projected market value of these properties is climbing rapidly. Rents will, of course, climb commensurately, so we’re trying to give all of our tenants an opportunity to accept a generous buyout for the remainder of their lease terms.”

Tony connected the dots immediately. The boom for the Blast—the bidding war on the neighborhood around The Royal Breeze Apartments was spreading. Corpos were moving in, and they were going to squeeze out independent operators like Bert. “Shit,” he muttered, realizing this guy was probably going to be talking to Mrs. Lane, his landlady, if he hadn’t already.

“Well, I’ll tell you what,” Bert said, nodding as he peered down at the crystal-glass, his AUI no doubt enhancing the image. “This is a lot to think about, and I’ll need to talk it over with my family. I’ve got your card, so why don’t—”

“Of course. I’ll be in the neighborhood all week. Don’t fret yourself with trying to hunt me down. I’ll stop by again tomorrow.” The man—handsome, tall, with neat, dark hair and high-end, natural-looking violet retinas—picked up his tablet and turned, walking past Tony with only a quick, casual glance as he exited the shop.

“Didn’t love the sound of that,” Tony said, walking the rest of the way to the counter.

Bert leaned on an elbow, pressing his face into his broad, meaty palm. “Never thought I’d have this problem, Tony.”

“They threatening to kick you out?”

“The threat was implied, but, dammit, they’re making me a damn fine offer to break my lease.”

The admission surprised Tony. He wouldn’t have banked on Bert wanting out of his shop; it was his life. “Seriously?”

Bert looked up, nodding, and when he spoke, his voice was low and hoarse. “Let’s be honest, kid. You think Addie’s gonna take over the business?”

“Maybe not, but shit, Bert. You’re not old enough to retire. What are you? Fifty?”

“Hah! Sixty-one, buddy, but who said anything about retiring? I can get a smaller place closer to the NGT tower. Do more of the mail-order stuff…” He trailed off, letting Tony fill in the blanks.

“You don’t think the new corpos will be snapping up properties out that way?”

“I don’t think so. Royal Breeze is on the northwestern edge of the district. We’re about halfway between there and the megatower. Shoot, I could go to the other side of the district if I had to. Meanwhile, that guy’s offering to fill my pockets with cash to make the move a hell of a lot more palatable.”

“But the neighborhood—”

“Hasn’t been the same for years. Donny’s getting ready to retire. I hate to break it to you, but I don’t see Gretchen holding out when offers like that one come her way. You’re gonna need a new place soon, buddy.”

Just then, the storeroom door flew open, banging against the stopper as Addie charged into the shop. “Dad! I just heard some corpo-creeps are in the neighborhood trying to kick people out of their shops!”