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Shireese glanced up, eyebrows raised. “He’ll ask eventually.
You leave it too long, it’ll make it harder to explain.”

Indigo set the plate down onto the counter with a clatter,
and Tanis jumped.

“I don’t know why you’re going on about this,” Indigo
growled. “It’s dinner. Nothing else!”

“You said that about coffee,” Shireese replied. “And yet
here you are.”

Indigo swore under her breath, tossing the dishtowel to the
counter. Rising from the table, Tanis nervously cleared her throat, moving past
Shireese and heading into the living room without a word.

“If I were you, I’d tell him before you’re in too deep,”
Shireese added.

“Well, you’re NOT me!" she snapped, her hands rolling
into fists.

Shireese gave her a level glare.

“You’re the one who said ‘never again.’
You did!
I’m
just reminding you.” Shireese folded one last flier, then tossed it in the box.
She lifted her chin, daring Indigo to argue. “You were the one who said, ‘don’t
ever let me—”

“Jude comes from someplace
nice,
” Indigo hissed. “He
wouldn’t understand!”

Shireese scowled, sudden anger passing between the two women
like lightening. In the other room, a television flicked on, the sound a
comforting buzz neither noticed.

“You say that like you believe it,” Shireese snarled, her
accent changing, taking on an insolent inner-city burr. “Like you’ve already
told him and you haven’t even tried!”

“I told Cal, alright! It fucked EVERYTHING up! So thanks for
nothing!”

Shireese stood from the table.

“That had
nothing
to do with me!”

“Hardly!” Indigo sneered. “He coulda gone on forever without
knowing.”

“Cal was an asshole,” Shireese yelled. “He just needed an
excuse to show it!”

Indigo gave her a hard smile. “And you just LOVED that,
didn’t you!”

Shireese’s lips twisted.

“Go on then, feel sorry for yourself! You’re good at that.”

Indigo’s mouth dropped into an indignant ‘o’, but in seconds
she was back on the offensive. “And who says Jude’s not an asshole too?” she
taunted. “Huh? Who says he’s any better than the rest?!”

“Is THAT what you’re lookin’ for? A fuck up?” Shireese
snapped. “’Cause you’re just gonna dig yourself another hole then!” Her eyes
narrowed. “And I’m only gonna help you out so many times, Indigo. I’ve got my
own problems too, y’know!”

In the living room, Tanis cranked up the volume on the
television another notch.  Canned laughter filled the kitchen.

“I don’t need anyone’s help!”

“When you’re acting like THIS?” Shireese coughed. “Yes, you
DO!”

Indigo’s feet widened, fists upraised. It was the stance of
a fighter, ready to attack.

“I’m NOT your goddamned project,” she bellowed. “So you can
go FUCK YOURSELF!”

“No,” Shireese growled. “
You’re
the only one who gets
off on that.”

With an explosive blast of swearing, Indigo shoved past
Shireese and into the hallway. Tanis was watching her, wide-eyed, but Indigo
didn’t stop. She grabbed her purse, heading out the door.

In the kitchen, Shireese stood silent for several more
seconds, breath slowing. Her face lost the antagonism, growing weary instead.
With a shake of her head, she walked to the drying rack, picked up the first
dish, and began to dry.

: : :
: : : : : : :

Marq stood on the sidewalk outside the office building, his
foot tapping nervously. It looked like any other downtown high-rise, but the
guard who stood at the front door made it clear this was not a place you walked
in off the street. The man scanned the people on the sidewalk from behind
mirrored glasses, his voice hard and cold.

“You need to wait here, Mr. Lopez,” he ordered, putting his
hand in his pocket so that the lapel of his jacket pulled back just enough for Marq
to see the gun in its holster. “I’ll call up to see if Mr. Fischer is ready to
see you.”

Marq took a shaky breath, wiping sweaty palms on his pant
legs and waiting.

The last time he’d done a job, Luca had dropped off the
money at the same time he’d picked up the hard drive. Marq hadn’t needed to do
anything other than show up at Starbucks. He wished that they’d been able to do
it the same way this time too.

Being here made it
real.

The lock behind them buzzed, and Marq swivelled, catching
sight of Luca’s grinning face in the open doorway. Tall and blond, he was built
like a body builder, the suit and tie he wore at odds with his physique.

“Marq, my friend!” he laughed.  “I was wondering when
you’d get here.” He stepped back, pulling the door wide and gesturing for him
to come forward. “Come in! Come in!”

Luca Brin wasn’t someone you fucked around with. Until a few
days ago, Marq had known only a fraction of what he did: passing along jobs and
recruiting people for hacking projects. But after yesterday’s call, that had
changed. The moment Luca had told him that
King
wanted to see him,
everything had fallen into place.

Tyrone “King” Fischer was a man who needed no introduction.
He was the city’s mob boss; a man who political candidates rallied against during
elections, but who politicians in office never spoke of. Rumours said that half
the police force was on his payroll, and that he had ties to crime families
across the United States.

This was the man who’d paid Marq to create the banking
program.

Following Luca into the elevator, Marq’s stomach tightened.
It was too late to back out now, the stakes too high. Luca stood beside him,
chatting happily about football and the nightclubs downtown where he went with
friends; what he’d lost in the last few games and what he expected to make next
week.

“You come down some night,” Luca said with a grin. “I’ll buy
you a drink, eh?”

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds great,” Marq muttered, tugging
anxiously at his collar.

The elevator slowed just as Marq’s ears popped. It shuddered
to a stop and the doors opened.

“When you step out, put your hands on your head,” Luca said
cheerfully. “Just a precaution, of course. You know how it is.”

He put a hand on Marq’s shoulder, pushing him forward into
what looked like the foyer of an expensive apartment. Marq’s toe hit the edge
of the elevator and he stumbled just as two armed men crossed the floor to his
side. In seconds he’d been frisked, his pockets emptied of a pack of tic-tacs,
a hard drive, and his wallet.

“He’s clean,” a nameless man said.

Luca knocked on an interior door, waiting for an answer.
Marq stood, his hands still on his head, until one of the men tapped his elbow.

“You can put your hands down now,” he said.

Marq turned, finding a man watching him with inquisitive dark
eyes.

“Th-thanks, Mr…” he stammered.

The man scowled.

“Patel.”

“You can head inside,” Luca called. “King’s waiting.”

 Marq came forward on wobbling legs. Luca grinned at
him, and for a second, Marq flashed to the dog who’d lived in the brownstone
next to his when he’d been a kid. The dog was always wagging its tail when it
bit you. He forced himself to keep moving, wincing as the door clicked closed
behind him.

At the desk sat a heavy-set man, his hands steepled before
him. He looked to be in his late forties or fifties, with greying hair and
sallow, olive skin. A long silver scar ran from the edge of his mouth, across
his jaw and into his hairline. The scar tugged one side of his face into a
perpetual smirk, the expression out of place on his face. Marq fought down the
urge to run as he met King’s gaze.

His eyes were a solid black, mean and unwavering.

“Mr. Lopez,” King said darkly. “Seems I’ve got another job
for you…”

: : :
: : : : : : :

Jude was playing an online war game when his cell phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen, catching sight of the name:

Lopez, M
.

Pausing the game, he unlocked his phone and put it to his
ear.

“Hey Mark,” he said. “Where the hell you been? I’ve been
getting the crap kicked out of me all night!”

Marq gave a nervous laugh.

“I um, I’ve just been busy with some business stuff. Had a
meeting tonight.”

“Business?” Jude said in confusion. ‘Business’ and ‘Marq’
went together as well as fast food and Olympic athletes.

“Yeah, business,” Marq repeated. “Just got paid for the
program we did. Client’s happy.”

“Cool!” Jude said. He’d been hoping to have a little spare
cash before Friday.

“I have another job,” Marq said. “That is, if you want it.”

“Sure,” Jude answered. “Doing what?”

“Same kind of thing,” Marq said. “A bit of programming, a
virus this time.”

“A virus?” Jude groaned. He hated shit like that. Reminded
him too much of high school kids and anarchists. Elliot had badgered him twice
more since the gym. It was hard to ignore the consequences when the person you
lived with was always reminding you of them.

“Yeah, nothing too hard,” Marq said. “Just a Trojan to work
alongside the skimming program we created. A bit of back door code to let
someone get in.” He paused. “I uh, I really need your help on this one. It’s a
little out of my league.”

Jude’s eyebrows pulled together in concern. Marq sounded
weird tonight, like he was upset about something but didn’t want to say what.
Jude turned back to the screen. His player was still paused, but he could see
the other teams racking up points on the board. He scowled; he didn’t have time
for a heart to heart right now.

“Yeah, Marq,” Jude answered distractedly, “I’ll help you
with it. Same deal as last time?”

“Even better! It’ll make this last payout look small.”

“Can’t complain about that,” Jude laughed.

“And thanks,” Marq added. “Jude, I owe you one for this.”

Jude clicked restart, cradling his phone between his chin
and shoulder as his player launched back into action.

“You owe me more than that,” he said, firing into a group of
attacking soldiers. “You still haven’t paid me for the last program!”

“I’ll get you the money tomorrow at work,” Marq said, “And
we can talk about the virus then. Seriously man, this is big. Thanks.”

“Not a problem,” Jude said, his mind already back on the game.

: : :
: : : : : : :

Indigo walked the streets for hours after the fight with
Shireese, staying out until the cold forced her back toward the apartment.
There was a sharp bite to the air tonight, bits of ice crystals filtering down
from the sky, frosting the windows of parked cars on the street. Indigo walked
in a seemingly random pattern, her footsteps attuned to the dangers of the
city. She avoided the dark openings to alleys, stepping around the groups of
people who occasionally appeared on doorsteps, watching her with interest. She
didn’t want trouble tonight. Didn’t want
anything,
actually, except to
go home and sleep.

If she’d had money in her purse, she would have gone to a
bar and drunk herself sick. Maybe gone home with someone afterward, willing to
trade a warm body for a warm bed. She’d done that a time or two. But Indigo’s
pockets were empty, and the thought of finding someone dumb enough to grift was
too exhausting to consider. She’d been furious when she’d stormed off, but with
her irritation fading, Shireese’s words made sense.

She
did
look for fuck ups.

Shoulders slumping, Indigo began angling toward home. The
accusation hurt, because there was truth to it. Jude Alden the nerd – attractive
though he might be – had been too mild for her tastes. She only started to care
when he
stopped
being nice. When he disappeared for two weeks without a
word, and
didn’t
come around see her. When he snooped around for her
phone number, and assumed she’d be okay with that. (Indigo frowned. Shireese
swore she hadn’t given that to him.) And then he’d kissed her without
permission, and been just a bit too rough.

Just like that, she was hooked.

Indigo let out a weary sigh, burrowing her nose low in the
upturned collar of her jacket. Up ahead, the dark rectangle of the subway
station stairs appeared, and Indigo skirted away from it, crossing to the other
side of the street. It was warm down there, and she was almost guaranteed to
run into the kind of attention she didn’t want. For a moment, Jude’s face
appeared in her mind, and she pushed it away. Indigo wanted ‘nice’ or at least
that’s what she thought she wanted, until something else cropped up. She’d
spent too many years on the wrong side of happy, and no matter what she said
when she felt good, get her angry and she was right back on the street where
she’d started.

Reaching the apartment, she jogged up the front steps, keys
in hand, relieved that no one was lingering outside this time of night. In minutes
she’d climbed the four sets of stairs, and stood outside the apartment door,
panting. She closed her eyes, remembering a long ago afternoon when she’d shown
up for work at The Vault, black eye covered with too much concealer.

Shireese had been working the day shift, cleaning and
polishing, but she’d come up to Indigo in the staffroom.

“It won’t get better until you get out,” Shireese had
said. “I know that from experience.”

“Get out, where?” Indigo had snarled, lighting a
cigarette off the dying embers of the last. “Got no place to go.”

“You can crash on my couch for a week,” Shireese had
answered. “A week… that’s it.”

Opening her eyes, Indigo slid the key in the lock, opening
the door as quietly as the aging building would allow. A light was on in the
kitchen. Seeing it, Indigo wilted. She relocked the door, dropping her purse on
the floor and heading inside. Shireese sat at the table, the flyers neatly
stacked in the box, the posters organized by group, ready to spread across the
city. She lifted her eyes, watching Indigo as she came to stand next to the
counter where they’d argued hours earlier.