“I hate you,” she said, zipping the bag back up.
“No, you don’t,” I said. “You’d be bored as hell if it weren’t for me. And you have to admit, you really want to know why she let you in over a backpack with some bananas and a bag of Cooler Ranch Doritos.” I began down the hall without her.
“Damn you,” she said, finally tagging behind.
My charm was irresistible.
We walked down the corridor and turned right until we came to another door, shaped like a massive bank vault. It opened, and we entered a big underground warehouse. Except unlike the fulfillment center in the building overhead, this was half cozy home, and half crazy-villain observation post. They arranged a number of floral couches and chairs around a coffee table on one side.
Nineteen-year-old Aoiki, a half-Japanese, half-Samoan girl, lay down, chewing bubble gum, reading a manga book on her back. One leg dangled on the back of the couch. Her mint green hair matched the suspenders on her punk-rock schoolgirl outfit, though I don’t think she was in school anymore.
She blew a big purple bubble from her gum. It popped with a snap.
“Hey Aoiki,” I called.
“Hey, Vivien,” she called back.
“Who the hell is Vivien?” a suspicious-sounding voice asked with a thick Samoan accent.
“I am,” I said, walking toward Echo.
Monitors covered one wall, almost thirty feet up. Some featured anime, a couple were news channels, but most were live feeds from all over the city. Echo had been my secret weapon when I’d been a bounty hunter.
The bubblegum pink chair at the base of all the monitors whirled around. A stout woman in her fifties, wearing a floral mumu, gave me the stink eye.
”Remember?” I prompted. “My old name was Jane, but now it’s Vivien.”
“It’s cool. I like it.” Aoiki shot me her usual impish grin. Echo rolled her eyes and grabbed the cane resting against her desk before pointing it at Miranda with aggressive accusation.
“Who is this?” Echo demanded.
“Someone who needs to rethink her friendships,” Miranda said, her lips tight as she side-eyed me.
“I’m trying to find an object and she is here to help,” I said, slinging my arm over Miranda’s shoulders. Damn, the woman must work out. Hard to tell under those suits, but my girl was all lean muscle.
“Payment first,” Echo said in a tone that brooked no argument. Actually, her normal tone had that effect. I wondered if that was a trait that came to her naturally or if she had to practice her ball-busting cadence.
“Pull out the goods,” I stage-whispered to Miranda. “I’ll let you do the honors.”
Miranda’s dark eyes regarded me like I’d gone off the reservation. Still, she pulled out the banana and bag of Doritos from the backpack.
The moment the bag crinkled, a tiny, soft white nose poked out from under the couch where Aoiki sat. A flash of fur darted across the room until it was at Miranda’s feet.
“Oh,” she breathed in surprise. A small rabbit, only a couple of handfuls, stood at her feet. With a ring of black around its eyes, the breed was known as a hotot because of its coloring.
He pawed at Miranda’s pants in earnest, little nose bopping up and down like crazy.
“Are you going to stand there all day, or are you going to sit down and share the goods with Darth Vader here?” I asked.
Miranda couldn’t wipe away her surprised expression, but she sat down. Darth Vader instantly jumped in her lap, trying to get at the bag.
“Seriously? You want me to give the rabbit Doritos?” Miranda asked, still holding back.
“Never give a rabbit Doritos,” Echo snapped. “But give a genetically engineered rabbit one and you’ll be indebted to their craving for the rest of your life.”
Miranda opened the pouch and shared a chip. Darth Vader crunched happily in her lap.
Reaching over, I grabbed the banana, opening it as I made kissing sounds. Two tremendous brown ears popped up from around the corner of the couch and a rabbit, five times the size of Darth Vader, walloped out. Lulu was a Flemish Giant, the biggest breed of rabbit, while Darth Vader was the tiniest breed, a dwarf rabbit. Despite color and size differences, they were positively inseparable.
