Anyone on the lookout for a short blonde would be in for a shock. The curly red hair that spilled down Dizzie’s back came from a pill. The dealer she’d bought it from had promised that the color-changing nanotech would only last a few days. The nearly see-through blue dress and the heels had belonged to a prostitute. She’d traded some of the clothes Killian had bought her.
The underwear was hers. She had to draw the line somewhere.
The only resemblance to her original self was her height. That couldn’t be changed by taking a pill. Probably.
She shuddered. Convincing herself to swallow the hair-color pill had been hard enough. Hopefully the superficial changes would keep her from getting picked up by the recognition software.
“Get you a drink, hon?”
Dizzie looked up at the waitress who had appeared by her table.
She obviously took too long to reply, because the waitress spoke again, her voice low. “You can hang out here, hon, but you gotta buy something. The Jack ain’t running a charity.”
Dizzie ordered the cheapest coffee on the menu. The waitress continued to stare at her, so she added a protein bar. The stale cereal earlier hadn’t been much of a meal.
The waitress stayed at her table until she paid. She swiped one of Killian’s unregistered chips through the reader. Once the payment cleared, the waitress walked away, leaving Dizzie feeling like she’d failed a test.
While she waited, Dizzie pulled out her burner phone, another purchase from her street-side shopping spree. An unlocked older model that didn’t require biometric data.
She checked the chip’s balance. Blinked. The remaining balance was a lot higher than she’d expected.
Spending Killian’s money felt weird. Outside of her Tremaine contract, Dizzie had always paid her own way. The Tremaine contract didn’t count. That had been put into place when the company took her in as a baby. But until she could meet with the Jack to access her funds, Dizzie had to rely on Killian.
She’d wanted to go with him to his bank, but she appreciated the distance too. He made her feel things. Things she didn’t know how to process. It shouldn’t matter. Whatever was between them couldn’t go anywhere. In the movies, the star-crossed lovers might end up together, but that didn’t happen in real life.
His kisses fired up her body and she hadn’t stopped thinking about it all day. Even when she’d tried to sleep, her mind had refused to shut down, imagining his hands on her.
The way he revved her body up was nothing compared to his acceptance of her nails. After the surgery, even Alice had given her funny looks. No one understood. Dizzie had learned to keep her nails to herself.
Until Killian.
The waitress delivered her coffee and protein bar, then studied her for a moment. Long enough to speed up Dizzie’s pulse. Had she been recognized?
“Thank you,” Dizzie said. She picked up her coffee and took a tentative sip.
“Gah!” It was awful. So bitter it nearly stripped the taste buds off her tongue. It wasn’t like she was a coffee purist, but damn, this was vile.
She took another sip, trying to swallow without tasting it. She chased it with a bite of the nutrition bar. Better, but not by much. Needing a few minutes to get the taste out of her mouth, Dizzie pulled open a news app.
An overseas attack on a US-based multinational was the top story. Corporate espionage was suspected. Not surprising. The damn corporations constantly attacked each other.
Had the bombing been as simple as corporate espionage?
She focused on what she knew about Tremaine Corporation and its enemies. The company manufactured pharmaceuticals and other biologics. Its primary rivals were Takanachi, Arawa South, the Solveig Consortium, and Blether Brothers Manufacturing. Had one of them masterminded the bombing?
Opening a note app, she tapped out her thoughts using the awkward keyboard.
She couldn’t wait to share her theories with Killian. Would he know the depth of Tremaine’s Corporations rivalries?
“You need anything else, hon?” the waitress asked.
Dizzie hadn’t noticed that the waitress had come back. She slid her palm over the screen.
“No, I’m, uh, good,” she stuttered. Definitely not spy material.
“You sure?” The woman’s tone made her look up.
The waitress waited until Dizzie met her eyes, then she flicked her gaze over to the bar where the Jack watched their interaction.
