Looking up through my lashes, I note that several people look disturbed, and I smile secretly behind my hair in satisfaction. They’ll leap to defend me from Talia because she said she doesn’t care about things that don’t affect her. It’s not a fair comparison, but they’re all so damned simple that they will make it regardless of accuracy.
Now I’ve got her.
Bracing herself, Talia lets her eyes flick to the cat for backup. It’s almost a shame how much Deli has neutered Talia and Taurus to save this place, but also it works really well for me. The blond woman sneers a little at me as she waits to see what response will be acceptable to my faux sadness, but nothing comes.
What did the bitch expect, starting something she couldn’t finish without fucking up Deli’s plans?
“It is not the job of the Council to force someone to interact with you,” Talia blurts, clinging to her last shred of moral high ground. “It wouldn’t be in the ‘real world,’ nor is it here. They’re not therapists.”
I give her four seconds to breathe, enough time for her to register the room’s emotional temperature. No one in the group is looking directly at her, and the cat is watching how this argument is received cautiously.
They’ll say later it all happened too fast, but it’s really just that they don’t want responsibility for anything.
“If the person says something about you on social sites or at an event, it falls under their purview. However, as we said multiple times, private beefs are not governmental intervention-worthy.” Talia scrambles, desperate to sound reasonable while upholding her desired boundary. “You keep saying the solution is simple; that those people should talk to one another. But that is violating someone else’s lines to make you and only you feel better. It’s not for the community to rule on.”
This is the perfect opening. I can exploit this—no, must.
“That’s exactly why I’m asking about this,” I say, seizing the momentum. “The Council wants us to follow rules that other people here clearly don’t believe in. Those rules want me tojust ‘let it go’, but the other party doesn’t have to suffer any consequences, coincidentally. You know what that is? It’s fascism disguised as democracy, and they’ve become the people they disavowed when this quarter was created. They’re pretending to do shit, but not actually doing anything to help their constituents.” I lift my glass in salute to the collective cowardice around me. “Cheers to having that job, I guess.”
Deli glances at Talia, with a flicker of calculation in her gaze. “If you can’t talk to someone, you can’t solve the problem by talking,” she says, voice flat and irritable. “I’m not going to force anyone here to have a private relationship that damages their mental health just because you feel slighted, Sari.”
“I’d love to hear your suggestion for resolving it, then,” I say, making it sound friendly but knowing it’s a trap. “If talking isn’t the answer, what is? Because I deserve to feel safe in my home, too.”
Talia’s mouth opens, then closes, and then opens again. If she was a computer program, this would be the point where she freezes and throws up an error message. “Sari, you’re not going to get the answer you want. That much is obvious; read the room. Whether the others share your frustration with not getting closure on something in life, they’re not going to speak up to support Lily and Deli rummaging around in everyone’s private lives to make this place happier for you. No one wants that, and you’re not going to convince them.”
Ah, nice parry. She’s making my shaky supporters see that they, too, could be put in this position, which they don’t want.
“That’s the thing; I’m not asking for everyone to have their lives invaded,” I press. “I’m only asking that someone who is directly adjacent to those who run this place help me resolvethis dispute. Because right now? Whenever there’s trouble, I’m the one who gets blamed because an influential person suggests I’m the culprit and they listen. How is that not their issue? How is it fair to the people who live here if they run afoul of that individual?”
I look around the table, making eye contact with each person giving them a chance to save themselves by agreeing with me. Most of them can’t meet my gaze; a couple, including Michaela, give hesitant nods. They are afraid of that situation happening, but they’re also terrified of being Talia’s enemy after this meeting. They’re all too spineless to solve shit like this without someone like me.
That’s what makes them so easy to manipulate.
Everyone waits for someone else to break the silence again, and eventually, Lily does it. She leans forward, hands laced in front of her there on the table, and levels her gaze at me. “If a council member is the problem, you have me, and if pressed, we will ask Dona to weigh in from afar.”
Her voice is calm, almost soothing as she continues. “She never resigned; she just moved. However,” Lily pauses, letting the weight of the word rest like a stone in the air, “…like a community on the other side of the portal, there will be people who don’t get along. It isn’t our job to force everyone to hold hands and sing Kumbayah.”
There’s a brief, awkward laugh from Rita, and a ripple of relief as the group realizes the tension is being turned down, at least for the moment. Lily’s made her ruling, and no one wants to dispute it because it wasn’t Deli who said it.
They’re all so grateful for the chance to move on; it’s disgusting.
“You’ll have to respect people’s wishes. We’re not going to be the friendship gestapo.” The cat’s lips curl in a small smirk, pleased that she was able to give her new mate her way and also make the sheep agree with her without saying a word. She gives me an inscrutable look that I immediately recognize as a power move—paint yourself as the rational one and let the other party look like the hysteric.
I see it, but I doubt the others do. They’re too busy enjoying their reprieve.
My eyes narrow as I study her face, searching for any sign that she’s rattled, but she’s gone full blank—nothing to read, not even a twitch. I don’t know if that’s going to help her or hurt her with these people. “Thanks for nothing,” I snap, unable to keep the edge out of my voice.
Lily’s face is calm, almost impassive, as she regards me across the table. “This has been relegated it to a personal problem. I believe the discussion is over now.” The small woman gets up and walks over to the buffet, picking at random things.
I know she’s thinking by the expression on her face. Whether she admits it or not, the co-mayor has her own issues to process over the cat and the artist defecting to the bird’s camp, but she won’t bring them here. I might have to force her to confront them—then they’ll be alone.
“I think personal problems spill into our shared world. It causes everyone to interact with the issue.” Rita looks at Tamara, who nods vigorously.
Good girls—it’s about time you jumped in.
The cat stands again, stretching on her toes. She walks back and forth behind the arc, rubbing her lower back. I see what she’sdoing now; she’s distracting them from the rhetoric to calm down the vitriol.
No one will attack someone that’s pregnant—except me.
