Nice guy.
Echo hesitated, but went back and picked it up. Her eyes met Zoey’s, just for a second. Echo’s look seemed to ask if Zoey was okay, if things were under control. Zoey tried to project confidence, but guessed that her own expression only communicated that she’d made a horrible, horrible mistake. Both of them left and Dexter led Zoey and Shae into a connected tiled room with a half dozen private shower stalls.
Tilley drilled his gaze into Shae and said, “You told me they have showers. I never asked you why. I want you to tell me.”
“Tell you … what?”
“Why do you have showers?”
Zoey didn’t understand the question and it was obvious that Shae didn’t, either. The other thing Zoey didn’t know at the moment was if Tilley was livestreaming this encounter himself. The cameras could be as tiny as you wanted—he could have one embedded in his belt buckle, or anywhere. It would help to know if she was still performing for an audience.
Zoey said, “Let’s not get sidetracked. The clock is ticking before somebody on the outside, either my people or some other group looking to make a name for themselves, tries to storm this place. Let’s work out a deal and then I can go back home. I think my party guests have left but there should still be food.”
“Answer my question.”
Shae looked pleadingly back and forth from Dexter to Zoey. “I don’t … I don’t understand. The showers are for the staff.”
“You work up a sweat doing this? Lying there, watching movies?”
“Not always, but—”
“But sometimes you want to shower after doing it. After having to lay there with some damp fatass for two hours. Got his BO all over you. Right?”
Shae didn’t answer.
Dexter said, “Or maybe you just need a shower anyway. Because you just feel gross inside, having some ugly guy rubbing up against you, his bad breath in your face. A shower, to try to put it out of your mind.”
“No, it’s not like that.”
Still locking eyes with her, he asked, “Did you ever shower after our appointments?”
“No. No.”
Zoey didn’t know if Tilley could spot the lie in Shae’s eyes, but Zoey could.
Without a word, he went to one stall after another, turning on the water. While he was distracted, Zoey surreptitiously pulled out her phone and typed in a search:
HOSTAGE NEGOTIATION STRATEGIES
In the thirty seconds she had to browse the list before Tilley returned, she saw something about reassuring the guy that any previous actions were easily revocable and making a big show of listening to demands. Then there was something about extracting concessions in exchange for meeting lesser demands, like food deliveries, finally just delaying until the bad guy got tired and gave up. God, she was going to be here all night. She heard his shoes coming her way and quickly put the phone away.
“There’s recording gear that can penetrate walls,” he said, “but it shouldn’t work this far in and it can’t handle that background noise. That means it’s just us.”
Dexter put his arm around Shae and pulled her close. She tried to suppress her tears, but failed. He said “Shh” and kissed the top of her head.
Zoey said, “First of all, the fact that this city is a lawless clown orgy works to our advantage here. Nothing has happened so far that can’t be easily fixed. Nobody’s been hurt or killed, and insurance will patch up the window. That’s the big thing we all need to keep in mind. If we want, we can all go back to normal.”
Dexter held up a hand to stop her. “See, here’s the problem with that. Your ‘normal’ is my Hell.”
“Okay. So, tell me what you want.”
This stopped Dexter. It was like he actually hadn’t been expecting this question. He suddenly seemed nervous, like he’d been put on the spot. Zoey thought that where most guys had at least a little confidence, this one only had a dark cellar where he stored his shame.
“So, every weekend I’m here. With Shae. I buy back-to-back sessions when I can. We talk, we hold each other, I pour out my heart to her. We cry. The first time in my life I’ve had this. I’m not ashamed to admit it. I’ve been invisible my whole life, until now. I feel her pressed up against me and I become real, for the first time. So two weeks ago all I did—all I did—was ask if I could see her outside of the sessions. If we could go have coffee. She says no, and that’s fine, no big deal. Next time I come, they tell me I have to go with a different girl. Shae has blocked me.”
Zoey knew without having to consult the hostage negotiation guide that this was not the time to tell a crazy man he’s being crazy. Women get their faces smashed in doing that. Anything she said that challenged him, or made him feel small, would just be seen as an attack. So what in the hell do you say?
Zoey said, “That must have been hard.” There, that should do it. “But you know that’s not the fault of any of the hundred other people in the building, so how about you let us move the snack truck that’s blocking the front door and start getting those people out of here. You don’t want to hurt them.”
“And what do I get in exchange for doing that?”
“What do you want?”
“I want Shae.”
“You want them to let you make appointments with her again?”
“No. I want Shae. My only possible life is with her. If I can’t be with her, I have no life, and I’m taking as many people with me as I can.”
Zoey started to tell him that perhaps the terrified girl standing next to him should have some say in how she spends the rest of her life, then stopped herself. Zoey didn’t have much of a filter but sometimes it did kick in during emergencies.
She thought for a moment. “Wait, if that’s all you want, why did you ask for me? Why didn’t you just grab her and go?”
“You have to let her out of her contract. The slave deal you made her sign.”
“I’m sorry, the what?”
“You made her and all of the other hosts sign a deal that they have to work out their yearlong contract, or else your people track them down. She can’t go with me unless you release her from it. We want that, plus some money. Enough to get away. Ten million.”
The contract thing didn’t sound right to Zoey. It’s entirely possible some of her businesses had been run that way at one time, but that was the kind of thing she’d put a stop to. Then her eyes met Shae’s and the obvious truth hit her: that had been Shae’s lie to stall Tilley. She hadn’t been expecting him to actually call the owner to get it voided.
“Ah. Right. But if you didn’t find that out until you got here, it means you didn’t come here planning to stage a hostage crisis. So what’s really in your backpack there? Your lunch?”
That, it turned out, had been the wrong thing to say. Dexter pushed Shae aside and flew across the gap between him and Zoey. His fingers, coated in segmented metal, were instantly around her throat. He pushed her back against the cold tiles. He then swung his other fist and it exploded into the wall next to Zoey’s head, leaving a hole the width of a bowling ball and sending ceramic shards spraying across the room.
Zoey’s ears rang from the impact. Shae screamed.