Level Up Bitch Page 8

  “We don’t cater to animals,” Graham said.

  Joel looked like he’d been slapped. “He’s a general. And I don’t typically cater to broke-ass clients who can’t pay me, but here we are.”

  Reggie put a hand on Joel’s chest and tried to steer him away from Graham.

  Graham waved dismissively. “No, it’s fine. Get the creature a bath. Find someone to groom it.”

  “Him,” Joel said as he followed Ponytail. “Groom him.”

  Graham opened his arms to the other three. “As for the rest of you, please go enjoy yourselves.”

  Cody and Reggie peeled away and followed Joel and Pontytail. For some reason she couldn’t name, Sam stood rooted in place. She was angry, but didn’t know the exact reason why. No, that was a lie. She knew. It wasn’t because Graham had pointed out a few of her physical flaws. It was because he’d made her doubt herself. He’d made her feel insecure.

  Sam was one of the most feared and respected mercenaries in the galaxy, and this spray tanned son of a bitch had made her uncomfortable in her own skin with a few choice words. She had great skin. Amazing goddamn skin, considering all it’d been through, and she wouldn’t wish for any other skin to live in.

  Then she realized maybe she wasn’t mad at Graham at all. Maybe she was mad at herself. She’d thought she was stronger than this, to let a man shake her in such a way.

  This guy doesn’t deserve space in your head, she told herself.

  “Did you have a question?” Graham said, his eye dangerously close to winking at her.

  “No,” she said. She turned her back to him and followed the guys.

  But I do deserve a hot oil treatment, she thought with a smile. I think I’ve got bug guts in my hair.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Thomas had amazing fingers. Each one was like a tiny man with his own fingers that pressed on every pressure point and squeezed out every ounce of stress from Joel’s muscles. He was in heaven, and Thomas was an angel.

  Joel hadn’t realized how sore he was, how tight his muscles were, until someone pointed it out by digging their knuckles into them. Now, fully aware of his body, he felt how tired he was. He’d been going full speed for a while now. Since that first job, it felt like. They hadn’t stopped moving, had barely had any time to rest and get right before the next travesty drew their attention.

  And the downtime they did have was far from restful. It was largely spent worrying that Sonic was going to fall apart and they had no money to fix it, and fighting over the last bowl of oatmeal and worrying that Sam was going to chop his head off because she was hungry.

  But this. Damn. This was nice.

  “Get the calves, Thomas,” Joel said, his voice muffled by the massage table.

  Cody opted for something a little more reclusive. He didn’t find being touched by a stranger to be relaxing. But the salt baths—now those were right up his alley. Natural springs full of Epsom salts and essential oils. He sank into it, laid his head back into the grooved spot on the edge of the tub, and became weightless. It felt like drifting through space, only without the sense of paralyzing fear.

  Stress seeped from his body. Aches and pains melted away.

  He tried not to think of Layton Corp. He didn’t want to. He wanted to think of nothing. He wanted to shut his brain off just for a little while. But that was never something he was good at, even when soaking in the most relaxing bath that ever existed.

  His mind was always racing, a fact most people didn’t know, due to his quiet nature. They assumed the outside was reflective of the inside: soft spoken, unassuming, largely harmless. But Cody’s inside was not a mirror reflection of his exterior, it was the complete opposite. His mind was quick and loud and dangerous.

  He’d hacked his school’s computer system when he was six so he could play MMORPGs during class. When the newest superhero movie was released, he’d bring down the school’s power system, canceling class for the day so the guys could go see it. His hacking accolades only grew exponentially as he grew older. And no one ever suspected him because he was so quiet and unassuming.

  His dangerous mind also fixated on things. There were welcome perks to having Cody as a friend, but the guys often lamented his obsessions. He once ruined a perfectly good prank on the principal of their school because, while hacking his personal computer to steal an embarrassing picture of him at the beach, Cody had stumbled on Principal Grady’s finances. The guys told him to let it go, but, in the end, after an exhaustive and probing investigation, Principal Grady was arrested for embezzling from the teachers’ union.

  As much as it bothered the guys, it bothered Cody more. To see Joel move through the world so carefree. To see Reggie let things wash off his back. To see Sam… Well, bad example. She seemed to live in the moment, at least. Focus on the things in front of her. Cody was jealous of them all. Sitting in this tub, soaking in what typical clients probably paid thousands for, all he could think about was Layton Corp.

  The ShimVens. The infestations. How are they all related?

  Reggie stood in the sauna like a soldier, hands clasped behind him, back to the corner, eyes scanning for threats.

  This was a bad idea, he thought.

  They should be stripping the amusement park for parts right now, not getting primped and pampered. He didn’t know why he thought standing in a room full of steam would be a good idea. He could barely breathe, and visibility was poor.

  His dad used to use the sauna at his local YMCA. After a week of breaking his back, he would go out to breakfast on Saturday morning, then head to the Y to sit in the sauna. Reggie remembered feeling bitter about that. Dad was gone all week, then on Saturday morning, instead of playing ball with him, he goes off by himself to eat pancakes and relax in the sauna. Reggie understood it now, though. Why he needed it.

  He took a deep breath, sucking in as much steam as he could, then blew it out his nose like a dragon. The steam cleansed him from the inside out. It latched onto a little bit of the stress in his chest, breaking it up like cold congestion. He closed his eyes. The swarm scurried across the backs of his eyelids. Pincers and red eyes everywhere.

  Deep breath. Blow it out.

  The swarm thinned, bugs turning to vapor and blowing away.

  Deep breath.

  And they were gone.

  Reggie opened his eyes. An old man who was being very conservative with his towel coverage eyed him curiously. He must be a strange sight, standing there, tense and nervous, preparing for an attack that wouldn’t come, from an enemy that didn’t exist. But he felt okay now.

  He nodded to the old man, smiled, and sat. With every breath, he breathed easier. He exhaled some poison.

  Three women stood in a semicircle around Sam, looking her up and down like she was a bizarre piece of post-modern sculpture. This made her feel confused, intrigued, and somewhat offended. They paced around her, clucking and sucking air through their teeth, muttering to each other in tones that cut through Sam.

  “A good base,” one said.

  “But under layers of neglect,” countered another.

  “Years of it,” said the last. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Sam clenched her jaw and growled at being referred to as ‘it’.

  The women stepped back.

  “It snarled,” the first woman said. “The situation is worse than I thought.” She took Sam by the hand, surprisingly gentle, and led her toward a closed door. “Come, we’ve much to do.”

  Sam felt a sense of dread as she was led to the door, like a convict on her way to execution. What lay on the other side? What forms of torture would they subject her to?

  A wave of soothing smells hit Sam when the door opened.

  Lavender. She loved lavender. It jarred loose a vague echo of a memory. A feeling more than anything else. A sense that she’d once led a normal, happy life…that she’d once had the potential for it.

  The room wasn’t a torture chamber, after all. Not in the traditional sens
e anyway. A massage table instead of a torture rack. Brushes and combs instead of blades and needles.

  The women led her to the table.

  “Sit,” one said.

  Sam sat on the table. She was like a child at the doctor, uncertain what to expect, and scared, but trying her hardest to keep it from showing.

  “We’ll take good care of you,” the second woman said as she reached for Sam’s face.

  Sam pulled back, her instincts telling her to pull out her sword.

  The women didn’t run, though. They weren’t afraid of her.

  “Dear,” the oldest woman said. “We can’t do what must be done with that on your face.” She smiled the sweet smile of a grandmother, though she wasn’t old enough to be one. “Everything that happens in this room stays between us. This can be your church, and we your priests.”

  Sam let her arms hang at her side. The women touched the clasp at the back of her head, loosening the mask. It felt like a weight being untied from around her ankle as she treaded water. The effort of just being, lessened. She could float.

  They removed her mask. She felt naked.

  “Lay back,” the older woman said. The other two held the back of Sam’s head and shoulders, lowering her into a lying position on the table. “We will take care of you.”

  Sam blinked away the tears forming in her eyes. They rolled down her cheeks. Then she closed her eyes and allowed the women to take care of her.

  Joel was lounging in a chair by the spa bar. He looked like he was barely conscious, staring goofily up at the sky. The others joined him in turn. Reggie felt more at peace than he had in a long time, maybe ever. A peace he never knew he was lacking. Cody seemed his typical, worrisome self.

  “Ready to get those parts?” Cody asked.

  Joel let slip a soft moan that made Cody squirm. “Not even you can ruin this for me.” Joel said as he sipped a drink.

  “How many of those have you had?” Cody said.

  Joel took another long sip. “Almost enough. Sit, man. Chill. You’re ruining my massage high.”

  “We don’t have time to sit around and get drunk,” Cody said. “We need to make those repairs to the ship.”

  Reggie sat in the lounge chair next to Joel. “For once, I think Joel has the right idea. We’ve got access to one of the most exclusive resorts in the galaxy. When will we ever get that chance again? Let’s enjoy it.”

  Joel and Cody looked equally stunned.

  “Goddamn right,” Joel said. He snapped his fingers at a passing employee. “Get this man a drink.”

  “Something isn’t right about this,” Cody said. “I did some digging into Graham’s financials. He was underselling just how dire his situation was. Before we blew up StrobeNet, he was on the verge of declaring bankruptcy.”

  Joel choked on his drink and it dribbled down his chin like an infant. Cody thought he was finally getting the information to sink in when he realized that Joel was looking past him. He turned and nearly choked on his own tongue.

  Sam was walking toward them. She looked like she’d been scrubbed from head to toe. She was a classic car that had been kept in the garage, under a sheet for years, given a polish and tune-up. It was no surprise to the guys that she was beautiful, they’d known that from the moment they met. But it was on full display now, a light shining on it. Her raven hair glistened like it’d been dipped in diamonds. Her skin was smooth and cleaned of its typical coat of grime, healed of cuts and bruises.

  She moved with a different kind of confidence—not that of the best mercenary money can buy, but that of a woman who knows she owns the room.

  Reggie, Joel, and Cody looked like gawking teenagers. Then they felt like awkward teenagers, gawking at their older cousin climbing out of the pool at the family reunion. They shuddered, adjusted themselves, and then set about thinking about baseball or knitting or investing in the stock market.

  “What’s wrong with you guys?” Sam asked, noticing their awkwardness, and feeling a bit of her own.

  She adjusted her mask. Having spent a significant chunk of time without it, it suddenly felt strange pressed against her face.

  “Nothing,” Joel said, staring intensely at the ice swirling in his drink. “Cody was just telling us something super important and interesting.”

  She looked to Cody. “Oh?”

  Cody fidgeted with his fingers. “What? No, I just…I was…” He snapped at a passing employee. “Can I get a drink, please?” He sat in the lounge chair next to Reggie. “I was just about to take Joel’s advice. I’m way too serious sometimes.”

  Sam smiled and sat in the last chair in the row. She ordered a drink, too. They all sat and sipped and talked about nonsense. Video games, favorite things growing up, what they liked to do now. Sam didn’t know what to say most of the time, but she listened and pretended and thought hard about things she liked aside from fighting and killing. Which wasn’t much. At least that she was aware of.

  Time to get some hobbies, she thought.

  As they lounged and soaked in the free paradise, three women walked toward them, stopping at the bar. Joel sat up. He scooched to the end of his lounge chair, sloshing a bit of his drink, and waited for them to turn around. He looked like a puppy, waiting at his master’s feet for a morsel of food to drop to the floor.

  As soon as they turned, drinks in hand, he said, “Good day, ladies. Might I interest you in a dip in the mud baths? I hear they’re lovely.”

  All three women met him with blank stares. Cold eyes that slowly hardened to icicles, aimed at Joel’s heart.

  “They’re closed,” Sam said before the women could answer. “For cleaning. Someone pooped in them. Fairly common, apparently.”

  The women’s faces turned green. They hurried away, clucking to each other.

  Joel sat back in his chair. He pursed his lips and furrowed his brow as he looked at Sam, turning over an idea in his head. When the idea cemented, he laced his fingers behind his head and laid back like he was the coolest goddamn boy in gym class.

  “It’s cool. I totally get it,” Joel said.

  “Get what?” Sam said.

  “Your game. Why you’re always scaring ladies away before I have a chance to lock it down.”

  Sam laughed into her glass. “Why’s that?”

  “Because you’re into me.”

  She choked on her drink, spitting what she hadn’t inhaled back into her cup.

  “No need to be embarrassed,” Joel said. “I don’t blame you. It happens. I’m magnetic.”

  “Gross,” Sam said.

  “Seconded,” Cody added.

  Sam set her glass down and stood from her lounge chair. “I just don’t want some lovely woman breeding with an uptight, entitled idiot.” Shrugging off the complimentary robe, she said, “I think it’s time we get out of here. Don’t we have a ship to fix?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Wrenches clanged and rang, and the smells of grease and engine oil were in the air, but Joel couldn’t bring himself to care. He wasn’t interested in tinkering. Maybe for the first time in his life, his attention was held more firmly by something other than spare parts and disassembled machines.

  “Dude, are you gonna help?” Reggie’s face was smeared black, and his thumbs were swollen from where he’d smashed them with a hammer while trying to pound the new engine pieces into place. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

  They’d stripped the amusement park of useful tech in half a day. They’d emptied the machine shop of all its hardware. They’d pried the metal plating off any of the rides they could. And they’d pulled the engine out of Rolling Thunder, the biggest ride in the park.

  Half an amusement park lay in bits and pieces at his feet, and Joel couldn’t tear his eyes from the majesty that stood before him.

  “It’s just a game, man,” Reggie said. “We need to get the ship up and running.”

  “You shut your goddamn mouth. ‘Just a game.’”

  Double Dragon was anything but
just a game. It was the beginning of an obsession. The first step on a journey. A prize Joel never imagined he’d possess. But now he did. He’d saved it from a swarm of ShimVens, and now it was on his ship, his to play whenever he wanted.

  “Get off your ass!”

  The obscenity coming out of Reggie’s mouth was enough to shake Joel from his splendor. “Christ, alright, I’m coming. God, you can’t let me ogle my new toy for just a little while?”

  “It’s been two hours.”

  Joel looked at his watch, brow raised. “Oh, shit. So it has.” He clapped his hands and cracked his knuckles. “Where we at?”

  Most of the hull breaches had been patched and the cosmetic damage had been fixed. But the engine was still shitting the bed. They’d put it through a prolonged hard burn that had fried some of the circuitry and melted a few of the pumps. Joel had removed some parts that could make do short-term from the Rolling Thunder engine, but they weren’t a one-to-one match. They required a hefty dose of finagling.

  And Reggie couldn’t finagle his way out of a brown paper bag.

  Joel studied the project that had taken such a toll on Reggie’s thumbs. “What the hell am I looking at? Did you just throw these pumps wherever and start smashing them to shit? That’s not how you fix things.”

  Reggie threw the hammer down on the floor. “I know that. I told you I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  Joel picked up the hammer. “Step one is don’t pitch a hissy fit and throw your tools on the floor. Step two is get the fuck out of my way.”

  Joel diverted his attention from his new prized possession and focused it solely on fixing the ship. He was drenched in sweat and caked in grease by the time he’d secured the pumps. Taking a step back, he surveyed his handiwork.