Page 77 of Minding the Minotaur
“There is no-one in the world I would trust more than Jax,” Clem says, with so much passion that I feel guilty for even voicing my doubts. It’s stupid of me to have misgivings. Jax got me the job in the first place. He saved my life, and now he’s covered my ass with an alibi as well. This could potentially get him in deep shit too.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” I say quickly. “Blame it on my screwed-up brain.” I stand up on wobbly legs. “I’m going to walk back.”
I take a few faltering steps, and lean on the rail overlooking Sparkle.
I survey the city, hoping—fruitlessly, of course—to see past the mirage of make-believe, past the dome wall even, to that other world that is breathtakingly beautiful, but somehow toxic to me in ways I don’t understand.
But of course, there’s nothing to see except the glittering buildings, and beyond them, Heaven Hill and the haze over Paradise Beach, where my parents live.
Paradise schmaradise.
Clem touches my arm. “C’mon hon,” she says gently.
I sigh and go to turn away. But as I do, a building in the commerce district catches my eye. I’ve never noticed it before, even though I must have driven past it countless times on my way to and from work.
It’s tall and angular, made up of panels of glass that glint bright blue in the sunshine.
Why, I wonder, does it look so familiar?
CHAPTER 24
ARLO
“Here’s your green smoothie.” Tippy plonks it down next to the one she brought me earlier, which I still haven’t touched.
I grunt.
It’s the same every day.
I skulk around, not even bothering to dress. Tippy comes in, all bright and breezy, pulls back the curtains, and bullies me out of bed. The she puts that fucking glass of sludge on the bedside table for me to drink.
I don’t.
Three hours later, she comes back and replaces it with another glass of sludge.
Mostly, she leaves without saying anything, but today she’s being difficult. I guess ithasbeen three weeks since Sammy was taken away for treatment. But until I know if she’s conscious, I can’t rouse myself from this deep despair.
“Okay. Enough of this Arlo. You moping around won’thelp Sammy get well.” Tippy glares at me, hands on her hips and her ears twitching. “And you’ll get sick if you don’t eat.”
“I do eat,” I protest.
“Yeah, Chukka sticks. Which have the same nutritional composition as cardboard.”
I shrug. “Cardboard’s good,” I mutter. I don’t care. I haven’t been to the clinic since Sammy got sick. I don’t have the woman I love by my side. Who cares if my sperm turns into useless froth, or if I don’t even produce at all? I certainly have lost my libido of late.
Tippy huffs loudly. “Right, that’s it, I’m calling Otis to talk some sense into you.” And she stomps out.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath. Otis is the last person I want to see.
I go to the door and call out, “Great smoothie,” in the hope that will stop her. “Off to do a workout,” I lie.
Tippy doesn’t answer. I’m sure she doesn’t believe me, and I’m equally sure she’s still going to call Otis.
I go back, pick up the smoothie, head into the bathroom and dump it down the sink.
Some twenty minutes later, when Otis arrives, I’ve managed to move to the snug and am watching a monster cartoon. I refuse to play one of the pirated human movies in my video collection. Because if a single one of those human actors dared to cry, it would break me. Completely fucking break me.
Otis is clearly unimpressed with my unwashed, undressed, scruffy appearance. He surveys me with a grim look on his face.
