Page 19 of Ezra
An elderly woman in sweatpants and an oversized shirt stares at me from her front door a few apartments down as I stand in the corridor, carrying a large glass jug of chocolate milk in one hand and a dozen glazed chocolate doughnuts in the other.
“Anytime now, Rose,” I mutter, staring back at the woman as she squints at me suspiciously while slowly withdrawing back into her apartment. The neighbors around here make it plain they don’t like me, even though I stop by to see Jayne regularly, usually bearing gifts of sweets or pastries. One of these days, I’m going to make a bet with Jayne and win. So far, wagers are not my strong suit.
Which is frustrating.
Jayne’s door chimes and automatically opens for me to step through. She sits in her sleek state-of-the-art wheelchair, already dressed for work, but her hair is still tied up in a small towel.
She waves at me with a smile. “Morning, Ezra—ooh, are those chocolate?” Her eyes shine as she rolls toward me, hands extended. “Come to mummy.”
I hand over the box, and she indulges in a doughnut, eyes rolling back in delight. “I wish you had a stomach. Doughnuts are the best thing to come out of the twentieth century, I swear,” she says through a mouthful in her typically chipper Irish lilt. “I’m guessing you found something a little strange in the museum video evidence that got submitted, like I said you might?”
“Yes, obviously,” I reply as I help myself to a glass in Jayne’s cupboards, pour her some milk, and then put the jug away in her fridge.
“As I suspected,” Jayne says with a sniff. “I was right all along. Something about all of this is fishy. And your horse isn’t quite as high as you thought it was, was it?”
“We’ll see,” I reply. “Sometimes I don’t understand you, Rose.”
“Why?” Jayne asks, then drinks deeply from her glass.
“I don’t even ride horses.”
She chokes on her milk and sputters, chuckling as she sets it aside. “Fucksake, that almost came out my nose, Ezra, you shite. You know that’s just a turn of phrase.”
“I do,” I reply with a smirk. “Just know how easily entertained you are.”
The sun is already up, streaming through Jayne’s windows. After what happened at the museum yesterday, I haven’t so much as gone into standby. There’s so much to do, so much to investigate, especially when it comes to tracking down and flushing out TerraPura cultists. Standby, for me, is something that happens for only a few hours a day when I’m with Deion. As a BNP99, my battery lasts longer than any other model. I don’t need to recharge nearly as often, and only for half as long.
Even now, as I sit on Jayne’s couch while she finishes her breakfast, I’ve got research up on the left side of my optic feed, comparing older cases with the one from yesterday. It’s only the second bombing on US soil where an android was made into a weapon, but such attacks have been rampant in England, Ireland, and France as recently as a month ago.
TerraPura is growing.
But humans need rest, and often distraction from their work, no matter how intense an investigation is. They miss things if they push themselves too hard. I don’t. So when Jayne wants to wager, that’s what she gets. She’s the only one in the ACU I consider a friend beyond the Washington family. I feel like it’s my place to care for her too.
And we wagered on the possibility of evidence tampering. Jayne knows TerraPura better than anyone else. It seemed unlikely to me. But she’s onto something.
“So? Any news on the romance front?”
“None at all,” I reply.
“Seriously? I thought you had a date a couple weeks ago. What was her name? Jenna? Julia?”
“Canceled. I’m done with all of that. I just don’t have time.”
“Care to make a wager?”
“A dozen doughnuts aren’t enough for you?” I motion to her opened box.
“Please. There aren’t enough doughnuts in the world to satisfy me,” Jayne replies. “Come on, I’ll be nice with this one.”
I sigh. “Name your wager.”
“You’ll have a girlfriend by the end of the year,” Jayne declares.
That makes me snort. “A bit risky for you, isn’t it?”
“Come on, I see how hard you work. You need cuddles on the couch, just like everyone else.”
I’m reluctant to agree to this. It’s more personal than our normal wagers. I’m wondering what brought this about. “I’m perfectly fine by myself.”
