Page 72 of Ezra
“Good night,” I answer politely.
When the door shuts, I lean against it and stare helplessly up at the ceiling. I don’t know what to think. How could he kiss me like that, and then turn around and regret it so quickly? Does he consider this a momentary lapse of judgment? When he came into my room and pleasured me, is that all it was? Can I blame him when I personally wondered the same thing?
I rub the bridge of my nose, shaking my head.What’re you doing, Katrina?
But there it is. Maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s for the best, and I have my answer.
Except I don’t want to accept that answer. I want to see him again. There’s a lot going on, but surely there’s got to be a way we could—no, Katrina, let him go—but fuck, I can’t!
I pick up Charlie and gently pat him as he swings his front arms over my shoulder, allowing me to carry him like a baby. “Why is this so fucking difficult?”
Charlie whistles curiously.
“No, not you. This. Romance. Life.” I groan, collapsing heavily on the couch.
I shouldn’t be thinking about this. I should be focusing on fundraisers. Doing right by people. Showing my support. That’s when a sudden thought crosses my mind.
I’ve been trying to put together my own fundraiser for the families of the victims, one that would hopefully match those online. The gala is for high society, people Dad’s used to rubbing elbows with, not everyday people here in New Carnegie.
My old college didn’t want me there. But Dad has friends at the precinct.
Why didn’t I think of this before?
A few days later, I stand next to a holo-projector at the front of a quiet, low-lit conference room inside NCPD headquarters, dressed to the professional nines in a tailored blue pantsuit. I worked quickly with my dad to arrange this meeting and gather statistics to prove my point and lead a presentation for the bigwigs at the department. Normally, I don’t like throwing Dad’s weight around, but this is something that benefits everyone, and it couldn’t wait. Police Commissioner Winters and Chief Jacobsare among those in attendance, as well as other higher-ups in the department. Detective Washington is among them, though Ezra is conspicuously absent. I doubt they’d let an android attend this meeting, especially under certain circumstances, but that’s okay.
Ezra isn’t who I’m here for today.
When they all filed in an hour before, Washington was the only one who offered a faint smile of recognition at me. The rest? I might as well be speaking to the dead. There are a few coughs here and there and one or two nods, but otherwise, I’ve got no idea what any of these people are thinking. Judging by how much coffee they’re chugging, they’re far more tired than I am.
“I don’t think it’s a bad idea at all,” Chief Jacobs says, turning his attention to Commissioner Winters. “What do you think?”
Winters looks like he’d rather be anywhere else than here. “I think my wife should’ve been invited to this meeting.”
A rumble of soft laughter runs through the attendees, as though I’m the brunt of a joke. That’s when I know Ezra was right about Commissioner Winters being an asshole.
Deion doesn’t so much as smile. He only looks at me softly, like he’s silently apologizing for their behavior. I rally my wits. I’m not about to give the commissioner a fake laugh or kiss his ass.
“I wasn’t aware your wife made all your professional decisions for you, Commissioner,” I retort quickly, my voice light and airy to ensure he knows I’m casting daggers—but politely. “Perhaps she should’ve been here. If you have her contact information, I’m happy to collaborate.”
Satisfaction rushes through me at the bewildered looks of all the men in attendance when they realize precisely what I said. All except Washington, who looks like he’s trying not to laugh.
Chief Jacobs clears his throat. “I think it has promise,” he says to the commissioner. “But I’m not sure we can afford to spare any officers for a venture like this.”
The venture he’s referring to is the fundraiser I’m here to pitch—a city-wide breakfast, featuring police, firefighters, and other first responders, where everyone and anyone is welcome, and you don’t have to make seven figures or attend a gala to make a difference. Ten dollars buys all-you-can-eat pancakes. During my presentation, I made sure to rely heavily on successful percentages and the amount of positive PR, things law enforcement can always use in every city big and small.
It gets them recognition. It gets us the money we need.
“I can,” Washington pipes up.
“What do you mean?” Jacobs replies, turning to him. “We’re up to our necks in this TerraPura investigation. The ACU is spread thin as it is.”
“We’ve caught the Carson shooter,” Washington replies. “I’ve got my task force working twenty-four seven. We could rotate them out through the day, treat an event like this as a kind of break, so they can return to work with fresh eyes. Besides, we can’t chain everyone to a desk, bombing or not. They’re still people. And they’re running themselves ragged.”
Winters turns his gaze to me. “You mentioned something about the android during your presentation.”
“Ezra,” Deion and I say at the same time. I glance at him and stand a little straighter. He’s got one hell of a poker face. I wish I could say the same. “Yes. My father and I have always supported androids acting as assistance for emergency personnel and law enforcement.”
“That’s a surprise,” Jacobs scoffs. “And news to me. What happened to ‘shut them all down’?”
