Page 89 of Ezra
“Ooh, ooh, get me one too!” Jayne insists. “And a brownie. With vanilla ice cream.AndJenna’s butter cookies! And apple Snickers salad!”
I slowly rise, giving her a look. “Anything else?”
Jayne thinks about it. “Chocolate cake?”
“That’s a tall order.” Katrina chuckles as she gets up. “I’d better go with you. I want more lemonade anyway.”
“I wish I could eat cheesecake,” Briyanna laments. “If only I had a stomach.”
Keeping in mind everything Jayne asked for, I walk with Katrina to the spread of food.
“It really is too bad you can’t eat.” Katrina sighs. “All the food is delicious.”
I take her hand and pull her back to me, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “I can’t eat or drink, but Iamravenous.”
She shivers against me. “Oh?”
“And I’ll feast upon you. Before this night is up. I promise you that.”
She’s a bit wobbly as she and I pile plates full of dessert and wander back to the picnic table, and I admire her without shame, finding victory in the color of her cheeks.
Throughout the late afternoon and into the evening as the barbecue continues, I’m beginning to embrace how attuned my gratification drive and my circuitry have become, how they react almost instantaneously to Katrina’s presence, her expressions, and vital scans. I try to calculate how long I’ve felt this way, how drawn I am to her.
Katrina’s dedication to what she believes is right and just rivals my own. Some people in the ACU believe me to be incapable of morality. I stick to the law; I don’t bend the rules. Or so they think.
Some laws are subjective. I’ve made my own judgment calls before when I thought it best.Especiallywhen I’ve thought it best. Even while dealing with droids I don’t personally care for. I’m reminded of the decision I made when a championship fighter bionic, Dominic, was scheduled to be terminated. I couldn’t stop humans from taking action, but I could delete evidence in his memory banks that would’ve been used against him if the investigation deepened. Thankfully, his termination was prevented. Androids defending themselves from attack, reacting to abuse—those are the occasions I cannot simply rely on the basics of my programming.
If Deion knows I’ve looked the other way in order to protect those like me from abusers and violent oppressors, he hasn’t let on. He understands discretion, and he’d support me. Despite my hard work, not everyone is a fan of me in the department. Detective Marcus Weaver is probably my biggest critic, besides the commissioner. Deion’s gotten in Weaver’s way a few times, even caught him attempting to sabotage me by planting evidence. He’s finally arrived here at the barbecue, but conspicuously stays away from me and hovers close to his adult son. Deion thought it best to include him. Something about mending fences and making sure to avoid any resentment.
I’m grateful to Deion in more ways than one. He could’ve behaved like Weaver, treated me like an outsider or an interloper, someone here to take his job. But he’s made me a part of his family. He’s more than my handler or my partner. He’s my brother. At least, he’s the closest thing to it that I can fathom. I spy him talking to her next to the food table.
My audio receptors are sensitive. I can’t help but overhear; it’s how I’m made.
“It means a lot to Ezra, and all of us, that you came today.”
“I appreciate you having me,” Katrina says. She keeps eyeing the food, but abstains, occasionally glancing at me.
“It’s a brave thing you’ve done, coming here with him. I understand that risk.”
“It doesn’t feel like a risk,” Katrina says. “It’s the most relaxation I’ve had in ages.”
“Sounds like youreallyneed a vacation, Miss Carson.”
“Oh, you can call me Kat. Everyone does.”
I’m reassured this is going better than I ever thought it would. I wasn’t sure if I made the right move inviting her here. Deion’s own reservations were on replay in the back of my mind. I’m not technicallypresentingher as my girlfriend today. We haven’t had a discussion like that to make it official. But anyone with two brain cells and eyes knows she came with me.
And she’s dressed far too deliciously with that slightly plunging neckline to just be here as my friend.
Seeing her interact with the most important women in my life—Rashelle and the best friend I never wanted, Jayne—has got my processors whirling. I don’t realize I’ve been gazing at Katrina again as I stand with some of the other detectives while they drink beer and chat, tuning out the conversation when it turns to city sports teams and the recent win by the New Carnegie Barons. I excuse myself and go to her.
Keeping myself at arm’s length has been unbearable, but I don’t want Katrina to feel smothered or overwhelmed by my constant presence in front of other organics, and I don’t dare interrupt the women. I value Jayne, but she likes to tease me. Sometimes incessantly. Deion, standing beside his wife with his arm around her, sees me approaching and grins.
“Sorry, Ezra,” he says. “We absconded with your date for the evening. I blame Rashelle.”
“I’ll take the blame, and I’m not sorry!” Rashelle laughs. “I really like her!”
My visual feed zooms in on Katrina’s face. I read her vitals and perform an automatic full body diagnostic scan. She seems quite at ease, flitting between different guests. Being so opinionated, I didn’t anticipate her adaptability. She’s friendly, sweet, and seems at ease while she chats with everyone.
