Cyberpunk

don’t.”
    “You’re lucky. You’re rich and your mom leaves you alone. You’re New Canaan. My folks are Elkhart, Indiana.”
    “Being New Canaan is nothing to brag about. So what are you?”
    “Not a Joplin.” She shook her head. “Not much longer, anyway; I’m eighteen in February. I think your car’s here.” She held out her arms and hugged me good-bye. “Sorry you had to sit through that. Don’t drop me, okay? I like you, Mr. Boy.” She did not let go for a while.
    Dropping her had never occurred to me; I was not thinking of anything at all except the silkiness of her skin, the warmth of her body. Her breath whispered through my hair and her nipples brushed my ribs and then she kissed me. Just on the cheek, but the damage was done. I was stunted. I was not supposed to feel this way about anyone.
    Comrade was waiting in the backseat. We rode home in silence; I had nothing to say to him. He would not understand—none of my friends would. They would warn me that all she wanted was to spend some of my money. Or they would make bad jokes about the nudity or the Joplins’ mushy realism. No way I could explain the innocence of the way they touched one another. The old man did what to you? Yeah, and if I wanted a hug at home who was I supposed to ask? Comrade? Lovey? The greeter? Was I supposed to climb up to the head and fall asleep against Mom’s doorbone, waiting for it to open, like I used to do when I was really a kid?
    The greeter was her usual nonstick self when I got home. She was so glad to see me and she wanted to know where I had been and if I had a good time and if I wanted Cook to make me a snack? Around. Yes. No.
    She said the bank had called about some problem with one of the cash cards she had given me, a security glitch that they had taken care of and were very sorry about. Did I know about it and did I need a new card and would twenty thousand be enough? Yes. Please. Thanks.
    And that was it. I found myself resenting Mom because she did not have to care about losing sixteen or twenty or fifty thousand dollars. And she had reminded me of my problems when all I wanted to think of was Tree. She was no help to me, never had been. I had things so twisted around that I almost told her about Montross myself, just to get a reaction. Here some guy had tapped our files and threatened my life, and she asked if I wanted a snack. Why keep me around if she was going to pay so little attention? I wanted to shock her, to make her take me seriously.
    But I did not know how.
    The roombrain woke me. “Stennie’s calling.”
    “Mmm.”
    “Talk to me, Mr. Party Boy.” A window opened; he was in his car. “You dead or alive?”
    “Asleep.” I rolled over. “Time is it?”
    “Ten-thirty and I’m bored. Want me to come get you now, or should I meet you there?”
    “Wha . . . ?”
    “Happy’s. Don’t tell me you forgot. They’re doing a piano .”
    “Who cares?” I crawled out of bed and slouched into the bathroom.
    “She says she’s asking Tree Joplin,” Stennie called after me.
    “Asking her what?” I came out.
    “To the party.”
    “Is she going?”
    “She’s your cush.” He gave me a toothy smile. “Call back when you’re ready. Later.” He faded.
    “She left a message,” said the roombrain. “Half-hour ago.”
    “Tree? You got me up for Stennie and not for her?”
    “He’s on the list, she’s not. Happy called, too.”
    “Comrade should’ve told you. Where is he?” Now I was grouchy. “She’s on the list, okay? Give me playback.”
    Tree seemed pleased with herself. “Hi, this is me. I got myself invited to a smash party this afternoon. You want to go?” She faded.
    “That’s all? Call her!”
    “Both her numbers are busy; I’ll set redial. I found Comrade; he’s on another line. You want Happy’s message?”
    “No. Yes.”
    “You promised, Mr. Boy.” Happy giggled. “Look, you really, really don’t want to miss this. Stennie’s coming, and he said I should ask Joplin if I wanted you here. So you’ve got no excuse.”
    Someone tugged at her. “Stop that! Sorry, I’m being molested by a thick . . .” She batted at her assailant. “Mr. Boy, did I tell you that this Japanese reporter is coming to shoot a vid? What?” She turned off camera. “Sure, just like on the Nature Channel. Wildlife of America . We’re all going to be famous. In Japan! This is history, Mr. Boy. And you’re . . .”
    Her face froze as the redial program finally linked to