Technomancer (Unspeakable Things: Book One)

said.
    “Where do we go from here then?”
    I frowned slightly, trying to figure an easy way to ask her about her luck at cards without seeming greedy and crass. I was saved by a knock on the door. I got up to let the bellhop in.
    He looked surprised, and eyed me with a wide stare that lingered about a second too long. Maybe he thought I was the amazing Mr. Robert Townsend returned from the void. Then he noticed the tears still streaking Jenna’s face and hurried to put a silver tray loaded with drinks on the dresser. I gave him a few bucks and let the door slam behind him.
    “That’s just great,” Jenna said after he’d left.
    “What?”
    “I’m sure he’s hurrying off to tell someone there is some guy in the crazy lady’s room.”
    I shrugged. “They don’t matter. They aren’t going to find him in the lobby.”
    Jenna winced at my words. I realized instantly that saying anything about not finding Robert wasn’t going to improve her mood.
    “If he does turn up as suddenly and mysteriously as he vanished,” I said, “he’ll find his way back to you.”
    “How can you be so sure?”
    “Well, if you were my wife, I’d find my way home.”
    She frowned and took the coffee. I took the cue and drank the Pepsi.
    “Look, there’s something I’d like to ask you about—if you are willing.”
    “No promises—but name it.”
    “How did you get so lucky at cards?”
    Her expression changed. Her eyes closed halfway. It was a guarded look. She didn’t answer right away. “I’ll tell you, if you tell me first.”
    “Tell you what?”
    “Come on. Tell me again, how did you wreck that big slot machine?”
    “Oh, that,” I said. “I turned the metal gears inside to rubber, then I twisted up its guts when I pulled the handle all the way down.”
    She stared at me. “What did you use?”
    Right then, I knew she had an object. She would have asked
how
I’d done it otherwise. She knew these effects were managed with the help of a focusing object.
    “I played this game as a kid,” I said. “You show me yours first.”
    She smiled despite herself. In a flash of my true memory, I recalled a girlfriend once telling me I was so funny I could make a corpse laugh. I wasn’t sure at this point whether that was a compliment or not. I couldn’t recall the girlfriend’s face, but I could hear her voice.
    “What’s wrong?” she said.
    “I was just remembering something,” I said. She was leaning on the table with her elbows now. The tears were gone, but her face was a little puffy and her makeup had run. I saw she was looking down at her hands, toying with her wedding ring.
    “It’s the ring, isn’t it?” I asked quietly.
    “Dammit,” she said, slipping her hand under the table.
    “Don’t worry, I’m not going to take it or tell anyone.”
    “Robert told me never to let anyone know about it. No one. And he told me never to abuse it the way I did at the casino. I’m an idiot. These places have lists, you know. They won’t let me walk in the door if I get on those lists.”
    I nodded slowly. They did have lists. Once you were marked as a card-counter or some other kind of cheat, they hustled you back out the second you walked in—whether they knew how you did it or not.
    “How does it work?” I asked.
    “He told me not to tell anyone anything.”
    “I understand, but I already know most of it, and we’re supposed to be exchanging information.”
    She chewed her lip. Her hand and the ring were under the table. “You know what I’ve got. You show me yours now.”
    I held back the funny responses that bubbled into my mind. I slowly reached into my pocket and took out Tony Montoro’s sunglasses. I laid them on the table.
    Jenna scoffed, looking at them. “They’re plastic,” she said. “That can’t be one of the objects.”
    “Why not?”
    She leaned back and crossed her arms under her breasts. She frowned at me. “You’ve been full of crap this entire time, haven’t you? You don’t really know anything, do you? You had me going.”
    “Look,” I said. “These are Tony’s glasses, the guy I told you about. His object.”
    Her head tilted suspiciously. Her eyes were narrow, calculating. “You are supposed to run that blog—but you don’t know crap about what you’re writing about, do you?”
    “I suppose not. Now, clue me in.”
    She shook her head and lifted the ring back into my sight. “See this?” she said, showing me the thin gold loop with a single marquis-cut