White Space Season 2

that project had more potential — for both Conway Industries and the world — than any of Father’s pipe-dream, transhumanist bullshit. People would never evolve, not enough to make up for the fact that they’re all animals, subject to the same weaknesses.
    “It’s up to you,” Kaiser said from the driver’s side. “You call the shots, but I’m telling you man, your father’s lost it, and we both know you’re the future of this company.”
    Warren sighed. He had to trust his tomorrow and surrender his yesterday. Murder was liquidation, unclogging a stuck drain.
    “OK,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

    * * * *

CHAPTER 4 — Jon Conway

    Jon sat on the couch, waiting, staring up at the blank wall monitor while sorting through the same half-dozen agitated thoughts he’d been wrestling through a night of not sleeping.
    Making excuses was exhausting, mostly because Jon had such a low tolerance for the exercise. As Father often said, to the delight of reporters and quote harvesters everywhere, “Get good enough at making excuses and you’ll make yourself sorry at pretty much everything else.”
    Jon had made plenty of excuses for Cassidy, but kept circling back to the fact that she should have answered her goddamned phone.
    Sure, she didn’t always have her cell, and might not have heard it the first dozen times it rang, especially when working in a noise-polluted place like Shipwrecked. Her battery could’ve been dead, or Cassidy could have fallen asleep watching the second season of The Dark Tower — she had been bingeing since Jon told her she had to start watching. Cassidy wasn’t obsessive about being reachable, and Jon didn’t think she should be. He understood since he was the same. More so, though for different reasons, Jon longed for a time he’d never known but had often dreamed of, when cells weren’t in every pocket.
    Jon made the excuses, but they all felt wrong. He felt like a dick for doubting her, since he knew what she needed most was for people to believe in her. But Jon wasn’t stupid, and Cassidy not known for staying sober.
    The doorbell’s sharp ring was immediately followed by the rat-a-tat-tat of knuckles on wood. Jon’s front door swung open, and Cassidy said, “Hey Popcorn, you home?”
    He stood from the couch, crossed the living room, then stepped into Cassidy’s gaze.
    She held his eyes through her approach. Jon could see how hard she swallowed as she stopped, a foot from his face, still staring. Her hair was wet, like she’d just gotten out of the shower. She was wearing a blue tee and jeans, which meant she’d at least been home since leaving work.
    Her eyes looked like they had something to prove. Cassidy seemed tentative, guilty, only half there. She had fallen off the wagon — again.
    Shit.
    “What happened to you last night? I waited all night.” Jon held her stare, digging for truth in her eyes. “I was worried.”
    “I’m sorry,” Cassidy said. “You know how late Shipwreck closes, I didn’t know I was supposed to check in with you when I got off.”
    “I didn’t say you had to check in with me, Cassidy. But that is what we’ve done every night we’ve not seen one another for the last month. We call each other, we say goodnight. Expecting a call isn’t unreasonable.”
    “Oh, Jon, I never took you for the needy type,” Cassidy said, defense turning her smile mean.
    She walked past Jon, no kiss or hug, and went to the fridge, flung it open, grabbed a tall bottle of water from the back, slammed the large aluminum door, unscrewed her bottle, then leaned against the kitchen counter, staring at Jon while awaiting his response.
    Jon tried telling himself this wasn’t Cassidy. She was defensive — likely fucked up, and probably wrestling guilt. He knew the cycle well, having spun through it more than a few times himself — raising ire from his life’s important players through his sudden, erratic behavior.
    His next words mattered.
    The situation was volatile, with both Cassidy and Jon on edge. Tomorrow they buried Emma — his daughter and her niece — as each of them ran from the twin demons of guilt and regret.
    Jon managed to stay sober. Cassidy, however, needed her pills. That weakness, if she allowed it, could overwhelm her and kick her life back into an abyss. He had to be there for her, without being judgmental. Tough love was often effective with addicts, at least in his experience. But how could you give tough love when