White Space Season 2

go. I don’t want to be there — I’m not ready to play nice with the Conways. You can take Emma, and I understand why you want to — she’s curious about her grandpa; only has the one, and didn’t know it until now. But I don’t want to be there, can’t be there, especially knowing you’re going to take your dad aside at some point and blast him for all that happened. That is soooo not something I want to do tonight.”
    She expected protest. Instead Jon smiled and said, “OK, I understand. And sorry I didn’t think to ask you if it would be a problem. Hell, I’m not even sure I’m ready to sit at the table with them! You are totally, absolutely, 100 percent right.”
    Cassidy swallowed. Jon raised a finger, “OK, well, now that you’ve given me a moment to think with something other than my pecker, I remember I need to make some calls — let people know Houser is out before Marty sends a squad of lawyers parachuting down on the island or something! We’ll pick this up tonight?” He asked, kissing her.
    “OK,” Cassidy said.
    Jon popped up from the cushions like a hyper child, then went back to the bar separating kitchen from living room.
    “Hey, Marty, yeah, he’s out.”
    As Jon made his calls, Cassidy sat on the couch and watched him in his natural environment; wheeling and dealing, discussing important things with powerful people, like ordering à la carte from the menu. She remembered how just a couple of months back she was disgusted by Jon’s seemingly insincere smooth talking. This wasn’t the Jon she spent time with, the Jon she was falling so hard for. This was a player, through and through, not too different from his father or brother.
    As Cass watched Jon laughing and smiling like a smug actor, she was surprised to find her rising anger. She tried to quell her swelling disgust, and the nasty thoughts behind them. Her mind flew to her pocket, where an envelope waited, offering release, and an immediate end to her anxiety.
    Happiness only a swallow away.

    * * * *

CHAPTER 5 — Milo Anderson

    Milo stared at Don, pacing the forest on the lookout for Houser — or anyone else. Milo wondered if he’d be able to outrun a blast if the man triggered his bomb vest from just 10 feet away.
    Milo was quick, but how fast was an explosion? In movies, heroes ran and jumped just in time to clear the blast, with debris swirling like snow flurries in the background. But that seemed like bullshit to Milo. In reality, he figured the blast would spread farther, likely roasting anyone attempting to run. Ten feet didn’t seem like nearly far enough if the man beside you was wearing a bomb vest.
    Milo had an idea — he could tell Don he had to piss, and that he’d be right back. Surely, the man would grant him privacy. As he opened his mouth to tell Don, Houser closed it by appearing on the path.
    “Hey, guys,” he said, looking down the hill.
    “Hands in the air!” Don shouted, aiming his gun at Houser.
    Where the fuck did he get a gun? Well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised since he has a damned bomb vest!
    “It’s cool, it’s cool,” Houser said, raising both hands as he stopped at the top of the hill. “I just wanna talk, man. You and me, we’re on the same side.”
    “Yeah, and what side is that?” Don asked.
    Milo looked at Don, wishing he’d stop sounding like a crazy fuck. Humans had such talent for escalation. A glare so easily led to a shout, a shout to a stick. Sticks to guns and guns to Kevlar. Bombs, missiles, worse. Whether it was the whole wide world, or man to man, real men were taught to never back down, leaving them forever at the edge of war, real or imagined. Houser would have to defend himself. Then, BOOM! Don would respond. Don was, without realizing it, pushing himself toward the fate he hoped to avoid.
    “I’m just looking for the same thing you are,” Houser said. “Truth.”
    That seemed to calm Don a bit. His rapid breathing slowed, and his finger seemed suddenly less itchy. Don’s left hand was still inside his jacket, though, likely on the button which would detonate his vest.
    “Can I come down the hill?” Houser asked. “I’ll need my hands to balance myself, what with this leg and all.”
    “Yeah,” Don said almost reluctantly, fixing his aim on Houser as the man slowly descended the incline, carefully navigating the dirt with both his human and robot feet.
    Milo looked back and forth from Houser to Don, hoping like hell Don wouldn’t get