Urban God of Rebate: Infinite Returns Of Women And Powers

”Three months,” she said quietly, mostly to herself. Her hand moved through his hair with the patient rhythm of someone with nowhere else to be. ”Three months and I’m out of here.”

Max said nothing. Just lay still.

”And then I’m going to eat food that doesn’t come on a tray,” said Amara. ”And sleep in a bed that doesn’t have rails. And meet the person who made all of this possible.” Her hand stilled for a moment. ”Tell him thank you, Max. When you see him. Tell him that I know what he did and that it meant everything and that i would love to meet him to thank him personally”

”I’ll tell him,” said Max.

Her hand resumed its movement through his hair.

Outside the open doorway a nurse passed and glanced in and kept walking, and two doctors further down the corridor exchanged a look, and somewhere in the hospital another family was probably sitting in a waiting room not yet knowing which way their news was going to go, and in this particular room a young woman who had spent three years in a hospital bed was finally on the other side of the thing she’d been fighting, her brother’s head in her lap, both of them simply breathing in the particular quiet that came after something enormous had resolved itself.

”Three months,” said Max quietly, against her lap.

”Three months,” said Amara, her hand still moving. ”And then everything changes.”

She looked out the window at the afternoon sky, and the smile that crossed her face was the kind that had nothing performed in it, just genuine and private and entirely hers.

—----------------

Outside

Sean walked out of Eastgate Medical Center into the afternoon light, down the front steps, and stood on the sidewalk while James pulled the car around.

He pulled out Vanessa’s card. The personal number on the back. Looked at it for a moment.

Something personal to tell you.

He thought about Vanessa at the store, the specific professional warmth she carried that was always slightly more than the situation required. The way she’d given him her personal number the first day. The call through Max when she couldn’t reach him directly, which meant her network was better than he’d assumed.

He thought about the third bind slot notification sitting in his system since Olivia’s favorability crossed 50.

[Third Bind Slot: Available]

[Qualifying Targets Detected:]

[Vanessa Chen — Beauty Rating: 8.8 — Favorability: 67]

He put the card away.

”Élite Fashion,” he said, when James opened the door.

”Of course, sir,” said James.

—--------------

Vanessa’s Office, Before Sean Arrived

The office at the back of Élite Fashion was everything the store wasn’t.

The store was precise. Controlled. Every rail and display case arranged with the specific intention of making expensive things look inevitable. The office was where Vanessa Chen actually lived during business hours, and it looked like it. Papers on the desk she hadn’t filed. Two coffee cups because she kept forgetting she’d already made one. A mood board on the far wall covered in fabric swatches and cut-outs from European fashion week coverage that she’d been updating for six months in preparation for what was coming next week.

She was standing in front of that mood board when Sarah knocked on the open door.

Sarah Kim was twenty-six, had worked as Vanessa’s personal secretary for three years, and had developed in that time the specific skill of reading her employer’s emotional state from posture alone before a single word was exchanged. She was very good at it.

She looked at Vanessa’s posture now.

”How bad is it,” said Sarah.

”I don’t know what you’re referring to,” said Vanessa, not turning around.

”You’re standing in front of the mood board,” said Sarah. ”You only stand in front of the mood board when you’re thinking about something that isn’t the mood board.”

”I’m thinking about the Paris show,” said Vanessa.

”You’re thinking about who you’re going to invite to the Paris show,” said Sarah.

Vanessa turned around. She looked at her secretary for a moment with the expression she used when someone had correctly identified something she wasn’t ready to confirm.

”I need you to take notes,” said Vanessa. ”We have scheduling to review.”

”Of course,” said Sarah, who sat down, opened her notebook, and said nothing else, which was how she communicated that she was prepared to wait as long as necessary.

Vanessa sat behind her desk.

She picked up her pen. Put it down. Picked up her coffee cup, found it empty, set it beside the other empty coffee cup.

”The Paris show is next Friday,” said Vanessa.

”I know,” said Sarah. ”I booked the flights.”

”The venue accommodates forty guests comfortably,” said Vanessa. ”Thirty-eight have confirmed.”

”I know,” said Sarah. ”I sent the confirmations.”

”Which leaves two seats,” said Vanessa.

”I know,” said Sarah, very carefully.

”I was considering whether to extend an additional invitation,” said Vanessa. ”To someone whose perspective on the collection might be valuable.”

Sarah wrote something in her notebook. ”And this person’s name is.”

”Sean Miller,” said Vanessa.

Sarah stopped writing. She looked up from her notebook with the expression of someone who had just been handed something she was going to need a moment to process.

”The eighteen-year-old,” said Sarah.

”He’s a client,” said Vanessa.

”He’s a client who has been in this store twice,” said Sarah. ”Spent more in those two visits than most of our annual accounts combined. And whose personal number you have saved in your phone under a contact name I noticed last week that I won’t repeat out loud.”

Vanessa looked at the mood board. ”I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

”The contact name is S dot Miller with a small lightning bolt emoji after it,” said Sarah.

”Update your glasses prescription,” said Vanessa.

”My eyesight is perfect,” said Sarah. ”What’s the lightning bolt for?”

”Notes,” said Vanessa.

”You put lightning bolt emojis in your contact notes,” said Sarah.

—---------

Author Note;

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