Page 33 of Savagely Mated

“Yeah?”

“Good job today,” Clint says. “Take this.”

I expect it to be a token for the gross vending machines, but when I look at the slip of plastic he’s given me, it’s a coupon for a nearby chain restaurant.

“Wow, really?”

“Best newbie in months,” he says. “You’re a natural. Get some food and we’ll see what else comes up. Deliveries run through the night, and you get double pay after dark.”

“So I could pay the bike off even earlier?”

“Or upgrade,” he says. “There’s a lot of options for a talented rider.”

I’m absolutely beaming. There’s no way for Clint to know this, because we’ve shared absolutely nothing personal with one another, and we have absolutely no intention of doing so, but this is the first praise I’ve had in what feels like forever.

I’ve gotten so used to people telling me I’m doing things wrong, behaving badly, being a problem that I actually forgot someone could say something nice to me and mean it.

I’m good at my new job, and that fills me with a sense of pride I didn’t know I needed so badly.

“Get some food, kid,” he says. “There’s not enough of you.”

“Alright. I’ll be back,” I say, waving the coupon at him. “Thanks for this.”

The restaurant he’s given me a free meal at is called Duckie’s.

Duckie’s has a mascot of, you guessed it, a duck. They mostly serve chicken. I don’t know what the math is on that, and I don’tcare. I find myself eating fried chicken with a side of fries and I am about as happy as I have ever been. I kick my feet under the table and do a little shimmy as I reach for my soda.

I’m an independent woman. And it was much easier than I imagined it would be.

I don’t need any man. I don’t need anything. I don’t need any kind of institution to tell me who I am and what I’m for. I can actually work that out for myself. Feels good. Feels absolutely magic.

I finish up my meal and head back to the office. I suppose I should check out the dorm, but I don’t really want to go back into any shared spaces. I want to get my own apartment. Or a room somewhere. That will have to wait some weeks, probably. A few people have given me tips on delivery, though. Maybe, if I do enough deliveries, there’ll be enough to rent a place just on tips alone.

I come back to the office with a chocolate sundae in a plastic cup, which I slide across to Clint. I get the feeling he’s the sort of guy who appreciates random acts of dessert.

His look of unexpected surprise and sunshine smile proves me right.

“Thanks,” he says. “That’s real nice of you. Keep this up and I might learn your name.”

I laugh, though I know he’s not actually joking. I don’t think Clint can risk getting too attached to most riders.

“Delivery just came in,” Clint says. “Rest of these layabouts won’t work after midnight at the moment, but it’s marked urgent.They’ve paid the rush fee. You’ll get that bike much sooner if you pick up jobs like this. Check your wrist.”

I turn my arm over to look at the interface that links in with the D2G computer. The address comes up on it, along with a line map guiding me as to the best way to reach it.

The delivery is going to one of the richest areas in Eclipse City, not all that far from the palace. It’s a big house that looks out over the river. Places like that are worth millions. They usually have private couriers.

“Is this legit?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because…” I stop myself from finishing the sentence as it formed itself in my brain. Because there’s no way anybody with money would want some ratty-looking courier driving up on a garish yellow bike and yelling about their delivery being ready.

“Just do it,” he says. “We don’t ask questions. We take the ticket and the delivery box and we take the box to the place on the ticket. Don’t start overthinking this.”

“Alright.” I turn to walk away. “Clint?”

“Yeah?”

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