Page 22 of Minding the Minotaur
“What’s this?” I ask, frowning.
“Your official pass. Open it.”
I do. There’s a flat square badge with a pin on the back. On the front is the worst photo of me that I’ve ever seen.
“Where’d you get this shot?” I ask, horrified.
“From Clem. Said she took it at a club when you were half cut. I’ve doctored it to make you look respectable.”
“I look like shit,” I grumble. I’m sporting the boss-eyed look I get when I’m plastered. But he’s erased my long hair and shoved a cap on my head, so I look like a felon. Next to the photo are the letters PSP in big letters. Under that, the words:Human. Female.
“What’s PSP stand for?”
“Peripheral Service Provider. You can’t go into the Labyrinth without one of these. Lucky for you, I’m an expert at counterfeiting. Makes me a bit of coin on the side.” Jax shrugs, and drags on his cigarette.
“Ready?” He cocks a dark eyebrow at me.
“Ready,” I reply, trying to straighten my spine without pushing my chest out. My buttons will pop if I do. I yank my ponytail tighter, then put on the cap Jax hands me and pull it down over my eyes. But as I pick up my small bag of belongings, my smile wobbles a little, and my hands shake.
Jax cocks an eyebrow. “Nervous?”
“A little.”
He grins as he stubs out his cigarette. “Shoulders back, Blondie. Fake it until you make it. Let’s go.”
We walk out of his apartment, and along the wide, straight road toward the squat buildings surrounded by barbed wire. The dome wall to our right and the muted light makes it all feel eerie and surreal. The bright light in the center of Sparkle barely gets a look-in here, no doubt unable to cut through the thick fog at the Crossroads.
I do my best to put a confident swagger in my step, to match the way Jax walks with a loping, easy gait. And then Itrip, windmilling forward, and Jax catches my arm. “Meant to say, watch out for potholes.”
“Don’t they repair the roads here?” I ask.
He gives me a funny look. “That’s a joke, right?”
Finally, we draw up at a sentry post, the barbed wire reaching up on either side of us like an angry briar bush, and a cacophony of dog barking starts up. Beyond are containers piled high, and behind them, warehouses. I want to ask Jax if this stuff has all come from the Labyrinth, but I’m too intimidated to even speak as a guy in uniform with a gun holster at his belt checks my ID.
“Newby peripheral,” Jax drawls. “Training on level one.”
The guy chuckles as he looks me up and down. “First time down there?”
I nod. He leers at my chest. “You’re mincemeat, sweetheart.”
“Not before I mince them,” I respond, trying to look tough, and Jax mutters in my ear, “Salute.”
I copy Jax as he spades his forehead with his hand.
The guy salutes back, his mean little eyes still fixed on my tits. Urgh.
We move on, past a demountable full of guards, all smoking and playing cards. Jax is clearly not the only one around here with a nicotine habit. Guess there’s not much else to do in this godforsaken place.
Luckily, the guards don’t look up, so I avoid another dozen leery eyes on my chest.
I wonder if the monsters in the Labyrinth will stare at my tits. I remember one that did, and I remember that I didn’t object to him ogling my chest. Not. One. Bit. A little frisson fills my belly. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? (Well, apart from the fact I’m jobless.) And if I do get to meet the minotaur again, hey, if he wants to stare at my tits… and more…
Be honest, you’d let him.
My breath hitches just remembering his big meaty handson my body, imagining how gently they’d unbutton my blouse…
Jax is walking faster now, so I shake off my fantasy and scurry after him, past the rows of containers and trucks being loaded by humans in uniforms like mine. They barely glance at us, just keep on working, their faces devoid of expression.
