Page 99 of Perfect Order
When the data appears on my screen, I have to bite my fist to hold back the wail of pain even as the denial escapes. “No.”
He wouldn’t. For what? Money? Power? He already has it all. I’m supposedly already dead. What more could he want?
And that’s when I start to dig and lay my own traps.
SEPTEMBER
Beckett Miller, who rose to an enviable rock stardom, is more than just a musician. He’s a human, something we forgot in our recent disclosure about his horrifying childhood.
The notorious tattooed rock god, who recently debutedThe Golden Ladyon Broadway, is a music virtuoso, teaching himself how to play the piano, guitar, drums, and several other instruments by ear. Overheard recently to say, “Music was what saved me from disappearing in my soul before I had a chance to spread my wings and live,” he’s been making inroads to endow a portion of his fortune to underprivileged school systems in his home state of Texas.
But if you think it’s his sexy voice, his moves on stage, or those hot as hell song lyrics that got him as far as he has, think again. Someone with half a brain at this trash rag unearthed Beckett Miller made his first million long before he ever took the stage. Writing jingles for everything from dog food to computers, he’s a savvy businessman.
Not only do we owe a huge apology to Beckett Miller, his fiancée, and his loved ones, it makes us think twice about what you can do with a degree in art and music.
Edited to add:StellaNova will match every employee’s contribution to art and music in our schools donated throughhttps://www.networkforgood.org/topics/education/creative/up to $50,000.
—StellaNova
When I installed the combination computer/safe room beneath my house years ago, I never imagined it would be used for more than middle-of-the-night phone calls from the office that couldn’t wait for me to drive to Castor. It takes up a large portion of the footprint of my basement, but unless you know exactly how to access it from either the detached garage or beneath the boulder through the sewer system, you’d never know it was here.
Only Lee knew. And I put up with so much noise from her about, “Did we watch the movieBlast from the Pastwith Brendan Fraser too many times, babe? I mean, for real? I know you thought he was hot and all, but this is a bit much.”
Little did I know the hyperawareness instilled in me during my training would be worthwhile, and the bunk room and kitchenette would come in handy, Brendan Fraser be damned.
Completely soundproof with copper wire running through the walls to shield transmissions, my only access to the outside world is through a hard line directly into the cable company. Not that I’m ready for more than a quick transmission—not by a long shot.
It’s just time to wipe the first mistake off my list.
Accessing StellaNova from the safe room computer, I upload the article retracting what they wrote about Beckett for their blog tomorrow, completely erasing any evidence of what they had planned. Then I tag it through a cloud bucket so it will overwrite the top news story on any search engine when someone looks up Beckett Miller’s name. It’s a nasty trick used in search engine optimization marketing to block out competitors, but one which will suit my purposes nicely. I hate screwing with people’s right to choose, but this tidy piece of work will allow Beckett Miller to regain his credibility instead of being painted as a hillbilly yokel. Mentally, I send him the apology I’ll never be able to make in person.I’m so sorry, Beckett. They used you and your past to get to me. It’s my fault. I made the fatal mistake of falling in love.
I slam the door on those thoughts because they’ll lead me to think about Kane. And I can’t. I can’t allow his words to penetrate into my thoughts. I simply absorb the pain and log off before turning my attention to the other screen. The only thing I can do to prepare myself to stare into Death’s eyes with no recrimination is to get answers. After all, by becomingQ?za,I lost the right to love, to live a life of free will. They were the rights I was supposed to give to Lee, and someone killed her instead of me.
My eyes scan a secondary monitor with the flat blue line a final time before I switch it off. I’m fairly certain with the program I’m writing, the moment I connect my secure laptop to the internet, they’ll have me—if they want me. It wasn’t hard to narrow it down once I knew where to look—Dioscuri. The question is, how long will it take him to find it? I’m not trying to hide the fact I’ve got him. I want him to come and get me.
It’s time we end it.
I just need time. I have a few final things to do—a self-imposed order. My lips curve with no humor as I contemplate about how many messes I can clean up in the amount of time I have left. I’ll protect them all if I do. Then I can finally rest.
The first part of my penance complete, I push to my feet and head toward the bunk in the back—my new “master suite.” There are no more questions, no more answers. Nothing. “Soon, I’ll be able to go home and rest. A few more months. That should do it,” I whisper aloud. The sound of my voice startles me. I’m surprised by the sound of it. After all, there’s no one here.
Then, I dig down deep for my resolution. I still need to be strong and fix as much as I can when it comes to those I love. Then once it’s done, I can tell Lee all about it.
After all, no one has ever understood me better than the other half of myself.
“He’s back,” I’m informed. I hear the quiet comfort of the keys clicking from his desk in New York.
“What’s he doing?”
“Looking to see if she’s returned.”
My hand slashes through the air. “If the threat’s credible, she won’t endanger anyone by returning.”
His chair creaks. “You’ve lived this life for too many years.”
“So have you, my friend,” I remind him.
“Do you think it is?” he asks me bluntly.
