Wicked Attraction Read online

  “Nice to meetcha,” Al said.

  Katrinka’s perfectly glossed lips curled into a smile, but only for a second before she was looking determined again. “Any friend of Nina’s . . . but Nina, darling, it’s time for your speech. We really need to get you up there.”

  “See ya later,” Al said.

  Nina had stood in front of many groups of people, giving speeches on the subject of the enhancement surgeries and how they’d changed her life. She’d presented her opinions about the necessity of upgrades, the ways to counteract hacking and more. She’d never been as prominent or well-known a supporter of the tech as Ewan had been a detractor, but she’d done her share in the past to make her voice known

  Why, then did she feel so uncertain, now?

  Nina took a deep breath, checking automatically for any signs of new memory loss or other distress. She remembered what she’d eaten for breakfast today; that was her touchstone, and it was still there. She didn’t want to be thinking of that now as she went up the stairs to the riser set up at the back of the room, careful not to trip on the hem of her dress and make a fool of herself in front of everyone.

  Still, looking out at the crowd, it was impossible for her to put aside how it felt to forget.

  “Hello, everyone,” Nina said aloud. “Thank you all so much for coming tonight in support of what to many of you must feel a bit like a weird dream.”

  She waited for the crowd to settle and turn to her. Drinks in their hands. Some with smiles, others with blank expressions. Waiting for her to change their minds. Some of them willing, needing only a nudge. Others would need more than that, and she wasn’t sure she could do it, but she had to try.

  “Several years ago, a revolutionary advance in tech saved my life. I’d been in combat.” Nina kept her voice strong and her gaze steady as she looked around the room, meeting the gaze of anyone she could. “I died in service to this country. A full eight minutes, or so they told me. I don’t remember it, and I’ve always found that to be a blessing. Nobody should have to recall the moment of their death.”

  She cleared her throat. From the corner of her eye, Nina could see Katrinka trying hard to catch her attention. Nina didn’t give it to her. She knew what she was doing. She was speaking her truth, and if it was too harsh for some of these people, well . . . she had to do it. Money and support were important, but not if she felt compromised by it.

  “I survived, solely due to the implantation and activation of that tech. It was experimental, but I’d signed an agreement before joining the army. Truthfully, I didn’t know when I signed it what would be done to me, but I can take the blame for that. I woke up in agony, bed-bound. But I woke up, and I will never regret that. There are some who believe the enhancement tech changed me into something different. Someone different. I can’t say that’s not true, to be honest.”

  She paused, giving them time to murmur and shift, to make them a little uncomfortable. She looked out over the room to find Ewan, whom she’d barely talked to all night. He was front and center, a drink in one hand, the other tucked into his pocket. His gaze on hers. His smile, encouraging but serious.

  “But then, doesn’t everything that happens to us change us into something new? If you’re lucky, you end up stronger. Better. A new and improved version of yourself.” She paused again to give her next word the maximum effect. “Enhanced.

  “Ewan Donahue invented the enhancement tech to help his sister, Katie, who suffered early onset dementia. He meant for the tech to help her, and anyone else like her, to be able to hold onto their memories. Because memory is what makes us who we are, isn’t it? More than the way we laugh or how we look, or our political opinions or our favorite flavor of ice cream, it’s what we remember. It’s who we remember.”

  She continued quickly, watching the crowd’s reactions. There were some nods, but also a lot of frowns. Side-talking and murmurs. She kept going, even when she saw some disgruntled faces.

  “So many people think the enhancement tech is about forgetting,” Nina said quickly. “But it’s not. It’s for remembering. Yes, it’s true that the tech allows my short-term memories to be reset, but only in certain, specific, and mutually agreed upon cases. I signed up for the possibilities of experimental surgeries without understanding what that could mean for me, but I’ve never once been reset without knowing beforehand what it would be like and how it would affect my life . . . that is to say, not very much at all.”

  Nina cleared her throat. “I’ve been asked many times if I knew what was going to happen to me, would I have agreed to the enhancement surgeries? Would I have allowed them to implant me with the tech? My answer to that is yes. Of course. Always. Should I have preferred death? Some of you would have thought so, even so recently as a few months ago. Some of you might still feel that way.”

  Nina lifted her chin and looked out at everyone, catching eyes where she could. Pretending she was when she could not. The room had gone very quiet.

  “I stand up here in front of you all, not to horrify you with all the ways I’m now different from you, but to show you that I could never regret the tech. What I ask of you is support. Understanding. When you look at me, what do you see?”

  Predictably, the crowd murmured, but nobody shouted out.

  “I was a soldier,” Nina said. “Now I’m not. The tech is still inside my head, though. It needs to be upgraded, the same way your viddy systems and personal comms need updates. If you think it’s frustrating to try to get online when your comm doesn’t have the latest operating system, think about how it feels to have that same thing going on in your head.”

  She paused to let the crowd respond. Mostly chuckles. Nods. She kept going.

  “Tonight is about good food. Good friends.” She gestured toward Katrinka, not that she really considered that woman a friend, but it looked good to the crowd. “Good drinks. But beyond that, it’s about learning. Growing. It’s about stretching your opinions, and I hope to be exactly the person to help you do that.”

  * * *

  “Hey, Mr. Donahue.”

  Ewan turned, surprised to see Jordie there. The kid wasn’t wearing formal attire, and that would have made him seem out of place even if he wasn’t an unexpected guest. “What are you doing here?”

  “My mom.” Jordie grinned and licked his lips quickly, his gaze cutting back and forth from Ewan to Nina speaking at the front of the room. “Hey, Mr. Donahue, do you think you could talk to me privately for a minute or two? I’m kind of having some problems. I hope you can help me out a little bit. Because you’re my mentor and all.”

  The kid had been making an obvious attempt at keeping his voice down, but in the way of sugarheads, he wasn’t speaking very softly. Ewan took him by the elbow to lead him away from the group, not wanting Jordie to distract anyone from Nina’s speech. He glanced over his shoulder to see if he could catch her eye, but if she noticed him walking away, she wasn’t able to acknowledge it while she was speaking.

  There was no good place to talk privately except out in the hall, which is where Ewan took him. He let go of Jordie’s sleeve and looked at the kid, concerned. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m having some personal problems,” the kid said, but then nothing else.

  Ewan frowned. “This isn’t really the place to talk about things like that, Jordie. Why don’t you give me a ping tomorrow when I’m at home? You could come by.”

  Again, he thought, wondering why he’d offered. The kid was smart but weird, which was not the problem. He was also irritating and needy, which was.

  “I know, I know.” Jordie held up his hands, self-deprecating but not convincingly. “This is a party, we should be having fun, not talking about my bad luck with the ladies. But when I saw you were here, I figured, hey, why not ask Mr. Donahue for some advice? I mean, he’s clearly a guy who’s got his business together, right? And I didn’t want to come by the house because, you know, it makes Ms. Bronson irritated. And we don’t need to be getting Ms. Bronson i