Jenna Black - Replica

Still no answers. And no shifting of the bland expression on the Chairman’s face.

Nate shoved back his chair, barely even feeling the protest of his back and gut muscles as he leapt to his feet, the full horror of what had happened finally dawning on him.

“It was even worse than that, wasn’t it? You ordered the security officers to attack. And you ordered them to wait until I made an appearance, so you could use my presence as an excuse for a treason charge!”

It had all been one massive setup. Thirty-two innocent people were going to lose their liberty and maybe even their lives because Chairman Hayes wanted to discourage protests.

Nate had always known his father was a hard man, that he saw the world through a lens of cold logic. He was probably capable of compassion, but only when it was strategically expedient. But this was an atrocity worse than he’d imagined his father capable of.

The Chairman rose to his feet much more slowly, leaning forward and putting his fists on his desk. “Before you storm out in a cloud of righteous indignation, remember this: my concern is for the well-being of Paxco. The relentless insistence on individual liberties over the needs of society as a whole is what led to the dissolution of the United States. We have to learn from our predecessors’ mistakes. That will mean some individuals are treated unfairly, but that’s the price we have to pay.”

“The price they have to pay, you mean,” Nate said, shaking his head in disgust. “Justify yourself all you want. What you did was despicable.”

The Chairman rolled his eyes. “Get out and take your high horse with you. Someday, you’re going to have to grow up and see the world as it really is, but that day obviously hasn’t come yet.”

Nate reached down and grabbed the crystal tumbler he’d been drinking out of. Knowing that he was justifying his father’s view of him as a spoiled child throwing a temper tantrum, Nate couldn’t help hurling the tumbler at the wall with all his strength. The spray of shattered glass was not as satisfying as he’d hoped it would be.

Nadiasat alone in the den, waiting for Nate to show up for their eight o’clock “date.” They usually tried to make a public appearance together at least once a month, giving the press an opportunity to photograph them and giving the high-society gossips something to talk about, but it was their quiet, private get-togethers that she had always enjoyed most, the nights when they’d stayed in and talked or watched a movie or played games. These were times reminiscent of their childhood together, when they didn’t fully understand what the handshake agreement between their families would mean to them in time.

Tonight was going to be a very different story.

She’d tried to call Nate after hearing about the riot, but she’d gotten his voice mail. She’d left a message, but he hadn’t called back. Late in the afternoon, he’d texted her a terse message assuring her he was all right, but that was it. Apparently, he didn’t want to talk to her. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised, but it still hurt.

She resisted the urge to call him again and took a page from his book, texting him to remind him of their scheduled date. She had a feeling he would conveniently “forget” about it if she didn’t, and she needed him to show up so she could fill him in on her interview with Mosely—and figure out what to do about the new tracker Mosely had ordered her to plant.

Nate hadn’t answered her text, and he was now a half hour late. It wasn’t unusual for him, but Nadia couldn’t help but take it as yet another slap in her face. She kept taking her phone out and looking at it, hoping he’d sent a message that she somehow hadn’t noticed.

Three times, she started to text him to confirm he was coming, and three times she erased what she’d written before she sent it. He would show up when he showed up, and her nagging him about it would just make her seem needy. Of course, she was feeling needy, spectacularly so, and she couldn’t stand sitting still in the den any longer. She let Crane know where she was going, then made her way up to the rooftop garden.

During the day, the garden was a beautiful oasis amongst all the glass and steel of the city. The wind was blocked by two tastefully low walls and by the bulk of the other two Lake Towers. Spring was in full bloom, beds of daffodils and early tulips making splashes of vivid color. A paved, circular path made its way through the flower beds, and at the far end of the garden were a pair of wrought-iron benches, one facing the beauty of the garden, one facing the breathtaking view of the city.

Now that the sun had gone down, it was a little too chilly to hang around outside, but Nadia had no interest in going back in. Instead, she kept warm by restlessly pacing the circular path, her hair whipping in the gusts that got past the wind breaks. Without the sun to shine on them, the flowers looked duller, less cheerful, and the panoramic view made Nadia feel very … isolated.

By 8:45, Nadia’s feet hurt from her restless walking, and she decided to sit on the bench facing the panoramic view. Moments after she sat down, she heard the sound of a footfall behind her, and she turned to look over her shoulder.

Relief flooded her when she saw Nate standing there, and she wanted to run to him and throw her arms around him. She hadn’t realized how afraid she’d been that he wouldn’t show up until he finally made his appearance. She rose to her feet, wrapping her arms around herself for warmth—and to discourage her desire to give Nate a hug.

“I thought you weren’t going to come,” she blurted.

Nate stuck his hands in his pockets and stood about an arm’s length away. “I don’t much want to be here,” he admitted bluntly. “I’ve had a sucky day.”

Nadia imagined being in the midst of that riot had been an ordeal for Nate, and she certainly pitied him the rude awakening he’d had this morning when she’d made her confession, but she was through making excuses for his self-centered attitude. Instead of acknowledging the hurt his words caused, she stood up a little straighter and looked him in the eye.

“Did you risk the arrest and torture of yourself and everyone you love, including two helpless children, today?” she asked, her voice as sharp as knives. “No? Then how ’bout you don’t talk about how rough you’ve had it, okay?”

Nate’s look of surprise would have been funny any other time. If he only knew how many times she’d refrained from telling him what she really thought through all the years they’d been friends … But that was over now. They weren’t friends anymore, not really, and she wasn’t going to censor herself anymore, either. They had made a pact together this morning, and he would hold up his end of the bargain even if she pissed him off.

Nate opened and closed his mouth a couple times as he floundered for something to say. Her natural urge to be the peacemaker made her want to let him off the hook, but she didn’t. Maybe the reason he was so self-centered all the time was because no one dared call him on it, and he didn’t know any better.

“I’m sorry,” he finally mumbled, rubbing the back of his head and looking down at his feet. “I know I’ve been unfair to you.” He scuffed his shoe against the paving stone, kicking at an imaginary pebble. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been going through.” He huffed out a deep breath and looked her in the face again. “I don’t blame you for doing whatever you need to do to protect your family. I just wish you’d trusted me enough to talk to me about it instead of going behind my back.”

For Nate, this was an abject apology, and Nadia should have been grateful for it. She was grateful. But it wasn’t enough.