A Break in the Sunlight

31. Zenigma

It turned out, Jeremy Ren didn't do much information running anymore--or decking, as he called it. He'd started out that way, he told Jaren, but common deckers were cheaper than dirt in a place like the Night City. He'd found his skills lay in another direction, entirely.

The front for Jeremy's stim design trade was a vintage music shop a few blocks over from his apartment building, in an area of town called The Dozens. It was a low-level, grounder storefront, on the dank, skyless 39th floor of a building otherwise devoted to warehouse space.

He'd offered Jaren a job there, if she wanted it.

"I won't really be able to pay you much," he admitted, kissing her stomach as they lay on his narrow cot. "But it's easy work, and no one ever comes in. Most of the time it's just Harley down there."

It was the first time since Firedown that anyone had offered her money, and not stuck something inside her.

So she told him she'd try it, and the next morning, after they ate a breakfast of soy bars and replicated juice, he took her down on the train.

"Hey, shithead!" Jeremy called when the entered from the sidewalk. He held the door for Jaren, and then strode into the narrow, dusty shop, stopping at the counter to thumb through a pile of mail. Speakers along the walls thumped out a mellow, earthy tune Jaren had never heard.

A young man pushed aside the curtain at the back of the store. He wore dark green filter glasses, with thick black frames, had a shock of white hair, and was every bit as thin as Jeremy.

"Hold your fuckin' horses," he muttered good-naturedly, approaching them. "It's not like you're gonna buy anything." He gave Jeremy a loose high-five and then lifted his chin at Jaren. "Hey."

"Hey," she replied.

"Harley, this is--"

"Magdalene," Jaren interrupted, extending a hand and ignoring the look Jeremy turned on her. "But you can call me Maggie."

"Right." Jeremy said.

"Heyup Maggie," Harley murmured again, and turned to Jeremy. "Boss is looking for you."

"I told him I'd upload him on Thursday."

"Well, I don't think he cares what you said." Harley hoisted himself up onto the counter, in one of the few areas clear of debris, and appraised Jaren frankly over the tops of his glasses.

"Shit," Jeremy turned to Jaren, "I have to make a call. Harley'll show you around."

Harley gave her a wide grin, clearly pleased with that plan.

"Uh... Maggie's gonna be working here for a while," Jeremy called over his shoulder. "Be nice to her."

Harley grinned at her for a few more minutes, and then said, in a cheesy tone, "So. Jerry's got himself a girl."

"Don't you mean 'piece of ass'?" Jaren returned conversationally. She leaned against the L of the counter and crossed her arms, and the young man chuckled.

"Hey, I got no problems," he raised his hands innocently. "You gonna be in the family business, too?" He jerked a thumb to the back room where Jeremy had disappeared.

"I guess, " she shrugged, looking around.

The shop was tiny, with the L-shaped counter flanking two walls and taking up the lion's share of space. The shelves behind it were stacked with disks and chips, the walls plastered with peeling posters and holos of bands long gone by. On the free wall, there were three DL machines, with jacks hanging off the front, and a couple of bins full of huge two-inch disks in small designer cases and sello-bags.

Harley tapped his temple and nodded toward to her jack. "I see you're a member of the church."

"Yeah."

The mellow music had given way to a loud drumbeat and a vocalist, singing in strangled, high-pitched tones. "What music is this?" she asked, with an expression of distaste.

His eyes widened behind the shades. "Are you fucking kidding me?" He hopped off the counter, sliding behind it to pull out a holo flyer, and hand it across to her. "It's Recha Glenn. You don't know her?"

"Should I?" She glanced at the holo of an old-fashioned humanoid woman peeking through a flower curtain.

He made a strangled noise. "She was only the Queen of Cream! She was with Zenigma." And at her look, "Oh, please, tell me you've heard of them..."

She shook her head, and Harley went into a minor convulsion, shaking his head with passion.

"That's the problem, man! No one has any *history*." He pulled a small disk from beside the register and handed it to her. "Zenigma was only the top-selling band in the whole quadrant for the last half of the twenty-third--"

He broke off as Jeremy re-entered. "What'd he say?"

"He's on his way back. Said he'd be here in three or four cycles." Jeremy shook his head, darkly. "He's not very happy."

"Then I'd make him happy," Harley replied simply, and then yanked a thumb in Jaren's direction. "Did you know Maggie here has never heard of Zenigma?"

Later, after they'd messed around with Harley for a while, and he'd shown Jaren how to work the register and the DL machines, they caught the low train back to Jeremy's place.

"I thought you worked for yourself," Jaren asked him, when they were alone in the traincar.

A shadow crossed his brow, and he looked over at her. "I do. And I don't."

"Well, thanks. That makes it all so clear."

"I mean. Harley and I run the shop, and the business. But we contract for another guy. He pays the bills."

"And collects them," she observed, looking over at him flatly.

Jeremy shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "That's how it works here. You try designing or selling without a distribution network, and a boss, and your guts'll be gravity bound before you can make your first cred."

"I see."

"And," he continued, like he was wanting her to understand, "Cai's one of the best in the City. Nobody fucks with him. He's going places."

"Who?" she asked, looking out the window.

"Cai," Jeremy replied. "Cai Moreno."

All rights Reserved. Copyright 2016 Jae Darcy