Two Months Before the Demonstration
By Thanksgiving, Ruth and Jarvis were a couple. Between teaching and the group, Ruth didn’t have much free time, but she spent all of it with him. The only challenge was keeping him away from Dena. It would be a disaster if the two bumped into each other. Jarvis had come to hate her almost as much as Ruth, thanks to Ruth’s lies and deceit. And while Kitty’s smiles and attention to Ruth/Nicole at the Barracks indicated she approved of their relationship, Ruth didn’t want to spend too much time with her, either. She had to stay detached. It was a delicate balance.
Meanwhile, her discussions with Jarvis had graduated from the theoretical to the possible, thanks to Beef Jerky’s Perfect Kill game. Ruth made sure to bring it up after sharing passionate sex one night. One evening in early December, they were lying in his bed at the apartment. Kitty was still tending bar—Ruth had figured out that early evening, right after happy hour, was the best time for them to be intimate. It was during these times that she made sure to anticipate and fulfill every one of his fantasies.
Jarvis lay on his side, sweaty but content, facing her. He was smiling. Ruth returned it and ran her fingers through his hair, behind his neck, and across his shoulders. At the same time, she faked a coy tone. “Hey, Scotty. Do you remember when Beef Jerky laid out that Perfect Kill game at the Barracks? He said you were going to make them all rich.”
“I remember,” he replied.
“Well . . . what if we could prove that it works in real life?”
He squinted at her. “What do you mean?”
“What if—I mean, if you think it’s a good idea—we could try it out at the demonstration in January?”
“What are you saying, Nicole?”
She let him figure it out, and when she saw the flash of comprehension in his eyes, she added, “You’d be a hero. You know that, right?”
“You think?”
“I know it.” She brushed her fingers across his forehead. “Even the members of ResistanceUSA would be grateful. And afterwards, you and I could escape to Minnesota. Forever.” She frowned. “After I recover, that is.”
“Recover? What do you mean recover?”
She explained that he would have to wound her during the “exercise,” as she’d come to call it. “It wouldn’t be hard. Do you remember in Homeland when Quinn shot Carrie in the shoulder?”
He shook his head.
She described the scene.
“I can’t do that.”
“Of course you can. You’re an expert shot. Just my shoulder.”
“What if I miss?”
“You won’t.” She kissed him and proceeded to silence his doubts in a way she knew would work.
Over the next few weeks they scouted the hotel downtown. The lobby was decked out for Christmas with sparkling lights wrapped around staircases, in the lobby, and on trees. They weren’t able to get to the roof, but Ruth hadn’t expected to just yet. She wanted him to be familiar, perhaps assess what he’d need and how he’d do it. After the field trip Ruth took him to the skating rink in Millennium Park, where they drank hot chocolate and watched skaters gracefully twirl and spin, full of holiday cheer.
When they climbed into her car, she took out a J and they got pleasantly stoned during the drive north. But instead of turning off at Touhy on I-94, she kept driving.
“It’s time for your Christmas present,” she said and drove to Camping Unlimited in Northbrook, where she bought him a yurt. It completely wiped out her savings, but she didn’t care. Savings were for unexpected events or emergencies. And this qualified as both.