LOOKING AT A HANDSOMER VERSION of oneself can be problematic, a problem exacerbated by seeing via monitor one’s brother interacting with said version and clearly fascinated no matter how clinical said brother pretended to be. Foom and Michael’s assaults had knocked offline the implanted bio-borers; Asme surgically removed them. The clones were kept separated, and Bubba far from them. Neon, Ele, Foom and Michael rested with analgesics inside sound dampening rooms in Foom’s compound. Yvonne thought Milo could use company inside a small anteroom that confined him to observation only.
She studied him closely. During the cruise he had fascinated her to the point that sex would have been a given. Handsome without being aware of it, smart, respectful enough to get lost in her sensuality only when he thought she wasn’t looking, plus he knew every obscure song Bootsy Collins ever made. And a family man. Traveling with his brother. How often did that happen, two brothers taking the time on a cruise to enjoy one another’s company? Who weren’t Alphas! In the old life she had done a stint in the army, dealt with subsequent manic mood swings, hustled money from a no-account relative and set out with a young woman on what they’d thought would be a run of the mill, innocuous womanly journey of discovery. Very Lifetime Network.
Instead, she was championing a psychic named Bubba Foom; grappling with the fact that Bigfoot was a sexist prick who stole camping equipment; standing in a room with a vampire—
You gotta stop there, she rightfully responded and agreed with herself. “Do you drink?” she asked Milo.
“No,” he said and glanced at her. She seemed waiting for more.
“That it?” she said.
“Yeah.” He fixed on the monitor.
“Usually people explain why.”
“It tastes like piss.”
“OK.” Topic closed. “I was going to say we should have a drink.”
“How you handling all this?” he asked.
“I’m not.”
“Imagine that state of mind the rest of your life.” He allowed another brief lapse from the monitor. “You don’t have to be part of this.” Her left hand never knew what to do when she was anxious. It was directionless now.
“I don’t see how I couldn’t be,” she said.
“I never realized I was that soft spoken.” The clone responded to Ramses dutifully as if that trait was hardwired into Jetstream genetic makeup. “The back of my head looks a little funny too.”
“Yeah.”
“Will your relatives miss you?” he asked.
“Hopefully,” she said. “They weren’t very good shots anyway.”
He looked at her and his eyes half smiled that sad way they had on the cruise when they parted.
“Cousin runs a drug ring with connections to the mayor,” said Yvonne.
“Ah. Political family. What if these clones decide to stay here? What—” he stopped abruptly with a drawn breath and a crushed, deflated chest, shaking it off. The monitor’s glow filled his face again.
“What are you supposed to do?” she finished, and nudged him with her hip. She watched the monitor for signs of whatever he was searching for. “You hate being selfish, don’t you?”
He didn’t answer.
She considered. “A bunch of me running around might get the person who was meant for me.” She patted his shoulder. “You’ve had a rough day, Mr. Jetstream.”
Milo sighed. “Hey,” he said.
“What else is out there?”
He shook his head, not wanting to answer.
“Or what’s in here,” she clarified. “Since there’s no ‘out there’.”
“The world’s a serpent swallowing its tail wondering why everything tastes like ass,” he deadpanned. Exhaustion burned his eyes. His right hand, even though healing quickly, was in swollen agony. His brother was being far too existential in there but had promised there’d be hell to pay if Milo reared his head. Ramses planned to speak with each clone himself first, then parcel them out to Smoove, Fiona, Desiree and Ele. Milo was forbidden to come into contact until the assessments were complete.
“This place have a pool?” Yvonne asked.
He resisted. Pliantly.
“Come swim with me.”
He didn’t budge.
“Nothing for you to do here, hero. Swim.”
“You don’t have a suit.”
“You should consider that incentive.”
~~~
But she did have a suit. Seeing him in his again, she almost opted for without. The man was cut. No, he was chiseled. Muscles were where they were supposed to be, back was just as broad and chocolate—even with the scars—as the fruited plains, the ass of which her hands wanted to harvest. And wet, plus looking pensive while heated water lapped against him?
Freaking delicious.
Milo hadn’t been immersed in water since Atlantis. His imagination chewed a moment on the image of Leviathan bursting from the bottom of the pool to displace every drop of water as Yvonne screamed and ran.
“You sang that song on the cruise,” said Yvonne. They bobbed as powerful jets bubbled their rear ends. “The Beatles. ‘Something inside that was always denied for so many years.’ That’s how you feel, isn’t it?”
“I sang one line.”
“But you sang it with feeling. ‘Never a thought for ourselves,’” she sang. “We’re nearly naked in a pool and you haven’t thought once to flatter me or make a move on me or openly appreciate the curvature. Unclench your cheeks and relax. Relax for five complete minutes.”
“Please stop telling Fiona I’m smelling her. Why do you do that?”
“Because you’re in love with her.” She stretched herself upon the water, no longer aligned with him on the floating pillow. “You’re also in love with Neon,” she said. “You’re also in love with me.” She finished so matter-of-factly that he looked to see if she was smiling.
She was. And it was amazing. Absolutely amazing, her eyes closed and feet pedaling slowly. “Five minutes, Milo Jetstream.”
“Five minutes,” he agreed. How hard was it to spend five minutes content in a pool with a beautiful soul?
Not very, as the next hour proved. He himself might as well have been a clone, divorced of any and all responsibilities toward the thing known as Milo D’Artagnon Jetstream.
At the end she swam to him and gave him the best hug he’d had since nineteen eighty-nine, and that from Lolita. Yvonne molded herself into him and held him longer than necessary.
Which made tears well in his eyes.
~~~
They dried and dressed. Milo made it a point to thank Desiree later for the loan of a modified breach suit/bikini to Yvonne. The vision of Yvonne practically god-like rising out of the water at the end of their swim was therapeutic enough that a madman would have calmed in Milo’s presence.
“Thank you,” he said.
“You’re welcome, hero.” Yvonne punched his shoulder. “This isn’t the end.”
When they ran into Ramses he was chewing the insides of his cheek and frowning into space. After a moment he noticed their presence. “I really wish I’d had Ele with me,” he said.
“Why?” asked Milo.
“I asked each one do you know who I am. They said no.”
He waited a beat for everyone to catch up.
“I think they’re lying,” said Ramses.