Six months later
We were still at war with Greer and his goons, and looking for ways to end Samaritan's life. Two Gods were fighting a secret war and our team members were pawns in their bigger game. Bear still whined when I came through the door instead of Sameen. Harold continued to look at me with his sad-puppy eyes. I knew he worried about me since I'd reverted to my old methods of torturing information out of people. Lionel was trying to be a moral officer. And John was still attached to the police department, pretending to be a real police officer.
Harold called to ask for my assistance in tracking a new number. So I cleared my schedule and made myself available. After all, I had some making up to do after I tried to kill Beth, his crush, with some neurotoxin. That was the first time Harold had shown himself to have a titanium spine. He drank the neurotoxin and almost died. As he swallowed the liquid, I knew he had already loved Beth. Not as much as he loved his previous fiancée, but close enough for him to sacrifice his life. All at once, my chest grew hot, my eyes filled with tears and I heard a ringing in my ears. There was no way I was going to let Harold destroy himself for this woman. Instead, I'd found a more sinister way to destroy their budding relationship.
When I stepped into his lair, Harold looked at me with disdain. But I knew he was in pain because I'd set him up to receive Beth's wrath. So what if I suggested that Beth was a fraud and her accuser was none other than Professor Whistler? I admired and cared about Harold and my role was to protect him at all cost. I should have felt bad, but I didn't. What I did was for his good.
Psychiatrists would swear on their degrees and years of training that psychopaths, like me, are incapable of love. And for years, that made me feel special. Now, for the first time since my teenage years, I was left with my heart shattered into a thousand pieces. I dreamt of Sameen kissing and holding me at night. Yet, in the morning I woke up in a cold, lonely bed, with my chest raw and hollowed out like a carved pumpkin.
"Hello Ms. Groves," Harold said, interrupting my musings.
"Hello Harold," I said coolly. "How may I be of assistance?"
"It's the new number," Harold said and stuck a photograph of a handsome, brunette woman on his board. "Her name is Melanie Davis. Thirty five. She has recently launched a new tech startup. She writes programs to track and record children's lives, which their parents can monitor."
"You are afraid that she might attract the wrong kind of attention." I said. "Where do I come in?"
"Well, you see Ms. Groves," he shifted in his seat. "Your particular skills might spark her interest?"
"My skills? You want me to torture her?"
"Absolutely not, Ms. Groves. I want you to merely observe her. Try to get close to her. I tried hacking her computer but was unsuccessful. Maybe you can get a closer look at her system. Get copies of her blueprints and codes."
Harold continued to tell me of about information on the woman. He knew where Melanie would be tonight. The second he told me that her date was at a new club called 'The Key Hole", all the pieces fell into place. Melanie Davis and I shared an affinity for women. Maybe tonight I would have a little fun.
"Harold," I said, smiling. "You sound like you want me to do more than just look."
At 10 PM, I arrived at the club. The bouncer gave me a slow once over, letting his glance slide over my entire body. He smiled and let me in. I was dressed in a fitted black dress which left little to the imagination, and pair of black high heels. I winked at him as I entered.
I walked through the club, ignoring the women who gawped at me. The club was tastefully decorated for a varied crowd. Love seats, fountains and neon lights. There were two large bars and a smaller bar, illuminated with rainbow colored neon lights. High back chairs were placed around the bar for those who preferred to sit and spectate. To the far end, there were private booths, some of which were occupied. My guess was that Melanie would take her date into one of those booths. Any lady-lover worth her salt knew the trick of isolating your date and maintaining her attention.
I bought a liquid cocaine and knocked it back in one massive gulp. I held onto my purse and sauntered over to a booth which I'd reserved in advance. It was next to Melanie's booth which allowed for eavesdropping and pairing with her phone. As I walked past Melanie's table, I stole a glance at her and her date. Melanie's date had well-polished dark hair, parted at the middle. It cascaded down her shoulders and back. The two women looked comfortable with each other, this wasn't their first date. Melanie's hand was on her date's thigh. Her date snuggled close to her, whispering in Melanie's ear. They both laughed at the whispered joke. At that moment, Melanie's date stopped laughing, as if she sensed my eyes on them. She looked up at me, her face beautiful, her lips full.
She held my stare.
I shook my head from left to right as if chasing away an apparition. I willed my eyes to stop playing tricks on me. Sameen was Melanie's date. Sameen held my gaze and I felt something pass between us. Then, she turned away and continued laughing at whatever Melanie had said.
"Friend of yours," I heard over my shoulder.
"Never saw her before," Sameen replied.
What the hell was Sameen doing here? I felt tears sting my eyes. I hurried off to the bathroom to compose myself. I'd spent months looking for her and chasing straws, even after the machine had warned me. Now, Sameen was here in the flesh. I could forgive her for not contacting me, but I couldn't forgive her for being alive and not contacting any of the other team mates.
Now, here she was. Alive and well. And on a date, with another woman.
I dragged my mind back to the last day we spoke. It was after her cover as a sales girl was blown, and she refused to go into hiding. That day, I had a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. I shouldn't have asked Sameen to help acquire the code for the server room at the Stock Exchange. Sameen was arrested before she could get the information. A fact which made her more determined to help Harold, John, Lionel and me. Knowing what I knew now, I wished Sameen had walked away before our mission went to hell.
"Hi sweetie," I said to her. "You busy?"
"Skip the verbal foreplay Root. Why you calling?"
"Can't a couple of gals take a little break from work to catch up?"
"I have been arrested and you are fighting an AI apocalypse. So no. We don't have time to catch up."
"There is no need to be rude," I said and felt myself pouting.
"I am not having this conversation right now," Sameen said.
"There is no time like the present Sameen," I teased, "Why are you so afraid to talk about your feelings?"
"I am a sociopath, I don't have feelings."
"And I am a reformed killer for hire, we are perfect for each other. You're gonna figure that out some day." I believed it when I said it. I enjoyed making her uncomfortable while the others were listening.
Sameen acted with nonchalance, but I knew she would eventually realize that we were indeed perfect for each other. Sameen made me want to be a better woman, not just for her, but for myself.
Melanie F—ing Davis, how did she get Sameen's attention?
I looked at myself in the mirror. Within minutes, my face crumbled and my nose was red as if I was competing with Rudolf to deliver Christmas presents. I snatched a tissue from the dispenser, dried my tears, and blew my nose. I crumpled the tissue and threw it in the waste basket.
I was drying my hands when the ladies' bathroom door swung open. Sameen walked in and stood next to me, staring at me in the mirror. I held her gaze. She took a step closer to me and I turned to face her.
"I feel like we've met before," Sameen said. She brushed the back of her palm against my face and I leaned into the touch. Her hand was warm. I only realized tears were on my face when Sameen brushed them away. She leaned forward and gave me a soft kiss. I opened my mouth and she deepened the kiss, her tongue caressing mine. Her right hand snaked its way up my leg and under my dress. I heard myself moan and my knees wobbled. I didn't know from where the strength came; I grabbed her hand before she could feel how wet I'd already gotten. I broke away from our kiss, needing to catch my breath.
I am usually very talkative and witty, but I couldn't string a proper sentence together. "My name is Samantha," I said, trying to distract my libido. I craved Sameen, like a junkie looking for another fix, but not like this. Sameen didn't recognize me. "You can call me Root."
"I am Jessica." She said.
"You look nothing like a Jessica."
"I think the same thing every time I look in the mirror."
"What about your date?"
"She'll wait."
"Do you usually keep your dates waiting while you kiss strangers in public bathrooms?"
"I don't know what came over me, Root." She licked her lips and let my name roll over her tongue as if she had never said it in irritation a thousand times before.
She reached into my purse and programmed her number into my phone. "I would like to see you again." She gave me a peck on the check and exited the bathroom. I stood there, holding the sink. I felt trapped in a puzzling dream.
After a long moment, I left the club, no longer caring about tonight's mission. I climbed into a car which I 'borrowed' and slumped onto the steering wheel.
I felt warmth explode in my chest. I was happy, but I couldn't stop crying.
Sameen and I were going to meet again.