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Wild Cards
Wild Cards
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Wild Cards

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“Publicize a film.” Ethan stepped up. “And we have already provided substantial publicity for this wonderful event.” He lowered his voice. “Uh, Jade Blossom, I’d like a private word with you. Regarding your studio contract.”

“Jade Blossom?” Elaine, her personal assistant, slipped between some kids and spoke up meekly. “Can I help in some way?” A failed model, Elaine had chosen to stay in the business by working for Jade Blossom. Still fashion conscious, she wore a navy-blue Prada suit and white blouse with a very short skirt and black pumps. Her eyes flicked back and forth between Jade Blossom and Bubbles.

“Jade Blossom!” Ethan said. “Come with me right now!” He took hold of her upper arm.

She gave a quick, practiced elbow jab into his solar plexus. “Shut up, little boy.”

Wide-eyed and doubled over in pain, Ethan released her arm. Elaine gasped and pulled Ethan away. “Oh, my, I’m so clumsy,” said Jade Blossom, without taking her eyes off Bubbles.

“Jade Blossom, gosh, so nice to see you again. Easy, all right?” Rustbelt came forward, speaking in his distinctive Iron Range accent as his shovel-scoop jaw moved up and down. He angled his body toward Bubbles. “We can go forward with the program, don’t you think?”

Jade Blossom glared at his back. During American Hero, her teammate Stuntman had said Rustbelt called him a racial insult. She had not been present at the time, but she had always believed Stuntman. She and Rustbelt had a limited, awkwardly polite relationship during the show and she had not seen him again until now.

Rubberband walked in his loose stride from the table full of soft drinks to stand in front of Jade Blossom. He wore a green-and-white-checked sweater and had his hands in his pockets. “Nice to meet you, Jade Blossom. I’m Robin Ruttiger. I was on the second season of American Hero.” He offered his hand.

“I’ve heard of you.” Jade Blossom ignored his hand.

“Cripes,” Rustbelt said to Bubbles. “Come with?”

“For the sake of the event,” said Bubbles.

“I enjoyed watching you the first season of American Hero,” Rubberband added to Jade Blossom.

“When the show was good,” Jade Blossom said, though she kept her eyes on Bubbles’ long, platinum hair as her nemesis turned and walked away through the crowd with Rustbelt. Jade Blossom knew Rubberband was trying to break the tension and she resented it. “You weren’t good enough to make it the first year?”

“I’m sure you were better for the show than I was,” Rubberband said with a little grin.

Jade Blossom watched Bubbles and Rustbelt exit the far end of the Gunter Terrace Room, passing long tables with cheese, salami, baby carrots, and a bowl of red punch that she suspected was spiked by now. By walking away, Bubbles was sending a message: Jade Blossom had been put in her place and they both knew it.

“Come back here, bitch!” Jade Blossom shouted, but she was just putting up a front. The kids laughed again.

“You do so much,” Dr. Smith broke in, projecting her voice so the kids could hear. “I’m so impressed with your success. I’m a huge fan of yours. I can’t wait to try that new skin cream you’ve endorsed.”

Annoyed by the interruption, Jade Blossom looked down at the older woman’s face. “Honey, you can’t afford to wait!”

The crowd roared with laughter.

Dr. Smith’s face tightened with anger. “We asked you here to be an inspiration—”

“Where’s my date?” Jade Blossom demanded, putting her palm up in front of Dr. Smith’s face as she looked over the crowd. “Let’s get on with this charade.”

“Yes, her date,” Elaine called from the crowd. “Good idea!”

“Cesar Chao,” said Dr. Smith, studying the crowd.

Jade Blossom could feel the air moving from vents in the ballroom. Before she took advantage of it, she glanced through the crowd, searching for some hint of Cesar Chao. A joker girl stood out, with a human body the color of obsidian and four vestigial insect arms in addition to two human arms, plus iridescent wings. She had copper-colored dreads and antennae growing from her forehead. Wincing, Jade Blossom kept looking. She spotted someone with wheels instead of legs. Another girl stood out, a slender, very pretty six-footer with dark hair and noticeably large hands. Another guy was covered in peach fuzz and had bubbles rising from the top of his head. Off to one side, a solemn girl in a green T-shirt with a faded logo and worn black jeans watched Jade Blossom without speaking or holding a cell phone.

This was not getting her anywhere. “Chao? Are you hiding, damn it?”

As the crowd buzzed with low-level chatter, she lightened her density to that of the finest French silk. Then she jumped into a current of air from the vents and, moving her arms and expertly using the three-quarter sleeves of her gown, she drifted upward. With just the right shifting of her body, practiced throughout the years since her card had turned, she could stay aloft quite a while at this density as long as she found air currents. Now she floated over the crowd on the slight artificial breeze, with the long, four-slit skirt of her gown fluttering about her long legs.

All the kids and the adult staff and chaperones in the room were watching her, many with mouths open. She knew she was giving the boys a thrill; any teen boys who made the effort could see she was braless and wearing only a thong for panties—and what teen boys wouldn’t make the effort?

“Cesar Chao!” Jade Blossom called out again. “Where are you? Ya too chickenshit to show yourself?”

Finally a couple of boys, grinning like idiots, pointed to one guy in the middle of the crowd. Somebody shoved him forward and he stumbled into an open space.

She drifted over to him and carefully increased her density to land lightly, as the others in the crowd backed off. “So you’re my date for the evening?”

He grinned, embarrassed, and looked down. “Uh, yeah.”

Jade Blossom put her hands on her bony hips and assessed his appearance. He was about five feet nine inches tall, she gauged, making him eight inches shorter than her in the Jimmy Choo sandals. Free of typical teen skin problems, Cesar had black hair in an average haircut. He wore a blue golf shirt with khaki slacks and was a little soft—definitely no athlete. “I guess you’ll do,” she said.

Cesar shrugged and gave an awkward smile.

Hoots of laughter and shouts of encouragement rose up from adolescent male voices. The girls were giggling again.

“Cesar, let’s go get acquainted somewhere,” said Jade Blossom.

“Uh, sure.” Cesar grinned as someone jostled him forward, pushing from behind.

“Come on, laughing boy.” Jade Blossom raised her density to aluminum in case anyone caused trouble and clutched Cesar’s arm. “Walk me out of here.”

“Your hand’s like a rock.”

“Aluminum, damn it. In fact, because we’re touching, you’re about to increase to the same density.” She glared at the kids, teachers, and staff in front of them until they parted to make way, again like fish aware of a shark.

“I am? What’ll happen to me?”

She ignored him. Dr. Smith stepped up in front of her. Two uniformed security guards, both young, beefy men, came with her. “Jade Blossom,” Dr. Smith said, “I’d like to have a word.”

Jade Blossom stepped up close, in Dr. Smith’s personal space, and looked down at her. “I’m going to spend time with my date, just as we all agreed.”

“Your behavior has raised some issues …”

Jade Blossom planted her aluminum-hard hand on Dr. Smith’s forehead and shoved, sending her stumbling backward.

The two security guards moved to block her way. One, with a brass nameplate reading J. CARNAHAN, reached out for her arm.

Jade Blossom knew she was stepping off a metaphorical cliff, but she had never hesitated to do so before. She leaned forward as though she was going to say something privately. Then, just an inch away, she head-butted him in the face, not too hard, and he stepped back, his hand to his nose.

“Oh, my, excuse me.” Jade Blossom gave him her big, fake smile. “I’m just so clumsy, silly me.”

Blood oozed between Carnahan’s fingers. His face contorted with anger, he opened his mouth to speak.

She leaned close and whispered, “You want to show off your bloody nose in front of all these kids? Just shut up and let it go.”

He glared at her, uncertain.

“All right, lady, let’s go.” The other security guard, whose nameplate said H. BERBELIA, reached for her arm.

Before Jade Blossom could respond, Cesar pushed the much larger Berbelia. He barely had an effect, but in return, Berbelia shoved Cesar back two steps. “Out, kid.”

Jade Blossom stabbed her aluminum-hard thumb into Berbelia’s solar plexus and spoke in a harsh whisper. “You’re pushing around a high school boy? Are you going to shove me? The featured guest at this event?”

“Jade Blossom!” Dr. Smith called out. “I’m asking you to leave the premises for good. Cesar, come with me!”

Jade Blossom pushed past Dr. Smith and Cesar hurried to keep up with her.

“Jade Blossom!” Dr. Smith shouted. “This is unacceptable!”

With her signature catwalk pout, Jade Blossom led Cesar out. “Let’s find a bar.” She reduced her density to normal.

“I’m too young to drink.”

“Then a restaurant where I can get a drink.” She slowed enough for him to come up alongside her and then took his arm. “Dude, lead the way.”

“Uh, yeah.”

Protesters out on the sidewalk shouted as they waved their signs: “Jokers no joke! Jokers no joke!”

Members of the news media were asking them questions, snapping photos, and taking video. “There’s Jade Blossom again!” One guy swung his video camera toward her. A man wearing a sidearm eyed Jade Blossom closely and shouted, “Aces ain’t no joke, either!”

She had passed them on her way inside but had taken no notice. “Cesar, who the hell are they?”

“They’re from Purity Baptist Church,” said Cesar. “I gotta admit, jokers kinda give me the creeps.”

“Keep walking, damn it.” Jade Blossom didn’t like jokers either. They reminded her of what she might have become. She had majored in microbiology at UCLA to learn about the wild card virus, and she understood how arbitrary its effects could be. “I heard something about them on my way in.”

“Aces no joke!” the protesters shouted. “Aces no joke!”

Jade Blossom spotted Elaine, visibly anguished, waiting off to one side with Ethan. He had engaged a chauffeured limousine for her use during this appearance and now watched her warily. She decided they looked constipated.

“Elaine! Get in the limo and follow us!” Elaine, whose rust-colored hair was tossing in the breeze, waved acknowledgment.

Jade Blossom felt that breeze fluttering the long skirt around her legs. “I’m going to keep hold of your arm, but if you feel me slipping, grab on tight.” She reduced her density to the lightest feathery seed bloom.

“What?” Cesar stared up at her.

Because Cesar was in direct contact with her, his density was also reducing. Jade Blossom swept up her free arm and, as she began to lift from the ground, she gave her legs a little kick. Cesar came up with her.

“Cool,” Cesar muttered, looking down.

“Just don’t lose contact with me or you’ll fall,” said Jade Blossom, as they gradually gained altitude.

“You can swoop down and catch me.”

“I can’t fly, you idiot! We’re drifting on the breeze, updrafts, whatever air movement I can find.”

“Oh.”

“So if we let go, you’ll switch back to your normal self and go splat on the pavement.”

Traffic raced along the street beneath them and Jade Blossom knew the pressure wave in front of moving vehicles pushed air upward as well as sideways. She caught more of the air and took Cesar forward about twenty feet above the ground. Below them, pedestrians were staring. “Pick a place, kid,” Jade Blossom said.

“I’m from Seattle!”

“Look anyway!”

Eventually they spied an upscale tavern and Jade Blossom brought them down gently on the sidewalk, increasing her density, and his, back to normal. She let her knees bend slightly and found her footing even on her Jimmy Choo sandals.

Cesar stumbled backward, lost his hold on her, and landed on his butt. “Shit.”

Ignoring him, Jade Blossom strode inside, her silken gown swaying around her long legs. The bar was airy, with a vaulted ceiling and exposed rafters of unvarnished wood. Brick walls, painted a sand color, stood at each end, and the wooden tables and chairs matched the walls. Three-foot potted plants gave the place some greenery. Easy-listening instrumental music played faintly from overhead speakers. In the center, an internal pavilion was surrounded by a three-foot wooden railing.

As Cesar hurried after her, she asked to be seated in the pavilion. It contained a table for six on a raised platform that probably doubled for musical performers. The aroma of sizzling burgers drifted from the kitchen.

Elaine came clattering inside from the limo with Ethan and up onto the platform. She turned two of the chairs to face outward in front of the steps that led to a break in the wall.

Without acknowledging her, Jade Blossom sat down in one chair, crossing her legs so that the colorful split satin gown fell away nearly up to her hips. She patted the other chair without looking and Cesar got the message to join her.

“Elaine, bring me a strawberry margarita and an iced tea for Cesar.”

“Hey, this is a special occasion—” Cesar stopped when Jade Blossom turned her palm out and stuck it in front of his face.

“Got it.” Elaine hurried off just as reporters and camera crews from the protest outside the hotel rushed into the bar. They set up just in front of Jade Blossom, as she had expected, below the dais.

Ethan stepped in front of Jade Blossom, this time at a safe distance. “I’m horrified by your behavior. The studio will hear about this. I think your role in the film may be at risk. You can’t stop me from speaking up.”

“You’re blocking the cameras, asshole.” She waved for him to move away.

Ethan strode away, pulling out his phone.

“Aren’t you worried about what he said?” Cesar asked in awe.

“Worried? Not about that little pussy.”

As photographers snapped stills and news crews took video, Jade Blossom turned to Cesar. “God, I hate that easy-listening shit. Well, then. How did I get stuck with you?”

He gave a nervous laugh. “Uh, I wrote this essay.”

“On being a Chao? Is that why they picked you? Why didn’t I get a Jones or Hernandez? Is that how they matched us up?”

“I wrote about ‘What Jazz Means to Me.’”

“It means you get to be my date.” She accepted her margarita from a server and sipped it, enjoying the salt, the sweet strawberry, and the cold tequila. “What did your essay say?”

“I said my favorite album is Bitches Brew by Miles Davis and explained why.”