Maybe

“The best what?”

“I already told you.”

“Say it again. Be vulgar.”

“The best fuck.”

“Say it again, with feeling.”

“You’re the best fuck I ever had!”

“Thanks, Sam.”

She feels something warm and exciting stirring within her…

And likes it.

“When can I see you again?” he says.

“I’m not sure. I’m working for him.”

“Who, your father?”

“Yes.”

“Have you told him about me?”

“He still thinks you’re a post-Rapture pet salesman.”

“Have you told him my real name?”

“He asked, but I refused. We’re still calling you Chuck.”

“If he demands to know my name, what will you say?”

“I’ll tell him to fuck off.”

“He’s your boss now,” Sam says.

“I freelance. I work for him, I work for you. If someone else comes along, who knows?”

“Prove it.”

“Prove what?”

“That you work for me.”

“How?”

“Kill him.”

“Who, my father?”

“Yes.”

She laughs. “I’d kill you before raising my voice at him.”

“I know. I was just kidding. But I think I’ve made my point. You obviously don’t work for me.”

“I’m not sure you understand what free-lance means, Sam. It means I get to accept a contract if I want it.”

“But if you work for me…”

“As I said, I work for both of you. But he comes first.”

Maybe smiles, knowing he’s pouting. Sam’s got it bad for her. It’d be so easy to take advantage of the situation.

She says, “Give me another way to prove my loyalty.”

“Kill someone for me.”

“Who?”

“I don’t care. As long as it’s someone your father knows.”

“He knows Doc Howard.”

Maybe notes the complete absence of sound on the other end of the line.

Finally, Sam says, “Did you say Doc Howard?”

“Yes.”

“You think you can kill him?”

“He’s already dead.”

“What?”

“One of my father’s people killed him. I just heard about it. Apparently he was far more than a skilled surgeon. He was one of the most powerful people in government. My father called him Darwin. He was my father’s boss.”

More silence.

And still more.

Finally Sam says, “Kill someone else your father knows. I want details.”

Maybe removes the phone from her ear and stares at it a moment while frowning. Is he serious? She puts the phone back to her ear.

“You seem to have forgotten the financial component,” she says.

“It’s all about the money to you.”

“That’s right.”

“Pleasing me means nothing to you?”

“Don’t pout, Sam. It’s a turn off.”

He sighs again. Then says, “Fine. Pick out a victim. Someone your father knows. Tell me who it is, and the connection, and I’ll formulate a price.”

Creed, Callie, and Gwen are sitting in the den, talking. Maybe watches them through the sliding glass door, and allows her gaze to settle on Callie. Creed certainly knows Callie. But Callie’s as deadly as Creed. And anyway, she likes Callie. She’s beautiful, smart, and cool, everything Maybe wants to be. Callie’s not a candidate for killing. There’s still too much to learn from her.

Gwen, on the other hand…

She looks at Creed, looking at Gwen.

Maybe’s not jealous of Gwen, doesn’t mind Creed looking at women that way. She wants her father to be happy, and bedding sexy women seems to make him quite happy.

If he’s happy, she’s happy.

She’s also not jealous that Gwen’s prettier and sexier than she is, and has great hair and a better body.

What she doesn’t like about Gwen is her disrespect.

Callie and Creed deserve to be respected. They’re elite killers. Gwen’s a twenty-year-old widow and former stripper. She’s got no right to disrespect Callie or Creed.

And yet she disrespected both of them.

Earlier, in the kitchen, Gwen made a nasty remark about how Creed tricked her into having sex with him. Callie’s eyes narrowed, and Maybe could tell it was a sore subject, though Gwen hardly seemed to notice or care.

Gwen cheated on Callie with Creed.

On the phone, Sam says, “You still there?”

“Yeah. Wait a sec.”

Maybe watches Gwen working it for them, licking the frosting off her fingers and lips like a porn star might do.

She’s center stage, full of herself.

Thinks she’s hot shit.

It’s disgusting.

Maybe didn’t notice it before, but Gwen’s wearing a particularly revealing outfit. Creed noticed. He’s noticing it now.

You know who’s a better match for Callie? she thinks to herself.

Creed!

Callie’s prettier than Gwen, and tougher, and she and Creed are in the same business. They work together, respect each other. Callie’s sexy, but doesn’t throw it all over the place like Gwen. With Gwen out of the way, Creed and Callie might find happiness, despite Callie’s apparent preference for women.

Maybe imagines holding a gun on Gwen, forcing her to her hands and knees.

Bark like a dog! she’ll say, and Gwen will bark.

Louder, bitch! and Gwen will howl.

Kiss my feet! she’ll say, and sexy, hot-shit Gwen will kiss Maybe’s feet.

“I’ve got someone in mind,” Maybe says.