Toys

“Then the hospital, and the surgeons putting me under. Putting Humpty Dumpty back together again.”

“Nothing after that?” she said, seeming oddly pleased, maybe because I was joking a little about the past.

“Well”-I managed a laugh, but it was shaky-“I did have this incredible nightmare about the doctors saying I was human.”

“How awful for you, Hays. How bizarre.” She tilted her head in sympathy, and truly seemed more beautiful than ever. “You poor, poor dear. But those kinds of hallucinations can happen with anesthesia, and sometimes they reflect bizarre fears. Do you have bizarre fears, darling?”

“No, I don’t think so. But thank you, Dr. Freud. I feel better already.” I really did. “What happens now? When do I go back to work?”

“Moore wants you to come see him at headquarters as soon as you’re up to it. Meantime, since you’re feeling better…” Lizbeth’s eyes got mischievous and very seductive. I certainly remembered that look-and very fondly. “Do you remember anything from before you went to the Toyz store that night?”

“Like what?”

“Like… that you and I had plans for a little private rendezvous, a little us time, until we were so rudely interrupted by the human miscreants?”

“Oh, yes! I do remember something about that.” I placed my hand on Lizbeth’s leg. I leaned in close and nuzzled her cheek.

“It just so happens that we’re alone right now. Metallico took the girls to a birthday party for one of their friends. So why don’t you go have that shower? I’ll break out a couple of Rapture pills, and we can pick up where we left off. If you’re up to it?”

“Honey, you sure know how to welcome a guy home,” I said.

She kissed me again. Softly at first, then much harder.

“You’re not just any guy, Hays. You’re a hero. You’re my hero. Now go wash up, in all those hard-to-reach places especially. I love you, Hays Baker.”

Chapter 77

My Welcome Home in the arms and breasts and long legs of my beautiful, violet- haired Lizbeth was certainly a memorable occasion. And it was heightened to the maximum by the Rapture we took-a legal drug for Elites only that produced an hour of euphoria and enhanced sensations such as “elevation,” not to mention up to half a dozen orgasms, for each of us, of course.

There is nothing like having orgasm after orgasm, especially with somebody you love. Lizbeth and I climaxed separately, but also jointly, almost perfectly in sync. Rapture is a drug that definitely lives up to its name. Most authors complain that the pleasure is almost impossible to put into words, and I certainly agree with them.

Afterward though, Lizbeth got a bit edgy, certainly in no mood for the tender lounging around that I required. “What’s the matter, Jinx?” I asked her.

“Oh, nothing really. But Hays, I do have to go to a meeting at the Agency. A quick one,” she said, finally jumping out of bed. “I’m sorry, darling. Don’t hate me for it.”

She pulled fresh clothes from drawers and her closet, then hurried off to the shower. She stayed in there a long time.

When she came back to the bedroom, she was dressed in black-on-black business attire, but looked gorgeous as always. She also seemed-I don’t know-brittle. Just a little out of sorts, hopefully not with me.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Was it me? It was, wasn’t it? I didn’t perform as-”

“The girls will be home soon,” she said. “I’ve shielded them from-you know-the harsh realities of all this confusion. The coma, your healing process.”

“Of course,” I said. They didn’t need to know how I could have died crashing off that roof with the motorcycle assassin.

“And one more thing, darling. The nightmare you had… about the surgeons saying you were human? Little quirks like that… might keep cropping up for a while. Just recognize them for what they are, and tell me. It will help to talk them out. I’m here for you, Hays.”

Still in the doorway, she blew me a kiss, then she left. “Love you,” she called. “I miss you already.”

I sighed, but then I smiled. I missed her too. My Jinx.

Chapter 78

I got out of bed, pulled on some clothes, and went to the kitchen to make myself a cup of high-protein coffee. My mind was still fuzzy, but that was understandable after lying unconscious for days. All in all, I was satisfied that I felt as good as I did. I’m thankful that I heal as fast as I do. All Elites do, but I seem particularly fortunate in that respect.

A few minutes later, I heard the front door open, and I rushed to meet my daughters, throwing open my arms, missing them even more than I thought I had.

“Chloe, April!” I cried. “Now… which one of you is which?”

But instead of laughing and hurling themselves into my arms as I’d hoped, they stayed where they were, their little faces subdued. Metallico, the sassiest robot on the planet, stood behind them, as rigid as a tree.

I was absolutely stunned into silence. Something was very wrong here.

“What? No big hug for Daddy?” I finally managed a few words.

That brought Chloe and April to me-reluctantly-for a quick embrace. But then they pulled away. It was as if they barely knew me.

“We missed you,” said April.

“Missed you,” echoed Chloe.

Then the two of them shared a look and hurried off to their room and all their books and toys.

I turned to Metallico. “What’s going on?” I said. “What am I missing here?”

“Going on, sir?” he replied with the formality of a butler in a palace, someone else’s palace. “I don’t know what you mean. No idea. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have duties to attend to.” The huffy robot marched stiffly past me toward the kitchen.

Sir? Metallico had never called me that before. He’d always treated me like an equal-at best.

So I followed Chloe and April to their room. I found them playing with Jessica and Jacob dolls. Lizbeth must have given in and bought them while I was gone. I just hoped they weren’t the adult versions. Even these dolls looked at me funnily.

“Are you mad at Daddy?” I asked. “Did I do something I’m not aware of?”

They shook their heads, but neither girl spoke a word to me. Nor did the thoroughly creepy dolls.

“So what’s the matter with you two gremlins? You don’t seem glad to see me.”

Chloe, my four-year-old, squirmed uncomfortably. “Mommy said something really bad happened to you. She said-”

“She said we’re not supposed to talk about it,” her older sister-age six-interrupted. “We’re just glad you’re all right, Daddy. We feel nothing but love and admiration for you. You’re a hero.”

“You’re a hero!” mimicked Jessica and Jacob.

Lizbeth had probably been worked up when she explained things to our daughters, and they’d sensed her tension more than they’d heard what she actually said. Now they were just afraid. Temporarily, I hoped.

Or maybe all this strange behavior was just in my own mind-part of the anesthesia hangover.

“Something bad did happen to me. An accident,” I told the girls. “But it’s all over, and I’m fine. What do you want to do now? How about if I whip us up some”-I paused, frowning-“banana splits.” What I’d started to say was