The Agitator by Marissa Shrock

Author:Marissa Shrock
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cimelia Press
Published: 2016-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

That night, Tilda danced with her latest catch at Luminance, and I pretended not to search the crowd for Chad. After all this time, it was totally stupid that I hoped I’d run into him. If he was smart, he was long gone.

Oh well.

After all, I was making good money and had gotten steady raises ever since I’d passed my loyalty test. I could afford decent clothes, and after five years of a uniform, it was nice to have money to pick out some cute stuff—like the silky, emerald-colored sheath dress I was wearing. I’d even started paying attention to the clothes Governor Wilkins’s daughter Vivica wore because she was close to my age—and a fashion icon in the Great Lakes Region.

A flash caught my attention. Tilda’s MD3—the advanced model of docs that government officials used—rested on the curved booth seat. I slid the MD3 closer and wondered how many promotions it’d take for me to get one. She had a message from Officer Wales, but she was still caught up in the song that pulsed.

Be patient. He’s been watching Hemmerly off and on for months.

What? Who’d been watching me? I swiped her MD3. No way. She didn’t have biometric security on this thing? I found the message she’d sent Officer Wales about an hour ago.

No sign of Brad Bates.

Whoa. At least they hadn’t figured out I’d lied about Chad’s name. My heart thudded. Stupidity alert. How had I not noticed Chad watching me? But if he was, then why hadn’t he made contact? What if he was connected to Jethro, and I’d missed my one opportunity?

I scrolled back to see if there were any other conversations between them, and my eyes widened when I read a text that Tilda had sent to Officer Wales.

It’s over. I’m tired of keeping this relationship a secret.

Officer Wales had been Tilda’s mystery guy. There were a few more messages and pictures that I wished I could unsee, so I shoved Tilda’s MD3 back in place and scanned the room. Another song thrummed, and she swayed with a different guy. The first dude she’d danced with was flirting with the bartender.

I’d had enough. Grasping my gold clutch and pashmina, I sauntered across the dance floor and dodged a few men with overly-friendly pelvises. “I’m leaving,” I shouted.

Tilda swayed, and the multi-colored sequins on her dress sparkled. “No problem. Catch you tomorrow.”

After threading my way through the crowd, I burst out of the club, secured myself in the new car that I’d named Eddie, and drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. The text about Brad/Chad bugged me and poked holes in my excuses about giving up on finding Jethro.

Would it be that suspicious if I drove by Carl Bridge? I didn’t have to get out. Using the map on the car’s navigation system, I pinpointed the road I needed to take. There was another club a few miles on the other side of the bridge. I could pretend to go there.

After I programed the club as my destination, the car glided out of the parking space and down the street.

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