Chapter 4: The Cotton Warehouse

Jarrett walked me down the steps through the cameras without a word.

Odessa came behind us, swearing at a cameraman in a language she called Texan.

Desmond's laugh followed us to the truck.

"Don't," Jarrett said, when I opened my mouth.

"I wasn't going to apologize."

"Good. Don't do that either."

I shut my mouth and looked out of the window at Austin sliding past.

I had said those words in March with my head against a kitchen cabinet.

I'm nobody, Des.

I had meant that I wished I were.

He had taken it and kept it for seven months.

The Raines Systems warehouse sat on East Cesar Chavez in a converted cotton building with brick walls and a hundred small windows.

Ninety people looked up when we walked in.

They looked at the bride first, and then they looked at the groom, and the whole floor went quiet.

"This is Calla," Jarrett said. "My wife. She's here for the Authority bid."

Nobody clapped.

A gray-haired man in a fleece vest folded his arms.

"The woman from the news," he said. "The one who says she's the genius."

"That's me," I said.

"Funny. Aldridge's genius had a better dress."

Someone snorted.

Jarrett said nothing, which I was beginning to learn was his loudest move.

A young engineer with a lanyard and a scraggly beard pushed through the crowd with a circuit board in both hands.

"Mrs. Raines," he said. "No offense. If you're her, fix this."

"Don't," the man in the vest said.

"It's the east gate controller," the kid said. "It's failed in simulation six times this month and nobody can find why."

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