Normally, the asshats took the info she gave them and paid her whatever sum of money they had agreed to. Normally, she went home with some pocket cash that she could call hers, and only hers. Normally, she didn’t think again about what she just did.

Now, Desirae was pacing around in her room and peering past the curtains of her home to make sure the goons didn’t follow her back home. She gave away a list of some of the most influential people in the states, some even stretching into the regions of Europe and Asia, and didn’t get a dime for it. Instead, she entered a commitment that could mean the death of her and her family. She was moving up the hierarchy of whatever gang DeVile affiliated himself with, and the choice really wasn’t hers. She was to meet with DeVile’s friend, nod her head and smile, and go home like normal.

What could be so hard about that?

“Everything is hard about that,” she responded out loud to herself. Kicking her chair, she screamed and pulled at the roots of her hair and fell into her bed. Her soft, cushy bed. That she was trading for the slums of Chicago. How stupid could I be, she asked herself.

Really fucking stupid.

In the morning, Desirae made her way downstairs to make a cup of coffee and curl away in the cushions of the sofa. She hadn’t slept much, her mind was buzzing from the idea of finding enough of her father’s contacts to make the guy happy on Friday. Maybe, just maybe, they’d be happy enough to leave her alone.

No, I have to make a mediocre list… if it’s too good, they’ll keep me onboard longer.

She cursed under her breath and sipped at her coffee after letting it cool. If she made it mediocre, she ran the risk of DeVile haunting her for the rest of her time—he would know something was strange, that she was faking her connections to get the easy way out. Desirae knew DeVile wasn’t to be messed with like that.

Moving into the living room, she set her mug on the table and looked towards her father’s study. He had been out for weeks, the only reminder of his existence a massive self portrait hanging in the foyer.

What a narcissist.

Letting out a heavy breath, she made way towards his study and swung the doors open. Instead of sprinting to the desk, collecting any files and folders full of information possible, she just stood there. She felt guilty this time, like she had been caught. A thief of information, selling it to a network of infamous criminals. She was as bad as the rest of them, politicians and criminals included.

While her father was out on his trips, rallying with his supporters and eating dinners with constituents and campaign managers, she was stealing his encrypted data only she had the password to. A two-faced, no good criminal about to be out of high school. Desirae had been playing this game ever since she was old enough to explore the clubbing district without looking like a fish out of water. And, here she was, trembling like a little baby because the big boys decided to hop in for a game of tag.

Letting out a huff, she walked over to the desk and ran her hands over the smooth glass tabletop. The screen beneath the glass lit, asking for the password. Her fingers shook as she entered it. She had six days before she was expected to meet with DeVile’s friend, and it didn’t help her anxiety when she realized she had no idea where to start. Should she risk the consequences of honesty, or live out her last days until DeVile found her, possibly killing her and her family.

She clicked on the folder labeled “Contact List,” staring at the prompt that warned her one last time.

Warning! Encrypted Data. Please enter your password…

What would happen if she ran away, right now? Away from the life of having a rich father, from the life of being a messenger for these ganglords? Would her father care, or would he use it as an excuse to earn more votes to stay in congress. A depressing thought, but one she felt she knew the answer to. The consequences were seriously outweighing the pros in this situation, but the guilt of ruining her family’s life was far too severe. Carefully putting in the password, she took a seat and watched as the documents began to load onto the screen.

Now, the real question: does she need to wow them in hopes she had given them enough information, and thus convince them to leave her alone, or does she risk the possibility of being chased down by DeVile until the end of time because she gave them an outdated, irrelevant list. As she scrolled through the names, the groupings of contacts were beginning to grow blurry as her eyes teared up. She had never felt so much stress before, the most she had to worry about was convincing her teacher to round a C- to a A- by cleaning their lab or filing some paperwork. Graduation was two months away, and she was already beginning to feel the stress of reality set in.

Sucking in a breath, she clicked on the groupings of contacts labeled: “Celebrities.” Only her father would label his network by the status they held in society—he was nothing more than a socialite fishing for votes and adoration from those he surrounded himself with. Of course, everybody except his own daughter.

Desirae didn’t know why she was feeling so guilty, her father could not have made it easier to manage this list. Next to those interested in augmentations, there was a ‘x’, and next to those against, there was a check. This was practically a hit list, many of those who have shown favoritism towards augmentations have wound up dead. She never bothered to really question her father’s involvement, but it was anything but comforting knowing he had a list organized that lined up with the morgues.

Just as she was beginning to scroll through, the alarm chimed. Keys jingled from the foyer, the sound of oxford soles clacking against the floor, growing louder with each step. Cursing under her breath, Desirae spammed the ‘x’ button so many times until the document closed, just in time for her father to appear in the doorway.

“Desirae?” He asked, his eyes wide as he looked down at his watch. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

Nathaniel Abernathy, her father, was a middle aged man, with just enough of a beer belly for it to be noticeable, but fit enough to not be considered a ‘dad bod’. His salt and pepper roots were there to build a trust factor with his constituents, and his teeth were as pearly white and straight as those in the magazines. Everything about her father was calculated and intentional.

“It’s a sunday, Dad,” Desirae responded and stood to her feet. “How was your business trip?”

His mouth turned into an ‘o’ shape before he opened his arms wide, inviting her for a hug. “My days have been blurring together, if that’s any indication with how I’m doing. Anyways, what are you doing in here?”

Desirae approached him and gave him a side hug, hesitating before responding. “I was trying to find Aunt Iris’s number. I updated up my phone and it wiped some of my old contacts.”

He hummed and walked over to his desk, taking a seat and looked up at her with a smile. “You booger, you know I don’t keep family contacts in here. They’re on the fridge, with all the nonessential numbers and emails.”

She bonked herself on the head, laughing nervously before backing towards the door. Clumsily, she bumped into the side table on the way. “Oh, silly me. How could I have forgotten? Sorry, daddy.”

He nodded his head before lowering his gaze to the computer-desk, inwardly waving her away so he could finish some work. She closed the door and let out a breath before rushing towards the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water. The kitchen was on the western wing of the home, whereas her father was nestled on the eastern wing with all of those pretty little names tucked away safely. This house was huge, modern, and secure. Emphasis on the huge part.

Desirae downed the entire glass of water within seconds, splashing water on her face from the faucet to bring her back to reality. Reality wasn’t exactly calming her down, though—she faced the possibility of a gang initiation, or gang murder. As far as Desirae was aware, there weren’t many viable options in between those. Become a full time criminal, or be murdered by one. Such a bleak fate.

Within days, she was expected to provide a list. To top it all off, she had to find a way to hide this from her father, the man who lobbied to outlaw augmentations altogether, and increase the maximum charges possible for criminals in the black market who sell these illegal alterations. Letting out a sigh, she slammed the glass on the counter, hardly paying attention to the crack that shot up the side of it from impact, and walked outside. It wasn’t necessary to tell her father where she was going—he didn’t really care, either.

After hopping in the car she clicked on the screen, the artificial and silky-smooth voice of Lunivere sounded throughout the car.

“Hello, Desirae. Where am I taking you today?”

“Anywhere but here, Luni.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know where ‘Anywhere but here, Luni,’ is. Can you tell me a little more about this place?”

Desirae chuckled and leaned back in her seat. “Take me to the Grove, Luni.”

“Alright, we will arrive by Eleven-Thirty-Five A.M..”

“Sounds good, Luni, You never fail to make a girl feel at ease,” Desirae said with a sigh and flipped her wrist over to look at her watch. Tapping on the holographic screen, she sent her friend, Zeke, a message and told him where to meet her. The car drove itself onward towards the center of downtown Chicago, passing by the business district and bustle of the Riverwalk. Turning her eyes to the sidewalk, her focus traveled down the pathways until it fell on the entrance to the club from last night. The lights that had flickered on the cement, moving onto the surface of the water where it got distorted from the gentle splashing of water in the moonlight, now were lifeless and dead. That same club she always agreed to meet at, where each bodyguard and staff were impartial to the illegalities of the interaction, was the same place her life got flipped upside down.

“Desirae, your heart rate has increased, and you are perspiring. Do I need to call a medic?”

Blinking, Desirae tore her focus away from the club as the car moved past a stoplight, eyes landing on the screen with a small smile. “Such a dramatic question, Luni. I don’t think I need an ambulance just yet.”

“Alright, well we are arriving at your destination. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

The car pulled to the side of a skyscraper, one that people lined up to enter in hopes to enter the Grove. There wasn’t anything fanciful or spectacular about The Grove, but it was one of those wholesome hotspots that attracted each tourist and teen at night so they could see the wonders of Chicago during sunset. Chicago was known for its views, with its beautiful towers and river that stretched for miles—but this city had evolved into something much more over the years. The year 2150 was one full of flying cars that traveled above the city skyline, of unmarked cameras attached to every pole and traffic light within the nation. Nothing was private, everything was digitized and displayed for the rest of the world to see. There was no closed door communication anymore, the only way to true secrecy was having a network amongst the black market.

“No, Luni. I’ll hail for you when I am ready to head back home.”

“Understood, Desirae. Have a wonderful evening.”

Chuckling under her breath, she crawled out of the car and walked past the line. Each of the tourist’s eyes trailed after her, eating away at the sight of her skipping to the very front. The guard at the door didn’t ask for a ticket, didn’t ask for a name—he simply nodded her way and pressed the button. Most people recognized her, politics was a bigger game than it used to be. Being a congressman and woman was enough to earn you fame now, it meant you were of the elite class. There was no more humble mayor of bumfuck nowhere, the government was entirely that of the rich and famous. It made her sick.

“I will be having a friend join me,” she said as she slipped around him. “Ezekiel McAndrews.”

With as much as she detested her father and all he stood for, she would always appreciate how many perks came with the infamous family name: Abernathy.