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focused on something in the distance, as if she couldn’t see Frank. Her lip trembled. “If you don’t pay up, I’ll call my makers. They’ll beat you down.”
    Frank rubbed his face, confused. He’d seen what she’d been wearing, and felt every inch of her skin under that. She didn’t have a phone, and the way she combed shaking fingers through her hair said that somewhere in Kuri’s programming-addled mind, she knew she didn’t have back-up. His struggled to figure out what she knew of her situation.
    “It’s okay.” He bit back his frustration, vowing to never let her out of his sight again at night. Whatever he had to remove from her brain—memories, preferences, heck, maybe even part of her mental capabilities—didn’t matter. He would rip out this thing she was doing if it was the last thing he did.
    Frank dug some bills out of his pocket, deciding to play along. He couldn’t reprogram her that night—not with the entire ZU packed in boxes—but Kuri always seemed to wake up aware of who and where she was in the morning.
    He just hoped she remembered fondly what they’d done. “Here, doll.” He swallowed the bile in his throat when he handed her money. This part, he hoped with every fiber of being, she’d forget. “Do you have a way to get into your apartment?” Frank looked for his phone to call Shani or Barb. Maybe one of them could come downstairs and escort Kuri back to her room.
    Kuri convulsed—as if her electrical system had short-circuited. Her expression went blank for a solid five seconds before a fake and flirtatious smile took its place. The shift was like someone had switched channels on a TV. “Thank you for a good time.” She opened the door of the car and stepped out. A glistening drop of his cum trailed down her leg as she walked away.
    Frank climbed out of the car. He wanted to run after her, see her upstairs, wash her with a soapy cloth and set her safely to bed. Instead, he dropped into the front seat and picked up the ZU’s spare phone. He’d forgotten his own in his haste to get to Kuri.
    Shani picked up on the first ring. “What the fuck do you want now, Q? I’m off tonight.”
    Frank cleared his throat. He listened, and in the background heard girls shouting to each other. “Did Kuri make it inside okay?”
    On the other end of the line, Shani hesitated. “Yeah… She’s here.” Shani, Kuri and Barbie always covered for each other.
    “I’m not mad at her Shani. I’m just—”
    “Worried, I know.” A door closed in the background and then Shani spoke in low tones. “Go easy on her. It’s worse this time. Used to be once a month or less she blacked out. Now it seems like more often.”
    “I know.” Frank scraped his nails through his hair. “Listen, just don’t let her leave tomorrow morning until I come get her okay?”
    A pause. “You’re not sending Q?”
    He wondered how to phrase his response. I’ll be in the area slipped out, which made no sense whatsoever. Except for meetings with other branches of the Zombie Underground, Frank hardly ever left Pike Place Market.
    “Um, okay.” Suspicion saturated Shani’s voice, but a male voice spoke in the background, “Tell Frank I say ‘yo’.” Then Shani laughed into the line. “Royce is trying on a new, old-school rapper persona.” Over the line, Frank heard giggling—a sound Frank had never heard the hard-nosed Shani make before she met her boyfriend. Shani returned to the phone, “I gotta go make time with Mr. Gangsta.” A peal of laughter and the line went dead.
    Frank pressed his skull into the headrest. His body stank of sweat and sex, but Kuri’s flowery fragrance lingered on his skin. He wanted to rub his shirt on his dick to save the smell of her, in case he never managed to get close to her again. With one last look up at the apartment building, he started the car and eased down the hill and through downtown.
    * * * * *
     
    Beep. Beep. Beep. Kuriko stared at the chirping clock.