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The Heart Goes Last

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On the screen now is Veronica, more luscious than ever. She’s explaining that she’s a Positron experiment gone wrong, doomed to be romantically bonded to a blue teddy bear forever. Close-up of the bear, which is looking a little frazzled. The woman anchor interviewing her asks whether there’s the possibility of a second operation to reverse her fixation, but Veronica says, “No, it’s too dangerous, but anyway why would I want to do that? I love him!” The anchor looks out at the TV audience and says, “And that’s just one of the stranger-than-fiction angles on this unfolding story! Some of the culpable middle management have been rounded up and warrants are out for more. We’d hoped to be able to talk to the ceo and president of the Positron Project, who hasn’t yet been charged with any crimes though an arrest is said to be imminent. However, a news flash has it that he’s collapsed from a stroke, and is currently undergoing emergency brain surgery. We’ll be back later with more!”

“So where did Ed get to?” Stan asks Aurora. “Frying in hell?”

“Just down the hall,” she says. “He’s had the operation, but he’s still out cold. Now I’ve got to buzz. Max says he can’t get enough of me! See you later!”

Ed’s had the operation too? Stan grins. What are they going to love-bond him with? Delicious possibilities float through Stan’s head: a plumber’s helper, a car vacuum, a blender? No, the blender would be too harsh, even for Ed. Maybe an Elvis sexbot: that would be fucking sweet. It must be Jocelyn who set this up; she has a sick sense of humour, and, for once, Stan appreciates it.

Charmaine stirs, stretches, opens her blue, blue eyes. Stan sticks his head into her sightline, gazes deeply. “How are you, honey?” he says.

Her eyes fill with tears. “Oh Stan!” she says. “Is that you? Where’s your hair?”

“It’s me all right,” he murmurs. “It’ll grow back.” Is this working?

She wraps her arms around him. “Don’t ever leave me! I’ve been having such a bad dream!” She hugs him tight, locks on to his mouth like an octopus. A boiling-hot octopus. Now she’s ripping off his shirt, now her hand is reaching down …

“Whoa, wait up, honey!” he tells her. “You’ve just had an operation!”

“I can’t wait,” she whispers into his ear. “I want you now!”

Fan-fucking-tastic, thinks Stan. At last.

Charm

Once Charmaine has drifted off to sleep again with what Stan hopes is a satisfied smile on her lips, Stan gets dressed and goes out into the hall. He’s feeling depleted but exhilarated. He’s so hungry he could eat a cow. There must be a cafeteria in this joint somewhere, and with any luck they’ll serve beer.

He turns a corner, and there are Con, Jerold, and Rikki standing in front of a door. They aren’t green any more, and they’ve changed their suits to black. Each of them has an earpiece, each of them has a slight bulge under the left arm. Each of them has reflector sunglasses, despite the fact that they’re inside a building.

“Hi, big bro,” says Conor. “Everything come out all right?” He flashes a large dirty-minded grin.

“Can’t complain,” says Stan. He allows himself a smug little smile. “Worked like a charm.” In fact, he’s walking on air. Charmaine loves him! She loves him again. She loves him more than before. It transcends mere sex, a thing Con will never be able to understand.

“Way to go,” says Jerold.

“Wicked,” says Rikki. Handshakes and high-fives all round.

Stan lets himself be congratulated as if it’s a football game. Why try to explain?

“Who are you guys supposed to be?” he says. “In the outfits?”

“Security,” says Con. “To keep away the reporters, supposing they figure out where our guy’s at.”

“The real security’s in the Men’s,” says Jerold. “Inside the cubicles. Jocelyn gave them some sleepy-time needles, they’ll be out for a day.”

“So, let me guess,” says Stan. “It’s Ed in this room?”

“Correct,” says Con. “Rushed him into the clinic. Said he had to have an op. Matter of life and death.” He looks at his watch. “Where are those two? They better hurry, or he might wake up and get a boner for the night table.”

“Naw,” says Jerold. “I asked Jos. Whatever it is gotta have eyes. Like, two eyes.”

“I know that, moron,” says Con. “It was a joke.”

“Here they come now,” says Rikki.

A couple of nurses are hurrying down the hall, wearing the Ruby Slippers Clinics health attendant uniforms: white dresses, red pinafores, white hats with a border of red flowers, and rubber-soled red shoes with no-nonsense heels. “Are we in time?” says the first one. It’s Jocelyn; she looks really convincing in the outfit, Stan thinks. Like a dominatrix playing nursie. She’d have that thermometer or that cucumber up your ass in about two seconds, and no saying no.

“Stan,” she nods at him. “Satisfactory, I hope?” Stan nods.

“I guess I have to thank you,” he says. Oddly, he’s feeling shy.

“Ever gracious,” Jocelyn says, but she smiles. “You’re welcome.”

The second nurse is Lucinda Quant.

“Help yourself,” Con says to them and opens the door. Lucinda Quant goes in.

“This is better than a freak show,” says Rikki. “Don’t close it all the way.”

“You can dose it. Give them some privacy. Channel two on the earpiece,” says Conor.

“I don’t have one,” says Stan.

“Okay, leave the door,” says Con.

There’s silence. Lucinda must be sitting by the bedside.

“What’ll she do with him?” Stan asks Jocelyn. “Supposing it works? They’ll be looking to arrest him, right?”

“She’s talking about Dubai,” says Jocelyn. “Expensive, but we’ll pay. No questions asked, lots of orgy-for-two possibilities there, luxury suites with whirlpools; as long as you do whatever indoors. She wants a stellar finale to her life, in case the cancer comes back. And there’s no extradition, so Ed will be free to indulge her every last bucket-list whim. She’s got quite a few of those, so she’s told me. She wants to be covered with chocolate mousse and then licked off, for starters.”

“Where’s fucking Budge?” says Jerold. “I’m starving.”

“I could eat a hippo,” says Rikki.

“I could eat the chocolate mousse off what’s-her-name.”

“I could eat –”

“Shut up,” says Con, “or I’m eating all of it.”

“Why’re you letting him off so cheap?” says Stan to Jocelyn. “After everything he did.” And was planning to do, he adds to himself. Stealing my wife. Messing with her head. Turning her into a sex slave. Turning her into a sex slave for the wrong man. Jocelyn has gone into the details.

“You really think I’d want him giving full testimony in front of Congress?” says Jocelyn. Spilling all the beans? I myself am one of those beans, in case you haven’t forgotten.”

“Oh, right,” says Stan.

“And more than a few of our respected politicians wouldn’t want it either, so it won’t be too hard getting him on that plane. No clean hands at this party,” says Jocelyn.

“So why not just kill him?” Stan asks. He’s surprised by his own ruthlessness. Not that he himself would do that, but Jocelyn is more than capable of it. Or so he believes.

“That wouldn’t be fair,” says Jocelyn. “I’d have to kill all the board members and shareholders too, if it’s a question of who’s responsible. This is a better way. Cleaner. Benefits to others, such as Lucinda.”

“What happens to Consilience and the Project without him?” says Stan.

“Maybe a modified version. Maybe condos, for the prison end of it, with a tourist attraction ensuite. My guess is people would pay to role-play in there, don’t you think? But it’s not my problem, because I’ll be living my next life. Anything happening in there yet?” she says to Con.

“I hear some muttering,” says Con. “Or maybe snoring.”

“Maybe that’s how he has sex,” says Jerold, “with his nose,” and he and Rikki snicker.

“Grow fucking up,” says Con. “Yeah, yeah, he’s coming to.”

Stan applies his ear to the gap between doorframe and door. “I adore you,” he hears. It’s Ed’s voice, thick with either anaesthetic or lust. “You’re lovely! Take off that pinafore!”

“Hang on, soldier!” Lucinda. “Wait till I get my bra unhooked!”

“I can’t wait,” says Ed. “I want you now!” A cross between a laugh and a scream, from Lucinda. Then the sound of moans, or are they groans?

“Shut the door,” says Jocelyn. “Turn off the earpieces. There’s some things that’re none of our business.”

“You never let us have any fun,” says Con, but he does as she says.

“Lucinda’s a client,” says Jocelyn primly. “We have our standards.”

Floral

The wedding is pure enchantment! Or maybe it’s weddings, two of them, because although Aurora and Max are getting married for the first time, Charmaine and Stan are renewing their vows, so the wedding is for them too.

A Wedding Elvis performs the ceremonies – it’s Rob from UR-ELF, in a white-and-gold jumpsuit with a silver belt and a purple cape with silver stars on it – and three Singing Elvises perform the music, to a backup soundtrack played from a speaker hidden inside one of the floral baskets. Charmaine has choosen the flowers – she opted for the Forget-Me-Not selection, a pale blue medley with sprays of miniature pink roses, and it looks just lovely. The sun shines, but then it always does in Vegas, no matter what is going on in the rest of the world.