Artificial Mates - Chapter 31

My fingers brushed the scratched surface of my apartment door, remnants of the previous attack. It was still raw in my body and my memory. I couldn’t imagine Grant coming back to this place where it all happened.

“What’s wrong?” whispered Demos behind me. I leaned into his chest for comfort. He lightly stroke my hair.

“Can we do something about the door and all the traces of the attack before Grant returns? I don’t want him to be uncomfortable,” he shook his head in agreement. We went inside the quiet living room. More scratched were visible on the tiles where the fight took place. The memory of the metallic taste inside my mouth still lingered. I doubted we could fix it without spending a fortune.

“Maybe, we could cover it up with a doormat,” Demos mumbled as he followed my gaze. I turned around pulled his down and gave him a quick peck on his lips. He stumbled back with a startled look.

“You’re a genius!” I shouted. He just stood there with his mouth open. I rushed to the cupboard in the living room, pulled the door open. Knickknacks of unused blankets, rags and other unidentified objects spilled on the floor, I jumped away to avoid them with a little scream. Out of the chaos, I pulled a blue mat from the bottom with a triumphal cry.

“Ah-ha! There’s nothing written on it, but it will do,” it had warped into an uneven shape I tried to shook it. Demos took it and smoothed it out in front of the door. It covered most of the scratched; we stood back to admire our work.

“We could write welcome on it if we had some paint,” suggested Demos. Ok, I’ve already told him he was a genius I won’t repeat myself. Don’t want to boost his ego. Even though, I wanted to kiss him again, just to see the surprised look on his face.

“I think I still have the acrylic paints from my artist period. Since the happiness program said to try art therapy. I mostly drew flowers and dead nature,” I chuckled.

“You paint?” he rose his eyebrows at me. I gave him the look—like; sure, I was a lousy one but come on! What’s so surprising that I tried art.

“Want to try?” I asked with a tone of sarcasm.

“We could do a collaboration work together,” I almost choked on my laughter. He took me seriously. I tilted my head to the side studying his face. Was he joke? Where’s the catch?

“Then we could make a welcome home banner to hang in the living room,” I said to test him. He took the bait, his smile stretched.

“Grant would love that,” we laughed together for very different reasons without breaking eye contact. Tension built between us as his gaze seemed to pull me towards him. I quickly averted my eyes and said the first thing that came to my mind.

“I miss Grant,” he frowned at me. I escaped to my room pretending to search for my art supplies.

“Are you sure you’re not missing his cooking and his spoiling you?” I found him standing at the door of my room. I gasped pretending I was offended and slapped his arm then burst in a fit of giggles.

“Ok, to be honest, I miss his cooking,” I rose an index in front of his face. “But! I miss running my fingers in his hair. Oh! It feels amazing,” I m.o.a.ned making his pout. Demos bent his knees and grabbed my hand to place it on his head. His hair was shorter it felt different. My hand cupped lovingly the back of his close-shaved hair. He leaned into my hand with a sigh.

“If I let you do that I’ll lose control,” he tilted his head to look at me. In a quick motion, his arms went around my waist and lifted me off the floor. I slapped his shoulders while giggling.

“Put me down! What the hell!” his gaze was so intense my mouth went dry.

“Let’s make Grant happy,” he whispered before lightly kissing me. I instantly melted in his arms. He pulled away leaving me wanting more. Demos put me down on wobbling feet and went to the box I’ve pulled from under the bed.

“Let’s do this!” he took the whole box back to the living room with a grin. Shit! My heart was still racing from his hot lips over mine. I don’t think I’ll be able to think about anything else than our proximity. Demos laid the tubes on the floor pulled some brushed and looked up at me.

“Come,” I kneeled beside him. It was nostalgic to hold the brush in my hand. All the memories from that time rushed at me. The time I just started work at SolTec, when Lyla used to bring over her one nightstand.

“You should wash the brushed first and get some water to dip them in,” I commented with tearing my eyes away from the brush. We silently worked on the doormat. Demos painted the ‘WEL’ in bright yellow while I used a cotton candy pink to paint the rest. While his letters were like printed on, mine was crooked. I smiled at my crappy work.

“I ruined it,” I laughed and hid my face. He kissed the hand covering my face.

“You paint with personality, I just replicate a font,” I slowly pulled my hand away, stunted he found beauty in my f.u.c.k-ups.

“We should paint the door!” I shouted feeling light-headed from being this happy. I got to my feet and rushed to it. “We should paint flowers—all over it!” I laughed. Since it was the only thing I was good at. As I previously said, I’m a lousy artist.

“Do you think it’s allowed?” he crooked his eyebrow at me.

“F.u.c.k the authority!” I shouted, and then remembered, as tomorrow he will be a patrol agent. “Oups! Well, f.u.c.k authority—today?” he got to his feet and joined me at the door.

“What color do you want to use?” he grinned.

“All of them!”

***

The banner hung in the living room; we’ve cleaned the house like maniacs. I’ve even tried to cook without Demos’ assistance. Telling him, I was a big girl who could deal with her own shit. It was supposed to be a bowl of simple stir-fried rice with eggs. There was no way I could mess it up, said the video tutorial.

“How did it happened?” I glared at the pudding-waddling disaster on my plate. Demos turned around trying to hide his grin. “Don’t you dare laugh,” I warned him with a menacing finger. He straightened up and turned to face me. Face dead serious.

“The rice is a little overcooked but it’s still edible,” he mastered his poker face.

“Right!” I narrowed my eyes at him. He came to wrap a warm arm around my shoulder.

“This is progress. I’m sure Grant will be happy to teach you,” at the mention of Grant’s name, I relaxed. We watched another generic action movie that Demos came to love. I don’t have the slightest idea why. Dinner was a little too salty but after I’ve washed it down with water it was ok. I drifted to sleep on the couch without realizing. My head resting on Demos’ shoulder. His warmth slowly leaking inside my broken self.

A loud voice snapped me from my cotton candy dream. I sat up with a jolt, images of the intruder smirking at me. Jay Dawson. I gasped at the memory. I was laying on the couch with a light blanket covering half of my body. I scanned around the living room in alert when I spotted Demos at the door. Our flowery door.

“I don’t think I can let you in,” he said to the person at the door. I threw the blanket away and rushed to him fearful it mind be that guy again. Demos moved away when he noticed I was behind him.

“Liliane!” he called. I peeked at the speaker at the door and saw an artificial smiling back. He was slim with angular features, wearing a blue shirt and khaki pants.

“Isn’t this where the Welcome party is taking place?” my eyes darted from him to Demos.

“What’s going on?” I asked. Demos turned his back to the door to face me. The artificial pushed the door opened, he waved at the others standing beside him. A dozen of them walked into the apartment greeting me with a nod. My mouth hung open.

“Demos! What’s—?” I watched as they wandered inside our living room where the welcome banner was.

“I’m sorry, I mention it to Jil. But then I don’t know how it happened,” he pressed his hands together in a pleading gesture. I glared at him then more artificial appeared at the front door.

“Is this Grant’s party?” asked a dark-skinned elegant artificial wearing a grey suit. Demos grimaced at me. What the hell could I say? I just nodded. “Happy to meet you, I’m Nicolai from 1029 from floor 45. This is Emilia, Tyson, and Erina,” he introduced his friends. They were all wrapped in expensive outfits.

“You’re friends with Grant?” I stared at him with doubt. His smile stretched over perfect white teeth, his piercing blue eyes lit up.

“Aren’t we all fans of your Grant,” in minutes my apartment was crowded with people I didn’t even know existed. Demos came to my rescue with a cup of coffee. As I was sipping the hot liquid, a couple of them surrounded me.

“We are amazed that you’re an advocate of the artificial cause. That’s why Grant is such a free spirit. Well, Demos is not so chatty,” I almost choked on my coffee. Since when was I an artificial activist. A blond girl wearing a pink metallic dress stepped forward.

“My master never threw me a party. Not for my birthday. Not ever,” her friends nodded at her statement. Another, a guy with short hair and a white shirt approached me. I was kind of feeling panicky by then.

“I’ve served my human for eight years. He never got me anything except these clothes. He always shouts, always angry, never a kind word,” I looked up at Demos for help. But quick knocks on the door caught his attention. He turned to answer it while tales of the artificial mistreatment went on. I’ve never considered how they dealt with their conditions. Their stories were sad and unfair, to say the least. The worst was the s.e.xbot’s story, I cringed desperate to run away. Those were things I didn’t want to hear—ever.

“Liliane!” shouted a joyful voice from the front door. I turned around and found Grant wearing a full smile. There were two cyborgs standing next to him pushing his pod. He crossed the room and took me in his arm.

“I can’t believe you threw me a welcome party—for me,” he cupped my face in his hand. I rose my eyebrows at him.

“I’ll do everything for my Grant, right?” I said with irony. He squeezed me into his arms.

“Oh! I love you, Liliane!” he shouted pressing kisses all over my face. I was bright red with all the witnesses around me. He let go of me and went to greet everyone. The cyborgs wheeled the pod next to the fridge then nodded at me. Demos came to meet me with a smile.

“They need to you sign the papers,” I followed him to the door and slipped my bracelet on their device. They paused to look at the party then nodded at me before exiting.

“Your human is the best human I’ve ever met,” a girl with pink hair patted Grant on the back. He responded with a nod then turned to wink me. What the hell has he been saying behind my back?

“What’s going on? Did I miss an episode—I’m confused,” I muttered over the noise. Demos just shrugged his shoulders. Happy voices rose and fell, everyone seemed to enjoy the silent party. There was no music, thank god. I wouldn’t know how to respond if the cop rolled by because of the noise. Imagine that, with Demos going to work for them it would be bad. Very bad.

After an hour, at about four in the morning, our visitors left one after the other. They waved at me like I was some fan of their lost cause. I’m not sure I get it all. It seemed Grant, is some kind of guru of a sect. People swirled around him, he made them smile, made them relax, ease their pain. It was scary.

“Ok, the last one is gone,” said Demos as he closed the door. He came to stand next to me. He was still guilty about the whole party business. Grant stood in the middle of the living room looking at the door. I quickly went to him and clung on my right hand, I was a little scared to touch the other one. He lifted his new hand. The skin was smooth and seamless, all brand new.

“What’s wrong?” I asked

“It’s strange, the hand feels foreign. The technician said it will take some time for me to adjust to it,” he turned with a smile. I took him in my arms and felt a second pair of hands around us. Demos kissed my hair, I sighed relaxing into them loving arms.

“Let’s sync—”