Rich Kid (The SPARK Files #3)

Chapter 9

Volt

Volt found himself humming as he put in the delivery orders for the next two weeks. He straightened each invoice on the desk as he matched it up with inventory, enjoying the crinkle of paper and the neat pile that was growing beside him.

He could have technically done all of this mentally while sitting in an empty room or watering plants—hell, even while having sex. But this had been Magnolia’s office, and she had always done the paperwork here, so this is where he went.

It was kind of his office now, as he didn’t think she’d be coming back to it. Coming back home, yes. But ever since Volt had shown an aptitude for bookkeeping, she’d rushed to order him an accounting and business skills mod and mostly ceded the office to him.

It was just as well, since there was a backlog of invoices and receipts he’d discovered. So far, they were all small things, and it was nice to get them all squared away. Since no one was around and the door was closed, he even let himself sing.

You’re in a good mood, Angel commented in their private channel.

Volt didn’t look up as he sent back a burst of amused annoyance at the invasion of his privacy. It was a little after six, so Angel was probably at the front door waiting for the nightly rush to begin.

He hasn’t booked an appointment yet today, Angel added with a flash of humor.

I’m allowed to be in a good mood, Volt sent back. Anyway, Wallace hadn’t made an appointment the last three times.

What he had done was send Volt three messages each day. They were nothing risqué. Just a picture of a balanced lunch, a relaxing scene outside, and a goodnight message.

It was just the right mix, Volt congratulated himself, of letting Wallace explore the kink without making it too personal. It wasn’t too different from being a personal trainer or something. Anyone could benefit from healthy meals, regular bedtimes, and some time away from work.

Even if Volt did get a little rush of pleasure each time a text arrived. Because Wallace was being so good for him. Breaking bad habits and setting new ones, all to please his Daddy.

And as his Daddy, Volt got the indulgent opportunity to lavish his needy boy with praise. He restricted himself to four texts per day—one for each task, and a little extra one that he allowed himself, just to make sure that Wallace knew how much Daddy appreciated his efforts.

It filled a hole in him that he hadn’t quite allowed himself to acknowledge was there.

It was okay, he reminded himself, that it wasn’t real. It was even better that way, because this way no one’s feelings would get hurt. Wallace got to test out a new experience and Volt was getting the kinky gratification he enjoyed, all without any strings or expectations.

And if he spent an unreasonable portion of his day wondering when the next text would arrive, or counting up all of the evidence of his boy’s devotion and dreaming up rewards for the next time they met? Well, that was on him.

They weren’t chatting or anything. It definitely wasn’t a relationship. Just a kink that they both got to fulfill together. With clear boundaries.

None of which was Angel’s business.

What do you call him? Angel asked.

Volt imagined Wallace’s bright eyes glistening with tears as he smiled with those adorably pink chubby cheeks under a delectable layer of scruff. Baby boy, he replied.

Angel sent back a wordless electronic crackle of laughter. You’re going to slip and tell me one day.

Was it Volt’s fault that he had a type? He loved the broken ones that he could kiss and bandage back together. Eventually, Wallace would grow strong and confident in both his submission and his life. He’d know he was worthy of love, and start looking for someone—someone out in the real world, in his own social circles—who would love him.

Volt just got to play a little tiny role in that while he had the opportunity.

And yes, every one of his failed relationships, and even many of the one-offs from the past eight years, had a pet name. Angel knew most of them.

For today, his creampuff was still his, though.

How’s the crowd down there? he asked, intentionally changing the conversational flow.

Pretty good. The Samantha model’s going to need maintenance soon. It’s been in high demand.

Volt filed that piece of information away. It was one of the newer models, but not the newest. Basically another iteration of big tits and a tiny waist, made slightly distinctive by violet-colored eyes.

Maybe they should start looking into eye color upgrades for some of the other bots? It couldn’t be too many, but maybe one with silver irises? Or a cobalt blue? It was hard to have a lot of distinction when all the bots were designed to supermodel specifications.

He continued singing as he pulled up the next sheet of paper.

Then he stopped.

Hey, Angel? Did you know about this?

He closed one eye to decrease the chance of blurring, then used the other to snap a photo of the past-due credit card bill.

He tried to remain calm while Angel looked it over. It was from a company he’d heard of, but he knew without checking that Prism had never had accounts with them.

He checked anyway.

Then he checked Magnolia’s personal accounts.

Shit , Angel sent back, having obviously done the same thing. I don’t see it anywhere in the files. Is there more information?

Volt simultaneously searched through increasingly older logs in their databases while filtering through the next few pages with his hands.

Then he started pulling out folders. Paper folders with Magnolia’s spindly handwriting.

One was titled LOANS. Big and bold as the sun.

Dread settled heavy in his belly as he opened it. There’s this one, too. He sent a pic of a loan agreement.

Are you kidding me? Angel asked, but neither of them were joking.

Why would she take out loans without telling us? Volt asked. He did rapid scans of each page with one eye, sending them to Angel as quickly as he could compile them.

It looks like the second one was supposed to be a bridge loan when we had to re-do the plumbing, but the fees are going to be astronomical now.

It’s the first one that worries me more. Do you think she’s opened more credit cards without us knowing? The files dated back years, and Volt would have to match each one against known expenses.

Angel didn’t answer for long enough that Volt checked the downstairs cameras. Angel was greeting a client, all smiles and suave welcome as he ushered her inside. As soon as she was situated, he turned back toward the door, peering out at the slow traffic.

I thought she only had the Prism card that we all use and two personal ones. Angel texted. Those are all paid off.

I know, Volt agreed. I haven’t found any more unexpected ones yet, but I think we should get a credit report.

Angel sent back a pulse of wordless emotion. Worry and fear and frustration all at once.

They’d both known that Prism’s finances were bad. Managing them felt like climbing out of a hole, where each handhold up just brought more dirt tumbling down on top of them. They hadn’t realized that Magnolia’s personal finances were in dire straits as well.

Volt contemplated before he brought up the next topic. Would it be better to wait? He could see Angel lightly rocking back and forth on his heels.

He was probably thinking about it anyway.

How do you think Magnolia is doing? Volt asked, giving him an opening.

She seemed cheerful this morning.

She was in good spirits yesterday as well. Volt left it hanging.

He waited.

There was a long pause before Angel texted back. Do you think her mind’s going? I know she’s been forgetting where her glasses are, but humans do that. I wonder if it’s worse?

That was what Volt had been wondering for a while.

We should ask the doctors.

And order the credit report, please.

Volt sent back a wordless agreement and bent to the grim task. At least this was a small burden he could take off Angel’s shoulders, when he was already spending so much time handling doctors and prescriptions for Magnolia’s care.

It would take a few hours to get back, so he started sifting through the pile of papers again. He’d just found another overdue bill—fortunately a small one—when he heard a noise at the back of the building.

Well, heard wasn’t quite the word for it. He’d set up an alert, a little burst of awareness, to go off whenever anyone knocked on the back door.

He switched to the camera feed in his mind. Usually it was deliveries, but today there was no truck, just one skinny person smothered in a black hoodie and sweatpants a few sizes too big. They wore elegant high heels, exposing their immaculately painted toenails and brown feet to the cool air.

Shit. As if there wasn’t enough going on today. He wouldn’t turn them away, though. Not while Prism, or any of the three of them, still had a penny to their names.

Volt pushed the video feed of the back alley toward Angel and got a burst of confirmation and concern in response.

Volt hurried down the back stairs. There were only two reasons someone without a truck would be knocking back there, and he wasn’t sure which one was worse.

He opened the door slowly. So far, so good. No one had thrown a smoke bomb or a knife or something like that. Not that either of those had happened yet, but at this point, he didn’t really trust anybody. He’d suspected for a while that Prism’s string of bad luck over the past four years was more than accidental, and whoever it was seemed to be getting bolder.

Two deep black eyes squinted up at him assessingly from under the dark hoodie. A woman, it looked like, and one who’d been beaten recently if that puffy purplish smudge on her cheekbone was more than dirt. Her skin was naturally a warm ochre, and her makeup was elegantly done.

It was possible that she’d been mugged or had a fight with a boyfriend and turned to the nearest door, but unlikely.

Her first words, with a gently lilting accent, dashed that possibility. “Is Magnolia here?”

“Not right now. She won’t be back today.” No reason to give away more information than he had to.

Her face fell, but she still pointed a finger at him, her hand glittering with gold rings. “You only have bots here, right? No humans?”

“Only bot workers,” he agreed. “Front of the house and the back. Most of the customers are human, but if they want to purchase services from another human, they need to go somewhere else.” He didn’t mention that he sometimes offered his own services—that was at his own discretion, and more to suit his own needs than bring in income, a far cry from her situation, whatever it was.

Her slender shoulders dropped a little under the too-big sweatshirt. “Mitchie said you could help me.”

He nodded. Mitchie had stood in front of him in a scene just like this almost five years ago, only it had been in the middle of a snowstorm at three a.m. He’d had track marks up his arms, which were turning blue under his too-small t-shirt. At nineteen, he’d already been hooking for three years, practically owned by a pernicious pimp who kept him high and without any resources to move forward.

At least this one had made it here while the weather was a bit warmer, and the sun was still up. She seemed to have access to some money, too… all though that could be an illusion. Just because she had expensive shoes didn’t mean that she had any more control over her life than Mitchie had had.

Somewhere out there was an asshole who Volt wanted to rage at, but he had to handle the immediate situation first. Why were humans so horrible to each other?

“I’m Volt. What’s your name?”

There was a long pause. “Jaya.”

It was probably a pseudonym, which was safer for both of them. “Come on in.” He held open the door. There was still a chance that she was a plant. A thief. Someone hired by whoever was targeting Prism to attack them from within.

He still wasn’t willing to turn her away. If there was one thing that Magnolia believed in fiercely, it was being there for the Mitchies and Jayas of the world. The people who’d stood where Magnolia had, metaphorically, once stood herself.

Magnolia usually took them under her wing, but for as long as she was in the hospital, Volt and Angel would continue the work she’d been doing for nearly a century.

“You’re safe here,” he told her as soon as she stepped in. “If you know where you want to go, we can help you get there, and if you don’t, we can help you figure it out.” He hoped he was doing okay at this. He didn’t know all of the things that Magnolia usually did or said for this specific situation.

She studied him closely. She looked like she wanted to say something, but she bit it back.

“You don’t need to know right away,” Volt continued smoothly. “Just let me know what you want first. Food? Sleep? A shower? Some space to read or watch a show with a door you can lock from the inside? Someone to talk with?”

Too many choices , Angel told him. Start with food.

Volt led her toward the kitchen. “Let’s start with something to eat.”

She moved like she was trying to avoid taking up space. Like she didn’t want to exist. “I don’t mean to bother you.”

Volt led her toward the kitchen. “Don’t worry about that. It’s just me and Angel—he’s another spark—around right now. None of the guests come back here.” He wanted her at ease, and he wasn’t giving that much away, anyway. Anyone who’d been to Prism knew who Angel was.

“What do you like to eat?” he asked as they entered the room. He knew they had the standard array of snacks on hand for the guests waiting to go upstairs, but Magnolia filed her own dietary plans with the old-model chefbot and Volt just passed them through to the vendor. He had no idea what was on hand when Magnolia hadn’t been home to put an order in for far too long.

“I’m alright,” came Jaya’s soft voice. “I don’t need anything.” But then, her stomach rumbled.

Whether she was just late for lunch or near starvation, there was a simple solution. “Cook, what do we have to eat? For a meal?”

The bot started rattling off options, but Jaya interrupted with more confidence than she probably felt. “I’m vegetarian.”

The bot paused, and Volt gave it a mental nudge toward Indian and Middle Eastern options, in case any of those felt more comfortable for her.

Volt waited patiently as the bot finished its recitation of choices, then gave Jaya an encouraging nod.

She finally spoke up. “Could I have the chickpea curry with rice?”

“Of course. How about a side of vegetables,” Volt suggested. “Maybe a nutrient drink?”

She nodded.

“Done.” He mentally sent the chefbot the approval for the order and then ignored it as it trundled off to work, extensions flying across the room as it gathered supplies. “Tell me, Angel, or the chefbot if there’s something special you want, and we can order it.” Their budget was already stretched thin, but this was more important.

Jaya pushed back her hood. Her jet-black hair was long and thick, brushed to a shine. Her neck was thin, suggesting that she’d missed more than a few meals, and that was definitely a bruise under the bronzed skin of her cheek. But she stared back at him without fear. “What do I need to do for it?”

His chest hurt when people asked him things like this. He’d heard it too many times.

This was why Prism sold sexual experiences with unthinking machines. Not that there was anything wrong with empowered sex work and the people who wanted to do it. But Magnolia had never wanted to put anyone in the position she’d been in, and she’d relieved Angel and Volt of their debts to her the second they’d caught the spark. They continued working here completely of their own volition, managing the business without any expectation of selling their bodies.

“You don’t need to do anything,” Volt said, hoping that she’d realize he meant it. “Nothing at all. Just take the time you need to heal. Let us know where you want to go or what you want to try next. We can connect you with resources.”

Their eyes locked, and Volt could see every one of her emotions. She was weighing him. Evaluating. She didn’t dare trust him, but she wanted to anyway.

“Nutrient protein drink number three, mango tango,” the chefbot announced in a smooth voice as a telescoping arm extended across the room. The bot didn’t pause its work with the other dozen extensions, just held the cool drink waiting. It was topped with a straw and an umbrella.

Jaya gave a little snort as she took the drink and sipped it. He could see her fighting not to react as the sweet liquid hit her tongue.

She took another long drink. “Kenneth Roman is going to be looking for me.” She laid it out as a challenge.

Volt looked up sharply. “Any relationship to Louis Roman?”

“His son.”

Volt almost growled, and he felt Angel’s matching burst of frustration.

Of course it was Louis Roman. He had more money than God, and all of it was dirty. He probably owned a tenth of the city, and most of it was slums and shady businesses. Little corner stores with cracked linoleum that charged too much because otherwise they couldn’t keep up with the exorbitant rent. Cramped apartment buildings with heat that never worked and leaks in the ceiling. The rest of his portfolio was high-end casinos and lounges, places with VIP lists and exclusive clientele.

It was rumored that he also traded in weapons, drugs, and sex, but of course no one could prove it. Or at least no one who was going to go on the witness stand.

Louis Roman was the man that Mitchie had run from almost five years ago, opening Volt’s eyes to a whole underworld of sex work that he’d been very fortunate to avoid. Volt couldn’t imagine that his son was any better.

“Would you consider speaking to a federal agent about your experiences?” Volt asked.

“No.” Her chin went up in defiance, but her fingers were clenched tightly together around the glass.

Volt repressed a sigh. He hadn’t figured she would. There were federal agents trying to pin something on the man, and he’d talked with them a few times, but it was hard when Louis had all the local cops in his pocket and the people who testified against him were known to disappear.

Volt only knew him by reputation, but he’d seen his picture, shaking hands with the mayor at ribbon cutting ceremonies and the like. He didn’t know anything about his son, but the name said enough.

Could the Roman family be behind the recent attacks on their business?

Volt considered it, but it was like playing pin the tail on the donkey. Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn’t. Prism was small potatoes compared to most of what Louis was involved in, but he had his hand in a lot of pots and had plenty of people working for him. Volt felt like he was stabbing haphazardly at guesses after spinning around with his blindfold on.

That was probably too many metaphors, but it was exactly how Volt felt. “We can keep you out of Louis’s sight, but you’ll need to lay low, too. I’d suggest that you move out of the city, but the choice is up to you.”

Jaya gave a jerky nod, but it didn’t look like she was agreeing.

Should I ask her about drugs? Volt asked Angel. Hopefully she wouldn’t end up running back to Louis for her next fix.

Definitely. But give her a few minutes first. I don’t think she’s high right now.

Volt agreed, but he was still grateful for Angel’s guidance. Volt was all about Daddying some cutie in a willing kink relationship, but Jaya needed a trained social worker, and this was way out of his purview.

The chefbot delivered a steaming plate and a set of silverware, and Volt seated himself across the table. Close enough to talk, but not so close that he’d be crowding her.

“I don’t eat,” he shrugged. “But please dig in.”

She hesitantly sank to the table and picked up a fork. “It’s good,” she murmured, looking almost surprised. “I’ve missed making my own food.”

There was a lot to unpack in that statement, but Volt didn’t have enough clues and had no reason to press. “I’ll let Magnolia know. She programmed the chefbot. I think this was ready in the freezer. But if you stay here, you’re welcome to use the kitchen yourself.”

She gave a faint nod.

Volt waited for her to finish eating, telling her a bit more about the schedule of the place. When they were open for guests. Where her room would be. He wasn’t sure how to start the next part, but he needed to know before he led her upstairs. “Uh, I just wanted you to know that if you need to detox that we can help you with that, too.”

Black eyes flashed at him. “I’m not on drugs.”

“Good, good. I didn’t think you were. Is Louis saying that you owe him money?” Volt had seen that happen before. The fucking sleazebag.

Jaya squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them, peering into Volt’s eyes like she could read his soul. “Yes, but that’s not the problem.”

Volt met her eyes, waiting for whatever was next.

“He has my son.”

Angel’s flash of outrage in the back of Volt’s mind was as vivid as his own.

Fucking hell.

What were they even supposed to do?

Angel started sending instructions—who to call, what steps to take, but most of it was inarticulate, staticky bursts of emotion.

Cool it, dude. Make me a list , Volt told him.

Angel quieted down and Volt reached a hand across the table. “We’ll get him back. Not me personally, but there are people who will get him back and keep him safe.” He drew in a breath. “We might need to bring in the Feds, but I promise we know some of the good guys.”

Jaya didn’t pick up his hand to hold it for comfort. She stood and gripped it in a tight handshake. “I’m trusting you,” she told him. “I have to go back there, but I’m trusting you to get him out.”

Volt stood, too. “Tell me what I need to know, and I’ll get it to the right people.” He was already recording this to transmit to Angel, but he set the two cameras in the kitchen to record as well.

“His name is Anish,” Jaya told him. “And he’s eight years old.”

* * *

Volt saw Jaya out the door with three freezer-sealed bags of curries from the freezer, a tube of antibiotic ointment, and a handful of cash. It felt pitifully inadequate.

He’d already contacted everyone he knew who might help and now it would be up to them. His role in this was to sound the alert, give Jaya and Anish a temporary safe place to land if they needed it, and then keep going about his daily business so that no one would connect Prism to the rest of the operation.

He just kept wishing that he could do more.

Should he stock up the guest room for a child? The kid would need clothes. And toys, right? Eight wasn’t too old for toys, he thought. A quick search proved him correct, but the possibilities seemed endless. Did kids truly need all of that stuff?

Or would it be better to give Jaya money to figure it out wherever she ended up? Magnolia always gave generously to anyone who stopped by their door. Certainly enough to set up a new life somewhere else.

With a sinking feeling, Volt realized that they might not be able to do that this time. It had been all he and Angel could do to keep the place open before he’d realized that they were drowning in debt.

Even to pay off their loans, they might need to sell some of the bots. That would give them cash in the short term but losses in the long term. They would lose customers to longer wait times on busy nights or spend more to rent bots for big events. The resale value of their older models would be nothing near the value of a new purchase when they eventually needed to make one.

It was a dizzying mess. Volt kept making calculations, filling up spreadsheets with alternatives and informational links as he drifted down the stairs.

He wanted to chat with Angel, but a quick peek at the front-door camera showed that might not be possible for hours. Angel was doing his usual amazing job of greeting clients. Only someone who knew him well would see the little shifts in his weight and tightness around his mouth that showed the same stress Volt was caught up in.

It just seemed like they never got a break anymore. Volt returned to Magnolia’s office, determined not to leave until he’d gone through every paper and analyzed her credit report results.

He couldn’t handle any more surprises.

Guess who? Angel sent in a chat.

Please tell me it’s not more bad news, Volt returned, while opening the front-door feed again.

But what he saw put a grin on his face.

There was Wallace, half an hour early. He was still all buttoned up, with a navy bow tie and matching suspenders, looking adorably shy and flustered. Volt hadn’t accessed the sound, but he could tell the exact moment when Angel said Volt’s name. Wallace broke into a beautiful grin, his round cheeks rosy and pink.

Tell him I’ll be there in three, Volt texted. This was exactly the break he needed.

He was powerless over so many things in his life, but for just a few hours, he could have control over a scene and give his sweet sub everything that he needed.

His day had just gotten a hell of a lot better.