Back on mission, I turned my back to stow the blister packs in my grab bag, slimming down my gut wallet. Not the best hiding place, but lockups weren’t allowed in our den. Few of us had a lot that was precious, but after losing so much to whichever Wave, you wanted to keep what little you had. We wore wallets 24/7, even to sleep. Best was a waterproof one—I’d traded hard for mine—you could wear it in the showers.

I changed into a dry T-shirt and cut-off sweats, grabbed my food, then pulled my bunk curtains, even the mosquito netting, tight before climbing down to be neighborly and eat my chow. “You heading out?”

“Where else?” Jake settled on his floor-level bunk so he could squint into the slice of mirror he’d hung on a tier leg and finish combing his long black hair into artful shape.

“Well, maybe you’re shining up for a date.”

He sighed. “Not this morning. Duty calls.”

“Lo siento mucho, amigo.”

“Me, too.”

Jake was one of Rousseau’s original cadre, which gave him special status in the den. He never abused it, but he sure was flirty. He couldn’t pass a woman by without a come-hither glance. Nothing rude or grabby. Pure force of habit, he’d say. His idea of flattery, like the boys next tier, ’cept Jake had way more finesse. We’d had it out early on, and he knew where I stood. Not like we were pals—he was too top-brass for that—but we got along. As a junior tier-mate, I was his responsibility. He’d offered free flirting lessons as protective coloring, so my denmates wouldn’t see me as antisocial and thus fair prey. But I was a reluctant learner, so he made it a game between us, which felt okay. Almost. After Rubio, I trusted Jake as much as any guy in the den—as long as he stayed at arm’s length.

I leaned against the opposite tier and unwrapped my scrawny chicken leg. “Big night.”

“Not like some are claiming.”

“I got in at the end. So, no shots?”

“No shots, no injuries, no water-gate landing! You’d think they wanted it to happen!”

“They’re bored.”

“I had better things to do last night.” Jake stood to tidy his blankets, managing to convey that sleep had had nothing to do with it. A middling build but black-Irish handsome, he had a blue-gazed, haunted look that all the women fell for . . . well, except me. Even Jenn had an eye for Jake, though I warned her off him often enough, figuring she needed something stable. Tried steering her Rubio’s way, since she could match him for brain power, but she’d said, oh no, she wasn’t hooking up with a guy who might go and die on her.