George R.R. Martin - [Wild Cards 18] by Inside Straight Page B

know. Kate ran her hands through her hair. “I fell for it. I can’t
believe
I fell for it. Big famous rock star hitting on me, and what do I think? ’Wow, he really likes me.’ I’m such an idiot.” She threw herself back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
    Ana’s heart was still pounding hard. She’d spent an hour in the backyard discovering how much she could do with all these fantastic powers. And now she was learning about her limits. Inside the house, she was useless. And she couldn’t say anything that would make Kate feel better.
    “You’re wrong about him,” Ana said.
    “No, I’m not. Just wait, it’ll be Diamonds House he sneaks back from next.”
    “Yeah. But he’s not going after every woman on the show. He’s never looked twice at me.”
    Kate glanced at her, distracted from her introspection. Then, she laughed. “Is he really that shallow?”
    Ana was fairly sure he wasn’t, but on this matter, she couldn’t argue.
    “Don’t worry about it, Ana. He’s totally not worth it.”

    More cameras invaded the next day. Like Ana could be bothered by the presence of more cameras. But these came with complications.
    John Fortune opened the door to the house without knocking. “Hey—John here! Anyone home?”
    “Yeah.” Ana came out to meet him from the kitchen, where she’d been snacking. She’d been taking advantage of the food she didn’t have to buy or cook herself. That was probably what the cameras would show—round-faced, unsvelte Ana, always eating. “What’s up?”
    “We just stopped by to do some interviews. Where is everyone?”
    “I thought you guys check the footage every day.”
    “We haven’t gotten to last night’s yet.”
    She said, “There was kind of a blow up. Big TV drama, as Bugsy would say.”
    “Then it’ll be a good time for interviews, won’t it?” Michael Berman, all smiles, pushed his way in past the couple of crew who were lugging equipment. “Is Curveball around?”
    Ana felt her gaze darken, her expression shutting down. Getting protective. Kate did not need to be talking to this guy today. “No.”
    “Are you sure?” Berman persisted.
    “Yeah.”
    John, always diplomatic, stepped between them. “We’ve got five other people here to interview. Maybe DB—he’s always ready to talk. We’ll be setting up on the back porch.”
    Oh, not the backyard…
    “Uh, yeah, about that,” Ana said, fidgeting suddenly. “That may not be such a great idea. I’m not sure you want to go out there.” What was she going to tell them? It wasn’t like she could hide it, they’d see footage of the whole thing.
    “Why not?” John said—and headed straight for the back door.
    Ana followed him. Even from the window the churned-up soil and mounds of earth were visible. How was she going to explain this? Maybe she could put it back the way it was. Flatten the ground, talk Gardener into planting some grass …
    “Holy shit!” John stepped onto the porch.
    Quickly Ana said, “I—I was sort of … practicing.”
    When he turned to her, though, he was smiling. “That’s a real mess out there.”
    “Yeah, well. The craters are Kate’s.”
    John just kept grinning. “Oh man, I love you guys.”

    Drummer Boy dwarfs his chair, dwarfs the surroundings. He fills the frame, so that it’s hard to tell if it’s a trick of the camera that makes him seem huge or if he really is that big. All six hands are in motion, tapping the arms of the chair, tapping the air as if working imaginary drumsticks, or just twitching to an unheard beat.
    His expression changes in response to a question. He glares, evoking the punk rock persona that made him the front man for the hottest band going. When he speaks, all six hands clench.
    “You want to know who I think should win? Who the cares! This whole thing is bogus. Everyone who says I’m just here to get publicity for the band? They’re right, ’cause that’s all this show is good for. Cheap thrills and