The Gender Plan (The Gender Game #6)

“Viggo has every right in the world to want to weigh a decision like this more carefully,” Ms. Dale admonished, cutting Amber off. Amber froze for a moment, and then clamped her jaw shut, sitting back. “Although, I do have a question: what do we do with him until you reach your decision?”


I considered the question and then shrugged. “Whatever grunt work you can find for him around the camp. Have him chop wood, or put him on cooking duty. Keep him out of the meetings and away from Desmond and anything else important.” I grimaced. “Especially sensitive information.”

“We could make that work, but not for the long term. We’ll need a decision before we move base again.”

I nodded. “Any objections?”

Everyone was silent, and I exhaled, thankful I didn’t have to choose right then.

“All right. And on that note, I—”

“Excuse me, this is where you are having the meeting, yes?” An unexpected male voice from the door caught everyone’s attention, and as one we turned. I felt a deep flash of annoyance to see Cruz standing there, a debonair smile on his face. “Ah, my friends! Of course you are the leaders around this place, huh? You choose to lead by doing! You are indeed people who are worthy of my respect. Where should I sit?”

Violet turned toward me. “Cruz?” she whispered, and I winced. We had talked for so long about what had happened to her that I hadn’t been able to catch her up on the finer points of what had happened to me.

“Why yes, I am,” Cruz exclaimed from behind me, moving over to Violet. “But who is this ravishing beauty? I do not believe we have been properly introduced.”

Violet turned in her seat, her eyes wide at his sudden proximity, and merely at the intensity he radiated. “I’m Violet,” she said, tentatively stretching out her hand. He grabbed it and pulled it to his lips in a gentlemanly kiss, and I resisted the urge to smack him.

“A pleasure to meet you,” he said, flashing a smile, and my urge to deck him increased.

“What are you doing here, Cruz?” I asked, crossing my arms.

“This is where all the leaders meet, yes?”

“It… is…” Ms. Dale drawled, shooting me an alarmed glance.

“And you are discussing strategy on your next move, yes?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Perfect! This is exactly where I should be. Do you have a chair for me, or should I just stand?”

Ms. Dale gaped at him, her jaw nearly slamming into the floor. I felt at a loss too—nobody had ever barged their way into our meetings before, not like this. It was unprecedented, and a little disconcerting. We had no rule against it, per se. We had always operated on the trust of the people we had recruited or rescued and had tried to provide safety, training, and vital necessities for them. They trusted our decisions, and we trusted them to follow orders.

Ms. Dale looked to me as if to gauge my reaction, and a look flashed between us that told me that neither of us was ready to deal with the intrusion. I shrugged; she raised her eyebrows at me while shrugging back and jerking her chin toward Cruz, a complicated series of gestures that seemed to express sympathy with the weird situation—but that told me I should deal with it. Well, fine.

I glared at her as she coolly answered Cruz’s original question. “Um, sorry, no extra chairs at the moment.” Cruz nodded and then leaned against the wall, his smile never faltering. When Ms. Dale jerked her chin at him harder, I cleared my throat.

“Hey, Cruz, can I have a word with you?”

“Yes, my friend?”

He was making this difficult. “Outside,” I clarified, getting up and moving toward the door.

“Of course,” Cruz said, his tone sounding a little offended, as though he was surprised I would dare to imply that he hadn’t known what I’d meant the first time.

“What is the matter?” he asked as soon as we were outside. “Am I in your way?”

I tried to think of ways to say this tactfully and came up with nothing. “Cruz, you can’t barge in on our meetings. You just joined. You don’t have the clearance.”

I saw his eyes widen, his mouth turning sullen. “Croft, that is ridiculous! I have every right to be there. And I have lots of information that can help you. I was close to the heart of the Matrian guard at Starkrum. I listened. I heard what was happening—”

I cut him off. “And that’s exactly why we can’t trust you in our command room yet.” He drew a breath to speak, but I continued, trying not to think too hard about why I even needed to have this conversation. I tried to keep my voice as even as possible. “Believe me when I say it’s not personal. Everyone else has had to go through this too. I’m glad to have you here, and I appreciate your input. But if you want to be part of the command chain and sit in on meetings, you’ll have to build up some trust first.”

Cruz looked down, his good humor dampening, and his constant stream of talk dried up for the first time since he’d yelled at me when we’d kidnapped him. I tried to judge whether he would man up, or just resent me, and I couldn’t tell. If his pride was wounded and he was threatened, who knew what he would do? But on the other hand, if this was going to break him down, he wouldn’t be a successful part of our team. I had to know now.

Before he could stop to think, I pressed on. “Look, this is just how we do things here. If you don’t like it, you can move on—we won’t stop you. But if you want to stay, think of it as a challenge. You’ve gotta do what everybody else did. If you work hard and focus, you could do it faster. Better.”

Cruz grunted, and for a moment I was afraid he would still just ignore me, or worse, challenge me to a fight. But then he looked up, and there was fire in his eyes.

“Of course I will do it better,” he said grandly. “Mark my words, Croft—I, Anello Cruz, will make you forget you ever doubted me. You’ll realize that you need my help in no time!”

“Uh, good,” I said, relaxing a little as I realized my ploy had worked… as weird as it was. “Thanks for understanding. Now, I gotta go back in.”

As Cruz still stood there, nodding gleefully, I tried to nudge his attention toward the hall. “The kitchen will be open after the meeting,” I told him, hoping he got the hint. Then, not having time for any more of the argument, I simply slipped away and left him standing, staring, in the hall.

I came back into the meeting to the sight of Ms. Dale shifting through some papers in front of her, then clearing her throat. “Have we received any update from Tiffany?”

“Yes,” said Thomas, “but just a text message, and a short one at that. It reads, ‘Riots in city, relocating to safe place. Will contact ASAP.’”