Jonathon Winger stifled a yawn where he sat in the boardroom on the twenty-seventh floor of the Angelic Entertainment arcology in downtown LA. Seated all around him in high-back synthleather chairs were men in gray or blue suits and muted ties, complete with discreet datajacks and pocket computers.

Most of their faces were familiar to Jonathon by now. Execs and VIPs of Angelic Entertainment, which owned the Los Angeles Sabers, the combat biker team Jonathan rode for. There were also some promotion people from Saeder-Krupp, but Jonathon and Tamara were the only actual linebikers present. Everybody knew Angelic Entertainment was merely a shell company for the mighty Saeder-Krupp Corporation, which could technically not do business in California Free State. Too magical or too metahuman — or maybe both — for the folks up in Sacramento.

Coach Kalish was there too, and though she was a great coach as far as Jonathon was concerned, she was an aging dwarf and not the most trid-ogenic. The promoters were obviously not interested in using her in any special adverts.

Jonathon, however, they were most pleased to have riding for them. He was large for an elf, bulked up by augmented muscle and a regimented workout to almost ork size, but with clean-line good looks. Superstar charisma, according to the promoters.

Whether they were right or not, Jonathon's mane of auburn hair, intelligent hazel eyes, and ten-thousand-nuyen smile had helped, along with his skill in the arena, to land him an unprecedented number of endorsement contracts for one so new to combat cycling. He certainly loved the publicity.

And that's what this meeting was all about — publicity. The promoters and producers and ad people wanted to hype up the relationship between him and Tamara. Wanted to imply something going on between them. Something intimate.

Sex.

They could use that to sell millions of simsense chips and motorcycles and articles of clothing and whatever else they wanted to put Jonathon's name on. But it bothered him that it was a lie.

He and Tamara had never been lovers even though their relationship was deeper, closer than anything he'd ever imagined possible with another being. And sex had never been part of it.

Jonathon turned to look at her, seeing all the details of her face and posture. Reading her thoughts in those details. Her raven black hair, dark Amerind skin. The dull copper of her irises and the fine, beautiful line of her mouth.

He'd been in her mind so many times via the simsense link they shared. Feeling her emotions as though they were his. He knew what the tilt of her head meant, what she was feeling as she absently scratched the polished red-brown surface of the table in front of her. She was just as bored as he was.

She looked up at him and smiled, then rolled her eyes playfully. And in that smile, Jonathon read her thoughts. She wants to get out of here.

Jonathon stood up at the same time she did. "Excuse us," he said, interrupting the suit who'd been pontificating. "But we've got a tough match tomorrow night in New Orleans, and we'd like to get some rest."

The suit just stared at him, not knowing how to respond.

"I don't really think you need us anymore right now," Jonathon said. "Whatever you decide will be all right with us." He put his hand out for Tamara, and they turned to leave the room.

When they'd cleared the doors, Tamara burst into laughter. "Thanks," she said. "I was about to suffocate in there. How've you been able to sit through those meetings all this time?"

"Must be all the extra nuyen that comes pouring in with the deals," Jonathon told her. "Guess I've just built up a tolerance."

"Slot the nuyen," she said. "We make enough riding for the team. What I want out of it is the limelight. Maybe a chance to make a simfeature or something. But I hate this board meeting drek."

"It gets easier," Jonathon said as they reached the elevator. "You want to stop in the atrium for a cerveza? Venny's meeting me downstairs."

Tamara considered. "Sure, but I need to make it quick. Got a date tonight."

"Oh yeah? The dreamer again? Grids?"

"Grids will be there ... sort of ... but my main date is that S-K exec from Essen."

"Michaelson? I didn't think you were seeing him anymore."

"This'll be the last time."

Jonathon just shook his head. Tamara was scheming something, he could tell. But he didn't ask about it, didn't really want to know. Besides, she would elaborate if and when it suited her.

"I'll tell you about it tomorrow," she said. "In New Orleans."

"Just be careful," he said. "Playing around with powerful people is a dangerous business." Jonathan spoke the words even though he knew they weren't needed. Tamara already knew everything he felt, and she would either act on it or not.

Probably not.

She just smiled at him as he pressed the tab to call the elevator. A smile that told him everything was going to be fine. Just fine.

He only wished he could believe it.