Xavier shakes his head. “We do not, and neither do Lexie and Myles. Everyone else has at least one.”
I frown. “Lexie and Myles, like…”
Xavier nods. “Correct. The musicians.”
Eva laughs. “Don’t forget your brother and his wife, hon.”
Xavier sighs, but it’s good-natured. “Oh, right. My brother and wife are Canary.”
I just laugh. “So…in one family, you have Harlow Grace, Lexie and Myles North,andCanary?”
Anjalee frowns at me. “I do not know who is Canary.”
“Husband and wife singer-songwriter duo,” I answer. “They’ve won Grammys, been on A-list movie soundtracks, shit like that. Big deals in the music world.”
Harlow wrinkles her nose. “Hey now, don’t leave Xavier out of that list. His robotics company is one of the top technological corporations in the world, and he’s every bit as culturally visible as I am.”
Xavier seems uncomfortable. “I am not certain that is correct.”
Harlow laughs outright. “My love, you’ve been on the cover ofWired,Time,and every tech and computer magazine there is. Your product release conferences are as well-attended and -covered as Apple’s are, or very nearly. Your YouTube channel has eighty million subscribers.” She leans into him and laughs again, kisses his temple. “Darling, youare.”
He just shifts in his seat. “If you insist.”
She just sighs. “I know, I know. Just focus on your robots, honey.”
Seems like this is a refrain between them, his fame and not wanting to deal with it. And now that I’m here with him and she’s pointing out his accolades, I realize Ihaveseen him around, in the sense that I’ve seen him on magazine covers in check-out aisles and on news clips on TV, clickbait articles on the internet.
Reluctantly, I scoot my chair back. “I really do have to go. Again, it’s been great to meet you all. You’re all welcome to Sin anytime, and I’ll always make sure you have a VIP section.” I glance at Xavier and Harlow. “You guys coming to Sin with Baxter and Eva?”
They exchange a look, and Harlow answers. “We might pop in. I, uh…I wouldn’t want to cause any issues, though.”
I laugh. “Not a worry. That kinda shit not only just doesn’t happen, it’s not allowed. Plus, you’d be in a private, roped-off VIP area with your own drinks service and one of us as security posted nearby.” I grin at her. “It’s good people watching. But, um…if you’ve never been…it can be pretty extreme. I’ll let Baxter fill you in.”
After exchanging phone numbers all around, we bid everyone goodbye again and make our way down to the valet, where a car is brought around for us—courtesy of our hosts, again—which brings us back to my bike in the parking garage.
Funny, the confrontation with her parents seems like an age ago.
I notice she’s still subdued, thoughtful. For now, I let her have it.
We reach Sin as afternoon is bleeding into evening. The club isn’t open yet, but it will be before too long. I need to get Anj settled and discuss my return to the schedule with Inez. I park my Indian near the doors—I’ll come back for the random shit in my saddlebags. I unlock the side entrance, hold it open for Anjalee. She peers down the stairwell, then looks at me. I smile at her reassuringly and take her hand, lead her down. I hear the noise of conversation before we even hit level, and I hear Myka’s voice amid the hubbub. I know I’m gonna owe some folks a story, after the way I took off.
We hit the bottom of the stairs hand in hand, move through the hallway, our bedroom doors on either side. Mine is closest to the stairs, on the right. I never bother locking it, so I shove the door open, gesturing. “This is my room.”
She peers in—there’s not much to see. My bed in the corner against the wall—a queen, all that’ll fit in this cracker box of a room. Flannel quilt over an Army-issue wool blanket, two pillows. Nightstand, with my phone charger. A large bureau, six drawers—same as in every room. On the dresser, my pistol case, open, waiting for me to put the piece back in, locked up until I need it again. A photo of me with my unit on base in Kandahar. On the floor near the bureau, my body armor, purchased from Uncle Sam after I rotated out. The en suite bathroom, only visible as an angle in the mirror through the doorway.
She eyes me. “It is somewhat small, is it not?”
I just shrug. “Just a place to sleep and keep my clothes, babe.”
She nods. “I suppose I can see it from that perspective.”
“Not what you’re used to, I bet.”
She bites her lip over a grin. “Back home in Mumbai, my closet is larger than this.”
“Well, it’s a whole new world, Anj.”
She nods again. “Indeed it is.”
