Chapter Fifteen
XANDER COULDN’T TELL if he was eager or terrified at the prospect of Skylar following through on his promise to fulfill Xander’s secret beard-kink fantasy, in whole or in part, and the fact Skylar had come downstairs with the beard had him so frazzled he hardly knew what to do with himself the whole time he packed his things to head back to his place. It was clear too this was Skylar’s goal, or part of it. Because this was his kink. Unsettling Xander.
The bastard.
“If I’d have known what a monster I was going to unleash,” he muttered, then trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
Skylar, hands in his pockets as he leaned in the doorway, didn’t let him off the hook. “You’d have what?” He sounded amused. Not quite smug, but it was a razor-thin margin.
I need Zelda backup, STAT, Xander decided, and said nothing else as he followed a chuckling Skylar to his car.
Except it turned out Xander’s offhand wish was a little too prophetic, because when he pulled into the Palace of the Sun, an all-too-familiar car sat in Pamela’s driveway. It wasn’t only Zelda’s car, either, back in town earlier than scheduled. Jacob’s clunky station wagon was there too. The driveway was full with so many cars, Skylar had to park on the grass by the painting shed—and as he killed the engine, the entire Lucky 7 crew came around the corner. Jacob, Sara, and Cory, with Zelda leading the pack, arms folded in front of their body and Pamela trailing along behind, looking confused and a little weary as she wiped paint off her hands onto a towel.
“Where in the hell have you been?” Zelda made the demand as Xander climbed out of the car, pointedly ignoring Skylar. “I’ve called and texted you. A million times. We’re having a crisis. Epic crisis.”
“Sorry, I was out of town, and then I was at a different crisis. But I’m here now.” Xander held up a hand before they could launch into a tirade. “First, guys, let me introduce my—friend, Skylar Stone.”
His ears heated over his hesitation, and he knew it damned him, that Zelda had caught it and was going to grill him later, but everyone else simply stepped up and gruffly shook Skylar’s hand, falling quickly under his charm as he did his thing. He was a lot more approachable with the baby beard, Xander thought, and he’d worn jeans and a polo today—still pretty Rich White Kid, but he didn’t look like he’d come out of the boardroom, which was something.
The only holdout to his silver smile was, naturally, Zelda, who wore a black T-shirt with white block letters reading RESIST splashed across the front, and they broadcast the message with body as well as attire. It seemed to unsettle them, though, when their brusque attitude only made Skylar more liquid and therefore more pliant, able to slide under their skin.
Eventually, though, Skylar backed away, turning to Jacob, who he somehow had pegged as their leader without being told. “I don’t mean to intrude on your business, but what happened? Don’t tell me this has something to do with Lucky 7.”
“It’s everything to do with Lucky 7.” Jacob gestured angrily in the direction of the college behind him, the spires of the administration building visible through the tops of the trees. “They didn’t just cut our budget. They decimated it. They moved us into a cubicle. We have to go digital, there’s no choice, but they’re not even giving us equipment.”
Xander was in such shock he couldn’t speak. Skylar, however, somehow morphed into a suit without so much as putting one on. “How exactly are they justified in doing this? Did you petition a complaint to the student council?”
Sara blinked at him as if he had landed from Mars. “They’re all on break. How would we do that?”
“That’s why they did it now, the bastards.” Cory looked ready to commit murder.
Skylar waved a hand. “They have phones, and they answer them. So do any number of student organizations.”
Jacob snorted. “Nobody gives a shit about Lucky 7. No one will help us.”
Skylar gave him a smile that promised interesting things were about to happen and which, goddamn it, made Xander weak in the knees. Skylar held up a finger to Jacob as he pulled out his phone, but as he turned away to make the call, he winked at Xander. “Hey,” he said into the phone. “It’s me. Things calming on the issue there? Great. I need you where I am. Immediately. I’ll text instructions.” He paused, nodded. “Yes. I’ll explain. Do me proud, please. Ah-huh. Yes. I will. See you shortly.”
He hung up, texted furiously for a second, then turned back to the group with a winsome smile. “Sorry about that. I have an idea, if you’ll indulge me. A friend of mine is coming to help with the details, but in the meantime—would you like to all hear it, or Jacob, would you prefer to consult with me alone first, before I bother the rest of your staff with something you’d rather not engage in?”
Xander ducked his head and bit his lip to hide his smile. Goddamn but Skylar was a silky little fish. You couldn’t raise a comment in a lab better designed to puff up Jacob Chen’s ego and get him to say—
“I think it’d be best if you told me first. This is Lucky 7 business, no offense, and while I’m sure you have great ideas…”
Skylar held up his hands, still smiling. “Say no more. I completely understand. You show me where you’d like to talk, and I can lay things out for you in ten minutes, fifteen tops.”
The two of them walked off toward the garage, and Xander braced himself for Zelda’s onslaught.
It came as soon as Skylar was out of earshot. They pulled Xander to face them, sputtering and gesturing at Skylar and Jacob’s retreating backs. “What—what the hell? What just happened? Why is he here? What—” They stopped, color draining from their face. “Oh. Oh, oh. This was the weekend. The lobster thing. But wait, you shouldn’t be…”
Xander cast a helpless glance at Pamela.
Pamela smiled and took them each by the hand, putting herself between them. She nodded at Sara and Cory as she led Zelda and Xander toward the house. “Come on. I think it’s time I played hostess properly. Xander, you’ll help me make tea. Zelda and Cory, perhaps you could clear my table for me, and could I convince you, Sara, to lay out some cookies on a plate? There’s some over there, in a box Xander left from his mom. We might as well do this up properly.”
Pretty much nobody gave a fuck about tea or cookies, but everyone, Xander included, was at a loss of what to do, so everyone nodded and agreed, and that was how they all ended up in the house, having tea. It was oddly relaxing. Xander had made tea with Pamela a million times, but never with a crowd of people.
“How did they all end up here?” he asked Pamela in a whisper as he released a handful of leaves into the heated pot.
Pamela shrugged and emptied the hot water from the steaming kettle over the tea. “I think they were looking for you, but between you and me, mostly I suspect they were hunting for a place to gather. Zelda was muttering something about a fight with their mother, and Jacob has lost his apartment lease. He’s staying with Cory for now, but if his landlord finds out, I guess that’s a problem. That nice Sara is having trouble too. Her elevator has been out for two weeks, from what she says, and she has such a hard time with the stairs.” Pamela put the kettle back on its stand and glanced over her shoulder at the table, a wicked twinkle in her eye. “I’m thinking of asking them if they want to move in. But I thought I should check them out a bit more over tea first.”
Xander fumbled with the teacups he’d been pulling down from the cupboard. “What, all of them?”
“Why not? I have the room. Though I don’t think Zelda will say yes.”
No, Xander didn’t think they would. Thank the gods for small favors. He wasn’t sure how he felt about having more neighbors. But then he felt like an asshole, because clearly Sara and Jacob both needed rescuing the same way he had needed it. And Pamela certainly wouldn’t mind more people around.
Funny how he’d always groused about being asked to socialize, and now that he had competition for Pamela…
She patted him on the shoulder and took the tray he’d prepared to the table, stopping to praise Sara on the way for arranging a perfectly lovely tray of cookies.
“So tell me,” Pamela said as they all sat around her table, now clear of random bits of junk mail and art supplies and gleaming with its natural oak finish, “where are the three of you from? I know all about Xander, and he’s mentioned everyone on the staff, but I’d love to hear your stories.”
They exchanged glances to see who would go first. Unsurprisingly, Zelda nominated themselves.
“I’m from Maine. My family owns a camping resort near Cape Elizabeth. I was originally planning to stay there and help out, but I’m back in town for the summer now.”
Xander frowned. “What happened?”
Zelda looked coldly murderous. “My mother.”
Pamela selected one of the cookies from the tray with a smile Xander knew was anything but innocent. “Do you have somewhere to stay?”
“I’m crashing with a friend.”
“Hmm,” was all Pamela said. For now. Then she turned to Sara. “What about you, dear?”
Sara smoothed her long hair away from her face as she sipped her tea, then launched into a tale Xander knew well. “My family lives in Poughkeepsie. My mom teaches at Vassar, and my father plays in the Hudson Valley Philharmonic. We moved to the States from Argentina when I was eight. I’m a citizen of the US now, though.” She raised her left wrist, flashing the brace half-hidden by her sleeve, which Xander knew she wore long to hide said braces. “I have Charcot-Marie-Tooth disease, which is why I have the braces. It’s not too bad right now, but it’s not curable and it’ll get worse as I get older, possibly. Probably. It’s a neuromuscular condition. So I have to be careful with my body and my stress level, as that can exacerbate things.”
Pamela had been nodding empathetically through Sara’s story, but here she put down her tea and interjected. “You poor dear. It can’t be easy to keep stress down in that building of yours. Between the stairs and the construction noise?”
Sara shrugged, a very Sara type of gesture. She twined a strand of her long, dark-brown hair around a finger. “There’s not much for me to do. Sometimes life is unsatisfying.”
“That, unfortunately, is most certainly true.” Pamela turned to Cory with a smile. “And you, sir? Where did you land in Benten from? Oh, and what do you do for the magazine? Sara, you didn’t give me that information about yourself, or you either, Zelda.”
Zelda shrugged. “I do this and that. Officially I think my job is listed as assistant editor, but mostly I do what needs doing.”
Pamela turned to Sara. “And what about you, dear?”
Sara had a mouthful of cookie, so Xander covered for Sara. “She’s the head researcher for the manga, but she’s also the mangaka in training. She helps me with backgrounds and screentones, and she’s getting ready to take over when I leave.”
“How exciting. So you’re an artist too? How lovely.” Pamela shifted her focus to Cory. “Now let’s hear your story.”
Cory cleared his throat, shifting on his seat and resting his forearms on the table. “I’m the layout guy, and the printer. I guess I’ll have to be digital now, but I can do that. I was getting ready because I saw this coming. I do some tech stuff too—I’m kind of the jack-of-all-trades around the house. So is Zelda, but they’re more metaphorical problem solver and I’m the this-is-broken-Jacob problem solver. I’m at home with tools and gadgets, but I like the research aspect too, and I don’t mind helping out there.”
Pamela beamed. “You’re just like my late husband. He loved to tinker. I still have a garage full of his stuff. We didn’t live here, mind you—we had a place east of town, but I couldn’t stand to live there without him, so I sold it and moved here. I brought all his things, though, so he’s still everywhere if I look for him.”
Sara smiled over her cup rim. “I love the name painted over the door. Palace of the Sun.”
“Yes, well, it gets the best sunrise in town.” Her smile turned melancholy. “Also, Takahiro always told me we would live in a palace one day. But it’s too much room for just me. I have Xander upstairs, but…” She tapped her finger on the edge of her teacup, then shook her head with a smile. “I’m sorry, Cory. We were hearing your story.”
Cory, who was naturally quiet and shy, looked like he’d been hoping to get off with what he’d already reported. He ran a nervous hand over his short black curls, ducking his head a little as he spoke. “Not much more to tell. I’m from Queens. My mom works in an office. My dad works as a manager of an auto repair shop. I’m here on a scholarship. Well, two of them. One for academics, one for minorities.”
“How fascinating. How did you end up at Benten? Did something specific draw you here?”
Cory’s cheeks stained with a blush. “I came here to hear Obama speak during his reelection campaign. Mom got us in the ticket lottery and we won. Since we’re a mixed-race family, they put us on the risers behind him while he spoke, for optics and stuff. And then here’s my mom, whipping out an essay I’d written in English class—‘He’s mixed like the President’ she kept telling everyone, waving my essay at staffers, and they took it, and someone read it. Then afterward…I don’t know why, but they took us to a room and we waited, and I got to meet him, and the president of the college too.”
Xander’s mouth fell open. He’d never heard this story. Sara looked stunned too.
Only Pamela had her wits about her enough to prompt for more. “My goodness, what an honor that must have been. Was he wonderful? Of course he was. Was he what you hoped for?”
Cory’s expression became dreamy, almost youthful. “He…he was…like my dad. But he was the president. And my dad was there too, wiping his eyes, and Obama shook his hand, asked him about his favorite basketball team. They talked about the Knicks. And then he asked me where I wanted to go to college. Obama, I mean. The president of Benten—it was a woman at the time, I forget her name—said she hoped I’d consider coming here. And then the next year when I went to apply for colleges, she wrote me personally and invited me to apply for the scholarship.”
Pamela leaned back in her chair, cradling her teacup in both hands, smiling. “That’s a lovely story. Just perfect. And have you been happy here, I hope?”
Cory shrugged, some of his glow fading. “Yeah, mostly. Lotta white kids here. I mean—it wasn’t so bad…before. But now that Obama’s gone, all the politics getting so bad…I dunno.” He shrugged again, staring into his tea. “Maybe Hillary wouldn’t have done what I wanted, but she wouldn’t have done this. I wouldn’t have had to see people get this ugly.”
Xander tensed, worried Zelda would make a derogatory Hillary comment, but they only curled their lip.
Sara shook her head. “I think we were always going to get this ugly. No one person created this. We had it in us all along.”
“This is true. But I do wish we could have exorcised our demons more gracefully.” Pamela sighed and put down her cup, but she had a twinkle in her eye. “Well. When you’re finished with your tea, would you like a tour of the house? Oh, and by the way, do you happen to know your blood types?”
They didn’t know them, but Pamela said that was all right, she thought she could guess. Xander steered her away from Japanese blood personality typing, knowing how she could get, distracting her by starting the tour.
As he’d predicted, the tour quickly became a real estate pitch—what he hadn’t seen coming, though, was that Pamela was luring Cory and Zelda as well as Sara.
“How high is your rent again, Cory? My goodness, that high? I don’t charge Xander half that. And see, if I were to rent this room on the second floor, say, to two people, I wouldn’t charge even that because it would be shared kitchen space. If my renters were willing to help with fix-it jobs though, things change. Zelda, isn’t this a perfect space? Private, but with an amazing view? Now—Sara, what do you think of this room? It’s supposed to be a conservatory, but I want to clear it out because all I do is fill it with junk. I don’t need any of this stuff. Don’t you think this would be a lovely bedroom? It’s almost a suite, really. And on the main floor too. I never use this bathroom here around the corner, and it’s a full one. I use the one upstairs—master bath, you know. And, of course, the one by the kitchen. What do you think, would you be interested in it?”
By the time Jacob came back to the house, Zelda had made plans to collect their things, Sara had already called her parents to approve the arrangement, Pamela had called her lawyer to draw up leases, and Cory pulled Jacob aside the second he entered the living room, ready to tell him all about the sweet deal they were about to fall into. Skylar came into the house shortly thereafter, and Xander went up to him, ready to tell him the whole crazy story, but before he could open his mouth, he saw Skylar wasn’t alone.
“Unc?”
Unc winked at him, patting him on the shoulder as he followed Skylar into the room. Xander came with them, frowning.
“Everyone,” Skylar called, using his Silver Stone voice, but toned down, “I’d like to introduce you to a friend of mine: Jeff Turner. He’s a fellow Delta Eta Sigma member, and likely member of the governing council for the fall.”
Unc smiled as he went around the room, shaking everyone’s hand. Everyone but Zelda, who kept their hands tucked tight against their body, regarding both Unc and Skylar with open suspicion. While everyone else circled around to meet the newcomers, Zelda hung back, saying nothing but making it plain they weren’t happy.
Unc was strange, though. He was and wasn’t himself. Apparently he had his own Silver Stone—Silver Unc? Jingling Jeff? He wasn’t as good as Skylar, but he could decidedly swing a room his way when he wanted to, and he was doing it now. Charming each member of the Lucky 7 by turns, and Pamela too.
“Dr. Stolarz, your house is amazing. Did you do the restoration yourself?”
She laughed and made a shooing motion at him. “Do I look like someone who can hold a handsaw? No. It came already done. I spent a ridiculous sum of money on it. My Takahiro and I were meant to take our epic trip to Japan after his retirement. We went a million times with students before he retired, but we wanted to go once just the two of us. Sadly, he had a heart attack before we could even get on the plane. So there I was with all our money and a broken heart, and I saw this house and decided to hell with it, I deserved it.”
“You absolutely do. And is this all your artwork? My God, it’s incredible. I hope you’ll give me a tour of it later?”
“I will give it to you with a glass of my husband’s twenty-five-year-old whiskey, you charmer.”
He laughed, captured her hand, and kissed it. Then he worked over the rest of the room.
Jacob, apparently already a fan, helped. “These guys,” he said, in full editor mode, taking command in front of the fireplace and gesturing to Skylar and Unc, who had moved themselves carefully to the side, “they’re going to go with me to President Hardin tomorrow and try to get us a better arrangement. But even beyond that, Jeff says the frat will help pay for some supplies, so long as Xander signs off on it.”
Zelda looked murderous now, but Xander was too distracted with his own problems, alarmed at the mention of his name. “Wait—what does this have to do with me?”
Skylar leaned over him, putting a hand on Xander’s shoulder, sending shivers through him as he spoke. “You never did let Delta Sig give you or the art department any real compensation for the mural. I convinced the council Lucky 7 is connected enough to count. They’re eager to consider the debt repaid and save face.”
Xander had no idea this was still a thing anybody gave a shit about. “Sure, fine, go for it, what do I care?”
Skylar squeezed his shoulder—and deftly, so no one else saw, gave his nape a quick caress as he lifted his hand. “I think for the sake of appearances Xander should come with us when we make our case, given the connection to his mural and the fraternity.”
Sara folded her arms. “If Xander goes, I want to go. I think we should all go.” She pointed at Pamela. “I think Dr. Stolarz should go too.”
Pamela laughed. “Please, all of you. I’m Pamela, full stop. Except to President Hardin. But why do you think I should come?”
Jacob had what Xander thought of as his wild eyes on. He aimed an excited finger at Sara, then Pamela. “Yes. You’re right. She’s emeritus faculty, and her husband advised us. Well, not us, but the magazine—God, Sara, you’re brilliant.”
Sara leaned back, unfolding her arms, her expression saying clearly, I know.
Xander didn’t look at Zelda, but he could feel the glare at the back of his head. God, but he was going to hear about this. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t saying anything. He’d brought Skylar here: ergo, this was his fault, in Zelda logic.
Cory scratched his chin. “Okay, so we all go. What are we demanding, exactly? They can’t magic a room for us. What are we going to do for workspace? What are we going to do for equipment?”
Pamela gestured to the outbuildings. “You can have the space above the garage. It’s heated, and if you’re willing to do a little work, you can divide it into offices or make up cubicles. You’re all about to move in here anyway.”
“Good. Good.” Jacob had wild eyes and he was pacing. He hadn’t even had an energy drink. This usually was when Xander went and hid in the art room. “Okay. So what about equipment? Do we ask for a new printer? Find somewhere big enough for our old one?”
Zelda spoke up from the back, their tone cold and flat. “The old one broke, remember? They threw it out.”
Cory held up both hands. “Guys, I’m telling you. This is why we need to go digital.”
This argument woke Xander out of his quiet. “I want it printed.”
Skylar straightened and frowned at Cory. “You were thinking of not having any print copies?”
Jacob answered for him. “It’s the money. Print costs.”
Unc wasn’t having this either. “We’ll find you the money for printing. Even if you have to reduce your print runs and up the price—sometimes you can make scarcity work in your favor. I’ll write you up a prospectus.”
“I still think we need to have the drawings be digital,” Cory said, refusing to let go of the thread.
Xander wasn’t giving up either. “I don’t like drawing in digital.”
Cory pressed his hands together and crouched in front of Xander, not going on his knees but decidedly getting into a begging position. “I swear to you, I can keep your work looking good if I can just get the right equipment.”
Skylar and Unc swept in like a pair of eagles. “What equipment do you need?”
They sat there for hours, first in the living room, then at the dining room table, Unc taking notes while Skylar ramped Jacob up until he was practically on the moon, he was flying so high, spitting out ideas and wish lists, Cory and Sara getting into the act too. Almost everyone had things they wanted but Xander and Zelda.
Xander didn’t like how quiet Zelda was being. He’d fully expected an explosion by now, and the fact that there hadn’t been one yet wasn’t a good sign at all.
He couldn’t worry too much about Zelda, though, because he had his hands full with all the questions Skylar kept pelting him with. “What does Lucky 7’s artist want? More Copics?”
Xander opened his mouth to say he didn’t want anything, but Sara spoke for him instead. “He wants a Microsoft Surface Studio.”
Xander turned to her, looking at her like she was high. “I want a what? I don’t want it. Whatever it is, I don’t want it.”
Sara ignored him. “Somebody with a smartphone, Google it, play the video, and put it in front of his face.”
“Look, I don’t want—”
Skylar stilled him with a touch on his shoulder. “Forming new straight lines. Watch the video, Fudō.”
He’d spoken quietly, but Unc heard him and grinned. “Yeah, he is Fudō. That’s hilarious.”
“Who’s what now?” Jacob asked, still amped up on his own juices.
Xander wanted to crawl under the table. “Shut up. I’m trying to watch a damn video.”
He didn’t give a fuck about the ad for a goddamned computer, but the hell he was going to let Unc and Skylar explain how Xander was a stand-in for Fudō Myōō. He glowered at the screen as it assembled the monitor like some sort of nuclear launch. Jesus. Pretentious much?
“If he’s Fudō, who’s Hotei?”
Xander hunkered over Skylar’s phone, glowering harder. Goddamn Unc. “Nobody is anybody. Shut. Up.”
“He said I was, but I don’t think so.”
And goddamn Skylar too. Xander wondered when this stupid video would end. All it was doing was spinning a monitor around as if it were a car in a showroom. Was someone going to come out and lie on it in a bikini? If it was a guy in a speedo, he might be interested. If the guy in the speedo came with the monitor.
Cory shook his head at Skylar and Unc. “Seriously, what are you two talking about?”
Skylar, to Xander’s dismay, explained how he thought Xander wasn’t unlike Moo from Hotay & Moo, though he also pointed out it was an odd shortening of the name. The staff laughed and agreed, enjoying calling attention to the obvious that both Moo and Xander were grousing hermits, except for their associations with Hotay.
Xander fumed and watched a woman on the screen press the monitor flat to the desk, or nearly so. Oh. Well, that was a neat trick.
Unc scratched his chin. “Yeah, Skylar fits in that these two have become two peas in a pod, but he’s not Hotei, not the god or your character Hotay. I bet we could find another member of the Shichifukujin for him to be, though.”
Cory frowned at him. “The what?”
Unc looked severe. “You work on Hotay & Moo and you don’t know Shichifukujin? The seven gods of fortune?”
Xander opened his mouth to explain Cory was their background guy, there to make sure machines worked and things showed up on time, though he was also filing away the name Shichifukujin to look up later because he’d never heard that one—and then the woman in the ad started drawing on the screen.
“Oh my God. What the—what?” Then the woman added a wheel-like object to the surface of the monitor, turned it, and all the colors shifted subtly with each click. Xander straight up got an erection. He whimpered and bent double over the phone. “Oh. My God.”
Sara patted him on the back, leaned over, and whispered in his ear. “Form new straight lines.” Then she straightened and spoke to Skylar. “He wants one.”
Xander wanted to have sex with one. “This can’t be real. This isn’t real? It can’t…Oh. My God.”
Skylar sat beside him, sliding an arm around his waist. Xander didn’t blush or object, too drugged by the idea of such a thing existing in the world. If the kind of pen pressure they were displaying here was accurate, the work he could do…the things he could do…
Skylar’s thumb brushed his side. “Xander, would you like one of these computers?”
Forming new straight lines. It was the first time he’d actually wanted to embrace his magazine’s motto. He wanted to make straight lines, and curved ones, and circles, and everything on this goddamned machine. “Fuck yes.”
“Done. Sara? Would it be convenient for you to have two?”
Sara laughed. “The president is going to shit when he sees the price tag for one.”
“Not material at the moment. Would you like one as well?”
“To be honest, a set of Surface tablets for the rest of the staff would be more appropriate, excepting whatever Cory needs.”
“Will you make me a list of what you’d like to have, including software?”
“You bet.”
Skylar withdrew his hand so he could talk with Jacob and Unc. Xander stayed where he was, replaying the video over and over, fast-forwarding to the part where the woman drew on the screen and blew his world open to new possibilities.