CHAPTER ELEVEN

VIC HAD NEVER MADE THE drive to North Hills so fast in his life.

He was lucky he didn’t get pulled over, as he sped down I-495, cutting the Benz in and out of traffic and grateful it was early enough that he was only coming up against a small wave of commuters coming in to New York from the suburbs. He kept an eye out for red and blue flashers, then pressed down harder on the gas, taking the turn off for the village sharply. He should be more careful, but when Julie’s number had popped up and she’d gasped Vic? Vic, I can’t find Siorse, she’s not in the house, I can’t…

He’d stopped thinking about himself at all.

He’d felt bad ducking out on Amani like that, but he’d make it up to him later. For now, he tore down the tree-lined suburban street, sun just beginning to dapple the meticulously maintained blacktop as dawn crept over the sky, and slammed to a halt outside Julie’s sprawling brick colonial. She was spilling out onto the velvety green lawn before he’d even fully climbed out of the car, and as he stood she tumbled against him, clasping his hands desperately, her pretty face tear-streaked and her hair a crimson cloud all around her.

“Vic—Vic, I looked everywhere, I’ve been all over the yard, I woke up the neighbors—”

“Shhh.” He pulled her in close, hugging her fiercely, and closed his eyes, taking a deep, calming breath. “I’ll help you look. We need to calm down and be systematic. Where has she been playing lately?”

Julie took a hiccupping breath and rubbed at her reddened nose, her eyes flicking back and forth as if searching through the flipped pages of a mental catalogue. “She hasn’t, not really…she’s…she’s staying inside and reading a lot, and she’s thrown a couple of tantrums when I was cleaning the house and then run off.”

“Any idea where?”

“No. She’s allowed out in the neighborhood with the other kids until sunset, but they usually stay around the block.”

“We’re trying to think of a quiet place where she could go to read and no one else could find her.”

“I don’t know,” Julie cried, tears welling again, and shook her head sharply. “I don’t know, I know all her friends’ parents, they always tell me when she’s there, someone’s almost always—” Her eyes widened. “Wait. She came home crying with a scraped knee last week. She’d fallen out of a tree.”

“Then that’s where we’ll probably find her.” Vic gave Julie a squeeze and a reassuring smile. “I’ll take the back yard, you take the front, and we’ll branch out from there.”

Julie nodded quickly, already skittering toward the small cluster of beeches on one corner of the lawn, tall and narrow but with enough branches and clinging yellow-orange leaves to hide an upset little girl. Vic skirted the side of the house, peering up into the spruces lining the hedge, but there was no way even someone as tiny as Siorse could have skittered up those tight-packed needles and branches.

The back yard was littered with crabapple and maple trees, left to go half-wild for summer shade, now turning orange and brown in the November cold. That cold scoured his throat as he called, “Siorse?” He’d tried to be calm for Julie, but his heart was hurting, his mouth sour. That same sour taste as when bad things happened when he was a child, but he had to hope nothing had happened to his little girl. “Siorse? It’s Vic. Peanut, come down for me, please. I know you’re here somewhere.”

Nothing. He tilted his head back, scanning the trees, peering past fluttering leaves and the shadows of rising morning, searching for even a hint of red that wasn’t the last of fading autumn.

“Peanut?” he called again, softer—and this time was rewarded by a whimper, small and mewling as a kitten, to his left.

He turned quickly, squinting up at the branches of a thick older maple…and that was where he found her. True to the kitten she’d sounded like, she’d managed to wedge herself in the crook of a high branch, and huddled there, clinging to the trunk, her face grubby and her hands scratched and her face wet with tears, bark and leaves and twigs in her hair and all over her pajamas. She peered down at him miserably, then burst into a pathetic, heart-rending little wail of “Viiiiic I can’t get dooooown!”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He stepped back, gauging the distance up the tree. She was maybe fifteen feet up, higher than he could reach, but farther than she could safely jump. “Hold on. I’m coming up for you.”

He reached over his head, testing a few branches until he found one sturdy enough, then flexed and hefted himself up, pulling himself to stand with his feet braced closed to the trunk and holding himself up with a few branches overhead. He couldn’t risk climbing higher; she was light enough for the upper branches to hold her weight, but he’d crack them and bring them both crashing down. Holding himself up with one hand, he reached the other up to her.

“Come on now, Peanut. Just reach down and grab my hand. It’s cold and we need to get you inside and warmed up.”

Siorse cringed, pressing closer to the trunk and peering down. “But…it’s really far…”

“Down there is really far. I’m right up close, but I can’t get any closer. I need you to come to me. It’s just a little way, baby. Come on. You can do it.”

Trembling, Siorse eyed him mistrustfully, then crept along the branch, shifting onto her hands and knees so she could cling with her thighs and one arm while she stretched the other out to him. He reached as far as he could, straining out toward her—and when he caught her hand firmly, he said, “Now let go.”

She did—and screamed as for a moment she fell, before he swung her around and caught her up in his arms, pulling her close against his chest. Words couldn’t describe the relief flooding him as, with a sob, she buried her face against him, clutching to him for dear life while he dropped down into a careful crouch, holding her tight with one hand and gripping the branch with the other so he could swing them both down.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, patting her back, stroking her hair. “You’re okay. We’re on the ground. I’ve got you.”

She shook and sniffled for a few moments more, then peered up at him from past clenched fists that ground against his chest. “Vic…?” she whispered, as if not really believing he was there, and he smiled.

“Hey,” he said, and tucked her tangled hair back. “Hey, you. How’s my baby girl?”

“I’m not a baby anymore,” she mumbled sulkily. “You can’t call me that.”

“I guess I can’t. You’re a young lady now, aren’t you? Very proper. I’ll have to start calling you Miss Aster.”

Siorse’s lip thrust out. “That’s not my name!”

“No? What’s your name?”

“Siorse,” she proclaimed firmly, and he grinned, turning to carry her toward the back door to the house. He’d wanted to distract her from being upset, and it had worked. “Siorse Aster.”

“Siorse Aster. So it is.” He tapped her little upturned nose. “So, Siorse Aster…why did you run away up the tree? You worried your mum sick.”

Siorse screwed her face up, then folded her arms over her chest and glared away. “Mom’s gonna make me go to school and I don’t want to,” she articulated very precisely.

“Why not?”

“Everyone picks on me because I don’t have a dad.” Her voice got small, thick. “And they say really mean thins about Mom.”

Ah, fuck. Vic closed his eyes, barely holding back a curse. How the hell did this still hurt like it was fresh after all these years? He hugged her tighter, stroking her back. “You do have a dad, Peanut.”

“Mom won’t tell me who he is.”

With good reason.

But he smiled, and bent to set her down on her own two feet on the back patio doormat. Bracing his hands on his thighs, he looked at her at eye level. “Tell you what. I’ll be your ad. How about that?”

She toyed with her lower lip, staring at him with wide eyes. “Does that mean you’re gonna marry Mom and live with us?”

“Not quite,” he said with a sigh, and ruffled her hair. “But you can still tell those miserable little jerks you’ve got a dad, and that Dad’s going to be very angry if they’re mean to you and Mum. Besides.” He tweaked her cheek, wiping away a wet track. “You’re still my little girl.”

“All yours?” she asked plaintively.

“All mine,” he said, straightening. “Go get washed up, Peanut. You’re a mess. I’ll take you to school.”

She nodded and turned to drag the patio door open, just in time for Julie to come tearing around the side of the house, slipping in the dewy grass and nearly falling. “Vic? Siorse?! I heard screaming—” She stopped as her gaze landed on her daughter’s retreating back, and she pressed a hand to her chest, leaning over, heaving for breath. “Oh, thank God.”

“Up in a tree like a monkey,” he said, and held out his hand. “She’ll be all right. Kids at school are picking on her. I’d have hid in a tree, too.”

Julie straightened and stepped closer, reaching out to squeeze his hand, offering a watery, grateful smile. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Then she collapsed into one of the patio chairs with an exhausted sigh, rubbing her hand to her eyes. “I didn’t know what to do. I woke up to get some water and her bed was empty, and I freaked out. Police won’t count it as missing persons for twenty-four hours and she wasn’t with the neighbors, so the only person I could think of to call was you.”

“It’s really okay.” He pulled out the chair opposite hers and sank down. “That’s a myth, though. The twenty-four hour thing with missing children. Next time, don’t hesitate to call the police in case there’s something really wrong. I’d rather have them looking sooner than later.”

She stilled, averting her eyes. “…oh. I…” A wince, fingers rubbing over the hollows beneath her eyes. “I hate that I didn’t know that. I’m really that sheltered, huh?”

“If you are, we both know the reasons are complicated. It’s not your fault.”

“Maybe,” she said dispiritedly.

“Are you okay?”

“Just shaken. Siorse’s everything to me and if I lost her…”

“But you didn’t,” he countered—but Julie’s shoulders were shaking, her mouth drawing up, a soft sound in the back of her throat, and he was on his feet in an instant, reaching for her. “Hey. Hey, come here.”

Julie spilled out of the chair and against him, huddling in his arms until she spent herself in quiet tears. He rested his chin to the top of her head, just letting her take shelter. He wished he could just…do something about this entire fucked up situation, but it was what it was and had been that way for all of Siorse’s life.

All he could do was be here, even if he couldn’t fix anything.

Julie sniffled, rubbing at her nose as her quiet sobs began to calm. She laid her cheek against his chest, her slight curving weight warm against him. “Sometimes I wish you really could be her father,” she whispered.

“Ah,” he sighed. “Life’s funny that way.”

She smiled slightly. “Are you late for work?”

“I own the company in nearly every sense of the word. What are they going to do, fire me?” He shrugged. “There’ll be a few aneurysms. It’s all right.”

“Are you, though?” She looked up at him, gaze flicking over his face. “All right, I mean. You look different.”

He blinked, face warming. “I do?”

“Vic.” She stared. “Are you blushing?”

“No!” he growled, then pulled away, rubbing the back of his neck. “…might be. Er. Met someone. Maybe?”

“Really now.” She brightened, and suddenly instead of a tired mother she was every inch a vibrant girl barely older than Vic, plunking back down in the patio chair and propping her chin on her laced fingers. “Dish.”

How the hell did he explain Amani? The way Vic’s chest tightened every time he thought of him, the way that quiet self-possession and effortlessly Bohemian femme beauty caught him and held him not just with the grace and sculpture of Amani’s features, but with the way he radiated that charismatic, compelling presence that could bring anyone to their knees. That had brought him to his knees, bewitched and willing, ready to become a sacrificial offering if that was what his pretty fey thing demanded.

He cleared his throat, ducking his head. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t think he even likes me. He just…sort of lets me cling to his ankles.”

“…his?” Julie arched both brows, then grinned. “Well I’m just learning all kinds of new things about you today.”

“It’s news to me, too.”

“Is it good news?”

“I think it is.” He let his gaze drift away, skimming across the tree line and the low scattered with their underbellies turned to sunrise mother of pearl. “Just…you know, sometimes it feels like every person is a puzzle, but instead of being a box full of all the pieces we need, we spend our whole lives looking for the scattered bits of ourselves and fitting them into place. Some of those bits are scattered inside us, some out there in the world, and we may never find them all…” He smiled slightly. That tight feeling was back in his chest again, and he didn’t mind it one bit. “But I feel like I dug out one of my pieces, and fit it where it belongs.”

“That’s good, Vic. That’s really good.” She stood again, and moved to lean against his arm, her familiarity comforting and warm. “Are you sure that guy doesn’t like you?”

“I’m not sure of anything with him. I only met him a week or two ago.”

“And he’s already got you blushing?” She elbowed him companionably. “He’d better like you. Or I’ll be really mad.”

“I’m sure he’ll fear your wrath,” Vic replied, then glanced back as the patio door slid open behind them.

Siorse had dressed herself in record time, from a little wood urchin to a prim little lady in minutes flat, her hair brushed down into red waves and half clipped back, her face washed, her dirty pajamas replaced by her navy blue school uniform cardigan, skirt, socks, and Mary Janes. She clutched the straps of her backpack, and beelined straight for Vic.

“I’m ready,” she announced primly.

“Siorse, you haven’t even had breakfast,” Julie said—and Siorse pointedly ignored her. Vic sighed, offering his hand.

“C’mon, peanut. We’ll go for pancakes, and then I’ll drop you off.”

She slipped her hand into his, looking up at him. “Will you come to class with me today?”

“I wish I could. But I’ll stay a little.”

“Siorse,” Julie tried again.

Siorse turned her little nose up, pulled her hand from Vic’s, and marched toward the side of the house without saying a word.

Julie turned her head to watch her until she disappeared around the brick, her face falling. Vic arched a brow, then shook his head and reached over to squeeze Julie’s shoulder.

“Let her be mad at you a little,” he said. “She’ll forget by the time she comes home. I’ll pick her up after school, too.”

“You can leave work that early?”

“No,” he said. “But it turns out it’s pretty fun to piss off those grouchy old tossers on the Board. They’ll manage without me for one afternoon.”

She stole another hug, squeezing him tight. “Thank you, Vic.”

“You know I’d do anything for you.” He kissed the top of her head, then pulled away to catch up with Siorse, waving over his shoulder. “Call me if you need anything else.”

l

BUT AS HE STOOD OUTSIDE Siorse’s school, leaning against the Benz and watching her as she disappeared into the gaggle of children with one last enthusiastic wave over her shoulder with syrup-sticky fingers, he couldn’t help frowning, tapping his knuckles against his chin.

Sometimes I wish you really could be her father.

It wasn’t anything he’d ever thought of, but now the idea wouldn’t leave. He’d never pictured himself as someone settled down with a spouse and children, yet it lingered on his mind all day. Especially when he returned home to change for work, and found Amani gone—just the throw folded neatly on the couch, and a little note on a ripped-off scrap of paper.

 

Thanks for breakfast, sweet boy.

 

He smiled slightly, but it didn’t ease the melancholy ache.

Sometimes, his Master was a brat.

But still a brooding cloud hung over him as he dragged through the day at work, dealing with the monotony of meeting after meeting and fire after fire and so many conversations with legal he’d half forgotten English in favor of jargon by the time it was over. And he was still distracted when he walked out on a conference call that afternoon to pick Siorse up from school, and it took her tugging on his jacket as he was driving to get him to realize she was asking him something. He blinked, briefly glancing from the road.

“Sorry, Peanut. Long day. What was that?”

“I said,” she drawled out with exaggerated syllables, “I’m going to be in a play soon. I got picked today. I’m going to be the squirrel princess.” She proclaimed it proudly, lifting her chin. “Will you come see? Please?”

He smiled, and momentarily slipped a hand over to rest it on top of her adorable little head. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Squirrel Princess Aster.”

“Squirrel Princess Siorse,” she corrected, and he laughed.

“You’re absolutely right, your Majesty.”

l

AMANI WASN’T SURE WHAT HE’D find, when the front desk staff buzzed him up to Vic’s apartment that night. Not after the way Vic had left this morning, and not after the knowing looks that had trailed after Amani when he’d left this morning. Almost smug. Like they knew everything there was to know, just because they saw him leaving the morning after in the same clothing he’d worn the night before.

Another reason he couldn’t stand places like this.

People always had their ideas whispered behind their hands, and he had too much pride to lower himself to challenge them.

But he endured the saccharine smiles, the falsely bright Mr. Eee-dree-see, running the gauntlet until the elevator took him upstairs to the promise of solace and at least…at least…

What?

Was he actually looking forward to being with Vic?

Tell yourself the truth. You’re worried about him.

And he thought he might have reason to be worried, when he stepped off the elevator and into the darkened apartment. Vic sat on the sofa, elbows on his knees, hands clasped before his mouth, his brow set in a brooding line as he stared darkly at nothing. He hadn’t even changed into his usual casual jeans, just throwing his suit coat over the sofa and rolling the sleeves of his button-down to his forearms. Amani paused just past the threshold, slipping out of his coat and folding it over his arm as he bent to set his cello case down.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Vic blinked almost sluggishly, then looked up at Amani blankly, before glancing at the clock. “Oh. Fuck. Sorry, I lost track of time.” A wan smile barely ghosted across his lips. “Hey.”

“You don’t look so good.”

“Long day.”

Amani crossed to the sofa and sank down next to Vic, just close enough for their shoulders to touch, and watched him sidelong. “Work?”

“Some of it.” Vic shook his head. He seemed remote, like he wasn’t even really here, but he managed another smile. “Sorry, if you were looking forward to a film, I’m…not much in the mood to go out tonight.” He sighed. “Can we just be here for a bit? There’s TV, there’s…” He gestured listlessly, then let his hand fall to dangle between his legs. “I’m just…tired.”

“Of course, Vic.” Amani hesitated, then curled his hand against Vic’s arm, tugging gently as he settled a bit further back on the couch. “Come here.”

Vic was stiff for one moment, a poorly-lubed marionette, before he went loose and sank down to rest his head in Amani’s lap, draping himself against the sofa. Amani slipping his fingers into his hair, stroking in back in slow rhythm, petting him lie the pup he could so often be.

“Is this about what happened this morning?” he ventured.

“A little.”

“You don’t have to tell me.” He let his thumb trace the curve of Vic’s ear, and watched as his pet slowly closed his eyes, some of his tension bleeding out to leave him limp against Amani’s lap. “Just…is everything all right?”

“Yeah,” Vic said, and turned his head to bury his face against Amani’s thighs, shoulders drooping in a deep exhale. “Everything turned out fine.”

l

AND SO THEY STAYED FOR the rest of the evening. Eventually Amani shifted to lay back with Vic resting between his thighs, draped against his chest, watching over Vic’s shoulder as he toyed with work via the laptop propped on his stomach. They murmured over possibilities for Chinese takeout, both decided they were too tired to get up.

And so they simply were, and Amani realized…he was okay with that.

He’d started to drift off when Vic finally spoke again, breaking the lazy silence. “There’s a company I’m thinking about buying,” he murmured, and Amani cracked one eye open.

“Another one?”

“This one’s different. It’s called Blue Life Delta. They’re this small startup out of Dubai, but they’ve got these really big ideas.” Vic angled the screen so Amani could see a website with multiple realistically rendered CGI photos of ocean vistas with strange geometric islands floating on them, bright against sunsets reflecting off solar panel roofing on cleverly designed little homes. “Sustainable ocean-based communities. Floating man-made habitats designed to survive storm, tsunami, and flood. Solar-powered, ocean-driven, with zero net energy cost. In fact, the floating gardens and forests would put more out into the environment than the communities took, and the anchoring framework would provide a bed for coral reef replenishment.”

Amani smiled slightly, leaning forward to drape his arms around Vic’s neck and rest his chin on his shoulder, hands dangling down his chest as he read over the screen again. “Why that company?”

“Because without massive seed capital they’ll never get beyond a few experimental demo projects, and I think…” As listless as he’d been all night…this was the first time he’d sounded anything but exhausted, a spark of life in his voice, and it eased something inside Amani to hear it. “I think they could make a difference. I want to make a difference. We’re eating this planet alive, and it’s almost impossible to change the current infrastructure without decades, maybe even centuries, of slow incremental work, and by then it’ll be too late. We’d be better off razing every city to the ground and rebuilding. But that will never happen, so…” He tilted his head back against Amani’s shoulder, winter-blue eyes looking up at him. “Extend the frontier. Start over in new territory, and do it right this time. Habitats like these could extend living space in overcrowded areas. Someone just has to be willing to pay enough to cover capital outlay without looking only at ROI.” Those pale eyes gentled, lingering on Amani intently. “I just…I need to do something that’s helpful, Amani. Not just profitable.”

Amani met that near-devoted gaze, curling his hand against Vic’s cheek, tracing his thumb along the high crest of one cheekbone, following it down to the shadow of tired stubble. “Where is all this coming from?”

Vic’s lips curled at the corners. “If I answer, you might push me off you.”

“Probably.”

Vic chuckled, then tilted his head forward again and tapped the laptop. One of the images expanded, unfolding into a panoramic video. “Look.”

Amani watched with Vic as the video swirled through stunningly crafted interiors, highlighting the grace and economic sustainability of architectural designs meant to complement their environment, rather than swallow it, blending from photo after photo of stunning vistas to quiet still life shots of lovers, families, friends ensconced in their floating homes. They made life look so simple, so lovely—as if somehow just by starting over with a new vision for the world, they could somehow erase every injustice and inequality to make things right if they could just balance the world’s resources against some fair and equitable scale.

Idealistic. Unrealistic.

But it was a nice thought, nonetheless.

“They’re beautiful,” he murmured, hugging Vic tighter for a moment. “But something like that could bankrupt you. It could cost billions.”

Vic turned his head, lips hot against Amani’s cheek. “Is it weird that I’m okay with that?”

“No,” Amani said, as he leaned in to capture that beckoning mouth. “That’s not weird at all.”