One side effect of this whole AHI business has been that I’ve been checking in with Kev more often, which if he’s noticed, he hasn’t mentioned. Or maybe he likes it. He’s a family guy, my brother. Likes to stick close to home, was kinda mad when I left to live in LA. Dutiful son, good brother, that’s Kevin.

For all the grief I’ve caused him over the years—ruining his stamp collection by licking every damn one and sticking them on his poster of the periodic table, busting his rock tumbler, getting viruses on his homemade computer from downloading too much porn—I can spare someone else’s family the heartache I can imagine if Kevin were to get deported.

I’ve got a few hours before I’m supposed to be at Teague’s—Christian’s playing a gig with Dylan and Rowan’s gearing up for a competition so Teague and Zane are at loose ends. Nick is…well, Nick’s always a loose end. More like a loose cannon.

I’m going to use some of it to talk to my brother, to hear him chatter at me absent-mindedly while he goes about his business and remind myself of how fucking lucky we are and that some families don’t have this, but they could because of Jordan and AHI. So I swipe and press and wait while I kick back on my couch, arm wrapped around my ribcage and hand tucked under my armpit. Nervous habit, not an attractive one, but I’ll worry about it later.

“You’ve reached Kevin Park.”

“You keep answering the phone like that, and people are going to think they’re getting your voicemail. And you know who’s calling, can’t you just say ‘Hi, Benj’?”

There’s a weird sound on the other end, like bodily weird, and—what the fuck have I called Kev in the middle of? And why on earth did he pick up the phone? I’m used to this from Nick who will answer the phone in the middle of damn near anything, but not my squeaky clean brother.

“I don’t have my watch on because—” Aw, hell, another fart noise, and my nose wrinkles, because come on. If you’ve got the squirts, just don’t pick up. “—I’m elbow-deep in a bowl of sourdough.”

Ah, that would explain it. Breadmaking, Kevin’s newest hobby. He’s a nerd, so he likes tinkering with the chemistry of the recipes and making his own starters and…I don’t know, I’m not the carb scientist. I just like eating the results of his experiments.

“Cool, cool.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a department meeting tomorrow and I promised I would bring a few loaves. I’ve got labs all day tomorrow so I have to do it now.”

Yep. Whereas I can pretty much guarantee that I’d show up with something I unwrapped from the nearest grocery store. If I remembered to bring the damn thing at all. But that does get me started on thinking about what kind of sandwiches Teague is going to make tonight…

“So, did you call for something, or…?”

“Do I need a reason to check in on my big brother?”

“No, but you usually have one.”

More squelching sounds and I can’t help it, I laugh. My universe is absurd right now.

“Could you just not be twelve for a few minutes?”

I can picture him rolling his eyes at my immaturity and dragging his biceps across his forehead to get some hair out of his face while his hands and forearms are covered with dough.

“Mmm, probably not. And what are you going to do anyway, tell Mom on me? But, hey, did she tell you I’ll be home for the weekend? So I hope you’ll save some of that bread. Sourdough’s my favorite.”

And because he’s earnest to a fault and probably only paying me half of his attention, he mumbles, “Won’t be good by then. I’ll make some more.”

“How’s your stuff going, besides being the department carb-pusher?”

“Fine.”

He perks up a bit, and I can tell he’s devoting more attention to our conversation now. He loves talking about his work, and will rattle on about it forever without seeming to care if I understand all that much of it. Sometimes it makes me impatient, but today I’m just glad to hear his voice and let his reliable chatter soothe my frayed nerves.

It’s been about ten minutes of him yammering on when there’s a beep telling me I have another call. Pulling the phone away from my ear, Jordan Kennedy flashes on the screen.

“Heyo, Kev? Sorry to interrupt this fascinating lecture on…”

“Phylogenetic inference?”

“Yeah, that. But I’ve got a call coming in I have to take.”

“Tell Stan I say hi.”

I don’t correct him or say goodbye as I switch over to Jordan. It’s weird, but I haven’t mentioned the whole AHI thing to Kevin. Like if I do, it’s somehow worth less? I’m not doing this to feel proud of myself or for cookies or pats on the head or whatever. I’m sure my mom will mention it over the weekend though. Hell, I hope she’s told all her friends and the ladies at the nail salon and in her yoga class. She deserves sons she’s proud of. And hopefully this isn’t Jordan calling to cancel and ruin my plans.

“Hey, Jordan. Everything okay?”

“Yes, everything with the show is going according to plan, if that’s what you’re asking. And second, I swear that when I get burnt out on this job, I’m going to do something that only requires me to give good news. I don’t know exactly what that would be, but dammit, I’m going to find something because I want people to be happy when they see me pop up on their phones.”

“I’m happy now, does that count?”

It’s slipped out, but I’m not sorry. I always like talking to her. She’s smarter than I probably understand but she doesn’t make me feel like I’m not intelligent. She just tells me what I need to know in a way that I’ll understand.

There’s a beat of silence and it leaves room for the song to start playing again in my head. It’s working itself out more now, and maybe I can get it finished enough that I’ll be able to play it for Zane and he can help me polish it up. Or not. It’s not the kind of thing I can rush.

“I, um, was actually calling about an accounting matter.”

She’s put her professional voice back on, sort of. Kind of a fake one, like she’s trying to sound all buttoned up and prissy but is actually teasing me? I like it, a lot.

“Don’t you have people for that? Like, accountants?”

She snorts, and I grin. Got her. Didn’t mean it to be quite so funny, but whatever. I like it when I can get her to laugh. Which dammit, someone should because it’s an awesome sound.

“I do, but some of my staff is actually intimidated by you.”

“Have you tried explaining that I’m a giant goofball who just happens to not suck at playing the keyboard?”

“I did, in fact, try telling them that, and yet here we are.”

“Yep. So, what’s up? I’m pretty sure I donated some money to AHI, right?”

Maybe the money wouldn’t have made it if I were actually in charge of that, but I’m not. And the people I pay to be on top of that stuff are pretty good at their jobs. Not that there hasn’t been the occasional hiccup, but there’s a reason Jordan’s calling me herself and not just having her people talk to my people. I’d like to think it’s because she wanted to talk to me, hear my voice and my foolish jokes, but I don’t dare hope too hard.

“You did…twice, in fact.”

Ah. Right. And now I know what this is about. And the side of my mouth tips up without me meaning for it to. We’re going to play this game, huh? I can play clueless. Hell, sometimes it’s not playing, but this time it is.

“Oh yeah? They sent two checks?”

“No.” I can tell from her slow statement of the obvious that she knows what we’re doing. If I’m doing this right, she’s got a smile on her face too, is maybe shaking her head but fondly because she thinks I’m an okay guy. I’m trying to be. “There was only one check, but it was made out for double the amount that you’d pledged—which wasn’t small.”

No, it wasn’t, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s a bargain.

“And that’s a problem?” I’m about to snort myself because this is fun.

When she responds, I can tell she’s just as close to descending into giggles, and what I wouldn’t give to hear that.

“Yes, Mr. Park. Our billing needs to be accurate and this…oversight is causing us some difficulties.”

Mr. Park? I’ve gotten kind of used to people calling me that, but I don’t like it. I wave them off and tell them to call me Benji whenever possible because I’m not that guy. Jordan’s teasing me though, and for once I don’t mind. She can call me Mr. Park all damn day if she wants to, and I’d even put on a tie so she could wind it around her hand while she did. Maybe use it to tug me down to kiss.

“I see. Well, in that case, uh, keep the change.”

That’s when I lose it. Real hard, and Jordan follows close behind.

“You’re such an asshole, you know that? ‘Keep the change?’ We’re talking about tens of thousands of dollars.”

Her Benji impression is terrible and I’m glad for it. I like the way she talks. I get a grip and try to be serious because I don’t want her to think I’m actually an asshole. I mean, I can be, but not about this stuff.

“No, I know. And it’s not chump change at all. But for me—and you’re going to think I’m an even bigger jackass—it’s a drop in the bucket. It’s not going to make a difference to my bottom line if I double the amount of my donation. But I figured it might make a big difference to someone else. So keep it. Use it to pay off people’s bills or take on more clients who can’t pay. You can do that, right?”

There’s another beat, and the notes that have been swirling in the back of my mind suddenly edge into a saccharine-sweet progression. I might have to tone it down so people don’t puke because of the ear sugar, but that’s how her little huffed laugh feels to me. Like honey.

“Yeah, I’m sure we can find something to do with a pile of extra money.”

I hear some typing, and I hope she’s shooting off an email to the accounts staff telling them it wasn’t an error and what to use the money for. Even though what she called about has been taken care of and she’s probably busy, I don’t want her to go. Not yet. If she’s super slammed, there’s no way she’ll hesitate to tell me she’s got to run—she’s done it before and it didn’t make me feel bad. Made me feel like if she was trying to get something done for her client and someone was trying to flirt with her, she’d have her priorities and stick with them. But, on the off chance she wouldn’t mind sparing a few minutes to chat with me too? That’s a chance I’m willing to take.

“Cool. So, now that that’s taken care of, what are you doing this weekend? I’m headed home to spend some time with my family.”

“Me too. Headed to Philly for my baby sister’s sweet sixteen.”

And the song plays on. I think I’ll be able to finish this one.