CHAPTER EIGHT
Castor
My body tingled, not ready to leave the high of my fake date with Nova. The high of that kiss.
I leaned against the garage door and squeezed the oversized bear as a flash of blue burned at my fingertips.
For four hours I’d almost forgotten about helical disease.
Nova had done that. Apparently, I had a thing for girls who knew how to humble me.
The best part was how nothing changed after she learned my last name.
She looked at me the same way she had when we first met – like I was someone worth seeing.
Just me, not my family’s legacy. That made the kiss sweeter.
I caught myself humming country pop and stopped.
Damn. I had it bad.
Voices muffled down the hall near the dining room – something that sounded like an impromptu dinner party I wasn’t invited to. I took out my phone and hovered between the call and text apps. Calling felt like too much. It hadn’t even been an hour yet.
Castor
Hey. Did you make it home yet?
Castor
I wanted to check since I couldn’t walk you to your door
Three dots bubbled up as I waited for her response.
Hot-Pink Seven-Speed
Hi. Just made it in.
Hot-Pink Seven-Speed
Thank you. For today I mean. I needed it.
I pressed my lips together to keep from cheesing.
Castor
I needed it too.
Hot-Pink Seven-Speed
How about you? Did you and Sir Bearington B. Bearnette III make it home too?
I raised a brow. Now that was a mouthful.
Castor
Sir Bearington B. Bearnette III?
Hot-Pink Seven-Speed
B3 if you want to keep it classy. You didn’t expect me to win you a plush with my amazing aura and not knight him with an equally amazing name?
I glanced down at B3, a light smirk growing.
Castor
I like it. I guess I owe you a name for your new blowfish.
Hot-Pink Seven-Speed
Correct. You have until midnight. Don’t keep us waiting.
My screen faded to black as I sat there, humming again, cycling through the corniest names ever known to man. It had to be perfect.
‘Great. You’re here.’
Perla poked her head into the hall, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
‘Your mother is looking for you.’
I groaned. ‘Who’s here?’
‘Mayor Whit and his wife.’
‘That’s Grandfather’s territory. Jacinta doesn’t need me to schmooze politicians.’
‘You aren’t wrong,’ said Perla. She crossed her arms. ‘But before I drag you into the dining room at her request, tell me who has you grinning like a golden retriever.’
‘No one.’ I drew my mouth into a thin line. Would that stop me from smiling? No, but it was worth a shot.
Her brow rose. ‘You went out into the sun to run an errand for no one. That hydromorphone shot might promise six to eight hours of relief, but it’s not that good.
I know you still have a dull ache.’ She nodded toward the bear.
‘That looks like you went to the South Beach pier – outside the glassways and a long way from your usual spots. Does the giver of the bear have a name? Does the bear have a name?’
My cheeks burned from holding back this grin.
‘Sir Bearington B. Bearnette the Third, or B3.’ I shook my head. ‘How do you always know everything?’
‘You forget who raised you.’
There was always a familiar twinge in my gut whenever she said that.
I could hardly remember the last time I’d had a moment like this with Jacinta – her noticing something about me without needing it spelled out first. A faint memory bubbled up: me eight years old, bringing home a first-place ribbon from the science fair.
The judges had all been Dominion executives, but my experiment – developing vitamin-enriched water for crops during drought season – was top tier.
Jacinta still kept my ribbon in her office at Dominion headquarters for all the other execs to see.
‘Maybe you can help me, then.’ I pushed the memory aside. ‘What would you name an orange blowfish plush?’
Laughter floated through the air as the door to the dining room opened. Jacinta stood in a mint-julep tweed dress, the gold buttons practically glowing. Somehow she’d managed a fresh manicure to match.
‘Castor, you’re home.’ She curled a beckoning finger. ‘Come say hello to the Whits. And before you start with the negotiations, remember I let you go out today when you should’ve been in bed resting. If you felt well enough to wander the city for hours, you can come show your face.’
I stretched. ‘You’re right. I should be in bed.’ I lifted B3 to signal farewell and turned toward the back stairwell.
‘After you say hello,’ said Jacinta.
Perla touched my shoulder lightly right as pain shot through my nervous system.
It felt like lava in my veins. No one could see it under my tinted SPF, but it wrapped around my biceps down past my elbow – a sharp, searing ache that snaked my arm.
Hadn’t Perla just said the medication would last six to eight hours? What was this?
I gritted my teeth, and Perla noticed.
‘I’ll take Sir Bearington B. Bearnette the Third up to your room,’ she said. ‘Should I have Jorge meet you there?’
Jacinta glanced at her watch. ‘He can’t have another shot so soon. According to our research guarantee, he has another hour or so before he feels any pain. Stop faking, Castor. You’re wearing the tinted SPF already. No one will notice. This will be painless.’
I cringed at her wording but followed her to the dining room.
‘Who names a bear something that ostentatious?’ she muttered.
‘Who names their son Castor Jace Albert Lamar Castillo Fox?’ I countered.
She huffed.
Grandfather and the Whits didn’t notice us at first. They were sitting around the custom walnut table in dark blue velvet chairs, the glass chandelier overhead reflecting the light caught by Mrs Whit’s diamond brooch. Grandfather leaned forward, excitement glinting in his eyes.
‘… oxin will be strong enough to noticeably ease the pain, and affordable enough for even the lower middle class to invest in refillable prescriptions. And it’s cheaper to produce than hydromorphone and perceta, so the profit margins –’ He paused at the sight of me, his blue eyes brightening.
‘We thought we heard you come in. Castor, you remember the Whits – Stanley and Lara Mei.’
Stanley Whit smiled, his veneers almost too white against his aged white skin.
His hair was whiter still, a stark contrast to the dark gray suit he wore.
Mrs Whit matched her husband in her gray-and-white houndstooth jacket and skirt.
Together, the couple looked perfectly polished, as though they’d stepped straight out of one of the mayor’s campaign ads.
Grandfather motioned to an empty seat, and the estate staff quickly placed another setting.
I eyed Jacinta, who did her best to avoid my gaze, and sat down. I knew what this was – another step toward increasing my visibility around all things Dominion, no matter how many times I’d told my mom and grandfather I didn’t want it.
‘Your grandfather was telling us about new developments in his pain medication for those with the disease who choose not to use the Freedom System,’ said Mayor Whit.
‘Oxin. Stronger, more effective, larger profit margins to go around. It should be ready in time for the election, fresh in voters’ minds at the polls.
Another win for the People’s Astrum Party as the Whits and the Foxes continue to uplift Alta Bay.
’ He clinked his glass against Grandfather’s.
Pain flared through my leg beneath the table, and I gripped my knee.
Stronger, more effective medicine. It had only been one day since discovering I had helical disease, but it already sounded like something I badly needed.
I realized I’d gone out today without giving Grandfather my biosig to enter the Freedom System.
I’d have to do that first thing in the morning. I wouldn’t last days with this pain.
‘Your commitment to the city is appreciated,’ I managed. ‘And the timing with the election –’
‘Perfect enough to confirm the mayoral seat for Stanley,’ Jacinta interrupted.
‘I don’t know,’ Mrs Whit said. ‘As much as I want to believe in my Stanley, that Moorehouse boy is gaining in the polls.’ I winced at her calling a grown man a boy.
‘He’s an accomplished young man ready to make change,’ said Grandfather. ‘After your husband’s win, we should partner with Mr Moorehouse. He’s advocating for extending the glassways south of Sunrise Avenue. Maybe that’s a concession Stanley can make to bring the parties together post-election.’
Stanley frowned. ‘With no profit –’
‘To better Alta Bay,’ Grandfather said, nodding toward me.
I straightened in my seat, attempting to rub away the pain in my leg.
‘If there’s one thing I’ve learned from Grandfather, it’s that the People’s Astrum Party believes in encouraging corporations to give back.
We strive to create a thriving upper echelon that lifts everyone to stand beside it and eliminate class divides,’ I recited.
The mandatory family public relations training always found a way to pay off.
‘And we love a good tax break.’ Mrs Whit sipped her drink.
I clenched my jaw as another jolt of pain surged, this time up my neck. The Whits didn’t notice.
Grandfather did. I relaxed my jaw.
‘If you will all excuse Castor,’ he said. ‘He has an early-morning commitment to prepare for. Castor, I’ll have Perla bring up your dinner.’
I stood, murmuring my thanks. ‘It was great seeing you both.’
Mayor Whit extended his hand, and I breathed deeply through the handshake.
Every touch felt like fire on the surface, pure magma in my veins beneath.
As I let go, pain bolted through my legs and I almost crumpled to the floor.
I caught myself on the table, my palm slapping the edge of Mrs Whit’s plate, her last bites of coconut curry spilling across the surface.
‘Stars, are you all right, boy?’ Mayor Whit eyed me as he and his wife drew away.