Chapter Four
CHAPTER FOUR
‘Get up!’ Hugo ordered. ‘Let’s go.’
‘Go where?’ Kya asked, eyes glued to her phone. She’d been scrolling all afternoon, curled up on the couch with Lucky at her feet. The guys had dragged her out of bed for what they’d called a mental health matinee. It started at the gym, the setting of the epic run-in with ‘Call me Quinn’, then brunch, followed by a quick stop at the farmers’ market. That was enough for today. She wasn’t leaving this house under any circumstances.
‘Golden Hour,’ Hugo replied.
‘I need more information.’
‘On the water. Chill vibes. Great drinks.’
Kya lowered the phone and locked eyes with Hugo. ‘Is this another Quinn thing?’
‘It is,’ he said. ‘Why? Is that a problem?’
Honestly, no. She owed ‘Call me Quinn or I don’t answer’ yet another apology for having botched the first one this morning. Kya had been in a mood then. She’d spent her time at the gym shadowboxing with her own demons. She still hadn’t heard from her actual friends and was much too sad to consider making new ones, but maybe she could get it together and apologize properly.
‘Fine.’ She swung her legs off the edge of the couch. ‘Let’s go.’
Golden Hour was a waterfront bar off the Venetian causeway. The main building’s 1960s DNA was intact with its yellow, green, and icy blue colour palette extending to the pool deck. Some patrons came by boat left tethered to the dock. Kya and Hugo arrived just in time for happy hour. The featured cocktail was a spicy margarita. They both hated when a clever bartender dropped a couple of slices of jalape?o in a classic cocktail and labelled it ‘spicy’. All the same, they ordered two.
The bar was crowded. Kya left Hugo to find someplace quiet to sit. There’d be time enough to catch up with Quinn. She found a lounge chair at a remote corner of the deck and immediately resumed doom-scrolling while contemplating her own fate.
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‘Look who’s here!’
Kya shivered at the sound of the familiar voice. Quinn had caught up with her. Dressed for the stage, her halo eclipsed the setting sun.
‘Kya Reid, are you sure you’re not stalking me?’ she asked.
‘This was Hugo’s idea,’ Kya said.
‘Mine, actually,’ Quinn said. ‘I thought you might prefer this venue over the last. And I’m glad you came.’
Naturally, this only made Kya feel petty and small. ‘Listen, I owe you an apology.’
‘Another one?’ Quinn asked, bewildered. ‘What are you apologizing for now?’
‘For being a bitch this morning.’
‘Some things can’t be helped,’ she said with a shrug. ‘We are who we are.’
There was little Kya could say in her defence. She’d never been in the running for Miss Congeniality but getting fired had made her extra bitchy, like a drop of jalape?o in an otherwise unremarkable drink.
‘Come with me,’ Quinn said.
‘Where to?’
Kya was reluctant to leave the comfort of her lounge chair. She’d done what she’d set out to do and was ready to hang it up for the evening.
‘Out of the sun, for one thing,’ Quinn replied. ‘Wouldn’t that be nice?’
She took the tone of a professional nanny, skilled at handling difficult children.
‘You don’t have to babysit me,’ Kya said, adopting the tone of an irritable toddler.
‘Kya, I’ve got a set to play,’ Quinn said. ‘Are you coming or not?’
The answer was no; the single syllable was at the tip of her tongue. Then Quinn extended a hand and, without a second thought, Kya abandoned her lounge chair, her spicy margarita, and her will to fight.
At the DJ’s podium, Quinn introduced her to the audio engineer, Mario, and with that introduction, Kya had a way into her world.
‘Will you show me what you do?’ Kya asked.
Mario furrowed his thin brows. ‘Really?’
‘Yes, really.’
He gave her a quick and dirty tour that left Kya with more questions. She unleashed her curiosity on Quinn. ‘What’s all this?’ she asked, pointing to the decks covered in buttons, knobs, and levers.
‘A standard two-deck console,’ Quinn answered. ‘That’s the mixer in the middle.’
‘Mario says the equipment belongs to the bar. Do you store your music on a portable drive?’
Quinn nodded as she slipped her headphones around her neck. ‘That’s how it works.’
‘Sorry to annoy you with so many questions. The geek in me can’t help it.’
‘It’s not annoying,’ Quinn said. ‘Most people don’t care what I do up here so long as they have a good time down there.’
‘Most people are stupid,’ Kya said, just as a fresh spicy margarita appeared from nowhere.
Mario returned. ‘Ready when you are.’
Quinn turned to Kya. ‘The Q the last post dated back years. The thumbnail photo was of a much younger Quinn with blue streaks in her curly hair. She had the same bright eyes and engaging smile. The outdated profile stated that she was a London-based DJ. Her genre was house/hip-hop. Music was her passion, life was a party, and on and on. Kya shut the laptop. The girl lived in a glitter-filled snow globe. In her world, a fun night out with friends counted as work. No one could make her redundant. No one could end her career via email. Was she aware of a looming recession? Was there a crunch in techno world? No! Life was a party!
Lucky scratched at her door. This time, Kya welcomed the distraction. It kept her from the sad truth. She was eager as Lucky to get into Quinn’s world. Only a thin amount of pride kept her from scratching at Quinn’s door.