CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR #3
Theo grabbed the pencil out of my hand and prodded me with it.
‘You come to my home after weeks of ignoring my messages, eat my food, climb up on to my roof, vandalize the sacred height chart and now you insult my hair?
‘Do you know how many sponsors call up my agent specifically to get endorsements for hair products? Paldon, this hair gets me more money than the rest of the sponsors combined.’
‘I think short suits you.’ I shrugged, wanting to segue into the opening I’d spotted. ‘Speaking of sponsors …’
I flopped down into one of the deckchairs, tucking my feet under my legs as the aged wood groaned from the mistreatment.
‘I need a favour.’
He sat in the twin chair, far more gentle than I’d been. He pushed his hair away from his face as he leaned back, watching me. ‘Okay.’
‘So,’ – I launched into the speech I hadn’t prepared.
– ‘I’m working on my physical training, right?
I want to be ready to fly again if I get the chance.
The thing is, a chance won’t happen if I’m not valuable.
It’s like, how do I make people want me?
So I came to the only person I know who can make anybody want him. ’
Theo’s brows rose.
‘No, not that. I mean … it’s like you said with your hair.’ I was rambling. ‘I don’t mean I could do it with my hair, I just mean that I need to start making more money—’
‘Paldon.’
I stopped.
‘What do you want?’
‘You know what … never mind.’ I waved my hands, dismissing the topic. Now that I actually had to say the words it all seemed like a very bad idea.
‘Spit it out, Paldon.’
We locked eyes for a long moment. I could see he was amused, but he was holding it in. If he could resist being an asshole for five minutes maybe I could too.
So I tried again.
‘I’d like your help, please. To make me popular enough to get sponsors. Then maybe a team will hire me.’
A spark of understanding lit his eyes. He pursed his lips and nodded, as he looked up at the sky. Then, without looking, he reached for a bottle of wine from the crate.
‘I see. The wizened old lady comes to the fresh young man for help.’ The five minutes were up. He uncorked the bottle and took a swig. ‘It will be tough, but given my extensive talent I think I should be able to help. Even if I’m starting with nothing.’
I let him have his moment.
‘I’ll have to put together a plan, of course.’
I nodded.
‘It will be hard work.’
I nodded at that too.
‘It will take a lot of effort to make you likeable.’
Theo watched me as I grimaced, doing my best to not argue back. His face lit up. His cheeks bunched up, creating creases at the corners of his eyes. The dimples were deep, like exclamation points either side of his wide grin. I’d seen his smile countless times before.
This time though my stomach fluttered.
It was the same face, the same expression, but I’d never reacted like this before. I felt my ears burning. A similar sensation was building in my cheeks too.
So, I did the only thing that made sense. I grabbed the wine from him and downed as much as I could before coming back for air.
‘Great, yeah, thanks. I appreciate your help.’ I wiped away the leftover wine from my lips with the back of my hand and offered the bottle back to Theo.
‘Well, this should be fun.’ He rummaged in the crate again and pulled out a casting augment. ‘Want to watch some old Volitant races?’
‘Yes,’ I rushed to answer, glad for the distraction.
He chuckled. ‘Don’t worry. We can pick some Bach ones.’
At least he was attributing my awkwardness elsewhere.
‘Chroma or Forge?’ he asked, setting the augment up on top of the crate lid. The counterpart to the orbs used to record the races, this augment projected light on to the chimney stack just like Cam’s did in the kitchen at home.
‘Forge. Anything from the sixties.’ Maybe watching Aloux and Surquet fly would enlighten me on how to use them when chasing down Bach. I hadn’t had the time to watch any old race casts since meeting the dragons. Including Ascil. ‘In fact, could you—’
‘Put on the first race of the Decennial? Yeah, already on it.’ He thumbed the augment controls one-handed while drinking from the wine bottle with the other.
It wasn’t surprising that he’d guessed. I’d talked about that race over and over during our ten years of friendship. Even Josie knew it was my favourite and I’d known her for barely two months. Yet the warmth in my cheeks had turned into a full flush.
Knowing my favourite Volitant race was nothing to blush over.
I repeated that to myself as I sank into the ageing deckchair, bringing my knees up to my chest for protection against my own traitorous thoughts. There was something deeply wrong with me, but it got easier to ignore as the race commentary began.
‘Strap yourselves in, folks. This is the beginning of the rest of your life! After this season we will be forever changed, having witnessed a clash between riders like no other!’
My eyes fixated on the twenty dragons flashing across the projection, chromatic and metallic mixing together, as the announcer’s voice washed over me.