Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Two
“You should have seen it! She was incredible!”
Aila spread her arms, nearly knocking her plate of fish and chips off the table. A blue striped umbrella stood overhead, shade against spring mornings growing warmer. The ocean-themed food pavilion was decorated in rope nets and replica fishing traps, concrete inlaid with a colored glass mosaic of a Movasi kelp forest and merlions swimming between the fronds. Beyond the plaza, patrons gathered at a two-story-tall aquarium window, framed in timber like a shipwreck. The exhibit was one of Sam Tamculo’s claims to fame, rivaled only by the gargantuan Aquarium of the Middle Sea in the Naelo Archipelago.
A tentacle shot into view. Onlookers shouted in delight as the red-ringed kraken swam past, a blur of suckers and blinking bioluminescence, sloshing cold water (pumped fresh from the San Tamculo Harbor) over the exhibit rim. Several children standing in the yellow splash zone were treated to a deluge that left them soaked and cackling.
Across the table, Connor munched his fries with brow raised, a few extra wisps of dark hair tousled across his temple by the spring breeze. Finally, a date where Aila felt at home. Work boots instead of fancy shoes. Greasy food in checkered paper. Feral pigeons bobbed at her feet, making quick work of the crumbs she dropped for them.
“Incredible, you say?” Connor sounded skeptical. Entirely warranted. Aila herself was still reeling with Luciana-as-a-tolerable-human skepticism.
“Yeah!” She crunched a mouthful of battered fish, sharp with lemon and tartar sauce. “There was fire everywhere! But Luciana waltzed in like it was nothing.”
“Sounds harrowing.”
“She picked up Carmesi no problem.”
“Right.”
“And both birds were so calm around her! I knew she was good with animals, but wow .”
“Glad she was there.” Connor’s comments came timely. Polite. Not half as enthusiastic as Aila’s animated hand-flailing.
Was she talking too much already? They’d barely sat down with their food.
“Oh. Sorry.” She shrank. “It’s just so exciting. Luciana’s been helping all week, more supervised visits for Rubra and Car-mesi. I wouldn’t call them warm yet, but they’re starting to calm down around each other.”
A miracle. All thanks to Luciana.
Connor looked doubtful. “I thought the two of you were, like, mortal enemies?”
Tanya had raised the same point, resulting in several spirited conversations and secret pro/con lists on their office whiteboard. That was different. For all Tanya’s teasing, she always circled back to praise for Aila “finally getting your shit together like an adult.”
Connor’s tone rang of disapproval, making Aila deflate like an untied balloon.
“I mean, we were mortal enemies. Nemeses. Something like that.” She poked a fry, mouth pinched. “Until last week, when Luciana decided to finally act like a reasonable person.” And when Aila realized she might be holding some unfair grudges herself. “Who knew?”
“Just be careful, yeah?”
“What do you mean?”
Connor leaned forward with that melting smile, his warm hand blanketing Aila’s. “People who change their tune too quickly. Sometimes, it doesn’t last. Be careful.” He squeezed her fingers. “You’ve got such a big heart, Aila. Got to take care of it.”
Aila’s heart pummeled her chest like the waves at the kraken exhibit.
The first in the world, Director Hawthorn loved to boast. He’d floated the idea of a new zoo experience, paid dives for patrons, but plans for protective cages had yet to earn approval from the donor board. Even if he perfected the idea, Aila would be the last to line up. She trembled at the thought of sinking below water, a kraken lurking in the depths.
She settled for a laugh. A blush as she and Connor returned to their lunch. This date was a second chance. Better not screw it up.
“How have things been with you?” she asked.
“Busy. Start of mating season for the green-plumed dragons, so they’re a handful, gnawing branches off every tree in sight to build their nests.”
Aila nodded. Yes. Good. Talking about work kept things easy.
“And Vera?” she asked. “How’s she handling the change of weather?”
“Always a little grumpy when days start getting warm again.” He winked. “An afternoon with the snow machine cheers her right up.”
But on their last date, Connor said he didn’t want to talk about work. What was this, then? Had he misspoken before? Was he humoring her now? Aila fidgeted with the edge of the plastic tablecloth, pretending to inspect her fries.
Another whoosh of water sounded from the kraken exhibit. Patrons cheered.
“Water must be freezing,” she observed. “This early in the season.”
Connor shrugged. “Doesn’t ruin the novelty, I guess.”
Rancid dragon spit, why was this so hard ? All Aila had to do was speak. Hold a basic conversation with the very attractive man who was very interested in her for some unfathomable reason. A simple lunch at the zoo. That was all this was.
Phoenix fire seemed less scary.
Aila felt her last hopes slipping away as Connor laid his phone on the table—a glass screen, infinitely more interesting than a bumbling date. He frowned and tapped through some blocks of text, a few lines and colors that Aila’s uneducated brain vaguely registered as stock trends. It was the only lifeline she had.
“So,” she said. “Um… How did you get into stock trading?”
Connor glanced up at her. Down at the screen. Back to her. His frown stayed.
“My dad was into it.”
Right. He’d told Aila that, but she’d let the tidbit drift away in the sea foam of a disastrous first date. She waited for him to call her out, to shame her for forgetting something so personal.
Instead, concern pinched Connor’s face, as if he worried Aila might imminently fall out of her chair (possible).
“It’s just nothing I’ve ever been into,” she blurted. “Stock trading. Not that that’s a bad thing. Just not my thing. People can be into different… things.”
She ought to throw herself into the kraken exhibit. Be done with it.
Connor studied her for—even to Aila’s stunted understanding—a moment too long. “No. Wasn’t my thing, either.” He scrolled his phone screen with one finger, not looking at it, the type of idle motion Aila knew too well. “My dad got a kick out of it, but he wasn’t any good. Got into… a bit of debt. I offered to help him out.” He shrugged. “Guess the hobby stuck. Finally something we can do together.”
Aila sat stricken, fry grease and salt coating her fingers, mouth ajar.
She’d never asked… She’d never wondered… She’d just assumed stock trading was about the most mind-numbing hobby she could imagine, without ever letting Connor explain. Beneath that perfect smile, there was suddenly something softer, more vulnerable, a completely different side of him she’d never bothered looking for.
Just like with Luciana.
So why didn’t Aila feel the same relief? The guilt of it left her sticky. Sour. Even more fidgety than before.
“Aila? Is everything all right?”
She froze as if caught in a crime, a tower of fries assembled on her plate.
“Well, actually.” A misjudged poke sent the fry tower tumbling. She cringed. “Luciana is doing a big interview with the Movasi National News soon. I should probably be there.”
Excuses. Escapes. The only things Aila was good at.
“Oh.” Connor leaned back in his chair. “I didn’t think you did interviews?”
“Oh, no. Not me. Skies and seas, no.” Aila waved her hands, jittery at the mere thought of cameras and microphones. “But I should be around. For support, you know.”
“Of course. In that case…”
He leaned to press a kiss to her cheek. The warmth of his breath caressed her skin, laced with the pleasant scent of pine.
“Thanks for lunch.” His lips teased the edge of hers.
Aila struggled to keep herself on the chair in a single, non-liquid piece. “My pleasure.”
“Can we do this again soon?”
“Again? Soon? ” Panic tightened Aila’s throat. She’d spent weeks working up courage for this outing. To say nothing about her busy schedule of phoenix bonding, food ordering, pond cleaning…
“It doesn’t have to be a big thing!” Connor said with a crime-worthy blush. “No fancy dinners, if you don’t want to. We can keep things small. Easier, for someone like you?”
Aila felt like she’d been drenched with cold kraken water.
Aila, the simple little girl of plastic tablecloths and zoo fries, not nice restaurants. Of silly animal talk, not deep conversations. Don’t move too fast, or she might spook.
“Sure,” she said. “I’ll… let you know?”
Connor’s smile cracked her like a rotting egg.
Armed with excuses, she downed the last of her lunch, then fled toward the safety of the phoenix complex.
As she swerved through the flow of midday zoo patrons, her thoughts swarmed, more confused than ever. Clearly, Connor was into her, or he’d have dropped her like a moldy grapefruit by now. Clearly, she was into him , her heart fluttering like pixie wren wings in her chest, the warmth of his lips lingering on her cheek.
None of these reassurances calmed her nerves. No matter how hard she tried to enjoy their time together, she still tensed around him. Something still squirmed in her stomach (not in the good way) while she scrambled for the right thing to say. If she could just pull herself together, get out of her own head.
Someone like you. Aila had only ever been “someone like you,” not someone who made sense to normal people.
The interview excuse was only a small fib. Luciana had scheduled a monster of an interview for later that afternoon, the biggest news channel to cover the phoenix story yet. That drama remained several hours off. Plenty of time for Aila to hole away in the phoenix complex, safe from the crowds and cameras.
Or so she’d planned.
When she stepped inside the keeper room, she froze.
Unfamiliar boxes lined the counter, an uncharacteristic array of chrome and fancy plastic for a zoo. Inside, Aila spied handles of several… hairbrushes? A box of tiered nail polish. Cans of hairspray and shiny tubes of liquid mascara.
Before the banquet of torture instruments, Luciana stood with a devious grin, fingers laced like a supervillain.
“Welcome, Aila,” she said with cold menace.
Aila screamed and ran for the door.
Freedom. So close. Her own sanctuary, tainted. She clawed for the door handle, but a firm arm caught her around the waist and lifted her off the ground.
“Hold on, Ailes,” Tanya said. “Where are you running to?”
“ Betrayer! ” she shouted, feet kicking.
“Now, girlie, just hear us out.”
“Villain! Fiend!”
“Horns and fangs,” Luciana said. “Is this normal?”
Tanya shrugged. “More or less.”
Aila squirmed until Tanya deposited her into a chair, hands pinning her shoulders, the counter of bottles and rainbow pigments spread before her like pretty poisons.
“What in all the skies and seas are you freaking out about?” Luciana brandished a tube of mascara. “This little thing? It won’t kill you.”
So the witch’s ruse of kindness proved false after all, a devious trick to lower Aila’s guard. “ You’re doing the interview today. Why do I have to look nice?”
“Well…” Luciana’s phoenix-red nails drummed the mascara. Confirmation of Aila’s darkest fears.
“You don’t have to do the interview,” Tanya said in her best Aila-placating tone. “But you’re Rubra’s keeper, Ailes. Wouldn’t it be good to at least show up? Look nice on camera? You know your ma will be beside herself.”
“If we can make her look presentable.” Luciana inspected a chrome-handled hairbrush that glinted like a dagger.
“You agreed to this?” Aila demanded of Tanya. “You agreed with her ?”
A decade of friendship. How could Aila have trusted Tanya so long, only to be sold out in her hour of greatest need?
“You’ve worked for this how long?” Luciana said. “Don’t you want to take some credit?”
“She makes a good point,” Tanya agreed. “Glamor queen or not.”
“You’re calling me a glamor queen?” Luciana gestured to the line-up of beauty products. “Most of these are Tanya’s.” Then, thoughtful, “Excellent quality, too.”
Tanya clicked her tongue. “You know I came late to the game, Luc. Got to make up for lost time, all those years dressing as a boy. So few options for accessories.”
As they talked over her, Aila slumped in her chair with putty arms on the rests, pouting. Useless friends. Both of them.
“Every interviewer has asked for you, Aila.” Luciana spoke like a prosecutor, Aila pinned to the witness stand. “You’re our head phoenix keeper. I can deflect smaller requests, but Movasi National News is the biggest in the country. You need to make a public statement at least once.” Her voice dropped to something goading. Something too intimate. “Do it for Rubra?”
Aila hissed at the low blow.
The witch was right. Rubra deserved the best.
“I don’t have to talk?” Aila clarified. “That’s the deal?” If all she had to focus on was not fainting on camera, she might stand a chance.
“If that’s what you want.” Luciana rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to talk. Walk out with me, I introduce you, then all you have to do is stand up straight and not pass out while—”
“Fine. I’ll do it.”
Sparring with Luciana always required Aila to be on guard. No less so when Luciana’s brow lifted, cherry lips wrapped in a surprised O .
“What?” Aila demanded.
“You never agree to anything that easy.”
“Well… maybe… because you actually asked this time.” Aila crossed her arms, a splintered shield against Luciana’s victory smirk. “And you’re right, Rubra deserves the best. Just don’t make me look ridiculous. Please? ”
Tanya, the cunning moth, gave her a side hug. “You’re in good hands, Ailes.”
Aila trusted one of them, at least. As for the other one…
“We’ll do our best.” Luciana ran slender nails through Aila’s hair, making her jump. Snagging on frizz. “Why is your hair so sweaty?”
Aila’s cheeks warmed. “Well, probably from—”
“Better question.” Tanya pulled up a chair. “How was lunch with Connor?”
“ Connor? ” Luciana’s nose wrinkled.
“Don’t scrunch your nose,” Tanya chided. “That boy’s a snack.”
“To each their own,” Luciana muttered.
Aila had never considered Luciana’s taste in men. Or otherwise. The woman was a stunning persimmon mantis, always a flock of boys ogling her during college, never anyone at her side. Logical to assume that was thanks to Luciana biting the head off anyone bold enough to approach. What was her taste, then?
Why did Aila care?
The thought cut off as she was dragged into the kitchen, their new industrial sink large enough for Aila’s head to get shoved under the water. She yelped at the cold.
“Stop struggling!” Luciana ordered, holding her below the faucet. “This will be over faster if you sit still!”
Death by drowning, then. Aila hadn’t envisioned her demise would smell so pleasant, like mango shampoo.
It smelled like Luciana.
Aila returned to her chair with a towel draping her shoulders, hair in wet auburn clumps. Luciana set to work with a blow dryer. Good luck with that. Aila owned one herself, but could never accomplish more than a frizzed mess. Tanya took the chair beside her and inspected Aila’s nails, tutting over colors of polish.
“So, Connor.” She brushed on a clear coat with precise strokes. “How was lunch?”
Aila groaned and slumped in her chair, earning her a pinch from Luciana. She straightened beneath the blow-dryer onslaught.
“What are you groaning for?” Tanya said. “You’re supposed to come back here all giggles and butterflies.”
“Do I have to talk about it?” Aila complained.
“Ailes. You made poor Teddy sign a contract. You’d better believe I’ll look out for you the same.”
“A… contract?” Luciana said.
“The BFF–Boyfriend contract.” Tanya tilted Aila’s nails to inspect the coat. “There’s a copy on file in the desk somewhere. We each got a notarized version.”
“That’s one of the most absurd things I’ve ever heard.” Luciana’s voice dipped, barely audible over the blow dryer. “Sweet, though.”
If only sweet were enough.
“You know how I am,” Aila said. “The simplest situation, and I go overthinking everything. I’m a hopeless mess.”
“A good boy should make you a good mess,” Tanya argued.
“It’s exhausting, making sure I say the right thing.”
“You shouldn’t have to worry about saying the right thing. You should be able to act yourself.”
“Myself hasn’t gotten a successful date in twenty-eight years.”
Tanya’s scowl, Aila expected. The hmph from Luciana, she assumed must be frustration over her hair.
Talking about Connor left her shoulders tight, jaw set hard enough to give her a headache. She willed her muscles to relax, begged her thoughts to stop looping over what she could have said differently. None of her efforts made a dent in the anxiety.
Instead, it was the brush of Luciana’s fingers through her hair that settled her.
Luciana slid a nail along Aila’s scalp to part the strands. Her brush pulled the section taut, then the heat of the blow dryer sank into Aila’s skin, air swimming with sweet mango. Haircuts had always seemed a chore, never pampering like this. When the first dried strands fluttered over Aila’s cheeks, they seemed too soft to be real.
Before she could think better of it, her eyes drifted closed. She grounded herself with deep breaths, focusing on the solid chair beneath her, the hum of the blow dryer.
A tingle went down her neck each time Luciana’s hand brushed her ear.
Tanya made a masterpiece of her nails—red and gold swirling like the flames of a phoenix tail. Luciana finished drying her hair, then pulled out a curling iron. That contraption, Aila had never attempted. Witchcraft as far as she was concerned, an easy path to burn her fingertips off.
Luciana spun it like a magic wand, wrapping Aila’s hair into wisps of spider-silk. Just further confirmation of her being a witch—though maybe not entirely devious.
Tanya ordered Aila’s eyes closed, then came at her with the eyeliner. Next, a brush of shadow, though when Aila tried to peek at the color, Tanya swatted her. At last, they set down their tools. Aila felt like an animal on exhibit as the pair inspected their work, nodding to each other. Her dread boiled when Tanya handed her a mirror.
Aila had never considered herself a pretty girl. She had neither the time nor skill to tame her hair, so she tied it away in frizzy buns and ponytails. Her hands jittered too much to apply the makeup she admired so much on other women, nor did she have the sharpest sense for colors. She made the mistake of wearing mascara one time in high school. Every kid in her class pointed her out. Who was the quiet girl trying to impress? Who was she trying to be ?
She never wore make-up again.
That dull, familiar look, Aila was used to. It was safe. How absurd would she seem, wearing anything else?
Just one afternoon. Just one interview. A small price to pay to see Tanya beaming. She steeled herself, then raised the mirror.
Aila blinked in surprise.
No. Not what she’d expected at all.
“You like it?” Tanya asked, bouncing in her chair.
“It’s…” Aila swallowed. “How is it so perfect ?”
But of course, Tanya knew her better than anyone. In contrast to her bold colors, Tanya applied Aila’s makeup in the subtlest strokes, a tasteful black to accent her lashes, the most devious hint of phoenix red above her eyes.
A red that matched Aila’s hair. Gone were the frizzy strands she’d warred with in the mirror that morning, replaced by silky curls. When Aila tilted her head, the coils bounced against her cheeks in a delightful way, springy and soft. She tilted her head again, unable to stop herself.
When she noticed Luciana’s smirk, Aila froze, cheeks burning.
“How…? How do I look?” Aila asked.
The smirk fled. Luciana blinked, an uncharacteristic wideness in those smoky eyes.
“It doesn’t matter what I think,” Luciana dismissed. “Only how you feel.”
“Well, sure.” Aila’s cheeks burned hotter. She twirled a finger around a perfect curl. “I know. I was just curious what you thought. Since you do the publicity thing more. You know.”
Nothing weird about that. Why was Aila making it weird?
Luciana hesitated. Skies and seas, why was she making it weird?
“I…” Luciana chewed her lip. “I think you look really nice, Aila.”
Aila might have fallen out of her chair, if Tanya hadn’t grabbed her into a hug.
“More than nice,” Tanya said. “Stunning. Fierce .”
“Right. Fierce,” Aila mumbled, her cheek smushed against Tanya’s shoulder.
Luciana stared at her. Silent. Lip caught in her teeth and lashes veiled in a way that made Aila’s blood warm. Trying to gauge the mess they were stepping into?
That had to be it.
“Ready for your interview?” Luciana asked.
“Just make sure to catch me when I pass out,” Aila said.
She hoped it was a joke.