her head. “No, no. You don’t have . . . don’t . . . why are you . . . what’s happening?”
“I’m going to give your ballet company my music . . . for free . . . but I keep the rights and they have to make you the soloist. And if they don’t want to make you the soloist, I’ll go to some other ballet company and give it to them as long as they make you the soloist. This isn’t brain surgery.”
“Why are you doing this for me?”
“Because we’re friends.” Stevie thought a moment. “Right? I mean . . . I thought we were friends. There was hugging. Right?”
“No. We’re friends, but you don’t have to give away a lot of money just for me.”
“Dude, I can always make money. And as long as I keep the rights to my work . . .” Stevie shrugged, not really seeing the problem. “But you do know that all I can do is give it to you and the company. After that, what you do with it, is totally up to you. I can get you the shot at being a soloist but becoming a principal . . . In other words, don’t fuck it up.”
“There had to be a nicer way for you to say that,” Shen said.
“Do you need me to be nicer?” Stevie asked her friend.
“If you’re nicer, I’m going to assume you’re up to some—wait. Are you up to something? You want something from me,” Oriana accused. “What do you want from me? Why are you being so nice to me? Is this all a plot to destroy me?”
Stevie smirked at him. “See why I’m not nice?”
* * *
“Where have you been?” Kyle demanded, glaring down at Shen. “You should have been here hours ago!”
“Did you grow another inch?” Shen asked.
Kyle relaxed, smiled. “I think I did. Last night. Jackals have long legs.”
Kyle’s mother came up behind her son, his leather messenger bag in her hands. “Are you leaving, Kyle?”
“Well—”
“Oh, no. Do you have to go so soon?” She pushed the bag into his hands. “I will miss you, honey.” She shoved him toward the door. “Remember Mommy loves you!”
She looked at Shen. “Why are you still standing here?”
“I’m waiting for Stevie. She went to talk to Dr. Conridge.”
“Great,” the mother of eleven muttered. Then she ordered, “Give me your car keys.”
Shen handed them over and she chucked the keys to her son, hitting him in the face.
“Ow!”
“Why don’t you go wait in the car, sweetie. Shen will be right out.”
“He should actually wait in here for safe—”
“Shut. Up.” She waved at Kyle. “Love you!”
“Long night?” Shen asked once Kyle had gone.
“I love him. I love him more than I can say. But I’m not sure I’d cry if he moved back to Europe. Or farther. Farther than Europe.”
Stevie came down the stairs. “Hi, Maestro,” she said to Kyle’s mother.
“Hello, Stevie. Kyle’s already in the car,” she said, the smile on her face ridiculously forced.
Stevie put her hand on the She-jackal’s shoulder. “He’ll be fine with us, Jackie. I promise.”
“Thank you.” She let out a sigh and began to move away, but stopped. “Oh. Jess Ward wanted me to remind you about Thursday night?”
“Right. Yeah. Tell her we’ll be there.” But Stevie didn’t sound eager about whatever Thursday night held for her.
“Okay. Have a good day, you two.”
Shen held the door open for Stevie and, once he closed it behind them, he asked, “What was that about?”
“I had to make a deal with Jess Ward,” she said, walking down the steps. “It was the only way I wouldn’t have to pay for what I did to the living room.”
“I thought that’s what giving Johnny the violin was for.”
“No. I let Max believe that. I sent Johnny that violin because I felt horrible for what my father did. I let him keep it because of guilt, but more because of a true fear of prison. Whether I realized it at the time or not, I was definitely my father’s accomplice. And that rabid wild dog was not letting it go. By the time I got back to the States, the FBI was already interviewing my sisters and even my grandfather’s Pack.” She shook her head. “I did so much lying those weeks, I was positive I was going to federal prison forever. And that Jess Ward was going to be there to lock the door after me. But somehow, someway, Johnny must have calmed Ward down,