club to get laid. Hell, I never had either.
I still hadn’t gotten laid, actually.
That was the weird part. Plenty of guys were there, all waiting for me, and the one time I went back with Hawk, he urged me to pick someone…but that’s not what I was there for. I ended up playing wallflower, just like I did at parties, downing drinks and watching people and never interacting. I kept a close eye on every waiter, but none of them had a scar.
So instead I shake my head and drink my drink and settle back. “What’s the news from Europe?”
We talk investments and new circuits and the cost of labor there versus here versus Asia, and I sink into this easy familiarity that lets me live without thinking. The mind travels over the surface, picking up figures from memory, units sold, earnings, taxes, depreciation. Noah is so obviously bored by the business talk that he kisses Dalton and excuses himself.
I watch him go.
“You don’t mind that he doesn’t want to hear every detail of the company’s plans?” I ask my brother.
“Are you kidding? Every minute with Noah is like a vacation from work. It’s the best. If he ever shows interest in microprocessors or robotics, I’ll feel so bad, like I’ve infected him with our family virus.”
I wonder if my mystery boy has any interest in business. What does he do, when he’s not in the club? Is he an artist? A musician? Certainly not a manager or director, he’s not old enough for that.
The hibiscus is now getting in my way. I flick it into the flower-bed, little droplets falling off of it in its arc, catching the sun. Dalton scowls like I’ve ruined the garden, but his face calms quickly. He’s too relaxed to be bothered by a stray flower.
I want to tell him about the boy in the club, there’s just no way to do it.
“What’s that kind nonsense, anyway?” asks Dalton. “Did someone call you cruel? Did it hurt your fee-fees?”
The old Dalton would’ve never said fee-fees.
“I don’t know, sometimes I worry that I’ve buried myself in the company, and there’s no digging my way back out into the daylight.”
“So take some time off.”
“Yeah, right.”
“No, I’m serious. Do it. You’ve earned it. Ever since Dad—”
His voice does a thing, a little catch. It’s the same catch whenever he talks about Dad.
My voice doesn’t do that. My voice never betrays any emotion at all. I stood at the funeral and shook hands and thanked people for coming, and there was not one waver in my tone. Even though I could feel the hysterical laughter inside me threatening to explode out of me, no one noticed. My face had been statue-still.
“You work too much,” he finishes. “That’s all I was going to say. You work too much.”
“What does too much even mean, when you’re us? There are factories to build, units to move—”
“And if you make another billion dollars, will it make you happier?”
For some reason I laugh, and it’s a cold, strained laugh. “Who said anything about being happy?”
“You know I enjoy the work,” Dalton says. “I love it. But I was out of balance until I met Noah. My world had gotten constricted and small.”
“Oh god, you’re going to tell me to get a boyfriend. To settle down.”
He swirls the ice in his glass. “It’s not the worst idea. You can’t marry your money.”
I sit up and turn my head. “Where are the waiters in this place? Am I supposed to get my own drink?”
“Actually, yes. This is the family’s garden. If you want to be treated like a guest, you have to go over there to that side.” He points to a little gate in the low wall, surrounded by shrubs. If I listen, I can hear happy voices over there. Another world, where people bring you drinks.
“I don’t need a boyfriend, I need a bartender.”
“You need something,” Dalton says, and the lightness in his voice betrays something else, a darker note, a worry. “Don’t wind up like me.”
“With a guy like Noah?”
“You know what I mean. Don’t wind up the way I was before Noah. Miserable. Lonely. Bitter. Find yourself a nice guy. It doesn’t have to be forever. You worry about being kind? Just find someone you enjoy being nice to. Someone you can buy presents for.”
How could I tell him that that fate might’ve been fine for him, but it was never going to happen to me?
That I don’t feel anything?
That the