In fact, as Jo began to look around, the room seemed to look less and less familiar. The hamper had clothes in it she didn’t remember wearing, some she didn’t even remember owning. The files pinned to the corkboard seemed almost illegible when she looked at them closely, like trying to read a book in amirror.
But it didn’t feel like a dream. It didn’t feel like anything.Shedidn’t feel like anything. How normal it all seemed was the worstpart.
In a panic, Jo burst out of the room and back into the hallway. Being in the weird, not-quite-right version of her room was too much. She’d take strange and new to uncomfortably familiar. Her head was spinning, distracted by how wrong it had felt, how wrongeverythingsuddenlyfelt.
Which was why she didn’t notice until it was too late that somebody else was in the hallway. A realization abruptly made by way of nearly barreling into the person’schest.
“Whoathere! What’s the hurry?” A voice suddenly accompanied the presence, two hands coming up to grab Jo’s shoulders, steadying her. When she managed to get her head back on straight, she found herself staring into the very handsome face of a complete stranger. Light brown hair was slicked back in a way that made his angular features seem sharper. A crisp, white shirt had been tailored to highlight an obviously well-toned physique. His eyes seemed to spark as they scanned her face, and his lips pulled up into an amused smirk the longer she stared back. “Keep looking at me like that and you’ll give a guy the wrongimpression.”
As if the heavily-accented words had broken the spell, Jo instantly backed away, suddenly realizing she’d been frozen in his arms like some gaping lunatic. The man just continued to grin, raising his hands in a way that seemed placating but obviously had little energy behindit.
“Sorry about that, dollface. Wasn’t expecting you to come out of your room so quickly. Usually takes a little while to come back to your senses,” he said, the lilt to his voice itching at some oldmemory.
Jo had a familiar sensation—one of being on a movie set. When the stranger spoke, it was with a sort of accent that she’d only ever heard in United North America—New York, to be exact. But also, not. . . It was older than that, pre-World War III.Waybefore. In fact, the closer she looked at him, the more he seemed to be straight out of one of her grandmother’s old photos, the ones that were straight to physical, black and white without anyfiltering.
He was the real deal—sleeves rolled up to the elbows, suspenders, tight black trousers, and a thick gold watch. Match that with the incomprehensible sentences, and Jo was having a hard time following any ofit.
“You really must stop staring,” he chuckled, wrenching Jo back to the present. And the present matter at hand. Of course, before she could start in on her growing list of questions and concerns, the man opened his mouth with a flirtatious, “Though, you’re a real looker, so I suppose I wouldn’t bedisinclined.”
Despite herself, Jo couldn’t help but feel heat rising to her cheeks. She managed a fierce scowl despite the blush, raising her chin at him for emphasis. Just because he was a good couple of inches taller than her didn’t mean she couldn’t stare down her nose athim.
“WellI wouldbe disinclined,” she said, putting her hands on her hips, something she only ever did when she was straddling the line between pissed off and way out of her depth. “So instead, how about you tell me who the hell you are and where the hell Iam.”
“Easy there, doll. I didn’t mean nothing by it. Not unless you wanted me to.” The man shoved one hand in his pocket and held the other one out in her direction, waiting for her to take it. There was an easy friendliness about it, like he was openly trying not to pressure her. “I’m Wayne Davis. And trust me, this’ll be a whole hell of a lot easier if you roll with it instead of fighting against thetide.”
After a brief pause, eyes jumping from Wayne’s face to his hand and back, Jo cautiously returned the handshake. He did have a point. Better to go along with whatever was happening for a bit until she could gather enough data to figure out exactly whatwas goingon.
Every problem could be hacked, broken apart, and solved, but she needed the equipment and information to do it. Right now, it felt like she was trying to break into the Black Bank with an old laptop from the early 2000s. Jo’s stomach dropped a bit at the unintentional memory, so she focused on Wayneinstead.
“So, what’s your story?” he asked her suddenly. She raised an eyebrow at him, tempted to ask if the lingo was an act. Maybe she was in some sort of reality TV prank show. When Jo didn’t answer right away, Wayne just shook his head, smiling. “Your name, maybe? Got to give me something to work with here. Unless you’re jivin’ with ‘doll’ for the rest of eternity. Which sounds real good tome.”
Okay. Guess they were startingthere.
“Jo Espinosa,” she said, looking over Wayne’s shoulder at the rest of the empty hallway, the matching mahogany doors. “Now, where am I? And what do you mean by ‘eternity’?”
“Jo? What kinda name is that for adame?”
“A perfectly fine one, thank you very much.” Jo bristled, hands back on her hips. “It’s short for Josephina. My grandma’s name. And I’m no ‘dame,’ so you can cool it,” she said, trying her best to mimic his accent. Poorly. “It’s 2057, dude. You’re not getting anywhere with that shtick. Also, you didn’t answer myquestions.”
He continued to ignore said questions, whistling in appreciation instead. “It’s 2057already?”
Jo couldn’t help but balk. “You’re kidding, right?” When Wayne just shrugged, smirking at her stunned surprise, Jo couldn’t bite back the huff of frustration. “You know what, forget it. If you won’t give me answers, I’ll find someone who will.” And with a last, scowling once-over, Jo turned on her heel and began to make her way down thehall.
“Hey, hey, hey! Come on now, don’t be like that!” Wayne caught up to her quickly, cutting her off with a half skip, half spin into her line of sight. “Look, I’m sorry, doll—I mean Jo. I’m sorry,Jo.I didn’t mean to upset you, honest.” The expression on his face seemed sincere, but Jo merely crossed her arms over her chest and waited for him to go on. As he did, he sighed, waving a hand in front of himself in a vague motion. “It’s just been a few decades since we’ve gotten anyone new, though you did come much faster than the last, so I got all caught up in my excitement. What I should have been doing is showing you around and making you feel welcome, so how about I do thatnow?”
“But welcomewhere?” Jo latched on to the topic shift like a fish diving back into water from dry land. Wayne straightened up again, that confident air and cocky smirk back in place. Despite the incredibly confusing, anxiety-producing atmosphere of her current situation, she couldn’t help but feel slightly at ease in the man’s presence; even if she also kind of wanted to punch him right in his stupid forced accent. “Wayne, what’s going on. . .? What is thisplace?”
Wayne’s eyes suddenly took on a proud and excited glint as he said, “TheSociety.”
When that was all he offered, Jo rolled her eyes and pressed harder. “What kind of a society?” Her bet was models, because the man before her was way too pretty, almost ethereal, like. . . like. . . A man with white hair and a strong jaw appeared on the edge of her mind, but Wayne spoke again before she could cling to thememory.
“Notasociety, dollface.” Wayne grinned, walking back to her side and placing a hand at the small of her back, leading her with a gentle nudge down the hall. “TheSociety. Let me be the first to welcome you as the newest member of the Society ofWishes.”
Chapter 3
Capital D
JO WASN’T REALLYone forclubs.
