That’s okay. The car is already pulling into the parking lot. I’ll see you in a bit.
Voss Van Doren
Okay. Be safe.
With my bag in hand, I get out of my useless car. While I think locking it is just mockery, since the fucker won’t start, I hit the lock button anyway. I cross the few empty spaces between me and the Shuttled and open the back door.
“Ale-brick-t,” the man says, accent heavy.
My name is stupid. No one knows how to say it. “Yes,” I answer, not bothering to correct him.
“Good. Home?”
“Yes, thanks.”
He nods, and I get settled into the back. This is the first Shuttled I’ve been in that feels more like a taxi than a rideshare. There’s a plastic barrier between the front and back seats with a little window.
The man in the front is wearing a face mask. It’s not all that unusual to see this. There are a lot of people who drive strangers around who wear face masks. You’re in a small, closed space with strangers who could have any number of viruses. It’s smart.
I look down at my phone and begin scrolling mindlessly on ShareIt. We’re heading toward route 40, leaving the rural streets of Flagstaff where The Van Doren Real Estate office is located, when my stomach begins to feel sour. God, it’s been a long time since I got carsick.
Turning my phone off, I let my head fall back and close my eyes, trying to ignore the way my mouth salivates like one does before they’re going to get sick. My head begins to ache.
The ride is not that long. I should be able to survive a short ride. It was my fault. I was testing the fates by scrolling in the back of a car. There’s no quicker way for me to get sick than doing that. Except maybe reading. I’d have already vomited by now if I’d chosen to try to read.
I click the button for the window, but it doesn’t move.
“Can you roll down the window?” I ask. “I feel sick and need some fresh air.”
“Window,” the man repeats.
I tap the glass. “Can you roll it down?”
He says something, but I don’t know the words. My head spins. Instead of trying again, I clamp my mouth closed to hopefully keep myself from getting sick. I feel dizzy. The car sways, jumps, and rocks like it’s on water.
“Air,” I try and jam my finger on the button again.
That’s the last thing I remember before passing out.
21
VOSS
A shadow falls over me,and I look up. Jessica stands over where I’m lying on the couch in the loggia outside the bedrooms where she and her friends hang out. Since they moved to the Estate, we’ve all been hanging out here. More than once, we’ve even had Dad here.
“Hey,” I greet.
She gently places her hand on Axl’s back. We’re having skin-on-skin time, so he’s asleep on my chest, and we have a blanket draped over us to keep us warm. Not that it’s particularly cold. And we’re in the sunlight shining in from the big window to make sure he gets some vitamin D.
I don’t try to stop my constant movements with Axl. They’re equivalent to rocking him. Or one of his many carriers that vibrate. I suppose there’s an upside to moving constantly.
“Not working today?” she asks.
“I am working.” I hold up my tablet. “I can work anywhere.”
“Ah. You just choose to take up a third of one floor in the glass building, do you?” she asks as she drops into a chair.
“Yep. Privilege of being the king’s son.”
