“Here we go,” Max sighs. “Defcon 1.”
“Frederick,” Alistair says. The joviality vanishes. “I see you’re still wearing that girdle.”
“It iscore support,” Frederick snaps. “And I see you’re drinking antifreeze. How is your portfolio, Alistair? Still heavy in ‘whimsy’?”
“My portfolio is diversified,” Alistair growls. “Unlike your gene pool.”
My mother, Catherine, steps forward. But she isn't looking at Alistair. She is looking at the woman in emerald green.
“Meredith,” Catherine says. Her voice is ice.
Aunt Meredith Kensington. My mother’s younger, wilder sister. Sloane’s mother. The only person on earth who can make Catherine York look insecure.
“Catherine,” Aunt Meredith replies, swaying slightly. “You look… tight, darling. Is that a new facelift, or just the stress of being married to a man who looks like a parade float?”
“I am not a float!” Alistair shouts. “I am robust!”
“You’re swollen,” Frederick corrects. He kisses Catherine’s cheek. “Catherine, you look radiant. How you survive these people is a mystery. You should come to the island. No people. No noise. Just liquidity.”
“Take me,” Catherine sighs, linking her arm through Frederick’s. “I need an exit strategy. Meredith is already drunk.”
“I am not drunk,” Meredith slurs, draining one of her martinis. “I am enhanced. And at least Ihavehusbands, darling. You’ve been stuck with the same loud furniture for forty years.” She gestures vaguely at Alistair.
“I am not furniture!” Alistair shouts. “I am the Patriarch!”
“You’re a lamp,” Meredith dismisses him. “A very loud, blue lamp.”
She turns to the Archbishop.
“Hello, Your Eminence,” she purrs. “Still wearing that dress? It’s very slimming. Care to arm wrestle for my soul? I think I have a few chips left.”
The Archbishop sighs, but he rolls up his sleeve. “Meredith, you owe the Vatican three hundred dollars from Christmas. But I accept the challenge.”
Sloane sighs. “Mother, stop harassing the clergy. It’s billable hours.”
Meredith ignores her. She turns to Luke.
“And who is this pretty thing?” she coos. “Are you the new pool boy? You have excellent deltoids. Very structural.”
“He is the Chief Resident at St. Jude’s Medical Centre, Aunt Meredith,” I snap, stepping between them to provide cover.
“A physician?” Meredith laughs. “Even better. Can you fix a liver? I think mine is resigning.”
Cousin Tripp steps forward. He is Frederick’s son, and the family disappointment. He taps his smart glasses and locks onto Luke.
“Bio-metrics are insane,” Tripp mutters. “Symmetry is 99th percentile. Who is this asset?”
“I am Dr. Silva,” Luke says.
“Doctor,” Tripp sneers. “How… analog. I’m launching a startup. It’s Uber for organs. Surge pricing on kidneys. We use the blockchain to verify donor status.”
He thrusts his tattooed wrist at Luke.
“Scan my QR code. Get in on the ground floor.”
Jax steps in. He puts a heavy hand on Tripp’s shoulder. Use of force authorized.
“Tripp,” Jax says pleasantly. “If you ask him to scan your arm, I’m going to assume you’re checking into the Trauma ward. And I’m on duty.”
