“Was not. Pull in here,” says Dane, pointing at an alleyway. It’s next to a big house made of pale stone. It has a pointy tower jutting from the top, and it’s not attached to the other buildings, the way a lot of the houses in this area are.
“Whose place is this again?” Miguel asks as he parks in front of the garage in an adjacent alley behind the house.
“It belongs to Tony, an old buddy of mine,” Dane says. “We went to prep school together.”
“Prep school, huh?”
“Yeah, out east. Hated that my parents shipped me off, but I met some super cool people, including Tony. He’s a consultant, and he’s always jetting around. He bought this place right out of college as an investment, and the neighborhood’s just gotten wild since then.Expensivewild,” he clarifies, catching Miguel’s alarmed expression. “I’ve stayed over a bunch of times. It’s totally safe—if you can forget that safety’s only the illusion of control.”
“That’s reassuring,” drones Miguel. “Meanwhile, I had no idea you were hanging out in Chicago.”
“Everyone’s got secrets, chief. Mine’s that I get restless if I’m home for too long, which is why I like working retail instead of being stuck behind a desk five days a week. And yours is that you like me.”
Miguel snorts, and the three of us scramble out of the car. They pull their suitcases from the trunk, then Dane directs us through an iron gate, down a stone path, and to the front of the house, where the porch’s floor and ceiling have been painted the color of the sky in early spring. Dane retrieves a key from under a planter, opens the huge wooden door, and waves us inside.
Ooh—fresh smells! I’m getting Thai takeout with hints of indoor plants and the slightest whiff of bright blue cleaning spray. And…a dog? If my instincts are right, the last one in this place was tiny.
“You’re sure it’s okay to have Harold here?” says Miguel. The house is as fancy as it is large. There’s a statue of a dancer at the end of the wide hallway, and we pass a tall stand with a fern perched on it. This is one of those rare occasions I’m grateful to have just a bit of tail left; otherwise, I’d be covered in soil right now.
“Totally,” says Dane. “Tony’s got two of those little punters.”
“Punters?”
“Football-sized dogs. They stay with his sister when he’s not here.”
Two! I’m seriously off my game. What else have I missed? Actually, I’m not sure I want to know.
“This is an awfully nice place for one guy and two dogs.”
“Yeah, Tony’s from money, though if you met him, you’d never know it. Let me show you where you can crash,” he says, then leads us up a long, curved staircase. “This is you and Harold,” he says, opening a door for us. “Make yourselves at home. I’m going to set up in the room at the end of the hall. There’s a bathroom right next to your room, and another on the first floor. Meet in the living room after you get settled?”
“Sure,” says Miguel, peering around. “I…I really appreciate you arranging this for us.”
If Dane realizes what a big deal it is for Miguel to thank him, he doesn’t let on. “I got you, my dude. See you downstairs.”
I’m itching to go sniff around some more, but for a man on a mission, Miguel’s in no hurry. Instead, he takes out each item of clothing in his suitcase, carefully folds it, and places it inside the drawers of the dark wood dresser that’s opposite the bed. This, after plucking his daily attire from the laundry basket—and, let’s be honest, the hamper—for more than a year! Then he lines up his shoes and hangs a bag with his bathroom things from a hook on the wall.
When he begins to rearrange the pillows on the bed, I realize we could be here for months if I don’t do something. So, I make my saddest face and whimper at the door.
“Fine, Harold,” he says with a sigh. He glances at his reflection in the mirror on the wall, which strikes me as a positive sign. “I’m just a little nervous. What if we can’t find JMB? Then what am I going to do?”
I really hope I won’t need to come up with an answer for this.
We amble downstairs. The living room’s especially big, with high ceilings and a fancy glass light fixture overhead. “This used to be a ballroom!” says Dane when he sees us. “Nice, right?”
“It’s certainly grand,” says Miguel, circling the perimeter. He stops in front of a painting of colors smeared in every direction and a big bright ball rising in the center, like the sun in the early morning.
“If you’re into art, we could hit the Art Institute while we’rehere.” When Miguel shakes his head, Dane says, “I get it—you’re more in the mood for an adventure.”
“No to that, too. I’ve already had my fair share of adventures,” Miguel tells him.
“Oh yeah? I’m all ears.”
Miguel frowns, and I almost expect him to change the subject. But then he clears his throat and says, “Me and my sister, Miriam, would pack a little sack full of food and spend the night at the beach, or the local park, and practice being orphans.”
Did they? This is the first I’m hearing of this.
“That’s rad,” Dane tells him.
