“Point is, you get a story either way,” Axel cuts in. “And isn’t that what matters for the book?”
Another round arrives. Grayson insists we toast ‘to old ghosts and new beginnings.’ It should sound corny, but tonight, with these two around me, it feels more like a prayer.
“Speaking of new beginnings, my company is throwing an event.” Axel clears his throat. “A party of sorts for a new release coming out next month. You two are invited, of course. This event will be the talk of the comic world. I hired some lady named Sara Fletcher to throw this party, and for the amount of money I’m paying her, there better be talking paintbrushes.”
“What?” I laugh, cutting into my waffle. “Setting the bar high, aren’t we?”
“For what I’m paying, hell yeah. Check this out, she even has a florist coming out to do some 3D wall and that alone is costing me nearly ten grand. The florist better have a gold fucking thumb for what I’m paying.” Axel groans. “But seriously, this launch is huge for us. TheMidnight Warriorsseries will put Axel Comics on the map with thebigplayers.”
“Look at you,” I say with genuine pride. “From sketching superheroes on napkins at the orphanage to running your own comic empire.”
“Hardly an empire,” he objects, but I can see the satisfaction in his eyes. “Just doing what I love.”
“Speaking of love,” Grayson interjects, never one to let a subject drop. He gets on my last damn nerve. “You should bring the TA.”
“Her name is Minji,” I correct him.
“Minji,” Grayson repeats, drawing out the syllables as if tasting them. “What a beautiful name. I think you should invite her to Axel’s party. You never know, maybe she’s into comic launch parties.”
“Something tells me she’d rather walk barefoot on burning Legos than go to a comic event.”
Axel leans in. “You know what women like? Surprises. Invite her. If you keep acting like a nervous undergrad, you’re going to write yourself into a corner.”
I shake my head. “You ever see what happens when you surprise a lawyer? I’m not trying to get sued, Axel.”
“Gray’s point still stands. Take the chance.” He flicks a glance toward Grayson for backup. “Besides, the whole city’s going to be there—artists, writers, that one guy from NPR with the mustache. Why not bring some elegance to the chaos?”
Grayson grins with all the subtlety of a battering ram. “You’re scared.”
“I’m not scared,” I protest, but it sounds as flimsy as it feels.
“You’re seventy percent scared, twenty percent excited, and ten percent horny,” Grayson says. “Textbook Singleton.”
“Make that one hundred percent ready to throw this cornbread at your face.” I shake my head.
Axel reaches for the syrup and tops off his chicken and waffle mountain, slipping back into big brother mode. “Look, if you want to win her over, start with something she actually cares about. Comic books, probably not. But hear me out. Maybe there’s a way to tie it back to her. Make the invite strategic—like you’re bringing her as the expert legal advisor for your fictional villain.”
I shake my head, but my mind’s already racing ahead, plotting a way to get Minji to this damn party. What’s the worst that could happen? Absolute humiliation? Been there, done that.I survived being ghosted by her once; I can brave a few rounds of rejection.
Chicken and waffles disappear between stories of us growing up—Axel’s desperate PlayStation blood donation scheme, Grayson’s spelling bee sabotage that evacuated the entire orphanage. The Horizon Home for Boys gave us matching scars: those family visiting days when we’d wear our only good clothes, hair combed with water, practicing our smiles in the bathroom mirror.
Three boys nobody chose, watching other kids leave with new parents. But we chose each other instead. Black, Asian, and White—brothers without paperwork. Sitting here with them now, the knot in my chest from earlier unravels, replaced by that old electric current of belonging.
By the time the check comes, I know what I’ll do. I’ll invite her, make it strictly business, and provide an ironclad, easily ignorable out. That way, if she says yes, it’s not a risk; it’s just research. If she says no, I’ll chalk it up to being a responsible adult and never mention it again.
CHAPTER 8
MINJI
Dr. Montiel’sfingers press around my ankle, the way a jeweler might appraise a flawed but valuable gem, testing the tender spots, rotating the joint in careful increments. I brace for a reprimand about not resting enough. Instead, his gaze softens. “The bone has healed nicely,” he assesses, releasing my foot. “I’m officially clearing you for normal activities.”
I wiggle my toes, tempted to mention I’ve already been back at work for a week. Instead, I offer a polite smile. “Perfect timing.”
He scribbles something in my chart, not looking up. “Just ease into things. Your body will tell you if you’re pushing too hard.”
I chuckle. “Don’t worry, running isn’t on my to-do list.”
My phone vibrates and I apologize as I pull it out to see Eliza’s name on the screen.
