My stomach takes a tremulous leap as I type a reply.Who is this?
I told you she is mine.
Fuck, it’s him. The hot masked guy in the black coat.
I clamp one hand over my mouth, staring into the distance, trying to figure out what to say next. Should I reply at all? Leave it alone? Call the police?
After a moment’s consideration, I decide to try an honest answer.This isn’t a date. I’m taking Christine out to sing. I need to get her comfortable with performing for an audience before she takes the lead tomorrow night. Also, you can’t claim people as your property.
That’s the longest text I’ve sent in years. I tug on my lower lip with my teeth until he replies.
I have every right to claim anything I want. Where are you taking her to sing?
The Alouette, I answer without thinking.
Why am I giving this guy information? He’s a creepy stalker in a mask. I guess part of me wants to pacify him, to reassure him that I’m not a threat. And…shit, I may as well admit it…a part of me is intrigued and wants to keep the conversation going. That night, weeks ago, he made me so hard I could barely think. From what I could tell, the feeling was mutual.
I’ll be there, he texts back.
Well…shit. I consider making a change to avoid him, but the Alouette is the best place for Christine. It’s a small, intimate venue, mostly unknown, so it’ll be easy to get in and secure a spot at the mic. Besides, I know the owner—a family friend. It’s not the Bluebird, but that place is overhyped and impossible to get into these days. I much prefer the lesser-known dives and bars around Nashville. The decor at the Alouette is cozy, and the vibe should put her at ease.
And maybe a small part of me wants to seehimagain.
I’ve got four hours until I need to be back here at the New Orpheum to pick up Christine. Enough time to run home, shower, and change. And smoking a joint doesn’t sound like a bad idea. I need to be good and mellow if I’m going to be around Christineandthe masked hottie tonight.
It takes me half an hour to reach the exclusive Nashville suburb where my family and our closest friends live in sprawling mansions surrounded by smooth, green lawns. Our house has a pair of stone wolves flanking the gate. They’re seated atop the wall, looking haughtily down their slender muzzles, somehow managing to appear both regal and wild at the same time. By their very presence, they proclaim to everyone that “rich white assholes live here.” One of the first poems I ever wrote was about those wolves and the way I felt whenever the gates parted and we drove between them. I called it “The Wolves Are Watching.”
I guide my truck up the long drive. The giant garage has several bays, but I don’t bother parking in one of them. I’ll be leaving again in a few hours. If I’m lucky, I can get in and out of here without running into—
Knuckles rap on my window, and Philippa’s voice penetrates the glass, muffled but insistent. “Raoul.”
Shit.
I wave for her to step back. When she does, I open the door and climb out of the car. “Philippa.”
“I’m glad you’re here.”
She’s the epitome of professional savagery, my sister. Rail-thin with crisp angles, a seamless bob several shades darker than my hair, and flawlessly tailored clothing, usually of the blouse-and-pencil-skirt variety. Her eyes are a match for mine—two icy emeralds.
“You’ve missed too many family dinners lately,” she says.
“I can’t stay tonight. I’m going out with a friend.”
“Friend?” She lifts elegant, penciled eyebrows. “What friend?”
“Just someone.”
“Man or woman?”
“Does it matter?”
“One of those genders can give you children. The other can’t.”
I don’t bother debating her backward thinking. I’ve tried that before with no effect. I hop down from the truck and shut the door. “Really, Philippa? This again?”
“We have a responsibility to the family, Raoul,” she replies coolly. “Toallthe families. Maybe if you spent any time with us, you’d remember that. We need each other. It’s the only way we can survive and thrive in this city.”
I step to the side, aiming to move past her. “Look, I came home to shower, get dressed, and relax a little before I head out, so—”
