He remembered a microwave dinner, the plastic tray, cheese enchiladas cut into neat little rounds.
Had that been her?A foster parent he didn’t remember?It was hard to tell sometimes.
The other bartender was an older woman, White, salt-and-pepper hair pulled back into a bun.Jem tried again, and she ignored him too.
You shouldn’t need somebody to worry about your dinner when you were seventy years old.Unless you were Tean, and you ate a single blade of grass lightly seasoned with the pollen left by a single bee, and Jem had to make sure he atesomethingor he’d literally evaporate.
“What?”Tean shouted.
For a moment, Jem thought maybe he’d been talking out loud, but then Tean touched his shoulder, and Jem turned.
Behind them, a young man in the lodge’s uniform was smiling at them.He shouted, “Call for you!”
Jem pointed to himself, and the young man nodded.
“Save our spot,” Jem said into Tean’s ear.“Maker’s Mark neat, please, chicken tenders, cheese fries, all the desserts.”
The expression on Tean’s face made Jem think he might not getexactlywhat he’d ordered.
Gettingoutof Afterski wasn’t much easier than getting in.The drunken twentysomething was still sobbing, and somehow, she managed to stumble into Jem’s path again.When Jem moved around her, he managed to get in the path of a man in a suit.They tried to twist past each other, but they collided anyway, and Jem almost lost his footing.The lights flickered, and murmurs and nervous laughs went up throughout the room before everyone got back to their drinks.An older man in a cowboy hat must have thought he and Jem were running a race because he tried to beat Jem out the door.
But the lobby, in contrast, was cool and spacious and relatively quiet.Jem cast a glance toward the Fjall Club as he followed the bellboy, or whatever he was, toward the front desk.A phone had been set out, the receiver lying next to it.The bellboy made a polite gesture toward it and retreated.
Jem picked up the phone and said, “Hello?”
Nothing.
“Hello?This is Jem Berger.”Still nothing.He wouldnotcall her mom, so he said, “Brigitte?”
There wasn’t even background noise on the call.He glanced down.Lights flashed on the phone, but Jem had no idea which line he was supposed to be using, or what the rest of the lights meant.After another moment, he cradled the receiver and pushed the phone back across the desk.
A young woman was watching him.
“They hung up,” Jem said.
The woman smiled politely, and he headed back toward the bar.
Halfway across the lobby, he spotted Maeve and Milo.The kids werenotin the arcade.They were, as a matter of fact, hiding behind a massive potted plant.And they were watching him.
He thought about waving.He thought about smiling, going over, saying something likeGotcha.For the most part, Jem was good with kids.Not the ones that were too little.And not if there were too many of them.Not like Tean, who somehow seemed to grow six extra arms when he was around all his nieces and nephews, and somehow the noise didn’t bother him, or the fighting, or that terrifying little arsonist pretending to be a ten-year-old boy.But in general, with one or twonormalkids, Jem was fine.
Which was why he kept walking and pretended not to notice them.Whatever they were doing, they thought it was more interesting than the arcade.Maybe they wanted to get another look at this guy who was supposed to be their big brother.Maybe they just liked sneaking around and thinking the adults couldn’t see them.Whatever it was, he’d ruin it by going over there.
By the time Jem fought his way through the crowd and reached the bar, Tean had a plate of chicken tenders and cheesy fries in front of him, along with two drinks.He was also trying to guard Jem’s spot, which meant the doc had a gleam in his eyes that was absolutely savage.
“How did you do that?”Jem asked over the shouted conversations around them.
“You have to hold the fork like this,” Tean said.“Then people assume you’re willing to stab them with it.”
“Holy shit.”
Tean gave an uncomfortable shrug.“I probablywouldn’thave stabbed them, but signs of aggression are one of the most effective ways to communicate territorial claims—”
“Stop, stop.I already love you more than I love anyone in the entire universe.Don’t make me love you more.I meant how did you get the food so fast.”
“I told them my boyfriend was hungry.”
Jem groaned, but he was too tired and, yeah, too hungry to ask what he wanted to ask, which was some combination ofAnd that actually worked?andWhy didn’t they pay any attention to me?Instead, he grabbed a fry, made sure he got extra cheesiness, and then moved straight on to a chicken tender.
