“Well, matter—molecules, atoms, that sort of thing.”
“Uh-uh.”
“What do you mean, uh-uh?”
“Only five percent of the universe is made up of atoms, according to astronomers.”
“How do you know?”
“I read it somewhere. I can’t remember where.”
“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the other ninety-five percent made up of?”
“That’s the question. Maybe dark matter or energy, they don’t really know.”
“And you thought I might.”
“It was worth a try. You want to know what I want to know?”
Not really, but I’m certain you’re going to tell me.
“What exactly are these astronomers doing with their time? It’s the twenty-first century, and they’ve only come up with five percent of the answer?” He paused. “Now that is a real concern. But as for you getting your whatchamacallit stuck in the thingamajig of the annoying, arrogant, asshole, prick …”
“What are you talking about?”
“You told me not to say the H-word or the Z-word. HZ-Gate is forbidden.”
“HZ-Gate?”
“Do you really want me to spell it out? You told me you didn’t want me to say those dirty words. But I will do so, for clarification. Hair-Zipper-Gate. You know, like Watergate. Wiggate. Pantygate. Nutellagate.”
“You made that last one up.”
“I did not. It was a big scandal at Columbia University—widespread theft of Nutella from the dining halls by students.”
“I don’t really get Nutella.”
“I don’t either. It’s supposed to be chocolate.”
“But it’s not.”
“Exactly! Now there’s the real gate!”
There was a moment of silence.
Nico sighed. “Okay, just forget about HZ-Gate. I’m just glad I’m doing this photoshoot alone. That man is trying to mess with me. I don’t even want to think about what it’s going to be like once we hit the track … He’s so freaking competitive.”
“Not unlike someone else I know.”
“I amnotthat bad.”
Nico waited for a response, but Charles was unusually silent.
“Did you hear me?”
“I heard you.”
“Well?”
