“It’s good. I’m enjoying it.”
“How are the Reds treating you?” I ask.
“Octane has done a lot of work in smoothing the way, but there is still a fair bit of bias. I’m good, though.” He shrugs. “No one has been outright hostile yet.”
“That doesn’t sound all that great.”
“It’s going to take time. You’ve said it yourself; we’ve been taught to hate one another.”
“Have you met anyone interesting?”
“There are plenty of interesting people,” he says. “It’s been enlightening.”
“I mean females.” I lift my brows, glancing his way. “Have you met any?”
He is quiet for a beat. “Females are pretty thin on the ground over there. Which, for the record, suits me.”
I look at him. He’s staring straight out the window.
“Come again?”
“I’m taking a break from all that.”
I wait again. That can mean a dozen things, coming from Flint.
“You’re taking a break from females?” I say. “You? How does your dick feel about that?”
He laughs. “My dick is just fine. I’ve had enough of fucking around.”
“That can’t be right. Again, I’m sure your dick can’t be happy.”
“My dick has my hand. It’s not a biggie. You’ve done it for years. When’s the last time you got laid?”
“This isn’t about me.” I circumvent the question for obvious reasons.
He taps his knee twice and goes back to looking out the window.
“Are you bringing a date to the wedding?” I ask.
“No.”
I glance at him. “You’re going alone?”
“That’s what no means.”
“Okay, then.” I nod.
We turn off the main road and onto the long stretch toward the chapel. The oak trees on either side are old and wide, their canopies leaning toward each other over the asphalt. The evening light comes through them in broken slants.
Flint shifts in his seat and smirks at me.
“What?” I bark.
“I heard from a very reliable source,” he says, “that a certain female is going to the wedding with you.”
I keep my eyes on the road.
“A Red shifter female.” He tilts his head. “Goes by Brook.”
