* * *
Despite everything, the decision was made to go ahead with the shopping trip to Phoenix the week after that. That decision was made without my input; I had a feeling Aunt Rachel had to go plead her case to the elders to get them to agree, but finally they did acquiesce. We wouldn’t be driving ourselves, but would be going in Lester Phillips’ van, along with five bodyguards. Adam wasn’t coming along — not because he didn’t want to, but because the elders decreed he wasn’t a strong enough warlock to make much of a difference, should push come to shove.
As with any expedition into a neighboring clan’s territory, certain overtures had to be made. Since I was now prima, I was the one who had to call Maya de la Paz — apparently she didn’t do email — and explain that some of us would like to come to town to do our holiday shopping, and would that be all right?
I’d halfway been expecting her to give me some kind of grief for not latching on to her grandson as my consort, but she only gave a chuckle and said, “Of course you are welcome here. Where will you be going?”
That hadn’t been set in stone yet, but I told her we’d be focusing mainly in the Biltmore District, the mall itself and some of the satellite shopping areas, like the ones with Nordstrom Rack and Best Buy, and possibly going over to Scottsdale if there were time.
She said, “That is good. Thank you for asking, but the McAllisters are always welcome in Phoenix.”
Right then I wondered why I’d been worried about making the call. She seemed very gracious. “You’re very welcome, Mrs. de la Paz.”
A laugh, and then she said, “No need for that. You are prima, as am I. Have a good night, Angela.”
I hung up then and gave my Aunt Rachel, who’d been watching, a thumbs-up. She shot me a relieved smile, and then we both headed down to her place, since she’d heard about me eating leftover pizza for dinner and wanted to make sure I got at least one decent meal in me that week.
Even as we went, I knew I had one more call to make that night.
* * *
I sat on my bed and stared at the number in my contacts list. It should have been easy — just dial those ten digits, and….
But it wasn’t. I’d never cold-called a guy like this before. Yes, Chris had given me his number and told me to let him know when I was coming down to Phoenix. Even so, I found I was having a heck of a time working up the nerve to do it.
For Goddess’ sake, I told myself. You’re the prima of the McAllisters, and you don’t even have enough of a spine to call a guy?
Not just any guy. Chris Wilson, who was the best-looking guy I’d ever seen. And friendly. And nice.
And a civilian, so all this angst really isn’t getting you anywhere.
I scowled down at my phone. It was probably stupid to call, since I knew anything with him would of necessity be a dead end. But maybe it would be fun just to see him again, meet somewhere for a drink (although how that would go off, with five bodyguards and my Aunt Rachel following my every movement, I wasn’t sure).
You said you’d call him if you were coming to town. So call him. Stop making this into a federal case.
Fine. I hit “call” before I could back out. His phone rang once, twice, three times. Then it went into voicemail. Great. Then again, maybe it was simpler that way.
I spoke quickly, as if that would somehow make this easier. “Hi, Chris, it’s Angela McAllister. I know it’s kind of late notice, but it turns out we will be in Phoenix tomorrow to do some shopping. We’ll be over in the Biltmore District mostly — I know that’s kind of far from Tempe, but maybe we can figure something out. Anyway, I just wanted to call and let you know. We should be down there sometime in the late morning.” Providing any more details would just make me sound desperate…if I didn’t already…so I thought I’d better leave it at that. “Talk to you soon. ’Bye.”
I hung up then, hoping I’d done the right thing. But I did want to see him, even if it was for the last time. After all, my birthday was only two weeks away.
* * *
By the time we hit the road the next morning, I still hadn’t heard anything from Chris. Well, he had said he was going to be really busy. I didn’t know exactly what that entailed for someone getting a master’s degree. Did he have finals? If I’d been thinking straight, maybe I would have remembered to look up the academic schedule at ASU online and see when finals even were, but it didn’t really matter now, one way or another. He should at least have time to check his voicemail, and if our schedules didn’t mesh, well, I wouldn’t be happy about it, but I’d understand. Or so I told myself.