He plucked a business card from the file.
The holo-mation set off, a thumping beat sounded, and Starters danced on top of the card.
“What is it?” Michael asked.
“That’s Club Rune,” Hyden said.
He was right; the words on the card said it all.
A Place to Be Somebody Else.
Where I first met Madison and Blake.
We all stared at it. “Club Rune?” I said. “My father?”
I couldn’t imagine why my father would have a card from Club Rune. It was a hangout for renters and regular teens. What would a Middle—especially my father—be doing there?
Hyden picked up the box. “We should go.”
“Just give me a minute,” I asked. “Please.”
“It’s not safe for the three of us to be out here,” Hyden said.
“Hey, give her minute, will you?” Michael shifted a box he was holding on his hip.
“You don’t get it,” Hyden said, putting down his box. “I do, because I know how the chipspace works.”
“You’re the one who doesn’t get it.” Michael practically threw his box down. “How about thinking about her? You, you can’t even touch her unless you’re in someone else’s body.”
I breathed in and stared wide-eyed at the two guys. “Michael!”
Hyden froze. I held my breath. They were like two animals, wound as tight as possible, ready to strike.
“No,” Hyden said sadly. “He’s right.”
“Hyden … ,” I said, wanting so much to reach out.
He picked up his box. “Go ahead, Callie. We’ll wait for you outside.”
He left. Michael looked at me. “Take your time,” he said before he followed him.
I sighed as I stood in the middle of my father’s office. What to do with my last precious minutes? I wanted something of his, but what?
One of his watches lay on a stack of papers on his desk. It was old-fashioned, like from his old movies that he loved. He had a couple of these; they were rare. Collector’s items.
I put it on my wrist. It was too big. Heavy. I slipped it off and put it back. My eyes desperately scanned the room and stopped on his bookcase. At the top, hanging on the edge, was his old fedora. I used a fishing pole to get it down. I put it to my nose and breathed in. It still smelled like him, a tweedy, woodsy scent. I held it there, pretending he was with me.
Could I remember that scent? Memorize it so I could call it up when I ached for his arm around my shoulders?
I pulled my face away from the hat and stroked the felt. It still had his shape. But it wasn’t him.
I left it by the watch so they could be together.
Downtown L.A. at night varied from street to street in terms of the crowds. Mostly it was quiet, but we made a point of avoiding the camping protestors around City Hall.
When we arrived at our destination, Hyden squeezed his vehicle past the line of empty parked cars and cruised to the valet pickup zone.
“That’s it?” Michael asked.
I nodded and looked up at the club where so much had happened to me. I never imagined I’d see it again.
“Welcome to Club Rune,” the cheerful Ender valet said.
“We don’t need to valet it,” I said to the Ender as I got out. “He’s just letting us off.”
I gestured toward Hyden as Michael and I got out.
“Have fun,” Hyden said out the window and drove away.
I wondered what he was thinking. He—and Michael—had made zero reference to their argument at my house.
Guys.
We’d stopped to buy the latest tech clothing to be sure we would pass the rope test. Michael had on a great black shimmer jacket that changed color and texture when he moved. I wore a short 3-D illusion dress. When the light hit it a certain way, the design moved and transformed. Green leaves were falling right now, changing to fluttering red butterflies.
Even though Prime had closed and the rental business was gone, the look of the crowd hadn’t changed. Two kinds of teens made up the clientele: those with bad skin and flyaway hair and those who looked laser-sculpted, lacking in imperfections. That could have been due to makeovers from their families or Prime. Or they could have been naturally beautiful.
An ultra-hip Ender with sculpted silver hair, wearing a sleek black turtleneck and pants, spoke into his wire-thin earpiece as he stood at the velvet rope blocking the entrance. He stopped talking and looked us over.
“First time here?” he asked.
“Very funny,” I said in such a dry, entitled way that the Ender had to let us in.
Two Ender doormen in uniforms opened the massive entrance doors for us. It always felt like you were entering some Egyptian temple. Until you got inside.
Lasers cut through the darkened room, jewel-colored slashes piercing the large dance hall. The newest hybrid fusion music throbbed, making it hard to think.