“That’d be great. I know you don’t think it, but you’re a real attraction,” Pete said, giving me that weird—I guess you’d say “charming”—smile. “You bring a youthful, hip vibe to history and antiquing. You make it cool for the next generation to want to take part in it.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Er… what exactly ishipabout me?”
“It’s your whole persona, Snow.”
I was wearing a dirty shirt and loafers, so I was calling bullshit on this.
Pete laughed at the expression I was likely making. “I love this guy,” he said to Calvin. “Even our names go great together. Snow and White.”
“I prefer Snow and Winter,” Calvin replied simply.
Pete glanced at me and back at Calvin. “I suppose you would.”
“You’ve got my number,” I said, reining the conversation in hard and fast. “If anything comes up.”
“Yup!” Pete held out what looked like a perfectly decent mobile device. I didn’t remind him that yesterday it supposedly was old and not working.
“I’ll see you later, then.”
“Bye, Snow.”
I reached a hand out and Calvin accepted it.
We walked through the steel-and-glass concourse of the Center toward the main doors as someone else was entering. He had a dark-colored hoodie on, headphones, and some kind of convention badge around his neck—exhibitor, security, or attendee, I had no clue. But he was a bad person to play chicken with, because he never looked up from his phone, even after knocking into my shoulder. I stopped walking and turned to watch the kid step onto the escalator.
“Who was that?” Calvin asked.
I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
Calvin pulled his sunglasses down from atop his head as we made our way outside. At the end of the block, we crossed the street, heading to the nearby parking lot where we’d been charged the “special event” rate because of the fair, even though we were technically leaving before it opened. Nothing like flushing fifty bucks down the toilet.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course,” Calvin said.
I took a breath. “Maroon, like what?”
I felt him look at me, but I kept my eyes firmly planted on the sidewalk.
Left foot.
Right foot.
“Maroon is brownish red,” Calvin answered.
“No, I know that. I mean…like what?”
Left.
Right.
Left.
Right.
He still hadn’t answered.
I finally looked up.
