“That’s me. Sebastian Snow.”
“Did you get my package?” he asked next, barely letting a breath settle between introductions and the heart of the matter.
“Excuse me?”
“My package, boy!”
All right, Jim Bob. No one but my pop gets to refer to me as a kid.
“Would you mind being a bit more precise, Mr. Robert?”
“The Kinetoscope!”
I felt my heart beat a little faster. “You’re—wait, you’re the owner of the Kinetoscope?”
“Seb,” Max murmured, nudging my arm.
“Hold on,” I hissed. “Sir, it’s sort of difficult for me to talk at the moment—”
“That’s all right,” he answered. “I have more tin cans to show you.”
“Tin—film reels?” I asked.
I could hear someone to my left crunching through glass strewn across the floor.
“It’d be easier on an old man if you came to my apartment.”
“Okay… uh… today?”
“I’m ancient. I sure as fuck ain’t got faith in tomorrows.”
He started reciting an address, and I dived for the nearest writing implement. I grabbed a marker, yanked the top off, and looked around for something to write on, before I began scribbling on the back of my hand.
“Building’s got a red door.”
“Red door,” I repeated, like that meant something to me.
Max nudged me hard in the ribs.
I ignored him. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, Mr. Robert.”
“See you, kid.” There were a few obnoxiously loud beeps in my ear before he figured out how to end the call.
I set the phone down, planted both hands on the counter, and looked at Max. “What?”
He stared at me while pointing at the opposite side of the counter.
I followed his motion and saw none other than Calvin. Relief flooded every muscle in my body, nearly causing my knees to buckle. “Cal.” I moved around Max and went down the opposite set of stairs from Lee.
Calvin had that expression I didn’t like—the one I’d be only too happy to never see again for the rest of my life. Jaw clenched too tight, lines in his face a bit too pronounced, his pretty, crystalline gray eyes murky, like river water after a storm.
“Hey.” I reached out and gave his hand a squeeze.
Calvin sighed. It was such a gentle sound—I could nearly hear the heartbreak in it. As if he’d truly been expecting the worst upon entering the shop. His sigh pierced my skin, cracked bone, and impaled my heart as if it were all no stronger than the flesh of an apple.
“Hey,” he said in return, voice a bit gruff. He gripped my fingers tight and raked his free hand through his hair. “Everyone’s okay? No one needs to see an EMT?”
“We’re fine,” I insisted.
