When he got a text back, he reported, “Rhamp’s coming over now.”
When he got a grunt in return, he let that stand, and tried not to think about Lyric and Allhan and feeding and… everything. That went nowhere—big surprise—so he reached into the bedstand’s drawer and took out a hand-rolled red smoke. He had to futz around some more for his gold lighter, and when he finally got the thing, he kicked up a little flame and—
“You got two of those?” L.W. asked.
He passed the lit roll over and got another for himself. “There’s an ashtray in the drawer on your side, too.”
The knock on the door came as L.W. was fishing around in the side table next to him, the cursing something you could have added a beat to and thrown on Spotify.
“Come in!” Shuli called out around the f-bombs. “And for crissakes, use mine. God, what are you, blind—”
As L.W. shot a glare his way, he exhaled a stream of red smoke. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“That’snotfunny—”
“You think I don’t know that, asshole—”
Over at the door, Rhamp walked in wearing head-to-toe Adidas because clearly, he was feeling some bumps and bruises from the night before, too. With a Dos Equis in one hand and some kind of egg roll in the other, he looked like was at the frat version of a cocktail party.
He stopped as soon as he was across the threshold. “Well. Ain’t this cozy.”
“Close the door behind you.” Shuli motioned. “And we’re about to eat. You want some?”
The guy lifted up his beer. “Willhis got me on the way in, but yeah, I’m good for more food.” That shrewd stare narrowed. “Wait a minute, what’s going on. The last time I saw you guys shoulder to shoulder was never.”
“Shut the door,” L.W. commanded. “We gotta talk to you.”
Rhamp looked at the heir to the throne. Looked back at Shuli.
Then he took three steps backwards and elbowed things closed. In a low, even voice, he said, “So it’s like that, is it.”
“You’re going to want to sit down for this,” Shuli murmured as he indicated the end of the bed with his hand-rolled. “And it goes without saying that this is not for anybody else’s ears.”
“Great,” Rhamp muttered as he took a swig of his beer. “More fun with the two of you isjustwhat I’m looking for.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
The following evening, when Dev arrived at the Caldwell Convention Center, he was running on no sleep, but was as hyperaware as someone behind the wheel of an Audi on auto-launch. Standing outside the front of the glass and steel building that spanned two whole city blocks, he stared at the computerized banner that arched across the entrances before him.
Resolve2Evolve. A New You on Your Terms.
The title and tagline were followed by the dates and times of each of the three days of sessions.
And then off to the right, taking up an entire quarter of the expanse, was the picture of a dark-haired woman who was beautiful as a model, but who had grave eyes that suggested an old soul with weighty knowledge to share.
Staring at the image, he felt an elemental response, deep in his bones, and goddamn it, he wanted to know why—why—this was all happening now—
An image of Lyric came to mind, and he thought about the social media bullshit she’d quit because she hadn’t wanted to be just a facade. She’d wanted… reality. Not some created illusion sold to other people as something it wasn’t.
Dev reached up and touched his own face, feeling the smooth cheek and jaw he’d shaved just a half hour ago.
Masks, whether worn casually, with intention, or as a defense, were a lie that was lived. And if you did it for too long? You forgot who the fuck you were.
Even if that had been your point, all along—
Dev was knocked into by someone bumping his left arm.
“Oh! Sorry!” A bubbly young woman dressed entirely in purple smiled at him. “My fault!”
