Page 112 of Keller

Her response comes almost immediately.

I just got home, too. I’m putting a load in the wash. Want wine on the deck instead? I don’t have beer.

Wine at your place is perfect. I’ll be there in fifteen.

The driver waits beside my car. I give him her address and slide into the back seat as the city begins to blur past the window.

Traffic is lighter than it should be for this hour. Music spills from open doors along Frenchmen Street while tourists drift between bars and bead shops as if the world has not shifted at all. Life continues at its usual volume.

The federal inquiry remains a series of words exchanged in a conference room in Houston: executive override authority, compliance metadata, Q4. It's procedural language that does not yet feel real.

I repeat that to myself as we turn onto her street.

Her porch light glows warm against the deepening evening haze, uncomplicated and steady. The car rolls to a stop at the curb, but I do not move immediately. I watch the house for amoment longer than necessary, aware that I am walking toward the one place that has felt uncomplicated in weeks.

“Can you pick me up here tomorrow morning at five-thirty?” I ask the driver.

“That’s not a problem, Mr. Stone.”

I nod once and step out of the car.

Her porch light burns steadily against the darkening sky. From here, the house looks quiet and uncomplicated. Exactly what I need.

If whatever this is grows teeth, we'll deal with it in the morning.

Tonight, I just want her.

TWENTY-NINE

Quinn

The Krewe of Endymion and Super Krewe Evolution:Founded in 1967, the Krewe of Endymion helped usher in the era of “super krewes”, large-scale organizations known for expansive membership, corporate sponsorships, and stadium-style extravaganzas. This evolution shifted parts of Carnival toward mass spectacle, contrasting sharply with the older model of tightly guarded, invitation-only societies.

The knock cutsthrough the quiet of my living room.

I set down my wine glass and cross to the door, my sock feet silent on the hardwood. The afternoon's realization still sits heavy in my chest. Preliminary inquiries do not accelerate like this. This is warp speed. Martin pushed my recommendation upward this morning, but there's no way in hell Stone Intermodal has been notified.

Keller stands on my porch, still in what looks like conference attire. A dark suit with his coat draped over his arm and abutton-down with the sleeves rolled to his forearms. His glasses catch the porch light. He looks composed, but his jaw is tight.

He steps inside and kisses me once. His lips brush mine without a thought, like we've been doing this for a lifetime.

"Hey," he says, looking deflated

"Hey, yourself."

"Come in. Take a load off. I think I have some gym shorts and a t-shirt that will fit you. Want me to go get you something more comfortable?"

"No, I'm okay like this. I just need a glass of wine and to sit down with you."

He moves past me, draping his jacket on the club chair.

"I'll pour you a glass of wine and meet you on the deck."

The sliding glass doors are already open, letting in the mild March air.

He strides toward the back, already gravitating toward the deck like he needs open air more than conversation. I watch him go, noting the set of his shoulders.

I pour a second glass of wine and follow him outside.