“There he is!” Pan cries, hands in the air. “Okay, first off,language, all of you. Second off…” He darts a look at Wendy, who’s twisting idly back and forth on her stool, taking it all in, then motions for the three of us to follow him a few steps away. “Emerald?” He catches her attention, does a littlewatch herpoint from his eyes to Wendy, and purses his lips in an air kiss as a thank you.
Emerald, for her part, looks a little put out, and I can’t help but feel a tiny bit triumphant.
Blue wastes no time once we’re a few feet away. “What,” he says, “thefuckis going on here?”
“I, too, am waiting for that explanation.” Kit stares into the middle distance as he speaks from where he’s hunched over a little on a barstool, his wrists between his knees.
I say nothing. Because I’m not even sure Icanexplain what’s going on.
Fortunately, I don’t have to, because Pan heaves a dramatic sigh and sits up so he’s perching on the edge of the counter. “Well…” He cocks his head, considering. “You know how I lost my jacket?”
I groan. Of course he’s going to start this with his jacket.
“Here you go, honey.” To our right, Treasure returns and plunks something down in front of Wendy—a Shirley Temple, fizzy and syrupy. “Chef’s gonna fry you some chicken tenders, okay?”
“Okay,” Wendy says. “Thank you,” she adds, politely, and takes a sip of her Shirley.
“You’re welcome, honey.” With that, Treasure turns on a dime, strides down the bar, and snaps her fingers right in Pan’s face.
“What thefuckare you doing with a kid?”
“Funny, we were just wondering the same thing,” Kit says drily.
Treasure ignores him. “One of you having baby mama drama or something?” She glances at Blue, who muttersfuck no,only for Treasure’s eyes to widen at Pan. “She’dbetternot be yours.”
“Seriously, T?” Pan laughs, even as my heart squeezes just at thethoughtof Pan having knocked some girl up. “I couldn’t even…” He tilts his head back, counts quickly on his fingers. “I’mbarelyold enough to be her father.”
Treasure glares, folds her arms, and waits. She looks at Pan. Blue looks at Pan. Kit looks at Pan.
And Pan looks at me.
Oh, great. Ofcourseit’s on me to explain.
“We got…kinda mixed up in something,” I say.
“Mixed up?” Treasure repeats, incredulous.
And…yeah, fair, that’s putting it lightly.Because not to be all woe-is-me about it, but I may be the most mixed-up of anyonehere.
I don’t want a kid near us. I don’t want agirlnear us. I don’t want any unknown factors, any new people, anyone any closer to me than they have to be. I can take care of exactly one person’s problems, and that person is me.
Pan leans back so his elbows are on the bar, and looks up with a grimace.
At me.
I swallow hard.
Okay, maybe exactlytwopeople’s problems.
“The thing is—” I start.
“Krye has a daughter, right?” Treasure interrupts, looking at Pan. “She his?”
Pan shakes his head. “Nah. I mean, yeah, he does have one, but Zuzu’s way older. Wendy here’s got nothing to do with Krye’s whole deal. This was more of a…rescue mission.”
“Rescue mission?” Treasure’s eyes go wider, but Blue interrupts, voice low, before Pan can answer.
“She’s not one of?—”
