It doesn’t make sense at first. Like it’s barely even words. “What?”
“Zuzu,” he says again, grinning like this is some kind of fun game. “Krye’s daughter. Some thug in her new neighborhood’s giving her a hard time. So, you know.” He runs his tongue over his teeth and smiles wider, tugging his collar into place. “Looks like we’ve got to do a little rescue mission.”
“Uh, we?” From his station in the shop, Kit lifts his head. “Who are you callingwe?”
“Ollie ollie oxen free,” Pan says, lifting his hands in the air. “Told Krye I’d bring backup. You in?”
Kit shrugs. “Could probably use it,” he mutters, just as I say?—
“Wait.” I inhale sharply. “Pan. Slow the fuck down. What exactly are you saying we do?”
“I justsaid,” Pan says. “Little rescue mission, make sure she’s okay.” He scratches the back of his head. “Kinda ridiculous, considering she’s a fucking Brazilian jujitsu artist or whatever, but, you know.” He grins. “Can’t ignore a damsel in distress.”
“Who’s a damsel in distress?” Fox pads in from the kitchen, holding what looks like an empty box of Bisquick—and once againshirtless, for Christ’s sake. I close my eyesagain.What is happening to me? My hormones must be back online after getting my period or something. “Hey, do we have any more pancake mix somewhere?” Fox continues, to Kit. “There’s only a little bit left.”
“I wasn’t aware we hadanypancake mix,” Kit says, leaning against the shop counter and frowning. “Why?”
“‘Cause I’m making pancakes.”
“Again?” Pan says.
“Now?” Kit says.
“Zuzu,” I explain, since no one’s bothering to answer the question. “She’s in some kind of trouble, apparently.” I glance at Pan. “Did he say what happened?”
I don’twantto go out and help Krye’s daughter, necessarily. But I also don’t want things to get any worse. With Krye, or…in general. Especially if he’s been trying to call since last night.
So my read on the situation is what it usually is: the faster we get this over with, the better.
“Nah. He’s in Mexico or something so he doesn’t have a lot of the details,” Pan says, studying his fingernails. He looks up. “Wheels up in like two minutes. You coming, Fox?”
Fox glances at the box of pancake mix, shrugs, and nods. “Can I put a shirt on first?”
“Please.”
The single word from the corner makes me almost jump out of my skin.
Blue. Just lurking there in the piercing station, half concealed behind the leather of his chair. He steps out now, wiping something on a cloth that he sets down on his tray.
“I’ll go,” he says shortly. “If you need me.”
“Always,” Pan says, nodding.
“Me too,” Fox says quickly. “Uh, once I find a?—”
His sentence is cut off by something soft hitting him in the face: a T-shirt, chucked over by Kit: “you’re welcome.”
“Great, great,” Pan says. “But come on, train’s leaving. Zuzu could be black and blue right now.”
“Wait.” Fox’s brow creases, holding the shirt. “Who’s Zuzu again?”
“Krye’s daughter,” I answer. “But she’s?—”
“She’s getting some kind of shakedown over at her gym down by the Marina and we’ve gotta ride in and stop it,” Pan explains, a hint of irritation in his voice. “Can we get out of here now?”
All of a sudden, my limbs feel like concrete.
Because Zusanna’s gym is on Azucena Boulevard. Krye said that, IrememberKrye said that. And flower street names like that, you’ll only find in one part of London Valley.
