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Heather’s shoulders curved in, and she sank down in the seat, not meeting the other woman’s eyes. “The resort staff say it’s all cleaned up, but they don’t know how the cats got in—”
“Cats,” the woman said and gave an unpleasant laugh.
“That’s Yesenia,” Missy whispered. “She’s the president of the association.”
It looked like Yesenia might have said more to Heather, but at that moment, screams erupted from the front of the lobby. They all turned to watch as two Santaland security guards—whose street cred, Tean considered, was probably undermined by the red jackets with white piping—dragged a struggling young woman toward the doors.
“No!” she was screaming as she kicked the air and writhed in their grip. “No! Let me go! It’s not real!” Her labored breathing had the quality of real panic. “It’s all a lie! I have to tell them!”
The automatic doors slid shut behind her, and the muffled screams slowly faded into the distance.
“Jesus,” Jem said under his breath.
“I have to see to that,” Yesenia said, striding toward the doors. “Don’t let me catch you again, Heather.”
Heather, still shrunken in her seat, sent a gray-faced scowl after the other woman.
“Uh.” Missy gave an unsteady laugh. “Sorry about that, Jem. There are always people who show up at these kinds of events. The ones who think we’re not doing enough. And the other side, who think we’re doing too much already.”
When Jem looked a question at Tean, he gave a tiny shake of his head: a silent answer ofYes, but not like that.
“I think we’ll get our room,” Tean said. “Grab our luggage, unpack.”
“I’m so happy you’re here,” Missy said, wrapping him in another hug that, once again, Jem propelled Tean into. “Thank you for coming.”
“It’s really—”
“No, seriously, thank you.”
Tean wondered if wriggling was ineffective; maybe he should duck and try to slip under her arms.
“It means so much to me,” Missy said, and she sounded, all of a sudden, on the brink of tears. She released him then, stepping back, blinking rapidly. “Go on, get your room. But please, we have to grab dinner one of these nights. We have so much catching up to do. And I want to get to know Jem—I mean, I don’t even know what you do.”
“Real estate,” Jem said. “I’m literally the most boring person you’ll ever meet. Ask me about escrow accounts.”
Tean couldn’t help the laugh that erupted, and he changed it into a fit of coughing when Jem whapped him on the back.
They got the card keys to their hotel room and retrieved their luggage from the rental car. Even though it was evening, the air was so hot and humid that it felt like they were swimming in a broth of skin cells and off-gassing decomposition and redneck conservatism. Tean was explaining this to Jem in the elevator, at length, until he saw the smile on Jem’s face and made himself stop.
Their room was clean, small, and cool, with the mini-split AC churring happily. It had a connecting door that, Jem checked, was securely bolted from their side. More importantly, they had a big bed, and even though they’d been together years, Tean blushed when Jem bounced on the bed, reclined on an elbow, and waggled his eyebrows.
“Come on,” Jem laughed and flopped onto his stomach. “I want to call the girls.”
Tean joined him on the bed as Jem placed the call. A moment later, the video started, and a giant, wet, black nose snuffled across the screen. Squeals of laughter filled the background.
“They thought that would be hilarious,” Hannah said. Tean’s friend—and co-worker at the DWR—appeared a moment later as Scipio, their black Lab, moved away from the camera. “Here they are. Scipio says hi, by the way.”
“No, he doesn’t,” Tean said. “We could die in a fiery plane crash—”
He grunted when Jem elbowed him, and then the girls were there.
Sofia was ten, her hair still in the braids that Jem had done, and she was filled with a ten-year-old’s outrage. “It’s my turn on the Switch but Anahí won’t let me have a turn even though she died and Hannah said when she died it was my turn!”
“Hi, sweetheart,” Jem said and laughed.
The patter of feet announced Anahí, and Sofia sprinted away—doubtless, Tean decided, to reclaim the Switch. Anahí was only six, her dark hair short, a bow in it already falling halfway out. She was holding a slice of pizza—well, a fraction of a slice of pizza, since Hannah had clearly cut it in half for her.
“We’re having pizza!” Anahí screamed and then ran away.
