14
JOSIE TAKES CONLEY’S ARM, HER FACE GLOWING. “EVERYONE, this is Wyatt. And Wyatt, may I present my parents, Dr. Sophia Kovalenka and Dr. Henry Caine; plus my sister, Marguerite; and my parents’ graduate assistant, Theo Beck.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Dr. Kovalenka, Dr. Caine. And Marguerite and Theo. I’m so glad you could make it tonight.” Conley’s manners are better than usual. If I didn’t know what a manipulative, power-hungry snake he actually is, I could believe my sister had gotten engaged to a nice guy.
As my parents get through some small talk with the “happy couple,” Theo and I take our seats. I lean toward him and whisper, “What’s Conley doing?”
“From this angle, I can see what your parents can’t see, namely that he’s letting your sister grope his ass.”
Somehow I manage not to gag. “I mean, why is he going after Josie? What’s his game? And if Conley’s got such a good in with my family in this dimension, why did he send us here?”
Theo raises an eyebrow. “Now that’s a good question.”
I look carefully at Conley, studying his neck and chest in particular. He’s wearing a suit, one that’s not closely tailored, so it still fits his “Bad Boy Wonder of Silicon Valley” image—but the subtle sheen of the fabric makes it clear his jacket alone probably cost as much as some cars. What interests me most is the lack of any rumples or wrinkles along his shirt, no telltale bulge beneath his silk necktie.
He’s not wearing a Firebird.
Conley wouldn’t necessarily have to wear it at all times; once you’ve stabilized in a dimension, you can take the Firebird off and put it aside almost indefinitely. But I’ve never removed my Firebird for more than a couple of seconds when I didn’t absolutely have to, and neither would anyone else traveling through the multiverse.
Besides, he showed no flicker of recognition when he saw us. Conley loves to lord his power over people, to show off when he’s got the advantage. So my guess is that we’re sitting down to dinner with this world’s Wyatt Conley—no passengers from other dimensions involved.
That would mean his romance with Josie is for real.
Everyone settles in. I hesitate before unfolding my napkin, which has been done up into some kind of origami swan. This tablecloth is made out of better fabric than most of my clothes. And when the waiter gives us the menus—gliding in and out almost unnoticeably, like a spirit—no prices are listed.
Theo murmurs, “If you have to ask, you can’t afford it.”
I’d laugh, but I’m too busy watching Conley and Josie.
“Well, I told you, Wyatt and I met when I agreed to help with his latest gaming system.” Josie beams. Since when did she get into programming? Her next sentence answers that question. “The company needed someone to surf in a wave pool, so they could study the body kinesthetic, the kinds of motion, all of that. They’d already had a guy come in, but when they advertised for a female surfer too, I figured, what the hell. I’d been wanting to visit the Bay Area again, and I thought I might as well get paid for doing what I’d do for fun on the weekend anyway.”
Conley cuts in. “And I was there just to see how the project was getting on.”“You had time for that?” Dad says, amiably enough. He’s the only one of us totally at ease in these sophisticated surroundings—well, aside from Conley himself. My father’s English-nobility background is showing. “I’d think running ConTech would keep you far too busy for that sort of thing.”
I make a mental note. His company isn’t Triad here; it’s ConTech.
“I’m a busy man,” Conley admits. “But I try to look in on various projects and teams throughout my company from time to time.”
“Keeping them on their toes, huh?” Theo says.
That earns him a look from Conley, who clearly isn’t sure why the grad assistant feels free to snark at him. But Conley keeps going. “Whatever made me show up that afternoon, I’m grateful. Because the minute I saw Josie surfing—she looked so happy, so confident, like she was having the time of her life—well, I guess that’s why they call it love at first sight.”
Oh, vomit.
“You know how I am,” Josie says. She’s speaking to all of us, supposedly, but she’s looking at Mom. “I never wanted to be held back, and I never wanted to hold anyone back. Wyatt—he’s already accomplished so much. I couldn’t keep him from his goals. I’m not sure that’s even possible.”
Conley smiles as he puts one hand around her shoulders, not quite an embrace. His eyes flicker away only briefly, as he gestures to the waiter.
Josie continues, “I’m not leaving Scripps. I’m still going to get my doctorate in oceanography. And after that, Wyatt’s talked about funding an expedition to Antarctica, where I could work on the iron content research we talked about, Dad.”
“Really? What sort of methodology have you chosen?” Dad perks up. He’s never regretted leaving oceanography for pure mathematics, putting aside his own promising career to support Mom in hers—but he’s still a huge nerd about it.
The waiter arrives with champagne. With a nod of her head, Mom lets the waiter know he can pour me a glass as well. Special occasion, et cetera. She and Dad won’t touch a drop, though. They don’t drink much, and besides—despite the smile on Mom’s face, and all my father’s excited questions, I can tell they’re analyzing Wyatt Conley every single second.
I take a sip, mostly to cover my own discomfort with the situation. Under his breath, Theo says, “I think Conley means it.”
About loving Josie, he’s saying. “This one does,” I mutter. “That doesn’t mean another one wouldn’t use this to his advantage.” Theo nods.
The rest of the night has a hallucinatory quality—half dream, half nightmare. For the dream, we have the hush of the room, the cloudlike elegance of the space, and food that tastes like the stuff you get served in heaven, in most world religions. For the nightmare: Conley’s hand in Josie’s, or around her shoulder, all evening long, holding tight. Like he owns her.
Yet I can’t deny the energy they have together. Josie laughs when she tells her story about teaching him to water-ski; he lights up when he talks about how she gets him to stop thinking about business all the time and actually enjoy his life. And I notice the compliments he pays her. Conley never calls her beautiful, or sweet, or any of those generic terms that actually don’t have jack to do with my rough-and-tumble sister. He says Josie’s dynamic. That she’s filled with purpose. Above all, she is strong.
I have to admit: He knows the real Josie. Maybe he even really loves her.
Silently I decide to stop thinking of this one as “Conley” and instead think of him as “Wyatt.” That doesn’t mean I trust Wyatt—not even close—but it reminds me that he’s not the same guy as the one who’s kidnapped and traumatized my family. I have to evaluate this one on his own.
Dessert arrives in the form of sorbets in flavors I’ve never heard of before: green tea, crème brûlée, even beet-and-lime. Tentatively I sample the beet-and-lime one—which is actually pretty good—then nearly choke on it when Wyatt says, “So where are you with the Firebird project?”