Chapter 6 - Baton Rouge
“There she iiiiis,” said Marcel, extending the is through his tight smile. He waved mechanically as Katherine rolled up on my driveway. “A whole thirty minutes late.”
I elbowed him hard. I could do that now that he was on a consistent blood diet. “Cut her some slack. I invited her yesterday. She was probably caught off guard.”
“That makes two of us,” Lily said. Her smile was cut between two stiff cheeks. It was her “I honestly don’t want to talk to you but my mom says you’re a good boost on her career so I’ll pretend that I like you” expression. She wasn’t keen on the news of Katherine’s Full-humanness.
A breath later, she caught sight of the person sitting behind Katherine. Her smile dropped. She whispered aggressively, “Is that a second person, Yandel?! You didn’t tell me about a second person!”
“I didn’t?” I said innocently. “I could have sworn I mentioned her.”
Katherine opened the door to her SUV and waved to us. I jogged up to her, taking from her hands a ginormous bag filled with months worth of her clothes and essentials. She descended her car and leaned down to tie her shoes on the pavement. It was only then that I caught sight of the young woman sitting behind her.
She waved, not friendly but not unfriendly. I recognized her from the coffee shop months earlier, barely. Adri, her name was. Without the hoodie encasing her entire head and seasonal illness sucking the color out of her face, the person’s dark hair and tan skin made her seem like a different human. I extended my hand. “Hey, I’m Yandel.”
“Adriana,” she mumbled, the bag on her lap rustled as she reached over it to get to my hand. The grip was gentle like she wasn’t used to this form of greeting. I didn’t blame her. Shyness, among politicians and their families, was a rare thing. I wouldn’t be stressed to say that the need for solitude in our line of business could even be detrimental to a person’s mental health. Supernaturals were good at putting upfronts. We sacrificed our childhoods to master the skill.
Beep beep!
Well, some of us mastered the skill. Others, like David Taldeo, enjoyed making people uncomfortable enough that no one in their right mind would want to stick around him. He stared at us through the RV window, his aviators fixed on our idling bodies.
“We’re coming!” I yelled. To the spooked girls, I said, “Don’t mind him. My dad didn’t want us taking turns driving so he paid for a chauffeur. With an attitude. Won’t be hiring him again.”
Lily clapped her hands together. “C’mon, guys! We’ll do introductions on the ride to Baton Rouge. Let’s get this party going.”
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