1 – The Party

 

Jake arrived at Callahan Mansion with his father, Will. It was located in the small town of Gilran, in the state of Jefferson, in the Free States of America. He’d never seen a house so huge. And one person owned it? The government should have taken it, and made it into free housing for people.

“Why does one person need to own a place like this?” Jake asked his father. “There’s people living on the streets, but this guy owns a mansion that could house all of them.”

“The West Wing section is a hotel,” Will said. “People can pay to stay there.”

“Oh, so he profits off of it too.” Jake crinkled his nose. All anyone cared about here was making a profit. It made him miss California, in the Equal States of America, where there were rules and regulations on how much money people and businesses could make. He should have stayed behind, but his father wanted to move his pizza chain here. Jake was supposed to inherit it someday, so his father pressured him into moving with him.

Will opened one of the double doors. “Try not to be rude.”

The foyer was huge. They followed arrows pointing to a ballroom. Something Jake had only heard of in historical contexts.

It was an obscenely large room. There were benches and chairs pushed against the walls, but the middle of the room was free for people to roam and chat. Possibly dance, if there was music playing. The room was filled with the sound of voices instead.

“Will!” a fifty-something year old man appeared with a younger woman on his arm. He had balding gray hair and wore a suit over his plump frame. The woman had long, auburn hair and wore a blue dress with ruffles and frills, along with a bored expression. The man shook Will’s hand. “How have you been?”

“Good,” Will said. “Looks like you’ve been doing well for yourself.”

“Sure have. After inheriting this place, I added in a second restaurant. And I started charging guests to use the pools and tennis courts.”

“Smart.”

“I’d say.” The man wrapped his arm around the woman next to him. “This is my wife, Stellaluna. Stella, this is my old friend, Will.”

“Nice to meet you,” the woman said flatly, as though she didn’t care about being there any more than Jake did.

The man finally noticed Jake. “And who is this young man?”

“Jake.” Will clasped his hand on Jake’s shoulder. “My son. Jake, this is Barry Callahan. The owner of the mansion.”

Jake mumbled a “nice to meet you.”

Barry shook his hand. “A pleasure. The last time I saw you, you were a baby. How old are you?”

“20,” Jake answered.

“20!” Barry looked to Will. “Has it really been 20 years since we last saw each other? I could’ve sworn it’s only been 10. I should go back and visit California again. Their government might be run by a bunch of communists, but at least their beaches are nice.”

Jake would rather live in a government run by communists, than a government run by fascists. But he kept his mouth shut.

“It hasn’t been that bad living there,” Will said. “I just hate that it’s impossible to hit the billion amero mark.”

“And here I am, upset I haven’t reached a trillion.” Barry shook his head. “Aren’t they making things even harder for your business, with all those food regulations? I hear they’re banning additive sugar completely.”

“Yep. It’s getting harder and harder to make a good pizza. The sauce doesn’t taste the same without the sugar. I’m losing customers.”

Barry tsked at that. “Isn’t minimum wage going up again too?”

“That, and they’re requiring us to give employees another week’s worth of sick time. Like five weeks wasn’t enough. I’d replace them with robots, but then I’ll get hit with even higher taxes. Somehow it’s cheaper to hire people who call in sick every other day.”

“What a shame. Here, I don’t have to give my workers any sick time!”

“What if they get sick?” Jake asked.

“Oh, don’t you worry. I do give them three days of sick time a year. But any more than that, they don’t get paid. And if they get sick too often, well, it’s unfortunate for them. There’s plenty of other people out there who are happy to fill their place.”

Jake checked his watch. He had only been inside the mansion for five minutes and already he wanted to leave.

A woman in a black skirt walked by, carrying a tray of brown, glass bottles with a company logo on it that said “Hendi.” Barry and Stellaluna took one each. Stellaluna tilted her head back, and gulped it down.

“The Henderson brothers gave me crates of this for the party.” Barry said. “They’re testing out a formula for peach flavor.”

Will and Jake grabbed one, and the waitress moved on. The caps had already been removed. Jake peered inside. Whatever it was, fizzled. Was it safe to drink? Stellaluna had no problem downing it.

“It’s soda,” Will said to him. “Try it.”

So this was the mysterious beverage banned in California. His father often talked about how he missed it. Jake took a small sip, and nearly spat it out. The fizzling sensation in his mouth was unpleasant, and it was way too sweet. How much sugar did they put in it?

“What do you think?” Will asked.

Jake tried, but failed, to find a Nutrition Facts label on it. “It should be illegal.”

“That good, huh?” Barry grinned. “The Henderson’s should be here any minute. They’ve got a little sister your age. She is drop-dead gorgeous. I’d take her for myself if I wasn’t already married to this old thing.”

Stellaluna didn’t even flinch at his words. No frown. No eye roll. No fake smile. No comments. Nothing. It was like she had long stopped caring about anything. Jake looked over at his father and mouthed, “I want to go home.”

 

~~~~~

 

“Do I really have to go?” Sebastian asked his parents, Waylon and Celine.

“Yes, you do.” Waylon said as he opened the front door. “I plan on announcing to everyone that I’m running for governor. You being there will make things look better. Especially after that scandal you caused.”

That “scandal” was seven years ago. One would think people would have forgotten about it. But he knew there was truth in his father’s words. Sebastian reluctantly followed him down the front steps, towards the driveway. “Who cares what a bunch of rich snobs think.”

“Those rich snobs will vote for me if they think we’re a loving, happy family.” Waylon made his way towards his car, Celine walking behind him. Sebastian remained stopped.

Waylon turned around, waving his hand. “Come on!”

“But I don’t want to.”

“Stop whining. You sound like a little kid.”

“Because you’re treating me like a little kid! I’m an adult. Legally, I can do what I want.”

“And since you’re an adult, I can legally kick you out. Now move!”

As much as Sebastian wanted to move out, he didn’t have a job to pay rent. So he groaned as he walked over to the car. He climbed into the backseat. Waylon sat in the driver’s seat, and Celine in the passenger’s. Waylon entered the address of Callahan Mansion into the car’s GPS screen, and the car drove off.

They hadn’t even reached the freeway when the car starting thumping, and pulled itself over. Waylon muttered several swear words before getting out of the car to investigate. Then, he opened the driver’s door to give Sebastian and Celine an update.

“It’s definitely a flat. Sebastian, be a man and help me fix it.”

Sebastian knew nothing about cars, but got out to help anyway.

The front passenger tire was completely flat. “There should be a spare in a compartment in the trunk,” Waylon said. He popped the trunk, and they peered inside.

There was a flap at the bottom of the trunk. Waylon lifted it, revealing a large, empty space where a spare tire should be.

“What happened to our spare?” Waylon glared at Sebastian as though he had planned all this.

“I don’t know.”

“Did you steal it? Don’t lie to me.”

“No! Why would I steal a spare tire?”

“Damn it!” Waylon slammed the trunk shut. “We’re gonna have to get it towed to a mechanic, and wait for them to fix it. God knows how long that’ll take.”

Sebastian tried not to smile at his luck. He and his father got back into the car. Waylon tapped a “request tow truck” button on the car’s screen, and followed the instructions.

 

~~~~~

 

“Speak of the devil,” Barry said, “the Henderson’s are here!”

Jake followed Barry’s gaze towards two men and a woman approaching. The men looked to be in their late twenties or early thirties, and had the same short, dark hair. Both were tall and thin. Their faces had a lot of similarities as well, and Jake wouldn’t have been surprised if they were twins. One had a rounder face than the other though.

“Walker! Carter!” Barry shook their hands, and introduced them to Jake and his father. Walker was the one with the thinner face. “We were just talking about you. Will and Jake tried your new Peach Hendi, and Jake says it’s so good, it should be illegal.”

Jake didn’t correct him on why he thought it should be illegal. His eyes were on the woman. She had long brown hair, and was around the same average height and weight as him. Like every woman Jake had seen in Jefferson, she wore a dress. A plain green one that fell past her knees. This was probably the sister Barry had mentioned. And he found himself agreeing with Barry. The woman was nice to look at.

Barry turned to Jake and Will. “And this is the beautiful sister they’ve been trying to marry off.”

“Marry off?” Jake’s eyes widened. Did he hear that right? Did that phrase mean something different here? He hoped so.

Barry patted Jake’s back. “We’ll leave you kids to it.”

Barry, Stellaluna, his father, and the brothers all walked away, leaving Jake alone with the woman. Jake adjusted his glasses while the woman rubbed her arm. After several seconds of an awkward silence, Jake held out his hand. “I’m Jake.” He almost added his pronouns, but remembered his father had warned him he’d get laughed at if he did. That everyone here assumed genders.

The girl shook his hand. “Maple.”

“Like the leaf?”

No. Like the syrup.”

Jake chuckled. “Funny. I’ll have to remember that one.”

“Yeah.” Maple looked down at her silver sandals.

Jake fiddled with his bottle of Hendi. He had grown tired of holding it, and didn’t even want it. Not knowing what else to say, he raised it up. “Do you want the rest of this? I only took one sip. I kind of hate it.”

“My brothers own Hendi.”

“Oh.” Of course they did. “Sorry. Um, it wasn’t that bad.”

“It’s okay. I hate it too.”

“Good. I was beginning to think I’m weird. Do you know where I can dump this? I’d throw it in the garbage, but I don’t want it to spill everywhere.”

“Maybe the bathroom sink.”

“Do you know where there is one?”

“Yeah. Come on.”

 

Maple led Jake to the restrooms. Jake stared at the two doors for a few seconds. One said men’s, and the other said women’s. So these were the segregated bathrooms he’d heard so much about. He pushed on the door that said “Men’s” but it wouldn’t budge. “It’s locked.”

“You forgot to put your finger on the reader.”

“What?”

“You know. The fingerprint reader.” Maple pointed to the small, black object below the door handle.

How soon he had forgotten that ridiculous step. He’d come across one outside the dressing rooms of the clothing store he went to the other day. It was the reason he had to go through that embarrassing genital check when he crossed the border into the FSA. They took his fingerprints too, saying he needed to be registered into their database.

“You’ve never used one?” Maple asked.

“I have. I just forgot about it. I’ve only been here a few days.”

“Oh. Are fingerprint readers not a thing where you’re from?”

“Not to get in a damn bathroom.” Jake hesitantly put his finger on the reader. The reader turned green, and something clicked. He pushed the door open, and went inside.

There were a few stalls, a couple of urinals, and a couple of sinks. No different than the typical public bathrooms at home, aside from being a lot cleaner. He poured his drink down the sink, and tossed the bottle in the garbage bin on his way out the door.

“What do you want to do now?” Maple asked.

“I want to know what happens if I put my finger on the one for women’s.”

Jake had only said it as a joke, but Maple grinned. “I dare you.”

It would probably only deny him entry. Jake placed his finger on the women’s reader anyway. It flashed red, and a high-pitched beep pierced the air. Maple covered her ears. Jake pulled at her arm, and ran.

They continued running through a hall, past the foyer, until they reached a wall with a closed door. There, they stopped.

Jake leaned against the door, panting. “That was a close one.”

“Nobody was even chasing us.”

“But someone could have been.” Jake studied the door. It was plain and beige, and matched the equally beige wall. “Where do you suppose this goes?”

“Maybe there’s a secret behind it of some sort.”

Jake was expecting a small closet. “What makes you think that?”

“It’s the only thing in this mansion that’s plain and boring. Everything else is all fancy décor and stylized.”

“Clever observation,” Jake said with a smile. “I bet you’re right.” He turned the knob, but nothing happened. “It’s locked. Now we know there’s secrets behind this door.”

Maple pulled a clip out of her hair. “Step aside. I got this.”

It took her a few tries, but eventually there was a click, and the door creaked open.

Jake found himself impressed. He’d never been able to figure out lock-picking. “You know how to do that?”

“I taught myself.” Maple opened the door all the way. Jake peered over her shoulder to see an old, wooden set of stairs. “Is it a basement?”

“Either that or a dungeon.” Maple smiled at him. “Want to find out?”

“Sounds a lot more exciting than whatever the hell is going on at the party. Let’s go.”

 

~~~~~

 

The tow truck dropped Sebastian and his parents off at the nearest mechanic. Fortunately, this mechanic was only ten minutes away from where they got the flat. Unfortunately, it took the tow truck over a half hour to show up.

They walked into the shop while the tow truck driver dealt with unloading their car. Surprisingly, there wasn’t a line. An overweight, balding man helped them out. His name tag read “Ralph.”

“I’m here because I have a flat tire,” Waylon said. “A tow truck just dropped us off.”

“No problem.” Ralph poked at a tablet on the desk. “Name?”

“Waylon Barstow.”

“Waylon Barstow. Aren’t you our mayor?”

“Sure am.” For the first time since they left the house, Waylon smiled. “I’m running for governor next term.”

“Sounds great.”

Sebastian struggled to keep his eyes from rolling. Through a back door into the garage, he spotted a man with wavy black hair past his ears. Tall, a bit on the thin side. He might have had a handsome face.

The man walked through the doorway. He definitely had a handsome face, with high cheekbones and a defined jawline. His closely-trimmed beard and tan skin gave him a rugged appearance. Sebastian looked away. More so out of habit than fear these days. Still, it had been the longest he’d allowed himself to look at a man his age since he left that camp.

The man wore the typical mechanic uniform of a blue button-up smock with matching blue pants. His name tag read “Axel.” An appropriate name for a mechanic. Axel handed a sheet of paper to Ralph and said, “This one’s ready.”

“I’ll call them in a few. I’m helping the mayor right now!” Ralph beamed.

“Wonderful,” Axel said flatly, not even looking at Waylon. Sebastian got the feeling Axel didn’t particularly care for his father. But his brown eyes did land on Sebastian for a second. There might have been a hint of a smile. It gave Sebastian a fluttering sensation in his stomach, followed by dread. He pulled his eyes away from Axel again.

“He’s got a flat,” Ralph explained to Axel. “A tow truck's unloading it in the back. I want you to prioritize that one.”

“But there’s two other cars that-”

“Prioritize his!”

“Okay, okay.” Grumbling, Axel walked back through the door to the garage.

Ralph asked them to sit in the empty waiting area. There were several chairs, and a TV playing an old sitcom. Sebastian spent that time thinking about Axel. How handsome he was. That feeling he got in his stomach.

This was bad. Very bad. Sebastian was supposed to be over men. But he saw Axel return from the garage and perked up, fighting his natural urge to look away. Because why should he force himself to avoid looking at this man? Nobody was there to punish him for it. Except maybe his father. But he had his attention on his phone while his mother had her eyes on the TV.

Axel said something to Ralph, and Ralph walked over.

“Good news! It only needs to be patched. We’ll have it done in ten minutes.”

“Thank you,” Waylon said.

 

A few minutes passed by. Sebastian caught himself staring at that door behind the front desk. Hoping to see Axel again. Hating that he was hoping for such a thing. He really needed to snap out of this. It wasn’t like he’d see the man again anyway.

The thought filled him with disappointment.

Axel walked through the back door. Sebastian straightened while Axel said something to Ralph.

“How the hell did you manage that!” Ralph shouted.

“I’m sorry!”

They spoke in hushed tones, then walked over to Waylon, who eyed them warily. Sebastian stared at the wall behind Axel, not daring to look at him anymore than he already had.

“The tire is good as new,” Ralph said. “But there’s something else we need to fix.”

“What?”

“It’s our fault,” Ralph said quickly. “You won’t have to pay for it.”

“Won’t have to pay for what?” Waylon raised his tone.

Axel had stared at the floor during the entire exchange. Ralph elbowed him in the side, and Axel slowly met Waylon’s eyes. “I accidentally broke the brake rotor.”

“How the hell did you manage that!” Waylon shouted.

“I’m sorry!”

Sebastian covered his mouth to hide a snicker.

“I’m working on fixing it, but it’ll be another half hour.” Axel paused. “At least.” He hurried off before Waylon could respond.

Ralph apologized again, and followed.

“What an idiot,” Waylon grumbled.

 

~~~~~

As Maple’s eyes first swept around the creepy basement, she felt disappointed. There wasn’t anything but old barrels and crates. The trunk pushed off in a dark corner only contained clothes. She was ready to leave, but Jake had the bright idea of seeing what was under the trunk. He pushed it aside, revealing a hidden trap door.

Of course, they both went down it. Why wouldn’t they? There was a small ladder to climb back up if they needed to. It was pitch black in there, so they turned on the flashlights on their watches to see.

The secret room under the basement appeared to be some sort of shelter room. One to take cover in during a war or a natural disaster. There were crates filled with food rations and water bottles. Spare clothes and blankets. Even a generator. Maple’s flashlight landed on a portable lantern. She turned it on. The lighting was dim, and gave off a yellow glow. But it was an improvement. Maple placed it in the center of the room. She and Jake turned off their flashlights.

“This is disappointing,” Jake said, stalking the perimeter of the room. “I was hoping to come across jewels or treasure maps of something.”

“I was thinking we’d find a dead body.”

“That wouldn’t have been creepy at all.” Jake poked around a crate of food, pulling out a can of peaches. “Do you think they’d find our dead bodies if we ate this?”

“I don’t know. Try it and find out.” Maple spotted a bag of plastic utensils in a box. “There’s even spoons here.”

“Good, I’m hungry. Wanna share?”

Maple pulled out two spoons while Jake popped the tab on the lid off. She sat next to him, and handed him a spoon.

“Is this one of those disposable spoons?” Jake’s voice was filled with scorn.

“Yeah. What’s wrong with them?”

“They’re terrible for the environment.”

Maple had heard that somewhere before, but she’d also heard it was a myth. “They’re not that bad.”

“Not that bad? I bet your landfills are full of this garbage.” Jake took a bite of the peaches. “God, it tastes weird.”

“Are they too old to eat then?”

“Not the peaches. Those are okay. It’s the spoon that tastes weird.”

Maple took a spoonful of her own, and tried it. The peaches were surprisingly good. And the spoon didn’t bother her at all. “Tastes fine to me. Have you never used plastic silverware?”

“Nope. They’re illegal in California.”

“That’s where you moved here from?”

“Yeah. I lived there my whole life.”

Maple had heard only bad things about California, but Jake sounded as though he missed it. “What’s it like?”

“A mansion like this wouldn’t be owned by one person, for starts.” Jake took another bite of peaches. “The government owns most of the housing. People can buy a normal-sized house if they want, but they’re limited to only one. And they have to live in it. No renting it out.”

“That sounds strict.”

“It’s to make sure everyone has a roof over their head. If corporations and rich assholes took over housing to make a profit, people would be priced out of homes and apartments. They’d get thrown out if they lost their job and couldn’t pay rent. Bet that happens here all the time.”

“Not really.” Though Maple wasn’t familiar with the ins and outs of the housing market. “Why would anyone bother working anyway, if they don’t have to pay rent?”

“To afford to do fun stuff. Like concerts and vacations and things. Our universal basic income is only enough to buy cheap food and necessities.”

“Universal basic income?”

“Yeah. Everyone gets a check from the government every month.”

Maple stared at him. She was no expert in economics, but it didn’t seem possible. “How can the government afford all that?”

“By taxing the hell out of people like Barry. Billionaires aren’t a thing there. Once you reach half a billion, the rest of what you make gets taxed.” Jake scooped another spoonful of peaches and sighed. “That’s one of the reasons why we moved here. My dad wants to make more money, but he keeps getting hit with high taxes. So he took his business and left.”

Maple could easily imagine a lot of businesses doing the same. “There must not be many businesses there.”

“There’s not. The government takes care of a lot of of the essentials. But for-profit businesses still exist.”

California didn’t sound as bad as everyone around her seemed to think. There must be some sort of catch, aside from no plastic spoons. Perhaps Jake was telling a biased version of it. She’d heard Californians had smug and superior attitudes about living there. Nice as he had been otherwise, Jake gave off that vibe.

“So, what’s your deal?” Jake asked. “Someone said something about you getting married off?”

Maple had forgotten about the reason she was dragged to the mansion to begin with. Her brothers had been on a mission to find her a husband. Something she absolutely did not want. Every man they tried setting her up with was either controlling, patronizing, or had wandering hands. Usually all three. “Right. I’m of marrying age, so my brothers are looking for a husband for me.”

“They’re looking? Not you?”

“They need to make sure he’s right for me. Men have better judgment.”

“Men have better judgment?”

“Of course.” Maple scraped at bottom of the can for the last remains.

“You’ve got better judgment than half the men I’ve met. I think you’re more than capable of picking out your own husband.”

Something strange happened inside Maple at those words. A twist in her stomach that brought on a surge of joy. It was a feeling she had never felt before. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Jake checked his watch. “We should get back. People are going to wonder where we’ve been.”

Maple set her spoon in the can Jake held, and stood up alongside him. They climbed up the ladder, and closed the trap door behind them. Jake shoved the trunk back over it, and they walked up the basement stairs.

Jake opened the door. The burst of light hurt Maple’s eyes for a few seconds. When they adjusted, Maple saw her brothers, Barry, and Jake’s father standing in front of her.

“You two sure are getting along great.” There was a hint of a smile on Carter’s face as he said it. Did that mean he wanted to arrange for her to marry Jake? So far, he was the only man who wasn't repulsive.

“Come on, Jake.” Jake’s father patted him on the shoulder. “We can go home now.”

“It was nice meeting you,” Jake said to Maple. “Hopefully we’ll see each other around.”

Maple tried to hide a smile. “Hopefully.”

 

~~~~~

 

Finally, Ralph told Waylon his car was ready. They walked over to the register, where Waylon paid and Ralph handed over the keys.

“Maybe everyone will still be at the party,” Waylon said on their way to the car.

Sebastian doubted it.

They approached the car. Waylon stop to stare at his door. “What’s this?”

“What’s what?” Celine asked. Sebastian followed her to the driver’s side.

Waylon pointed at his door. “Do you see that? This wasn’t here before!”

Sebastian leaned in, squinting. It took him a second to notice the small scratch. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Not that big of a deal!”

It wasn’t. A little buffing would get rid of it. Sebastian rubbed his finger against it. Nothing. He lifted the hem of his shirt to try using that, but Waylon pushed him aside.

“No. They put that scratch there. They need to fix it!” Waylon stormed back into the shop. Celine followed with a quiet sigh. Sebastian would rather not see shop workers berated, so he stayed behind. He studied the scratch, wondering if it had been there earlier but unnoticed.

Ralph, Axel, and his parents returned. Waylon shoved Sebastian out of the way, with enough force to knock him to the ground. Waylon pointed at the scratch. “Right there!”

As Waylon shouted, Axel helped Sebastian up. “Are you okay?”

Sebastian wiped dirt off his pants, avoiding his brown eyes. Disgusted with himself for the giddy feeling in his chest. “Yeah.” He noticed Axel had oil marks all over his hands, which had rubbed off onto his own. But Axel had moved his attention to the scene unfolding between Waylon and Ralph.

“Where?” Ralph frowned at the door. “I don’t see anything.”

“That, there.” Waylon pointed again.

“That little thing?” Axel remarked. “Are you sure it wasn’t already there, and you’re just now noticing it?”

“Yes, I’m sure!”

“We’ll fix it for you, and take 10% off your bill,” Ralph jumped in, shooting Axel a look.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Axel said.

Several minutes later, Axel returned with some sort of spray bottle and a rag. He sprayed at the scratch, then rubbed the mark with the towel. It came off easily. “There you go.” Axel patted the door with his oil-slicked hands, accidentally smearing some on the door.

Waylon’s eyes widened at him.

“Sorry!” Axel rubbed the grease mark on the door with his finger, realized his mistake, and alternated to the rag. That only smeared it more. He sprayed at it with the bottle, but it just made a watery mess. Sebastian fought back a fit of giggles that caught his mom’s attention. Thankfully, she didn’t say anything.

Ralph grabbed the bottle and the rag. “Come on. Let’s get a bucket of water and a sponge.”

As Ralph and Axel left, Waylon muttered something about Axel being a stupid Hispanic.

Sebastian folded his arms. Did his father really need to drag the man’s race into this? “Seriously?”

“Well he is.” Waylon gazed upon his grease-covered door in sorrow. As though it were permanent, and not something that could be washed off. “Probably the dumbest one in town.”

"Probably the only one in town," Celine said.

Axel and Ralph returned. Ralph carrying a bucket of soapy water, Axel carrying a sponge.

“I’ll do it,” Ralph said.

“I’m really sorry,” Axel said to Waylon, who huffed.

In no time, Ralph had the mess cleaned up. The door pristine and scratch-free.

“Thank you,” Waylon said to Ralph, ignoring Axel altogether.

“Come inside, I’ll give you that discount.”

Waylon followed Ralph, while Celine got in the car. Axel walked away, and Sebastian caught up with him. “Hey.”

Axel turned around.

Sebastian slid his hands in his pockets, his attention on the pavement. “I’m sorry about my dad. He gets like that.”

“It’s fine.” Axel flicked his hand. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

That was a depressing response. Sebastian didn’t know what to say.

“Do you have to live with him?” Axel asked.

“Unfortunately. I’d move out but I’m comfortable where I’m at. I’d also need a job, but no one’s hiring.” Sebastian snuck a glimpse at Axel. His black hair was dark brown in the sunlight. Their hair was almost the same color. But Sebastian’s was straight and came to his jawline. Axel’s was wavy, only long enough to cover his ears.

“I would think the mayor’s son wouldn’t have a problem getting anything,” Axel said.

Sebastian looked back at the ground. “You would think.” Truth was, he was still blacklisted. All because he had been caught on video locking lips with another man. He wondered if Axel knew about that. He was probably old enough at the time.

“Is it because of that… scandal?”

So he did know. Sebastian nodded.

“It’s okay. I think that’s a stupid thing to blacklist people for.”

Sebastian looked up at Axel, who tapped at his watch. “Really?”

“Absolutely.” Axel looked him dead in the eye, as though trying to communicate something deeper. But all it did was fill Sebastian with anxiety. “Let me give you my number. If you want to talk more about that. Or, anything.”

It was a strange request. One Sebastian should turn down, if he knew what was good for him. But he didn’t. Instead, Sebastian tapped the “Receive Number” button on his own watch, then touched it to Axel’s.

In the distance, Sebastian spotted Waylon approaching. Hopefully he couldn't tell what they were doing. “You better go.”

Axel took one look at Waylon and bolted. Literally.

“What was that about?” Waylon asked as he approached Sebastian. “Border patrol show up?” He chuckled at his joke.

Without a word, Sebastian stalked off to the car, wishing he wasn’t the son of Waylon Barstow.