**AMBYS 2022 WINNER** He'll never play piano again. That's what virtuoso pianist Zephyr has vowed to himself after escaping Sigma, the sprawling criminal organisation that once held him--and still holds his friends--captive in California's mega-city...
Giving jazz lessons, and receiving Korean lessons, slowly pulled Will out of his room and into normal life. But he was different. He was the same shy smiley Will that he'd always been, but he was listless and zoned-out, and too out of breath to go running or work out with me.
He went back to work the week after the funeral, claiming that keeping busy would help him to feel better. I didn't believe him. Perhaps he was truly getting over losing Mozhgan, perhaps he was worried about delivering his electrical installation contract behind schedule. Or, perhaps he was simply running out of money.
Cruz de Mayo weekend was hot and sticky, the tarmac on Seapoint Avenue blasting us with wafts of baking air as we decorated the wooden statue of María Estrella del Mar that been dusted off and dragged out of Gloria's garage for another year.
Jules and Gloria had made strings of paper flowers and stars to drape around the statue of María, and Clive had draped fishing nets and tackle around her, assuring me that this was the Cruz de Mayo tradition for the Arenosa Bay Area. I was the only one who thought that Santa María looked like a dolphin suffering a tragic trawler death, and nobody else cared that she stank of rotten fish.
Americans.
Will had redeemed his countrymen by making a beautiful nautical star from pieces of ash and spruce to set at the base of Maria's plinth. After we'd set the statue at the top of Seapoint Avenue, Clive and Gloria ran back into the safety of their aircon while Jules tried to force a social life onto me.
"You coming to Lavanderia tonight? Katelyn and Selena really wanna see you!" Jules clasped her hands together in a plea.
"I haven't got any clothes-"
"Then we're going shopping!"
I stared at Will, panic-stricken. I fucking hated shopping. Luckily, recently-bereaved visa guarantors were a perfect excuse to avoid the fashion industry like the plague. "I can't, Jules. I don't wanna leave Will-"
"Nan oneul geunyang swillae[1]," Will interrupted.
Will slipping Korean seamlessly into our everyday English conversations, something that happened more and more often, was so unexpectedly delightful that I just gazed at him like an idiot.
"Did that sound OK?" Will asked, great eyebrows undulating.
"Santa Maria, you're not gonna start talking in Korean all the time, are you?" groaned Jules. "It'll be like when my folks talk in Spanish when they don't want me to understand what they're saying."
But I was too busy basking in the warm glow of Will's stealth-Korean to care. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed being spoken to in my own language until he'd started learning it.
"You've been stuck home with me for weeks, Zeph. Go have some fun," Will said, ushering us toward Jules's car.
"I can't wait to dress you up, Zeph!" cooed Jules, her eyes gleaming with the thought of treating me like a Barbie doll for a couple of hours.
"How did you know that Zeph loves shopping?" Will asked with a sly smile, only for me.
"Let's do it," I said weakly, allowing Jules to tug me along. "Bastard," I mouthed at Will as we passed, the bassy rockslide of his laughter echoing in my ears long after we'd left Santa Elena.
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