Wattys shortlist 2021. One morning the sun rises a few hours early, striking levitating skyscrapers in Soliara ahead of schedule. People in the streets stop to look up at the sky and then down at their watches. Most of them, puzzled but disbelieving...
I sighed and placed my empty champagne flute on another passing tray, and made it to the nearest fireplace to stare uselessly into the smoke and flames.
In thirty seconds the man standing next to me spoke up. "Good evening, Aurelian," said a new elector to the executive board of the Constellation company: Exequi Novus Fortunato. "If you can call it evening."
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Nova couldn't bring herself to say any more in monologue. Damnit, Tony Solari was supposed to be the easiest target. All she needed to do was tell him his wife knew about the affair, and then it couldn't be used to blackmail him.
But he had to believe her. And if she made him angry, he wouldn't.
So Nova shut her mouth and took a peek at his face, memorized it, turned away and studied its copy in her mind's eye while she pretended to look at the partygoers looking out the window. In her head she saw Tony's wrinkled eyes were lifeless, his brow and jaw relaxed like a quitter, like he was meditating, not the tense crinkle of a man clenching his jaw to death, as if that would do anything to help.
What if he asked how she knew? She took a big gulp from her glass.
Only when she looked back, the face she memorized had transformed. Agony spread over it and then his shoulders were shaking and he dropped his head. Either he was passed out drunk in his seat, or he was having a good cry.
Nova gasped, sincerely, and then hid her elation at the opportunity this presented.
"Oh, Exequi Solari," she said. "Tell me what's wrong," begging for the preamble to come to her. She dared herself to lean over, put both arms around him and pull him into a hug.
For a heart stopping moment she thought he wasn't going to let her hug him, but a second later he was sobbing into her shoulder and speaking the first audible words she had caught from him all night, heaving it all out while she patted him on the back, pouring his whole soul into her ear while she whispered, "It's okay. It's all okay. Tell me everything."
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Cristo scanned the dance floor, lounge sofas, barstools and the buffet line for Calcus Donato, and for someone else who could talk to Calcus Donato, since Cristo wasn't the best choice, and once he took a stab at it, he wouldn't get a second chance.
