"See y'later, lovebirds," Marek calls as we climb from the Toyota outside the Thorny Rose.
I dip my head into the car. "Say hi to your mom for me."
"Sure, Id. If I can get a word in edgewise while she's lip-lashing me about staying out all night."
"Want me to say something?" I offer.
"Nah. She bought the car trouble excuse. As long as you corroborate if she asks. I'd tell her the truth," he laughs, "but she'd have me admitted."
I grin. "We got pictures."
"She'd say those were CGI. Never believe 'em for a second." He gives me a thumbs up and drives off.
As soon as we're inside, I pin Cadi to the wall, my mouth on hers. God, she tastes sweet. I want to carry her downstairs and pick up where we left off on the bed.
She presses her face into my neck. "I was afraid I'd never see you again."
"I'd have been back here sooner if it weren't for Dad." I shake my head. "The second I was human again, he gets this big idea of dragging me to the city to meet some producer he's courting for a TV spot. I finally escaped, but when I got here, you were gone."
Cadi rocks her forehead against my shoulder. "Thank you for coming after me."
I squeeze her into me. The length of her body against mine is a perfect fit. "Like I was going to let you go."
We're kissing again. Her lips are soft, and the thought of being in that bed with her pulls at me. I loop my arm around her waist, contemplating the best way to pick her up and carry her downstairs. Funny, when she was unconscious, I didn't have to think twice, just scooped her into my arms and off I went.
Cadi clears her throat. "That talk with your dad..."
"Yeah." The word comes out like it wants to reshape itself into later. I don't want to let her go.
She strokes my cheek. "We should probably shower before we head out and be social."
I give her a suggestive smile. "Together?"
She laughs. "Then you'd definitely never get out of here. Go."
One. More. Second. I kiss her, long and leisurely, on the mouth, the neck, her chin, her nose. She giggles and pushes me away. I smile and go.
The sun blazes through a cloudless sky and gleams across the snow accumulated in front yards and on roadsides. A perfect bike ride if it weren't for what's waiting at home.
I swing into the horseshoe drive — which I'm hoping the sun cleared of snow, and not Dad — and circle to the back of the house.
Mom's cooking Dad's favorite breakfast. Fried eggs and smoked salmon on a pumpernickel bagel. Never did like pumpernickel, but the food smells amazing. Maybe because I haven't eaten since yesterday lunchtime.
"Hey, Mom."
She looks up. No frown. Just question marks dotted all over her face.
"Sorry." My wind-burned cheeks glow. "An emergency. Honest." I heave a sigh. "Where's Dad?"
"In his office."
"How'd things go last night?" Best to know what I'm heading into.
"You should ask him."
Argh. Thanks a lot, Mom.
I'm about to be thrown into a smoking volcano, but off I go, anyway.
As I pass her, Mom says, "Have you eaten?"
"Nah."
"Breakfast in ten minutes then."
I force up the edges of my lips. "Thanks."
She offers a half-smile back.
Dad's at his desk, scanning his phone.
I knock and push the door open wider.
He looks up, an eyebrow rising in degrees until it reaches its zenith.
"Um, how'd things go last night?" Seems polite to ask, even if introducing the subject, right off the bat, isn't the smartest idea.
"Have a seat, Idris." By his tone, I figure he's simmering on the edge of a rolling boil.
I sit.
This feels like a trip to the principal's office. Not that I went there more than once, and not because of anything I'd done. But the principal's office is still intimidating, even when you're not in trouble. I'd imagined the sins of all the bad students hanging from the stained ceiling panels like misguided ghosts.
"You agreed to go with me to New York for an important meeting. One that could take my brand to the next level. I told Frank you'd be there. He made reservations for three. I had to explain to Pamela Rivera, the Netflix executive, what happened to the third person. You."
Dad's eyes are steely, brow raised so high it's pushing his hairline. "So maybe you'd like to explain to me what really happened. Because, as you might expect, I had to be pretty creative coming up with a reason for your absence."
Guess what I told him about a friend in danger didn't cut the mustard. Curiosity almost pushes me to ask Dad what excuse he came up with, but I figure I might not want to know.
He taps a set of neatly trimmed fingernails on his desk, and I get the feeling that if I don't speak fast he'll put me six feet under.
If Cadi were here she'd come up with this great synopsis of events that would end with...and we closed the wormhole and saved planet Earth from an alien invasion.
And then he'd ask me for the truth.
I decide to start with facts I think he can handle. "I went to say bye to my girlfriend before we left for the city." I take a deep breath. "And when I got there...to the place where she's staying, she was gone. She'd been...well, to be honest, kidnapped."
His expression is inscrutable, like Johnny Ringo's in Tombstone, fingers flexing like they're itching to reach for his revolver and nail Doc Holliday right between the eyes.
"Um, anyway... Marek and I figured out where she'd been taken and were on our way to find her when I called you."
Dad's eyes are stuck on my face, reading it like a polygraph.
I rub a hand over my human head. "We got to this warehouse, and..." I sigh and lean forward. "Dad, you've got to take a leap of faith with me here."
"Uh-huh." He says it like he's already dismissed what I'm about to say as total bull.
"Inside the warehouse..." Jeez. "Okay, I know this sounds ridiculous, but please, just hear me out."
Dad's brow twitches.
Shit. He totally doesn't believe a word I'm saying. "We find the entrance to a wormhole."
Dad's eyes widen.
"Yeah, one of those Einstein theories, except this one isn't a theory. It's real. And Cadi had been taken through—"
"I thought your girlfriend's name was Rebecca," Dad interrupts, as if he's detected the definitive lie that will break my story's proverbial back.
I rush in to save it. "Not anymore. Rebecca moved to the city, remember? We broke up. And Cadi... Well, I'll get to her in a minute. So we followed her and ended up in a cavern on a planet called Daïzani."
Dad leans back and rolls his eyes. "Idris, you could have told this science fiction to Pamela last night. Why are you feeding this garbage to me now? Just tell me the truth, so we can deal with it and move on."
Ahh! I clench at the hair on top of my head. "It's not fiction." Science or otherwise.
Okay. I need proof. I grab a glass from the wet-bar in the corner of Dad's office and fill it with tap water, then thunk it on his desk.
Let's hope I don't douse him like I did Cadi and me.
I focus on the water and release a resonance from the depth of my chest, a low hum that's barely audible. The water shivers and begins to swirl. I create a water dragon, a miniature of the one I used to lift Cadi out of the hidden lake. The water rises from the glass in a single unit, twists and turns like one of those red Chinese dragon kites, then dives back into the glass. Not a single drop spilled.
Yes!
Dad's lips are parted, his face frozen until he shakes himself out of it. "Go on with your story, Idris."
We've reached a state of suspended disbelief. I'm hoping.
I walk him, as quickly as my summarizing skills will allow, through the rest of the tale, including meeting my biological father for all of ten minutes before he's reduced to a pile of dust.
Chugging the contents of the water glass, I try to push away that image, and the loss. My real dad, rediscovered, only to be torn away again.
The swirling sensation in my gut rises, but I beat it back, swallow and go on to tell how I shut down the wormhole after an intense fight with a four-armed, four-eyed alien.
Dad steeples his hands above the desk. "An interesting story that conveniently ends with no physical evidence whatsoever."
Guess the water dragon doesn't count then. "Well, I did take a few pictures." Not sure how good they are, but...
I show him one of Valdar and Cadi. "That guy there is my, um...other dad. And that's Cadi."
He crosses his arms. "Your girlfriend? She's a lizard?"
I frown at the way he says it. "She's a Livran, like me."
Dad's lips twist. "I thought that scaly business was a genetic disorder."
Shape-shifting into my Livran form, I smile and spread my arms. "Surprise."
Dad jumps out of his seat, a look of horror on his face. "Idris. Change back!"
But I don't. Not yet.
"Of all the kids I could've adopted, I chose one from another planet."
Thanks, Dad.
I straighten in the guest chair. "Look on the bright side. Maybe it's a lucky run and you should start buying lottery tickets."
He calms down enough to sit again, then picks up the now empty water glass and examines it. "You'd make a good magician, I'll give you that."
I lean forward, still katydid green, and eye him, eagerly. "I'd make a much better musician."
Dad's eyes darken. "We discussed the whole music thing. I gave you a choice."
Some choice. "I'm good, Dad. Mrs. Jones heard my compositions and said so." And she's the closest thing I have to an authority. "Making music isn't an option for me. You can take my instruments away, but you cannot stop the music playing in my head. I might as well do something useful with it."
He looks me over in all my scaly green glory.
I squirm and swipe a hand over my head. Its smooth surface feels nice. Though I still love my hair. Guess that means I've got the best of both worlds. Literally.
After a long silence, Dad's head rocks, side to side, not quite a nod, or a shake. "And what about the public speaking?"
"I'm done with public speaking." I didn't win those competitions because I was good. I won them because of my like me signals, and I'm not using them to manipulate people ever again.
Dad leans back in his chair, a smirk playing across his lips. "Well, Idris, if music is really what you're all about, I guess you're going to have to prove it."
My eyes narrow as I study his face, measuring him up.
He folds his arms across his chest. "Pamela Rivera invited me to an event in LA next month. Something to do with her husband. Guess he's in the running for an award." He shrugs. "It's an after-Grammys party or something."
My lips part. Did Dad just say Grammys?
His head nods slowly. "It would be a good place to start meeting people in the music industry.
Maybe you should come too."
Is he serious?
An inquisitive eyebrow pops up and his smirk shifts into a meaningful smile.
I blink twice. "Uh, yeah... Sure, Dad. Absolutely!"