Page 15 of Keller

Our fingers touch, but just for a second. I don't say anything or look back. I keep walking.

My heart pounds harder than it did in the storage room. Harder than when he had me against the wall.

I reach Nate's side. He's still with the Caldwells, gesturing as he talks. Margaret laughs at something he says. Frank sips his scotch.

"Feeling better?" Nate asks.

"Much."

Margaret tilts her head. "You have wonderful color. Are you a runner?"

"I try to get out a few times a week. I drag Nate with me when he's in town."

"Good for you. I keep telling Frank we should take it up again."

Frank grunts. "My knees disagree."

The conversation continues. I participate, nodding, smiling, and adding comments when appropriate. I'm a little moretolerant than before my bathroom break, but I'm ready for the night to end. Unlike my cousin, I don't enjoy standing around in uncomfortable shoes small-talking.

I don't look for Keller again. I don't need to. Either he'll call, or he won't.

The gala stretches on for another hour, but it feels like four. Nate works the room with practiced ease, and I chime in on command when needed.

When we finally leave, the night air is cool against my flushed skin. Nate walks me to my rideshare, thanking me for coming, and promising to follow up with the Caldwells.

"You were perfect tonight," he says.

The only perfection that occurs to me in this moment is the few stolen moments upstairs in the storage room. My thighs instinctively clench.

"Thanks, Cuz."

He hugs me briefly, then heads toward his own car.

I slide into the backseat and close the door. The silence is immediate and welcome. My body hums as I finally relax.

Sitting finally makes my legs and lower back throb. I didn't realize how much I needed a break.

I giggle shyly, quietly to myself when I think about what I did tonight. I can't believe I hooked up with a stranger and then wrote my number on a matchbook with lipstick.

Holy shit, I must think I'm Rita Hayworth or something.

FOUR

Quinn

The Krewe of Rex:Established in 1872 to bring order and grandeur to Carnival, Rex introduced the concept of an official “King of Carnival” and helped formalize parade routes and traditions still followed today. As one of the city’s most prominent krewes, Rex embodies the intersection of pageantry, political symbolism, and old-guard influence.

Monday morning hitswith fluorescent brightness and the sharp scent of burned coffee.

My desk is covered in case summaries when Martin stops by just after eight.

"Walk with me," he says.

I grab my coffee and follow him down the hall. The fluorescent lights hum overhead. The office is quiet this early, only a few people at their desks. Martin doesn't speak until we reach one of the smaller conference rooms at the end of the hall.

He closes the door and gestures toward a chair.

I sit. Martin stays standing near the door for a moment, then moves to the window. His hands slip into his pockets. The posture is casual, but I 've been doing this long enough now that I know it doesn’t mean anything.