Page 76 of Eighteen (18)

“How old are the kids?” I ask Mateo, who is kneeling down trying to figure out how to hook up his computer. I have figured out from conversation that Mateo has written software for this presentation. Some kind of very impressive software. I’m not overly surprised because he’s a genius.

“Twelve,” he says. “Sixth graders. That’s the optimal age to get them interested enough in science to plan a high-school math curriculum.”

“Ah. I see I’m six years too late.”

He looks up at me and shoots me a scowl. “Don’t, OK?”

“Don’t what?”

“Make jokes about your age. It bugs me.”

“Why?” I say, kneeling down to grab the cord he’s not seeing, but needs.

“Because it’s always been an issue for you and I don’t want it to be an issue today. There are a lot of important people here from other planetariums around the world I’m counting on being impressed. I really don’t want to be wondering if you think I’m too old for you.” He takes the cord from my hand and slides it into the port on the top of the control panel. There’s a ton of doohickeys and knobs, things I have no clue about, but which look very serious.

“OK,” I say. “And it’s not really an issue.”

“Good,” he says, his smile back. “Because I have a surprise for you.”

I give him a sideways look and an eyebrow arch for good measure. “Should I be worried about that surprise?”

“No.” He laughs and gives me a kiss.

The doors open below and kids start filing in. The control room is situated up above the seats, much like a projector is in a movie theatre.

“OK,” he says, “go find your seat. And here.” He grabs a program off the console and hands it to me. “You can read this while you wait. I’ll be down in”—he checks his watch—“fifteen minutes.”

He starts to turn away but I place my hands on each of his shoulders and make him go still. “You’re going to do great, Mr. Alesci. You are the smartest man I’ve ever met. You will rock this place so hard, they won’t know what hit them.”

He lets out a deep breath as I straighten his tie and lean up on my tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Shannon. I needed that.” He gives me another quick kiss just as the director of the planetarium comes in and they start to chat.

I take my cue and leave, making my way down the stairs. It’s sorta interesting what Mateo does. Astronomy. Very unusual, especially for a such a tough guy. I do love the stars on his body though. I trace them every time we make love at his house. Some of them are patterns. I guess those are constellations. I’m not all that up on my astronomy, but I have a feeling he’s going to wow me today. Especially if what he’s working on is suitable for twelve-year-olds.

I chuckle to myself at that, and then start searching for my seat as I walk into the auditorium through a special side door. It’s not hard to find, I’m in seat A-15. Right smack in front of the podium.

I take a seat next to a girl who is diligently reading her program. She has dark pigtails that hang halfway down her back and she’s wearing white shorts and a yellow top that make her bronze skin glow. “What’s this word?” she asks me, shoving her unruly friend away in the seat next to her.

I lean over and find the words she’s having trouble with. “Trigonometry,” I say.

“What’s that?” She crinkles her nose.

“It’s math. You use circles and triangles to figure out mysteries of the universe.”

“Do not!” the hyper girl in the next seat says.

“Be quiet, Kani,” the pigtailed girl snaps, before turning her attention back to me. “How do you do that?”

“Um…” Shit, I should have an answer. I feel inadequate as Mateo’s biggest cheerleader. “Well, the guy who is talking today is my boyfriend and he knows all about it. So if you listen to what he says, you’ll understand when you leave here.”

“Does he study the planets?”

“Ahhh…” Damn. I should know this. “He studies stars. And… exoplanets. Those are planets that orbit around stars that are very far away from our sun.” I feel proud that I actually remember that. Mateo has been reading about exoplanets all semester.

“I think I like stars.”

“Mmm,” I say, my eyes wandering to the picture of Mateo in her program. He’s got his dress shirt sleeves rolled up in that picture and I can see his tattoos. “Me too.”

The lights dim and Mateo comes out of the special door that leads to the control room, and then all the kids start shushing each other to be quiet.