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“Why are you calling?” I leaned back into Dune’s chest. “I know you want something. You always do.”
“That’s no way to talk to your mother, Little Miss.”
It was her childhood nickname for me, a passive-aggressive insult. Her specialty. “Whatever.”
“I’m your mother. That’s why I’m calling.” She took a deep sigh for dramatic effect. “I want to help you. I want to lift the burden of the Infinityglass from you. I can make that happen. I can help.”
I tensed, saying nothing. Waiting for the bomb to drop.
“I’m in New Orleans, and I need to see you.”
“Could she be telling the truth?” Dune asked. “What if she does have a way to help?”
“Everyone should try something new once in a while. Maybe truth is her latest hobby.”
Dune had insisted on neutral ground, and Audubon Park fit the bill. We took Dad’s town car down Saint Charles. It dropped us off across from Tulane’s Gibson Hall.
We didn’t go in too deep, staying far away from the Fly, the side of the park next to the river. Even so, I could still smell the Mississippi. I knew Dune could, too. A keen edge of panic sneaked out from underneath his mask of cool every time the wind blew.
“Are you okay?” I asked, “with the water?”
“You’re beautiful.”
“Subject changer.” I turned to face him. We hadn’t recapped the events of the night before, but I couldn’t stop thinking about his skin, his mouth, his hands.
“I am not. I just wanted to say what was on my mind.” He pulled me down to sit beside him on a bench.
“I hope you’re having the same thought I am,” I said.
“Which is?”
“More.”
He caught the back of my head in his hand and brought me in for a kiss. “Don’t give up yet.”
I nodded, and then a shadow blocked the sun. The afterglow disappeared in a flash.
“Hello, Mother.”
“Hallie.” She looked down her nose at Dune. “Who is this?”
“We’ve never officially met.” He stood to shake her hand, which she did, with disdain. It didn’t faze him. “I’m Dune Ta’ala.”
He put his arm around me when he sat back down, keeping his body forward, as close in front of me as he could be. His eyes had gone from sweet to wary, and the scar through his eyebrow became menacing instead of intriguing.
It was the first time I’d seen him use his physicality to intimidate, like a peacock fluffing up his plumes. It was ridiculously hot, and from the visible tension in my mother’s body, it worked.
“Does your father know about this?” Mother slid her sunglasses off and put them in her purse.
“Yes,” I answered, keeping my eyes on Dune.
“And what does he think about it?”
I shrugged. Let her wonder. If she’d been on the run, it had been somewhere that provided French manicures and root touch-ups. “You look good, but you always do. I see you’ve been shopping for jewelry, too. Why didn’t you call me? We could’ve made a day of it.”
She brushed her fingers just above the long, antique pendant that lay against her turtleneck sweater. “You’re almost eighteen, yet you show no signs of maturity.”
“You’re way past forty. Neither do you.”
