Page 31 of Callow

“You’re not old,” Callow said, shaking his head.

“Tell that to my knee that has suddenly started to warn me when it is going to rain. Even though I’ve never actually hurt it or anything. I watched Daphne yesterday go from criss-cross on the floor to standing in one smooth move that didn’t require grabbing something for support or balance and felt this stab of nostalgia.”

“How’s she doing? Giving you gray hair still?”

“Actually, she’s been good. I mean, she’s still a hormonal teenager who thinks I’m embarrassing whenever we are out of the apartment together. But she hasn’t been cutting class or sneaking out.”

“Where is she tonight?”

“Home. Which isn’t like her. When I left, she was deep into some self-care, hair mask and mud mask included, so she clearly wasn’t going anywhere.”

“Did you look into the martial arts classes?” he asked.

“Yeah. We went on a tour two days ago. She wasn’t really feeling it when we were heading there, but by the time we left, she was all excited. Of course part of that excitement might have been thanks to the immense amount of shopping she ‘needed’ to do to get workout clothes and a gym bag, a new, fancy water bottle… let’s just say my credit card needs to sit in the freezer and cool off for a while.”

“Sorry about that,” he said, wincing.

“No, don’t be. It’s nice to see her excited about something that doesn’t involve things that make me sit up at night chugging antacids.”

“Good. I hope she likes it. I think any discipline like that is good for kids. For any of us, really.”

“I will take your word for that. I think I’d rather choke down a kale smoothie than take a martial arts class. My idea of exerciseis carting the groceries up from the parking lot each week. And the occasional stroll around the neighborhood.”

“Yeah, I don’t do a lot of working out anymore.”

“Riiight,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“What?”

“Look at you,” I said, waving at him. “You so obviously workout.”

“I’ll tag along when one of the other guys is hitting the gym here and there. And I was swimming over the summer.”

“You just made my point. But I guess your job kind of requires you… stay fit. How’s your arm?” I asked.

“Just a scratch now.”

“And your friend?”

“Taking full advantage of the kindness of the old ladies and club girls.”

“What’s a club girl?” I asked, surprised at the surge of jealousy I felt at the mention.

“Girls who like to hang around and party,” he said.

I had a feeling they did more than party with them.

I had no right to feel as possessive of him as I did right then, but there was no denying that was my reaction to the idea of a bunch of pretty women hanging around to party and sleep with him.

“Does everyone always party there?” I asked. “It kind of sounds exhausting.”

“It depends on how many prospects are around usually. Prospects,” he said at my scrunched brows, “are guys who are, essentially, auditioning to be in the club. They live there, work there, do chores for a period of time while the president and the rest of the club decides if they will be a good fit or not.”

“Does anyone ever not get in?” I asked.

“Occasionally. It’s been a while, though. Usually, Fallon and Brooks vet someone so well that there is almost no question intheir minds about the fit. So it is just whether the rest of us get along.”

“Do you? Get along with everyone?”

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