Page 9 of The NemeSis
Elena turns her smile to me. “Auntie Kyra?”
“Yes?”
“Can we make pink cupcakes?” she whispers.
I lean close to her to whisper, even though I know everyone can hear us. “That depends on how well you eat this dinner Yaya prepared.”
Elena nods, satisfied with my answer.
Chapter Four
ARES
“You got her to eat everything. She even ate the salad with a smile on her face.” Apollo laughs. “Auntie Kyra must be made of magic.”
“Never underestimate the power of pink cupcakes.” Kyra smiles.
“Pink cupcakes!” Elena shakes her head with a strained, exaggerated smile, before jumping up.
Kyra laughs as she stands up. “Let’s help clean up first.” Kyra helps her out of the booster seat, then they carry their plates into the kitchen. Mom and Daphne are quick to join them, carrying everything into the kitchen. It’s not long before I hear the faucet running and laughter.
Apollo looks at me. “It’s funny, because Elena doesn’t even like the color pink. She only likes it when it involves Kyra.”
“That girl has always liked pink,” Arthur adds. “Growing up, she insisted everything be pink. For a while it was baby pink, then bubble gum pink.”
“Don’t forget the hot pink era,” said Apollo.
I laugh at the memory. It was right around the time Arthur and Mom announced their engagement. I was twenty-one, so she’d have been about fifteen.
“She had those hot pink streaks in her hair.” Apollo shakes his head.
“That’s right.” Arthur rubs his hand down his face. “It was the holidays, and she was in the rebellious phase. She wanted them for the winter break, but we told her no because the school didn’t allow abnormal colors.”
“Then Mom got her those clip-in extensions. Kyra had them layered all up in her hair.”
Arthur laughs. “She refused to take them out until they were falling apart.” He groans. “They were cheap, those pink strands were everywhere. It was like glitter; we were finding them two years later.”
After another moment of laughter, I excuse myself from the table. It’s been a long day and I’m ready for a shower and to hopefully sleep better tonight.
I leave the noise behind me as I ascend the staircase, the occasional step creaking beneath me. A few blue runner rugs lie across the wooden hallway between the bedrooms, theater, and gym. It minimizes the noise as I walk down to the end of the hall.
My old room doesn’t give me the comfort it once did. As a boy, I cherished summers in Saint Bipal. I would spend my days on the beach or at the club. I soaked up every bit of the break before returning to prep school or university. My parents bought this place with their friends so long ago, I hardly remember a time it wasn’t part of our summers.
When they first bought this place, there wasn’t a theater or home gym. I was ten that first summer. It was the following summer when they added the theater room. One summer after that, they’d added the home gym. Apollo had been getting into our prep school’s athletic program and was going on and on about how he couldn’t fall behind.
They all seemed in agreement since I would join some sort of sport the following year. I wasn’t into sports as much as Apollo was . I ran track and tried hockey. Ice skating was difficult though, and I gave up.
I would definitely take advantage of the home gym this week. It would give me something to stay focused on. Several of the hotels I preferred to stay at when traveling had decent fitness rooms, but this would allow me to really mix it up.
As I enter my room, I’m not hit with the comfort like when I was a kid. Sure, it’s nostalgic, but I’m hardly here. This room mostly holds some of my belongings. I’m twenty-seven, long overdue for a place of my own.
That thought gives me something to concentrate on. After a quick shower, I pull out my laptop and head out onto the deck. Double doors with large windows open out from my room to the covered deck. This was one of my favorite things about this beach house. This deck had the perfect view of the sunrise, as long as it wasn’t cloudy.
I type out an email to my assistant, Jules, to confirm what hotel I stay at the most when traveling for business and let her know my plan. I don’t expect her to get back to me tonight, it’s the weekend after all. Her response comes two minutes later, assuring me it’s Boston and that she’ll research some options this week if I let her know what I want.
The idea of having my own place is appealing. Somewhere I can call home and force myself to not live out of a suitcase for most of the year. I know my assistant asked what I want, but I’m not entirely sure. Somewhere that has amenities such as a gym and laundry would be nice. Maybe a private parking garage, so I don’t have to worry about my bike taking up space in Apollo’s garage.
I respond back to her that I’m not sure what all amenities I want. I list a few of the minimums and tell her to take the week and get back to me. If there is anything that sound promising, I’ll tour them when I get back from London the following week.
