Page 95 of The Towering Sky
“I always host the after-party. Can’t someone else step up to the plate for once?” Cord said easily.
The table erupted in an immediate chorus of excuses: “Don’t look at me; you know my place is nowherenearbig enough. We didn’t even have room to host the soccer team!”
“My parents are cracking down on me ever since I got a D in calc this semester.”
“I definitely can’t host anyone, not after you guys threw up in the hot tub last time.”
“That was fun, wasn’t it?” Risha said almost wistfully.
“What about you, Rylin? Do you think you could get away with it?” Maxton had turned to her with a friendly smile. At Rylin’s incredulous expression, he hurried to add, “We won’t invite that many people. And we’ll drone-drop all the booze, of course. All you’d have to provide is the space.”
Seriously?Rylin wanted to ask, but she knew Maxton wasn’t kidding. He had no idea who she was or where she lived. In his own way, he probably thought he was being inclusive by asking Rylin if she didn’t mind hosting the after-party.
For a perverse moment she imagined saying yes, dragging all of these rich kids down to the 32nd floor to squeeze awkwardly around her kitchen table. Nowthatwould be an experience.
“Fine, fine, I’ll host,” Cord cut in, reaching one hand across the back of Rylin’s chair to give her a silent squeeze.
“I’m going to get a drink,” she said faintly, to no one in particular, and started away from the table. She heard Cord follow quickly on her heels.
“Rylin, what is it?” he asked, reaching for her arm. She whirled on him, her cheeks flushing. “I’m sorry. Maxton didn’t mean any harm by that question.”
“I know,” she sighed. “I just don’t fit in with that group. Why do they need to have an after-party anyway? What’s wrong with the very expensive, beautiful party we’re at right now?”
“It’s just how they are,” Cord said with a self-deprecating smile, as if that explained everything.
“Exactly! All they ever do is talk about the next party. The next excuse to all get together and get drunk, and plananotherexpensive event.” She let out a frustrated breath. “Don’t you ever talk about anything else?”
“I know those guys can be kind of silly and immature, but I’ve known them my whole life. I can’t just cut them out.”
Actually, you can, Rylin wanted to say, but she bit back the words. There was no use fighting over this. “Let’s just forget the whole thing.”
“I promise this will be the last after-party I host,” Cord assured her with a smile. “And tomorrow I’ll make it up to you. We can go that brunch place with the raspberry biscuits you love. Or somewhere else,” he said quickly, confused by her expression.
Rylin hadn’t realized that he was still planning on having the after-party. Or that once again he would try to smooth over a disagreement with money andthings.
“I’m going to get that drink,” she said vaguely, starting back toward the bar, but he shook his head.
“No, let me. Please,” Cord insisted. “You stay here and listen to the violinist. You’ll really love her.”
A violinist had stepped onstage, momentarily replacing the band. She perched on a delicate wooden chair, looping her feet under the bottom rung. And then she started playing, and Rylin forgot that she was sort of irritated with Cord, forgot about anything at all except the music.
It began low and plaintive, full of a longing so sharp that Rylin felt it like a pain between her own ribs. Dimly, she was aware of Cord retreating toward the bar, but Rylin stayed where she was, transfixed by the haunting, tragic music. It put into words what words failed to do.
She remembered the night this past summer when she and Hiral had gone to an outdoor concert together in Central Park. It had been Hiral’s idea.Maybe you’ll get some inspiration for your holos, he’d suggested. Rylin had been touched by his thoughtfulness.
She wondered what Hiral was doing right this moment. He was just so very far away. She felt a sudden urge to check on him, make sure that he was all right.
Rylin muttered to her contacts to do a quick i-Net search for Undina. She immediately landed on its home page, filled with sweeping photos of the ocean, the massive man-made city floating peacefully above it like a lily pad. Hiral was fine, she assured herself. He would be happy there.
Then a familiar name caught her eye.Mr. Cord Hayes Anderton. The next row,Mr. Brice August Anderton.
They were both listed on Undina’s board of directors.
At first Rylin told herself that it was a mistake. This must be another Cord Hayes Anderton. Before she could help it, she’d tapped the link on Cord’s name, to read how he and his brother had inherited their seats from their parents, who were foundinginvestors in Undina. They were nonvoting members until they turned twenty-one, but the board was delighted to include them, in recognition of all that their parents had done....
Rylin swiped her tablet off and leaned forward, feeling sick. Was Cord really on theboardof Undina, the place Hiral was now working? Was that just an ironic cosmic coincidence, or did Cord have something to do with Hiral’s departure?
She couldn’t help remembering how unsurprised Cord had seemed when she told him that Hiral had skipped town. Come to think of it, hadn’t Cord had been the one to come findherthat evening in the edit bay? She’d never stopped to question why he was looking for her with such impeccable timing, but now she understood.
