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“Right? I’ve been working with him for nine months and haven’t flared in all that time. Fingers crossed it holds out.”

I threw him a look. Now, this was a surprise. “What does he have you doing?” I asked.

“Relaxation techniques. Meditation. Talk therapy. Stuff like that.”

“Cool,” I said, narrowing my eyes. This was awfully close to it’s-all-in-your-head territory, but I didn’t want to burst Raj’s balloon.

“I should head out,” he said as we circled back to the flamingos.

“Yeah. Same.”

“How are you feeling? Still itchy?”

“Yeah, I guess...” I began, but... actually... I examined my arm. Myskin. It was smooth, not a hint of red. I sniffed, and the air smelled fine. Well, notfine, but like a zoo. “Oh my God,” I said, looking around. All animals appeared to be in their proper enclosures and, when I checked my phone, Talia hadtexted that Mindy captured the monkey but when they went to feed it, the creature had—poof!—vanished. Craziest thing.

“Everything okay?” Raj asked, furrowing his brow.

“My rash disappeared,” I marveled. “So did the monkey, apparently. That’s never happened before. I’m always the one who has to rehome it.” My brain was spinning. “Did I stop the symptoms? Is it even possible?”

“Anything’s possible,” Raj said with yet another of his grins. “That’s what I tell myself, anyway. Some days, it’s the only way to survive.”

Chapter Twenty

Talia

Talia tried three times, but Spencer wasn’t answering. As she made her way to the tasting room, she checked his location and saw he wasn’t in their apartment. He seemed to be walking around near Ozzie’s building.

As Talia debated what to do next, her dad’s voice reverberated through the house, coming from the opposite direction of the tasting room. She pulled a one-eighty and followed the sound, winding past the library and craft room until she spotted him through a window, sitting on one of the verandas, across from Ustenya, in a red-and-gold-striped chair. After checking her reflection in an antique mirror, Talia inhaled, threw her hair behind her shoulders, and stepped outside.

“Angie Parker can go fuck herself,” Dad was saying. He glanced up. “Oh. Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi, guys,” Talia said, unsure where to sit—across from Dad but beside Ustenya, or vice versa? As always, Dad wasn’t helping. It was the first they’d seen each other in California, and a hug or handshake would’ve been nice.

“I’m glad you two made it back safely,” Talia said, picking the seat beside Ustenya as Dad continued his bitching. Apparently, Representative Parker toldThe O.C. Registerthat the “relentless mansplainer Marston Gunn” tossed her his keys as they were walking into a Democratic fundraising dinner.

“But this did happen, yes?” Ustenya said, pouring Talia a glass of Pinot Grigio.

“It was her fault for dressing like a goddamn valet.”

“Ah. Yes. Well. She can go walk a bear. Anyhow, other candidates badmouthing you is a good sign,” Ustenya said. “It means they see you as a threat.”

“Valid point,” Talia said and took a gulp of wine.

“Speaking of other candidates, who do I need to suck off to stop hearing about Dave fucking Slimp and his goddamn $32 million in the bank?”

“Jesus, Dad,” Talia said, setting her glass back on the table with a wobbly hand. The fundraising trip, it seemed, had not gone well.

“I apologize for your father’s boorish behavior,” Ustenya said. “He is very grouchy from all the wretched traveling. There is an airline in this country that doesn’t even assign seats. Have you heard of this? It’s for a fart.” She flubbered her lips. “I say, you can quit! You can quit this campaign right now. I would be happy for it!”

“You’re a very supportive wife,” Dad grumbled.

“I’m sorry,” Ustenya said, “but this is very tiring, and you look like death. He looks terrible, doesn’t he? It’s okay. You can tell the truth.”

Talia, of course, wasn’t about to get in the middle. She made a bland comment about Dad’s vigor and how he appeared quite trim.

“Yes, yes, you are handsome as ever,” Ustenya said, flapping a hand, “but what do you need with all this stress? Always having a bitch jumping in your ass?” Someone else might’ve assumed she was invoking Angie Parker again, but Talia had heard this one before. A bitch jumping in your ass meant you were under pressure.

“You know why I’m doing this,” Dad responded, and then launched a new rant. Everyone was calling him a “former media mogul,” and where was the damned justice?