Free Emancipated by M. G. Reyes Page A

casual swing-by.
    Everyone in the house had launched into action with orange-scented kitchen spray, pine toilet cleaner, and lemon-scented wooden-floor wax. Ninety seconds before she’d walked through the door they’d ditched the clothes and mops in the kitchen cabinet and thrown themselves onto the sofas in the living room, glued to the TV as if nothing would ever shift them.
    They set a date for the party—the end of their eighth week in the house—and assigned all the party jobs.
    The night of the party, Paolo was sent to fetch tacos from a taco van. He’d phoned in the order and was going to pick up a trayful of chicken, fish, and char-grilled steak tacos. Lucy decided, last minute, that they didn’t have enough booze. Half an hour before Paolo was planning to leave, he heard her telling John-Michael that she was going to try to get a couple of bottles of vodka. So he decided to leave a little sooner.
    Ever since that awkward first encounter in her room, Paolo had found it increasingly difficult to stop thinking about Lucy. Within a few days he was waking up from dreams of her. He hadn’t obsessed like this over a girl since he was thirteen. Soon he realized that six weeks had gone by since he’d last had sex. The beautiful twentysomethings at the country club were getting used to seeing Paolo leave the minute their lesson was done, not even bothering to shower.
    Paolo caught up to Lucy outside the house. “Hey! So, do you have a contact? At the liquor store?”
    Lucy turned to him with her customary amused smile. “No. But I usually find a way.”
    â€œWe should just get some fake IDs.”
    She gave him a look that said Who me?
    Paolo was silent for a moment. He idled slightly as Lucy walked ahead so that he could watch the backs of her toned legs.
    â€œYou checking me out?”
    â€œTotally.” There was no point lying. She was onto him at every level. Yet it would be all the sweeter when he finally won her over.
    â€œPaolo.”
    â€œYes?”
    Lucy stopped walking, closed her eyes for a second as if weighing up a multitude of thoughts. She turned to him slowly. “It’s never going to happen.”
    Paolo forced himself to grin. He raised the tip of a finger to her nose and touched it lightly.
    â€œLife is long . . . Lucy.”
    â€œSugar, it ain’t that long.”
    When Paolo arrived home with the tacos, there were already about forty people at the party. At least fifteen were outside on the balcony, smoking cigarettes. The smoke trailed in the air as far out as the paved path.
    He glanced around, hoping that it wouldn’t cause a problem. They had some pretty precious neighbors who liked to walk, jog, and cycle along the boardwalk—the kind who liked to shop at Whole Foods. Lucy had once slyly referred to them as the “SoCal offenserati” on account of how easily they took offense. The nickname had stuck.
    John-Michael had been waiting anxiously for him in the front yard. He snatched the tray of tacos out of Paolo’s hands and took them straight to the kitchen. Through the window, Paolo could see Lucy emptying a bottle of vodka into a large glass punch bowl full of ice cubes and pinkish-red liquid.
    He was about to go inside for round two of their bout, when Maya appeared beside him, clutching her MacBook. She looked a little frustrated.
    â€œCandace and Grace are saying I can’t have more than two drinks. They won’t let me into Lucy’s room, on account of the sketchy stuff goin’ on in there. And obviously the hookup room is out-of-bounds.”
    â€œGood for them! They’re looking out for the baby of the house.” Paolo paused. “We have a hookup room?”
    But Maya just scowled. “Okay, so I need you to let me use your room. I might as well work on my coding.”
    Paolo stared, disappointed. “Oh, come on, Maya, don’t be that way.”
    She looked a little