Free Kia and Gio by Daniel José Older Page B

listening?) The angle of Jeremy’s chin: divine architecture; the perfection of his frown when he was thinking about a math problem; the timbre of his voice: angelic. Jeremy the Brave, bringing in articles about oil drilling in Antarctica for Social Studies. Jeremy the Agile, bounding effortlessly across the gym in tights for his solo in Swan Lake . Jeremy the Cryptic, explaining in depth his theory of how all six Star Wars movies were really one eight-million hour rewrite of the Book Of Job. Or whatever. If the boy had the slightest hint of self-awareness and looked out from the curtains of his thin blond hair once in a while, I’d actually feel like he was a threat to my impending marriage. But as it was, he displayed zero interest in anything more than a platonic friendship with Gio. Which baffled and relieved me at he same time.
    So now we were off to see Jeremy the Clueless for some dumb “mission.” Great.
    *   *   *
    Eliades shows up right on time, of course. I’m sipping some bodega tea, no milk, no sugar, staring off into nothing like some asshole in a nursing home when the guy busts in with a loud jingle-jangle from the door chimes. He’s always well dressed, but today his green striped tie lies half-undone around his neck like a noose, and the top of his shirt is open, revealing pallid, moist flesh and a hint of chest hair. It’s February but he’s sweating, like he ran all the way here from his Manhattan office.
    â€œHey Eliades.” I’m grateful for the company; all these memories crowding my head can’t be healthy.
    Eliades wipes a hand over his thinning hairline. “It’s back.” No Hi Kia , no How’s school? Just, It’s back . Okay. I hate small talk, anyway. I don’t even wanna know who’s back.
    â€œBaba Eddie’s running a little late.”
    â€œBut…”
    â€œYou can have a seat and wait for him.”
    Eliades may be self-absorbed, but he knows me well enough to know not to argue when I use my have-a-seat voice. He makes his way through the aisles, pouting softly, and settles in one of the big easy chairs we got half-price from the vintage spot on Myrtle.
    *   *   *
    â€œYou wouldn’t make much of a spy,” Giovanni informed me as we sat in some bushes on a little hill behind Jeremy’s house. It’s just like all the other ones on this block: three stories, faded off-white shingles, all the decaying decadence of a middle-aged dad in a rumpled suit. “Too much chatter.”
    It hurt, but with some effort I kept the whine out of my voice. “Well, how am I sposta spy when I don’t even know what we’re doing here?”
    Gio sighed and adjusted his position a little. “Because Jeremy said some strange men had been showing up around his house.”
    â€œHow do you know he didn’t mean you ?”
    â€œKia!”
    â€œKeep your voice down, you’re gonna give us away.”
    â€œWhat I’m gonna do is take you right home and then come back all by myself.”
    The idea was so offensive to me I actually squealed a little when I said, “No!” This time, when I made the pre-cry face, it wasn’t a ruse.
    Gio knew it too and he softened. “Then shut the fuck up, Kia.”
    â€œFine. But don’t swear at me.”
    After a few moments, Giovanni sighed. “He said they were white men and that they would whisper through his window late at night, all kinds of things about how he was destined for greatness and he was the chosen one. All kindsa shit. They wanted him to come with them, but would never say where, and when he’d ask they’d just vanish into the night.”
    I didn’t know what to say. My eyes were open so wide they felt like they were gonna pop out. “And you gonna stop them?”
    â€œI just want to make sure he’s alright, is all.”
    It was getting dark; the bush we were in