Intuition (16 page)

“The usual suspects,” he says. He looks at me, but I don't feel
anything menacing in his eyes. “I see you've brought us someone new.”

“This is Cole,” Drew says. “She is new. I'm showing her around.”

The man looks approving. “Shewi?”

Drew nods. “Just a few months.”

The man looks surprised, but doesn't say anything more. Drew smiles at him. “Max likes to call himself an ordinary doorman, but he's really the master of ceremonies at this place. Nothing happens here that he doesn't know about. Or approve of.”

Max gives a little bow in my direction. “And your friend here is prone to exaggeration. But welcome to our little home away from home. Enjoy.”

I can hear faint music playing and murmuring voices as we walk down a dimly lit hallway. Drew slows his pace and turns to me. “Sorry about that. Most of the people here are Iawi. Some of them remember lifetimes that stretch back to the beginning of memory. That's why Max was so surprised that you're Shewi and so new. Stick with me and you'll be fine.”

“Wait. This club is for Akhet?”

He nods. “It's a private club, like I said. There are many places like it all over the world where people like us can come and talk freely, to meet up with people and not have to worry that what we say will be overheard by those who don't understand. You'd be surprised at the people you can meet in a place like this.”

I remember what Janine and Sue said the other day. “I thought most Khered were more like me. You know, not Iawi.”

Drew's brows crease. “Who told you that?” He pauses and
shakes his head. “Never mind. Most Sekhem like to think that you have to be stupid to adopt Khered philosophies. Total propaganda.”

A pretty brunette passes us on the way to the door. “Have you brought Francesca here?” I ask.

“No.” His eyes shift away from me. “I can't. It's one of the things that makes it hard.” He starts moving again. “I really don't want to talk about her right now.”

Every time Francesca's name is mentioned, Drew seems to get annoyed. I wonder what he told her about where he is tonight. I'm guessing it wasn't the truth.

At the end of the hallway is a lounge area with a well-stocked bar at the far end. There are groups of people sitting in overstuffed chairs around small round tables and others relaxing in booths that line one wall. I can see other rooms through doorways in both walls and wonder how big this place really is. Several people look up and wave at Drew, and I'm surprised at the mix of people in this place—they seem to range in age from early teens to old enough to be my grandparents. I wonder vaguely if I've ever known any of them, if we've ever been connected in the past.

“Hey, old man! Good to see you.” A guy in his late thirties throws his arm around Drew's shoulders.

Drew quickly hugs him back. “Robert! Mate, where have you been? It's been at least a year.”

“Italy, mostly. We got a new villa on the Amalfi coast. You have to come by—Abby and the kids would love to see you again.”

As he's speaking, I recognize him from the trailers that have been in all the theaters for the past month. The movie he's in
with his wife Abby is supposed to be the big summer blockbuster. He's a lot shorter in real life.

“Maybe later this summer,” Drew tells him. He smiles at me. “Ever been to Italy?”

I shake my head, not wanting to admit that I'm a little star-struck and afraid of saying something stupid in front of an actual superstar.

“Well, that will have to change,” Robert says. He places his hand on my arm, and I know he's looking for any vibrations that might connect us. The thought that someone so world-famous is touching me completely blows what's left of my concentration. He squeezes my hand quickly, seemingly satisfied with whatever information he got from me. “Any friend of Drew's is more than welcome.”

“Do you want a drink?” Drew asks, nodding toward the bar.

I look at him and feel my cheeks getting red. “I'm sixteen, remember?”

Robert throws his head back and laughs, revealing the perfect smile that has won him so many awards. “She's cute.”

Drew smiles, and I'm grateful he's not laughing too. “The rules are a little different here. Physical age is only a number, and not something we tend to worry about. There's no actual drinking age in this club.”

“You're still new?” Robert asks me.

I shrug, suddenly feeling like a little kid. “I guess so.”

“We were all where you are at one time.” He looks around the room. “Don't let anyone push you around just because you're Shewi. Some of the Iawi forget what it's like the first time.” He lifts my hand and kisses it. “I find it charming.”

“Come on, let's get a couple of drinks and sit down.” Drew glances at his watch, and I realize that this is where we're meeting up with his special guest.

We walk to the bar, Drew stopping briefly to greet a few people along the way. Everyone seems nice but vaguely condescending; even the guy who looks like he's about my age treats me like a child once he figures out that this is my first time here.

“We'll have a Scotch and your best chardonnay,” Drew says to the bartender. “Is that okay?” he asks me.

“Fine,” I say, thinking that maybe one drink will make me less nervous about being here. I turn and lean against the bar, being careful not to look like I'm staring. Everyone in here is well dressed, and there are more diamonds glittering in the dim light than I've ever seen in one place before. Even the people who wouldn't be considered physically beautiful in normal circumstances have something about them that makes you look twice. I glance over at Drew as he's talking easily with the bartender. With his perfect features, I have to admit that he'd probably make a person look three times.

“Drew!” In seconds he's disappeared under a cloud of white faux fur. At least, what I
hope
is faux fur. All I can see besides the jacket are jet black curls and impossibly long brown legs sticking out of a very short leather skirt. When they finally come up for air, there's a bright pink lipstick stain on his cheek. “You're in town! You
are
coming to my show tomorrow night, then?”

“I'm not sure. I've got a lot going on right now.” He nods to me. “Portia, this is my friend Cole.”

And that's when I realize who she is. I've only seen her in videos and at the music awards, but that's definitely Portia
Martin standing right in front of me. Until she leans over and grabs my face, planting an identical kiss on my cheek. “Any friend of Drew's is a friend of mine,” she says.

Despite the perfume and hairy jacket, I can sense that she's being honest, and I can't help but smile back. “Thanks. It's nice to meet you.”

Portia makes an expert pouting face. “You want to come to the show, don't you? I'll have two passes waiting for you both at the door if you'll come. We're running previews before the big tour that's coming up. Say you will.”

“I . . . um . . .”

Drew discreetly wipes at the stain on his cheek, a lipstick stain most guys would kill to have. “How about I text you as soon as our plans are settled?”

“All right. But I'm going to leave them in your name anyway. At the Civic Center. About nine o'clock. I'll be expecting you.”

“No promises,” Drew insists.

Portia grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze, and I swear I see her give me a little wink. “So nice to meet you, Cole. I have a feeling we'll be seeing you around.”

After she leaves, I stare Drew down. “You're friends with Portia Martin?”

He shrugs, his eyes sparkling in the dim light. “Sure. She's just a person like everyone else.”

“Portia Martin is
not
like everyone else.”

“Hey, there's a booth free over there,” Drew says as he hands me my wine. I slide in opposite him, and it doesn't take long before we're joined by two women and a man, all in their twenties, I guess.

From the introductions, I can't tell what the women do, but baseball is mentioned a couple of times and I figure out that the guy must play for a major-league team. I file his name away, thinking that Griffon will probably know who he is, until I remember that I'm not going to be talking to Griffon anytime soon. It's moments like these that are the most difficult—something comes up that I can't wait to tell Griffon, and when I remember that I'll probably never get to tell him, it hits me all over again.

I sip my wine and try to follow the conversations that are going on around me.

“She's living in Georgia, can you believe it?” The dark-haired woman says with a thick southern accent. “The country, not the state.”

“Have you seen her?” Drew asks.

“No. She's still physically a child and hasn't had access to much technology up till now. She contacted me through the site, but it will probably be another five years before she can really join us. I'm so glad she did, though. I've been wondering what happened to her.” The woman looks at me. “Have you registered yet? It's so important if you want to find people you've known in the past.”

“No.” I look to Drew for help.

“Cole is still regaining her memories,” he explains for me. “So I haven't told her about the registry yet. Not much point if she doesn't know much about her history.”

“Is the registry like a database of Akhet?” That must be what Janine and Sue were talking about that day.

“Exactly,” the red-haired woman says. She has a faint British
accent. “It's easy enough to find these days. You must be verified before you have complete access, and then you enter information about your past and your contact information in your present. You can find other Akhet you've known over the generations.”

“Like Match.com for us. So much easier than going all the way to Alexandria,” the man says with a smile. “That was such a hassle.”

The southern woman turns, and I see a diamond-encrusted ankh sparkling at her chest. She catches me looking and holds it up to the light. “Pretty, isn't it? I was tired of the old one, so I had this made.” She nods to the pendant around my neck. “Yours looks like you've had it for a while.”

I can feel Drew's eyes on me as I reach up to touch it. “It was just given back to me after a long time away.” I glance across the table. “Drew had it made for me. Centuries ago.”

The woman next to me puts one finger on the ruby in the center. “That seems fitting. The ankh isn't just the symbol of eternal life; for us, it's a promise that we'll be together again in another lifetime.”

The word echoes through my mind as I run my fingers over the curve of the pendant. A promise I have no intention of keeping.

We're in a cluster of people around the bar when Drew waves to someone across the room. “Excuse us, will you?” he says to the others as he pulls me away from the crowd. “The reason we came here tonight just walked through the door.”

“Who is it?” I ask, looking around.

“Right here,” Drew says, approaching a guy in his forties with tan skin and a little bit of gray at his temples. He extends his hand. “Mr. Ramirez?”

The man turns and examines Drew's outstretched hand for a moment before taking it and breaking into a smile. “Drew? Please call me Frank.”

“Okay, Frank,” Drew says, looking relieved. “Thanks so much for agreeing to meet us here.”

Frank's focus on Drew is intense, as if he's blocking out everything else in the crowded room. “Not a problem,” he says.
His speech is clear, but there is a formality to it that makes me wonder if English is his second language. Frank switches his gaze to me. “This must be the young lady you told me about.”

“I'm Cole,” I say, taking his hand. There are some Akhet vibrations between us, but I don't sense any past connection.

He must feel the same thing, because he smiles broadly. “Nice to meet you. What did you say your name was?” His dark brown eyes are intent on my face.

“Cole,” I repeat, leaning in so he can hear me over the noise in the room.

Frank still looks confused as a slightly younger man joins us, placing a drink on the counter next to him. Frank's gaze softens as he introduces us. “Ah! This is my husband, Robert.”

We exchange greetings and then Frank turns to Robert, his fingers fluttering through the air, and I suddenly understand. He's using sign language—Robert must be deaf.

Robert leans toward me, and I'm startled by his clear speaking voice. “I'm sorry, what was your name?”

“Cole,” I repeat.

“Cole,” he says with a smile. “That's nice.” He turns to Frank and makes some deliberate gestures, and suddenly Frank's face breaks into a smile.

“Cole!” he says, turning toward me. “Of course. I don't know why I didn't get that at first.”

I look from Robert to Frank as they grin at each other. “I'm sorry,” Frank says to me. “I'm deaf. I thought you knew.”

“No, I didn't.” I'm a little flustered and glance at Drew, who just shrugs like he didn't know either. “It's okay, though.” The minute I say it, I squeeze my eyes shut. What a stupid thing to say.

Frank nods with a smile. “It is. I contracted measles when I was a baby in this lifetime and have been profoundly deaf ever since. I'm usually good at reading lips.” He tilts his head at me. “But every now and then a beautiful name trips me up.”

Robert gestures to an open table and taps Frank on the elbow. “Shall we sit down?” he says, making sure Frank is watching him as he speaks.

“Let's,” Frank says, grabbing his drink and leading us to the table. “I hear you're quite an accomplished cellist,” he says to me as we sit down.

I look at Drew, wondering how much he said. “Was,” I correct. “I don't play much anymore.”