I WAKE UP THE NEXT MORNING to the sun shining through the sheer curtain, its rays cutting across the bed in golden stripes. The light is beautiful, I’ll give it that—all amber and warm—but the heat isn’t far behind, creeping into the room like an unwelcome guest who doesn’t understand social cues. The temperature rises steadily, turning my bedroom into an oven, and I have no choice but to get up and seek asylum in a different part of the house. I throw off the thin sheet that’s tangled around my legs and swing my feet onto the hardwood floor, which is already warm to the touch. You’d think a place with a freaking X-Men X-Jet hangar would have decent air conditioning—you know, the kind that actually works and keeps the temperature below “surface of the sun.” I could not have been more wrong. This mansion is apparently held together by duct tape, good intentions, and ceiling fans from the Reagan administration.
I wander through the house in just my boxer briefs, looking for pretty much any place that isn’t east facing and baking in the morning sun. My skin is sticky with sweat already, and I can feel beads forming at my hairline. On the second floor there’s a sitting room tucked away down a hallway I hadn’t explored yet, past a series of closed doors and what looks like a linen closet. It seems to be in the middle of the house because there are no windows, and more importantly, the ceiling fan is actually worth a damn. Someone must have upgraded this one recently because it’s spinning at a speed that suggests it means business. The air in here is noticeably cooler, almost refreshing compared to the sauna I just escaped from. I let out a long breath and feel my shoulders relax for the first time since I opened my eyes this morning.
The TV is on and some show that I’ve never seen before is playing. I look around but there isn’t anyone. Just an oversized sofa and a recliner.
“We don’t need alarms around here, we have the sun,” says a voice on the other side of the couch.
I walk over and find Austin lying down. He too is only wearing underwear, white ones this time.
“Oh, hi, I didn’t think anyone was in here,” I say.
“What the TV didn’t give it away?”
“Well Daddy doesn’t strike me as the kinda guy who’s worried about the electric bill,” I say.
I look over at the recliner then back to the sofa.
“Don’t worry, we can share, I won’t make you is in that death trap.”
“Well I don’t want to impose,” I say.
“You mean that or just being polite?”
“Obviously I’m being polite—scoot over.”
He slides over just enough that I can sit down. The thing is huge. I sit back and pull my knees into my chest and lay my head against the back.
Just then, Daddy walks in.
“So, how are my boys doing?”
“We’re good,” says Austin.
“Whenever you boys get hungry, Francesca will make you something to eat.”
He’s wearing a linen shirt and pants and has what look like an overnight bag in one hand.
“Going somewhere?” I ask.
“You could say that?” he replies. “I’ll be back day after tomorrow so you boys play nice.”
“We will Daddy,” says Austin.
Tiny walks in and Daddy hands him the overnight bag.
“Where’s Neil?” asks Daddy.
“Just got back from Pisa International to drop off Lena.”
“And he’s good for the whole trip?”
“Yessir,” says Tiny.
“Good, lets get in the air.”
They walk out of the room and I assume are headed to the X-Jet hangar. As soon as I can no longer hear their footfalls I turn back to Austin.
“So what’s there to do around here?”
“I can think of a few things,” he says.