“Congratulations, by the way.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t come to the reception. It was—” Nico’s smile flashed tremulously. “You get it, right? It’s not that I didn’t want to, but I just—I guess I couldn’t.”
Hazard didn’t know a safe response to this, so he grunted.
Nico laughed and wiped his eyes. “I’m really happy for you.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m still picking out a good wedding present.”
“We don’t want any presents.”
Nico laughed harder this time. When he fell silent, his dark eyes roved Hazard’s face, searching for something. The smell of yeast and baking bread from below mixed with a mild cologne, something warm and musky at the edge of Hazard’s notice. Nico wanted something, Hazard realized. Wanted something from Hazard.
“Nico,” he said, fumbling for the right words, “you’re a great guy, or you are as far as I know, and you’re physically attractive enough that someday you’ll probably find—”
Nico burst into fresh laughter. He had to put his head down on the desk. It felt a little over the top when he slapped the wood, as though unable to control his amusement. Finally he pulled himself upright. He dabbed at his eyes with tissues he pulled from a pocket. He grinned and rolled his eyes.
“That was fantastic,” he said.
“I’m glad I can be a fucking font of amusement for all the men in my life. If you don’t want anything else, can you get the fuck out of my office?”
“Uh, actually, I do want something. That’s why I didn’t just call.” Nico shifted his weight, reached back, and drew a folded piece of paper from his back pocket. “It’s not, um, very long because, you know, I mostly do those summer jobs in New York, but I took a typing test, and I’m pretty sure I know how to file. Well, normal filing. We both know I had trouble with the Emery Hazard patented system for organizing utility bills.”
“By importance of the utility, then by environmental impact, then by amount.” Hazard snatched the paper and unfolded it. He stared at Nico’s resume, which was, as he had pointed out, pretty spare. He looked up. “What is this?”
“I saw your ad. You’re looking for an assistant.”
“You have a job. You’re a model. You’re an underwear model. It says so right here.”
Nico shifted. He looked away. When he spoke, his voice was thready. “I, uh, don’t want to do that anymore.”
“Why?”
“Because—because I’m not making any progress on my thesis. I should have finished this spring, you know? Because I hate the kind of guys I meet doing it. And I hate the kind of guys here who want to talk to me about modeling. And I hate how it makes me feel—” He made a noise in his throat and stood. “Never mind. This was a mistake.”
Hazard played with the corner of the paper. Nico was wiping his face as he pushed in the chair and turned to the door.
“Do you really type seventy words per minute?”
“Oh my God, please just let me drag my ass out of here.”
“What’s your accuracy?”
“I don’t know. Ninety something. Look, I’ll tell people he’s not your kid, but—”
“You’d have to pass a background check.”
Nico sniffled into one pink sleeve. He was staring at the door as he said, “That’s, like, whatever. I’ll pass. And I’ve got my citizenship. And I speak five languages. And I read Hebrew, Greek, and Latin. In case you forgot.”
“It’s mostly clerical work. I’m not going to employ you as an investigator.”
“Yeah.” Nico might have been old enough not to say duh, but it seemed only barely.
“You understand the realities of the job are primarily personal injury work and insurance work. People who claim they can’t work or can’t drive or are in chronic pain. It’s not always pleasant, having to deal with that kind of thing.”
“I mean,” Nico looked over his shoulder. He wiped his nose again. “I won’t know until I try. I’d be good with clients, too. I’m friendly.”
“I do have a potential client I want to impress. I’d need help getting the office ready. This guy, Kris Desalles, he could be a big deal for Astraea.”
“I’m so good at that stuff, Em. I could, you know, just add little touches. It would still be your place, but with the details filled in.”
Hazard paused and let the moment hang. “I’d have to clear it with John.”
“Oh my God.” Nico smirked. “Please let me be there when you ask. I want to see your face when he starts laughing.”
Hazard didn’t understand the comment, so he let it slide. Instead, he said, “Can you start by dropping these off at the station? John will know what they’re for.”
“The kid?” Nico asked as he accepted the fingerprint cards.
“This job would require confidentiality.”
“Oh, please. I’m the soul of discretion. I never told anyone how much you like it when I—”
“Oh my fucking God,” Colt shouted from the next room.
Face on fire, Hazard said, “Get out.”
“Do I have the job?”
“Get out!”
“I’m taking that as a yes.”
Hazard tossed one of the pens, but it got the door instead of Nico, and Nico was laughing as he slipped out of the room. He heard bodies collide a moment later, and Colt’s embarrassed, “Sorry, man.” Nico’s response was too quiet for Hazard to make out, but it must have been kind because when Colt stepped into the office, the boy was glowing.
“He’s too old for you,” Hazard said, “even though he acts like an adolescent. It would be statutory rape.”
That put out the light in Colt’s face. “I’m not a fag.”
Hazard grunted.
“I’m not.”
“Fine. I was mistaken. I don’t care. For the record, though—” Hazard cut off as his phone buzzed. Ramona Andrews’s number flashed on the screen. “Hello?”
“Mr. Hazard, I’m sorry.” She had a deep voice, and something about the inflection suggested to Hazard that she was black. “You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve already had, and of course, today they closed the office for fumigation, so just about everybody is on vacation. What’s going on?”
He told her.
“How old is the boy?”
“How old are you?”
Colt crossed his arms and jutted his chin. “I’ll be sixteen in April.”
“He’s fifteen,” Hazard said into the phone.
“Good Lord. Give me a moment.” She was quiet for a moment; from the other end of the call came the click of a keyboard. “Mr. Hazard, I hate to ask this, but would you and your partner—”