and on and on until the door opened again, and Lyle said, “Dr Peppers, boss.”
I took them and handed one to Davis and one to Daisy. “You sure you don’t want to pet her?” Malik asked.
“I’m also afraid of dinosaurs,” I explained. “Holmesy has most of the major fears,” Daisy said as she petted Tua.
“Anyway, we should get going. I’ve got some babysitting duties to attend to.”
“I’ll give you a ride home,” said Davis. Davis said he needed to stop by the house,
and I was going to wait for him outside, but Daisy shoved me forward so hard I found myself walking alongside him.
Davis pulled open the front door, a massive pane of glass at least ten feet high, and we walked into an enormous marble-floored room.
To my left, Noah Pickett lay on a couch, playing a space combat video game on a huge screen.
“Noah,” Davis said, “you remember Aza Holmes?” “’Sup,” he said, without turning away from the game.
Davis darted up a flight of floating marble stairs, leaving me alone with Noah—or so I thought—
until a woman I hadn’t seen called out, “That’s a real Picasso.”
She was dressed all in white, slicing berries in the gleaming white kitchen.
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