Honey Girl(37)

Grace lets out a small laugh. “We’re kind of a mess.”

Yuki shakes her head. “On my show I asked ‘Are you there?’ All the lonely creatures that were listening said yes, and it turns out you were one of them,” she says. “Us lonely creatures have to stick together.” She taps at the matching band on Grace’s ring finger. She reaches up to touch a glinting key, the one nestled against Grace’s chest that feels so a part of her that it thumps in time with her pulse. “You’re my mess now, and I’m yours. No take-backs.”

Grace told her parents she was coming to New York for research. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, she said. Maybe that part wasn’t a lie. “Then can I come with you to do your show?” she asks. Let me in, she thinks. I will try to be your good thing, too.

Yuki smiles. Her eyes are dark and her teeth are sharp. She is a lonely creature of the dark. Grace doesn’t want to be scared. “Yes,” she says.

This part is easy.

Yuki’s radio station is an unassuming building. The guard at the front desk hands Yuki a key.

“Need me to lock up?” she asks. “You know I love having so much power, Jarrell.”

The guy, Jarrell, rolls his eyes. “Babysitter fell through. I’ll owe you one.”

Yuki waves him away. “Go be a responsible parent,” she says. “Is Little Jay still working on that history paper?”

Jarrell nods. “He says Tudor England is, and I quote, ‘a white people soap opera,’ like I got any idea what he’s talking about. They ain’t teach no damn Tudor England when I got my GED.”

Yuki laughs, leaning against the desk. “Tell him to text me, and we can talk it through.”

Jarrell glares at Yuki as he leaves. “Don’t let me find out you’re turning my son into a history major like you.”

“He’ll thank me when he’s in debt up to his eyeballs all for a useless degree,” she says. “Night.”

“Night,” Jarrell calls, “to you and your friend.”

He turns the light off and waits until Yuki locks the door behind him. “I didn’t know you were a history major,” Grace says quietly. “You never told me that.”

Yuki leads them down a long dark hallway, until they get to a door hanging ajar. “Like I said,” she starts breezily, “completely useless for the real world. My classes taught me some of the first stories I used for the show, though. Yay for secondary education.”

Grace follows her inside. There’s a brown-skinned girl with headphones on and her feet up on a small desk. She gives them a peace sign and keeps tapping at her phone.

“That’s Blue,” Yuki says, flicking the girl on the forehead. “She makes the magic happen.”

Blue takes one headphone out. “She means that literally. After two years, she still has no idea how any of the controls work.”

“Host,” Yuki says, pointing at herself. “I don’t need to know those things. Also, this is Grace. We’re married. It’s complicated.”

Blue lets out a low whistle. She looks Grace up and down. “This is why all your stories have turned so romantic lately, huh?”

Yuki screeches, embarrassed and flushed. “Can you go set up, please? Do that magic stuff you claim to do?”

Blue puts her hands up. She flips her cornrows and beads and disappears to the other side of the studio. “Whatever you say, boss.”

Yuki stares up at the ceiling when she leaves, refusing to make eye contact with Grace. “What do you do when you hate all your friends?”

“Kill them,” Grace says. She settles into a chair in front of a whole switchboard of lights and commands. “Can I ask you something?” she says carefully, her mind on a different conversation.

“What?” Yuki starts taking notebooks out of her backpack. “You gotta ask Blue if you want to know how any of this shit works.”

“Not that,” Grace says hesitantly. She turns around, watching Yuki. “Why didn’t you pursue history? And I know,” she cuts in, when Yuki opens her mouth, “it’s totally hypocritical of me to ask. I studied astronomy for eleven years, and I feel more disconnected from it than ever. So, I get it. But, why didn’t you?”

Yuki keeps her head down. “Do you think I have a sob story, Grace Porter? I don’t look up at the stars and wonder if Asada Goryu is thinking about me in the afterlife or anything.”

“Impressive name-drop, but ouch,” Grace says. She leans an elbow on the desk, careful of the switches.

Yuki’s mouth twitches in amusement. She spins around to match Grace’s rhythm. “I paid for college myself,” she admits. “My parents wanted me to do something practical, you know? Like, business or law. If they were gonna pay for it, it had to be something worthwhile, you know? They’re first-gen immigrants, so they think the American dream is something that actually exists. They weren’t going to let me follow my dreams and study medieval history or, like, fucking astronomy.” She glances at Grace. “No offense.”

Grace smiles, wry and bitter. “My father wanted me to study medicine. He ended up helping me pay for my undergrad and master’s programs, but I was on my own for my doctorate. Then he walked out of my graduation ceremony, so I think he still made his opinion of my degree quite clear.”