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Dion looked at him. “You’re going to have to explain that.”
“Short for escort.”
The room erupted.
“Thought escorts were women,” Nick said.
“Men are gigolos,” Target told him.
“That’s worse,” Dion said, and they laughed even harder.
Handful put two fingers in his mouth and gave a sharp whistle. “Settle down, you lot. Not that kind of escort.” He turned back to Dion. “I’ve heard what happens when somebody starts trouble on your floor. You get him outside before the rest of the room knows there’s a problem.”
“That’s the job,” Dion said.
“And you’re good at it,” Wren said. “Best security in the business.”
I bent and kissed her. Handful gave her a nod across the table. He and I had both heard her say those words at Virtues, back when I hadn’t known who she meant.
Dion looked at Redd, who nodded. Then he raised his glass to Wren. “Esco. I can live with that.”
Redd went over to Nick and put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re next. Risk.”
Nick frowned. “That’s a terrible name.”
“You hear somebody’s in trouble and you’re moving before the rest of us have our boots on.”
“Still, sounds like a warning label,” Nick said.
“Rix, then. With an x.”
“That’s not how you spell risk.”
Redd tapped Nick’s chest with two fingers. “I’m giving you the name. I can spell it how I want.”
Nick tried it under his breath. “Rix.” He grinned. “All right.”
Simon was the only one left. He’d been watching quietly while the others got their names.
“Argus,” I said.
He looked up. “Why?”
“Argus was a guard in an old myth. Nothing got past him.” I had plenty of reasons to resent Simon. None of them changed what he’d done for Wren. “You walked her to her car every night she danced at the club. And you still drive her on Wednesdays.”
Wren found my hand, squeezed it and smiled at me.
Simon glanced at her, then at me. He rubbed his thumb around the rim of his glass. “You told him?”
“Of course I did,” Wren said.
Simon lifted his glass in salute. “Argus, then.” He downed it in one, and the clubhouse cheered.
❧
By Saturday afternoon, there wasn’t room to move in the common room. The older kids had claimed the floor by the food table. Indira and Austen kept the little ones on a rug where they could see the front; Sparrow sat between Rohan and Wilder, banging a plastic cup against her knee. Every few minutes she looked around for Wren.
Wren stood with me beside Colt and Holden. When Sparrow found us again, Wren waved. Then she slipped beneath my arm and rested her hand at my waist, just like she always used to. I drew her closer and watched her brother walk to the front with his four men.
