Page 56 of Cloud Storm

I’m serving my sentence, as you can see.

I leave the soup simmering on the stove, then go and check on Lancelot to make sure he hasn’t drowned in his own snot. Forgive the lack of delicacy, but that’s the way things are.

Suddenly my phone rings and I hurry to answer.

“Where are you?” Roselynn demands. “I’m at your door, you need to get up, because we’re going to have breakfast. We need to talk about the show, I got some sponsors.”

“If that is your way of apologizing for what happened yesterday, I have to inform you that I am not at home.”

“You’re out this early?” she cries. “Are you going to tell me where you are?”

“With Lancelot.”

Her shriek of joy would wake the dead, and I’m grateful I didn’t put her on speakerphone, because the poor Suit would surely wake up terrified.

“I knew it! I knew everything would get sorted between you, I knew it!”

I can almost see her jumping around the corridor in front of my apartment.

“Listen, we haven’t sorted anything out. Don’t go reading anything into this, it’s just a case of charity, nothing more.”

I tell her everything that happened last night, well, the part that involves Mr. Hatz asking me to come to Lancelot’s house and what happened from then on.

“I’m coming over there,” she announces. “And I’m going to get Chase to help us move Lancelot. I can’t even imagine how you managed to move such a big guy alone.”

Within a few minutes, they’re knocking on the door. Roselynn enters with Chase adding to the saga, and they both follow me straight to the master bedroom.

“Maybe we should take him to the hospital, Ariel,” Roselynn suggests. “His breathing seems very labored. He’s going to need antibiotics or something like that.”

“I’ve already been to the pharmacy to get some supplies, which I think have helped because he seems a bit better.”

“Has he eaten anything?”

“I’m fixing chicken soup with vegetables,” I say. “Last night I gave him some coconut water, but nothing else.”

She makes a face.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I tried,” I reply with a smirk. “But seems like you were too busy to take my call, sista.”

“Ariel, go to his desk and check his phone book for a family doctor’s number.”

“Do you think he has one?” I ask. “Isn’t that maybe more for old people?”

“A man as organized as Lancelot? I’m sure he will,” Chase concludes.

Despite the war zone I found last night, Lancelot’s den is pretty clean and tidy. In a small room across the hall, the walls are painted a soft gray tone, which contrasts with the dark wood of the table and the shelves full of books and more origami figurines. Some of them are tiny while others are bigger and impressive.

In the corner of the desk there’s what I think is a wind chime, made of cranes of paper in an assortment of sizes.

It’s beautiful.

But I’m here on a mission.

Everything is organized and locating the thick black leather notebook next to a next-generation laptop proves easy, but while there are many entries inside, there isn’t a list of contacts.

I open the first drawer to continue with my mission, when a stack of papers catches my eye.

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