Page 56 of Mongrels United
“That’s what you said they were,” Siran pointed out. “Bits and pieces from everywhere.”
She laughed again. “I did,” she admitted. “Mongrels…” It was a very old word. “I like it,” she added.
* * * * *
“I like it,” Kailash said that evening, when Grady got back to the apartment. His expression was thoughtful as he turned the word over in his mind. “Mongrels… It’s exactly what we are.” He picked up the battered duffel bag he used to carry his practice equipment, then paused. “Mongrels together.” He grinned.
Grady swiveled on the stool, with a smile of her own. “It’s a completely different cadence to the Dreamhawks or the Buccaneers, isn’t it?”
“That makes it even better,” Kailash said firmly as he headed for the door. He waved goodbye as he left.
Grady hurried to change and head for the Palatine herself.
Two days later, she learned that the Grey Team had registered an official team name.
Mongrels United.
Chapter Twenty-Four
While Mongrels United was busy winning at least every second game they played, and the chatter on the Forum slowly built about the team of nobodies competing against the professionals, Grady and Nash tried find avenues of investigation that would give them any sort of lead at all about who was making and distributing Bellish.
It occupied every free moment of Grady’s time. Her thoughts would return to it whenever she wasn’t actively dealing with something else. The puzzle seemed so impervious to cracking, yet theyhadto find a way to solve it.
Nash would speak to anyone they thought might have known Nason Wheelock throughout his life. They were gradually moving through the years of his life, finding younger people who might have interacted with him. Each day—actually, each night—Nash would give nearly the same report.
“Most didn’t know him personally, but knew who he was. Those who knew him didn’t like him, so didn’t take much notice of his habits.” And he would sigh heavily.
“We’ll find someone, eventually,” Grady assured him.
“But they’ll lie when we do,” Nash pointed out. “Maybe you should be with me when I talk to ‘em, Grady. You’d know when they’re lying.”
“You will, too. You’re intuitive, Nash, or you wouldn’t have so many successful business partnerships.”
Each similar conversation would end the same way, with Grady very unprofessionally distracting Nash with the one thing guaranteed to make them both forget their troubles.
At least for a while.
In the morning, before Grady left for the Bridge, they would go over the people Nash should talk to, drawing from the list Grady was building from the resident database. Nash was eliminating names each day, sometimes two a day.
“You have to appear to be living a normal life while you’re doing this,” Grady had pointed out. “You can’t spend all day visiting strangers and striking up conversations.”
“I can do any damn thing I want,” Nash replied, with a scowl.
She paused. “Is that how you lived, before? Never the same day twice?”
“Pretty much,” he admitted. Then he turned and drew her closer. “But regular routine has benefits I wasn’t aware of,” he murmured, his lips against her throat.
Grady had not approached the subject again, but in the back of her mind, it rubbed and chaffed. How could Nash go about changing the ship’s perception of him, so that they could be together publicly, if he was spending all his time chasing down the supplier of Bellish?
But she could not andwouldnot tell him to slow down his investigation, either. It was too important.
She just had to trust that he would abide by the implied promise that he had made and one day, he would let her be seen with him.
That day arrived sooner than she had expected, and not in the way she thought it would happen—which was how most of the big moments in her life had happened.
It was the day after her father was released from the hospital. She had walked her father back to his Esquiline apartment and settled him in the big easy chair, with his pad and books and a new writing box beside him. Then she had printed them both a meal from his favorites folder, and sat on the floor in front of him to eat hers.
Avan ate sparingly, but he had always done so. Grady didn’t let it worry her. Instead, they spoke of inconsequential things. Mutual friends. And tankball. Tankball was a safe subject. Grady let herself enthuse about the Mongrels’ winning streak, which was currently at four games, and their prospects, and how the ship seemed to be stirring and paying attention to the nobody team.
