Read The Shoes Come First: A Jennifer Cloud Novel Page 65

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  Ace and I were seated in the taxi. I studied the driver’s ID, because my mom always warned me the taxi drivers were crooked, and if I ever went to New York, to be sure I knew who was driving me around. His identification stated his name was Bob, but he looked more like an Abdul or Osama to me. Ace told him to take us to West Thirty-Fourth and Broadway, then patted my knee.

  “Don’t worry, sometimes the foreign folks take on an American name to make life a little easier.”

  “Oh, like in the nail salons back home—my manicurist is named Nicky, but she always asks if I ‘like nail.’”

  Ace laughed at my impression of Nicky.

  “Let me ask you something.” I turned to Ace.

  “Shoot, sweetheart.”

  “When I touch Marco, there is this huge amount of heat that just about makes me explode.”

  “Well, I would too; he’s hot.”

  “No, I’m serious, and when I’m with Caiyan, the heat is there, but it’s different, subtle, more like a humming, but then when we kiss, just as powerful.”

  “Hmm.” Ace thought. “All travelers give out heat when they connect with each other, but most of us stabilize as we reach adulthood.”

  “When I touch you, I don’t feel a zap of heat.”

  “Give me your hand.” Ace held out his open palm for me.

  I placed my hand in his. “Now concentrate; how do I feel?”

  “Your hand is warm but in a comfortable way.”

  “No, hon, how do I feel inside? Concentrate.”

  I sat for a minute, then closed my eyes, and I felt mellow, kind of happy but with a little fear. I explained this to Ace.

  “I think you are a reader. You can feel emotion, you know, like read people’s feelings. I’ve heard of others who have similar gifts.”

  “Why is Marco on fire when we touch?”

  “Probably Marco has a lot of pent-up hostility, and he doesn’t know how to control himself like our cool cat Caiyan, who’s had years of practice hiding his real feelings from the world.”

  “Why do you think Caiyan hides his feelings?”

  “Who knows, but maybe you could solve the mystery.”

  The cab pulled over, and the driver said, “Here we are. That will be ten fifty.”

  I peered out the window. “Ace, this isn’t a costume shop—this is Macy’s,” I said in awe.

  “You need a coat, and I might need a few things.” He winked at the cab driver. “Don’t forget the receipt.”