Folding the Sky

-41-

A few minutes earlier

For a long, tense moment after Zuri told him her idea, Aldric just blinked at her, his eyes wide enough to showcase a rim of white around his deep blue irises.

Zuri searched his face, then sighed, fiddling with her skirts. "You think it's a bad idea."

"No," he said, and again when he saw the faint pout forming at her lips: "No, Zuri, I don't think it's a bad idea. I think it's a lofty one, is all. There's a lot of room for mistakes."

"Everything about this night leaves a lot of room for mistakes," Zuri answered, and Aldric's expression cleared. She'd clearly made a fair point, and he could no longer deny that. "It's better than nothing, Aldric. Trust me."

"I do," he said, haltingly. He stared at her, his gaze simultaneously warm and intense, like a wave of late summer heat. "Trust you, I mean."

She sensed a certain weight behind those words, the effort it took for him to say them, but for a while she couldn't quite muster an equal response. So she just nodded, grabbing his hand with both of hers. "Then let's do this."

The plan was simple, and that, in a way, was what made it precarious. A narrow wooden door behind the hors d'oeuvres display had caught Zuri's eye, the plaque beside it marked Electrical. The rest had clicked. An unplanned blackout, a last-minute call to move the festivities to the front courtyard. Then, the night continued without casualties.

Still, as Zuri took her position by the door, watching Aldric's blue-haired head bob through the crowd as he made for the electrical closet, a gnawing sensation began to eat away at her heart, slowly. She worried she was oversimplifying this, overlooking some intrinsic detail that would ultimately lead to their plan's, and the night's, demise.

Aldric met Zuri's gaze over the constant ebb and flow of the crowd. There was no time to hesitate; there was no time at all. She nodded at him.

He turned his back to her, his shoulders hunched. He paused, and she saw his arm jerk—the door was locked. Not that that was any trouble for someone like him.

With another furtive glance around, he disappeared inside. The first overhead flickered, went out, and the rest followed suit, plunging the ballroom into utter darkness.

Bows dragged against the string, the music ending on a dissonant, surprised chord. A murmur of confusion spread as the ball's attendees whipped their heads around, concern painting their faces.

"What's the meaning of this?" someone asked.

A man added, "Was there a storm?"

Zuri cleared her throat. Aldric had done his part. Now it was time for her to do hers.

She waded into the mumbling crowd, eyes locked on a familiar set of broad, confident shoulders—one of her earlier dance partners. She stopped, however, just a few feet away, letting her voice carry the remaining distance: "No reason for the party to end like this. Would it be so bad if we just took it outside while the maintenance men figure this out?"

Omari Effiong turned, glancing at her. She fought the urge to smile as he said, "A bright idea, young lady. What did you say your name was?"

She'd never given it to him, and here she hesitated, caught in the trepidatious space between spinning a quick lie and telling the truth. "Zuri, sir," she said, finally. She was no one, after all, just a nondescript fixture of the background. There was no danger, no mystery, behind the name she'd been born with.

"Zuri," he said, and took her hand, lifting it in his gentle grasp as he kissed the back of her palm. "I owe you one."

Effiong turned, wading towards the quartet, where he took up a mic and began ordering his guests towards the doors. "It'll be a night under the stars. How about it, folks?"