The Duke and the DJ (The Rebel Royals 3)

“You didn’t have to buy this for me,” said Lark.

“It’s cute on you,” said Spin.

“You’re too generous with your money.”

“You know my philosophy on money. It’s better spent than kept.”

“That’s only because money seems to find you no matter how much you give it away.”

Zhi waited for the two women to pass. While he did, he kept his eyes on Spin. Something passed over her face at the talk of money. It was a curious conversation. Just like everything about her.

She clearly didn’t come from money. She lived a bohemian lifestyle. She seemed to detest excess. But she was happy to spend it on her friends. The woman was a walking contradiction.

When the coast was clear, Zhi slunk to his room. Turning on the shower, he hesitated as the pipes groaned. But the water came through. He stepped beneath its spray, thankful for the heat. He soaped up and washed the grime of the

last day off. He wanted to luxuriate for an hour or so, but five minutes was all he gave himself. He didn’t dare try his luck with his patchwork pipe job.

Toweling off, he went to his wardrobe. He itched to slink into something comfortable and entirely informal. Unfortunately, as long as guests were on the grounds, he had to play the part. So he pulled on slacks that hung a little loose on him. The toes of the shoes he stepped into pinched. There was a thread loose on the tail of his shirt, which he tucked in.

Once presentable, he stepped out of his room and headed down to properly receive his guests. The girls were nowhere to be found. He found himself a little disappointed at the empty hall.

He pulled out his phone and tapped the Instagram app. He could send Spin a DM, but he decided against it. What had she said about waiting? He was too impatient to remember.

He had no clue why he was feeling so agitated. He was hanging out with Parker tonight. He should be focused on that.

Looking up, he found himself outside of the music room. The door was cracked open. His heartbeat picked up when he heard the first notes from the keys. But his pulse quickly settled as he recognized the tune and its player.

Zhi came into the room, closing the door behind him. His mother didn’t mind being heard. She just didn’t prefer to be watched as she played.

When she saw him, she changed her tune. Sliding down to one side of the bench, she began a partner song. Zhi sat on the other end of the grand instrument and picked up his part. The music wasn’t so loud that they couldn’t converse.

“I like your friend,” said his mother.

“Spin?”

“What an interesting name.”

“Says the woman who named her son a letter of the alphabet.”

“I suppose her name is Elle.” His mother’s lithe fingers moved quickly over the keys for her part.

“Why would you think that?” Zhi’s fingers moved slowly as they accompanied her in this part of the melody.

“Spin d’Elle.”

He paused, losing his place in the music to consider that.

“The two of you get on well.” His mother hedged. “She’s a musician, you know.”

“I do know.” Zhi picked the melody back up. The song picked up speed as they held their conversation.

“It’s nice to have things in common with someone.”

“What are you on about, muqin?”

“I am glad one of your friends is willing to help our family out with our … difficulties. It frees you to follow your heart.”

Zhi tripped on the keys, missing a beat. His mother’s playing didn’t falter. She changed the song, playing a solo tune now that his fingers were frozen.