Jason
“Oh my gosh!”
Willa’s face was about smushed up against the window of the limo that took us through London. The kid was in heaven.
“I can’t believe this is, like, a real place,” she said, finally tearing her eyes away from the sights and turning back to me and April. “OK, so we have to get some food first. And then we can look around, right? Go for a walk and see some stuff.”
“I think that’s doable,” I said, giving a glance over to April as I mussed Willa’s hair. “Dad’s got to take care of some business first, but I don’t think there’s any issue with us checking out the place while we’re here.”
“Good,” said Willa, satisfied. “Because I heard there’s this place…it’s like a circus…pickle circus? That’s a weird name, right?”
April laughed and put her arm around Willa. “Piccadilly Circus. And it’s not really a circus like you’re thinking. It’s more like a big hangout spot.”
“Oh,” said Willa, appearing to wrap her mind around it. “I mean, a circus would be cool, but clowns are kind of weird. Seeing elephants and stuff would be neat.”
“There’s a zoo here,” I said. “Supposed to be one of the best in the world.”
Willa’s eyes lit up. “Even better than the New York ones?”
“One way to find out,” said April.
“We have to go,” said Willa. “Oh man, we’re gonna have so much fun.”
We drove on. Sitting in the back of the car like that, me and April and Willa together, it…I don’t know. It was almost like we were a family.
But we weren’t, of course. And I knew I couldn’t forget it. Then there was the little matter of the reason I was there to begin with. Part of me didn’t want to have Willa and April out and about. There was a chance that people I didn’t want to know I was there already knew. New York was my base, and straying could very well have meant putting myself, and Willa and April, in danger.
Just another reason why I had to leave this life behind. And fast. If all went according to plan, I’d be able to make the break sooner than I’d hoped. And if Scott was on my side, there was a good chance it’d actually work.
We arrived at the hotel, a stately building in Kensington that I’d chosen more for its safety than its luxury.
“Wow,” said April. “This is…some place.”
“Can we get room service?” asked Willa. “I want a burger, Dad. Please?”
I laughed. “You can get a burger anywhere. You’re in another country—get something they make here.”
“Like what?”
April spoke up as the drive came to a stop. “Have you ever had chicken tikka masala?”
“What’s that?” asked Willa.
The driver opened the door and let us out. It was a cool, cloudy morning in London, the city alive with foot traffic. It was a nice place, sure, but New York was my home. Always would be.
“It’s this really, really good dish that comes from India, and it’s really popular here. It’s a creamy sauce with chicken and you eat it with rice and this special kind of bread. You’d love it.”
“It’s actually the national dish of the UK,” I added. “Wouldn’t mind some myself.”
“Is it weird?” asked Willa as we stepped through the doors of the hotel.
“It might seem different, but it’s good,” said April. “Let’s try it. And if you don’t like it, we can get a burger.”
“Hmm, OK!”
The lobby of the hotel was as grand as the outside, but I wasn’t there to appreciate the architecture. The bellhop took our bags, and we rode the elevator to the top floor. I’d rented the presidential suite, figuring that if we were there, we might as well be comfortable.
“This is a heck of a room,” said April as we entered the luxurious suite.