Not Single For Long
Faleena Hopkins
Contents
Tuck Yes Series
1. Zia
2. Nax
3. Zia
4. Nax
5. Zia
6. Nax
7. Nax
8. Zia
9. Zia
10. Nax
11. Nax
12. Zia
13. Nax
14. Zia
15. Zia
16. Nax
17. Zia
18. Nax
19. Zia
20. Nax
21. Epilogue
22. Every Single Thing About You - 1st Chapter
Tuck Yes
Cocker Brothers
Werewolves of New York
Werewolves of Chicago
About the Author
Tuck Yes Series
Zia
Nearly thirty people hailing from all over the Earth are standing in a large group, staring right at me.
Silent.
Waiting.
Listening.
Yet I haven’t said a word.
All I have done so far is walked up, and I’ve got their full attention.
This is my life.
"Hello everyone, I'm Zia and I will be your guide today. Welcome to The American Museum of Natural History. By a show of hands, who is here for the first time?"
I scan raised palms hailing from countless countries, my welcoming gaze hesitating on three handsome men — a ginger wrapped in a finely tailored suit, a dark-chocolate-haired model in current New York fashion, and one very casual tall and toned dirty-blonde in jeans and a t-shirt with an easy smile and a glint of a secret in sea-blue eyes.
Notable in itself is that I don’t often get the pleasure of three hotties in one tour group. However, what especially sets them apart from the norm is that each stands with one son who matches him in style and essence, all around the same age — somewhere between nine and twelve I would guess.
The ginger boy is wearing a suit and glasses, too. The dirty-blonde boy is just as casual and easy-smiling as his father. And while the model’s son has light brown hair and blue eyes rather than the dark and brooding attributes of his dad, his clothes are very New York, and half his head is fashionably shaved. He raises his hand.
“You’ve been here before?”
He jogs a small thumb to the model. “My dad and I live here.”
As I guessed.
The little ginger raises his still high-pitched voice to inform me with all the sobriety of one who might work here in our offices, “We live in Manhattan, too, but my dad has never taken me here. He’s been before though. With his friends.”
Father Ginger grunts, “We’re here now.”
My eyes lock with the tall drink of get-in-my-bed since he hasn’t spoken yet. Because of his happy expression I’m expecting him to say something, but the secret glint remains enigmatic, his smile silent.
“Welcome back.” I direct my attention to the whole of the group once more. “And welcome everyone. Established in 1869, The American Museum of Natural History contains over thirty-four million specimens of plants, animals, minerals, rocks, fossils, meteorites, cultural artifacts, and even,” I lock eyes with quite a few of the many children present for a dramatic pause that holds their attention, “…human remains.”
A little girl asks, “What are ‘human remains,’ Mommy?”
I smile, “Bones. Dead bodies. People of the past. And we have cave men!”
The children react because they love to be scared. Well, almost all do. Give them drama and gore and they whisper to each other in excitement. It also builds suspense. I will be asked several times, “When are we going to see dead bodies?” Happens every tour.
Leading the way with countless hours of training at my disposal, I spend little time on the less impressive exhibits and more on the astounding, like our Tyrannosaurus rex, a favorite for all ages. “These bones, nearly all of them, are real, found and excavated in Montana in 1902. What few were missing were constructed using moldings and fiberglass to give you the Tyrannosaurus Rex you see today in all its imposing glory. Can you imagine turning a corner and finding that in Times Square?”
The small ginger asks, “Do you think he ate any vegetables?”
“The T-Rex was strictly a carnivore.”
“But how do you know?”
The model’s boy teases, “You think he asked for a side of salad with his elk, Elliot?”
Glasses reflect the dinosaur as Elliot stares up at the beast’s skeleton. “We can hypothesize, Will, but unless we were there, we can’t truly be sure.”
I smile, “I’d like to see that side order.”
Will laughs, “Maybe he ordered dessert, too, then, huh?”
The dirty-blonde’s son laughs, “Can you imagine him eating cookies?!”
Will laughs, “Yeah Joe! Hungrier than the cookie monster.”
The three of them — who I now know are Joe, Will, and Elliot — act it out, “Nom nom nom. Mmmmm,” and for a moment the ginger child loses the seriousness he so clearly inherited.
I educate, and field more questions, throughout The Gem and Mineral Hall, Age of Mammals, Hall of Birds, and our many other exhibit halls until we arrive at a guest favorite — our Titanosaur. You cannot see a dinosaur’s skeleton that stretches nearly half the size of a football field without being duly impressed.
“This Titanosaur is one hundred and twenty-two feet in length and was created from molds made of fossils found on a family ranch in Patagonia. Can you imagine digging in your own backyard and discovering this, the find of centuries?” Extending my arm as I walk beside the towering relic, I continue, “How did it get so big, you might ask. Its bones were not dense. They were riddled with air pockets. Think of styrofoam, how light it is despite how large it can be constructed. That is how the Titanosaur was able to grow this enormous yet still be mobile.”
My attention drifts to the six, but this time the boys don’t ask questions as they have done in every other room. This time they’re finding it more fascinating to circle the magnificent skeleton, loudly discussing as children do how it might have spent its time while alive.
The ginger dad checks his phone and steps aside, tapping away with both thumbs. The model stares up at the bones with a darkness behind his eyes, his mind possibly somewhere else. I can’t tell.
But scanning the room for the handsome and tall drink of get-in-my-bed, I come up empty.
“Did you say your name was
