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ation with Delonia Mackechnie for Remembrance Day'? I've heard she's not really even Indian. She's like this weird ugly dyke giraffe. I can't wait till she's dead so I can stop seeing those stupid shows."
Stefan took back his card. The clerk picked up the book to put it in a Book Block bag. He glanced at the title: Selfness: A Workbook for Adult Children of Famous People.
"Oh," said the clerk, "sorry."
Stefan left the shop, pausing briefly at the door to stuff the book into a waste-bin.
~
Stefan shut the door behind him and put his house-key into the pocket of his heavy jacket. He raised his nose to the air: She's home. The scent of ylang-ylang gave away Delonia's presence. Perhaps, he thought, he could make it to his room.
Halfway through the dining room he paused. His mother was no surprise, standing in one of her trademark outfits, which were custom-made to suit not just her predilection for wild colours but her unusual height, too. The dress matched the bright blues and yellows of the tropical fish in the aquarium behind her. But someone else was with her, a young man with one arm sunk up to the shoulder in the tank. Delonia heard Stefan and turned around.
"Stefan! I'm glad you're home," she said with a big smile. Her top teeth protruded like the cow-catcher of an old train. His mother had a weight of presence, a charisma, but she was not pretty, and it hurt him every time he noticed. As a public figure, she was often projected and stretched and illuminated, adding to the effect. Other people liked her well enough, at least those who admitted to buying her records and watching her specials, so why should her looks matter? This particular smile, though, he knew this one, the up-to-no-good smile.
"Stefan, this is Tyler," she said, gesturing to the young man, who turned and extended his hand to shake Stefan's, then laughed and took it back when he noticed it was wet with dirty fish tank water. His smile flattened Stefan: wide, with teeth s