She opens her wings and flaps them. They lift her into the sky. With the glow of the streetlight behind her, her wings are an iridescent mosaic, hues of blue, like living stained glass, her body a wonderful silhouette.

  Before I can talk myself out of it, more smoothly and with no hesitation because I don’t fight it, the wolf surges up. I extend my arms with it. The spectral wolf-me rises and catches Adesina. We pull her close; she pulls me close. I feel her human arms and the smaller insectile ones around me. She flaps her wings and we twirl, both of us under the lamplight on the quiet street.

  I move in to kiss her, but at the last moment she pulls her head back. “As nice as this is,” she says, “I’m not about to kiss a wolf. For that part, I’m going to need the human Bacho.”

  She looks down at me on the ground. “So…my place or yours?”

  * * *

  —

  The next night, Adesina drags me out to a bar for a proper introduction to the rest of the cast. I was never a big bar guy in the first place, and up until this point I hadn’t had anyone to go to any with in Reno. Loulou had dragged me out once to a dive bar called Bobby B’s. It was so full of smoke—real Reno smoke—that I’d stumbled out coughing after a couple of minutes. I made up excuses any time Loulou invited me out after that. I think he got the message because he stopped asking after a while. Instead we played video games and ate pizza.

  The bar I’m at now is nothing like Bobby B’s. It’s in the heart of Reno’s Midtown. It’s all sparkling yellow light, glass, tall metal stools in that industrial style that’s so popular, warm jazz being played on an actual piano. Loulou would hate this place, but I feel bad because we had talked about finally beating Boss Croc in Joker Pantheon tonight. I shoot him a text letting him know where I am if he wants to swing by, though part of me hopes he won’t show.

  The rest of the cast is already lounging around a cushioned booth area in the back. They appear to be in various states of intoxication. The Giant, who is already drunk enough that he’s slurring longer words, goes off on a long rant about how amazing my ace is. He tells me to call him Big G and insists on buying me a drink. If I’d known that “drink” was going to be a round of three giant-sized shots I might not have agreed. I’m not a big drinker, and my head starts to feel warm and fuzzy in no time.

  There’s also Minny, an exceptionally cute girl who looks right out of an illustrated Swiss children’s book. She plays the American soldier, Pinkerton, in Madama Butterfly. She is shy at first, but after a few drinks she slips into a perfect Australian accent that has our table roaring. Calvin, the guy whose role I took over as the Wolf, doesn’t look anything like a wolf. He’s definitely a beast, though. Long snout, tusks, blood-red eyes. Scraggly tufts of fur clump on his gray skin. He’s perfectly happy I stepped in as the Wolf. I also get my first real meeting with Rowly, the man playing Peter. It’s awkward at first. Big G doesn’t help by saying, “Watch out, Rowly, you don’t want to get too full” or “Be careful, what goes in must come out” whenever he takes a sip of his drink.

  I know I’m getting drunk when I realize my hand is resting on Adesina’s leg. I’m not sure how long it’s been there. She doesn’t seem in a rush to move it. Instead she slides her hand into my lap and slips it between my thighs. She leans in and whispers, “I think we need to go to the bathroom.”

  “We do?”

  She raises her eyebrows. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure of it.” She scooches me out of my seat, grabs my hand, and pulls me weaving through the tables. She drags me to the end of the restroom corridor and pushes me against the wall. Her wings flare into a screen behind us. Her mouth meets mine so hard our teeth crash together. Then all I’m paying attention to is what her lips and tongue and all six of her arms are doing to me.

  When she pulls back, smiling, she says, “Thanks. I needed some Bacho.” She rolls her eyes to the side and slips away. “And also the little ladies’ room.”

  A minute later, as we head back toward the group, I see Loulou. He stands near the entrance, his eyes roaming. He looks a little nervous. I wave. He sees me and waves back.

  “Hey,” I say, all smiles when I reach him. “Loulou, meet Adesina. Adesina, Loulou.”

  Adesina smiles and reaches out a hand, dainty. “Charmed, I’m sure.” She is so cute. My God, I’m lucky.

  Loulou is stunned speechless by her. His eyes bounce from her face to her wings, to her extra arms. He hesitantly takes her outstretched hand, but lets it go a second later. “You’re a…Adesina?”

  She nods, wonderfully tipsy. “I am an Adesina! And you are the roommate, he of pizza and video-game dominance. Your fame precedes you.”

  He’s speechless again. I suspect Loulou doesn’t have much experience with girls, certainly not with someone as stunning as Adesina. She isn’t the least bit offended, just smiles and says, “Come join us.” She moves away.

  Loulou’s eyes follow her. His body doesn’t. “Those are your actor friends?” he asks, taking in the entire crew at the long table. “You didn’t say there were jokers.”

  “Oh. Well, yeah, they mostly are. They’re cool, though. They won’t mind that you’re just a nat.” I play-punch his arm.

  Loulou focuses on me. “You drunk or something?”

  “I’ve had a few.”

  “Yeah, I can tell. You look happy. It’s a weird look on you.”

  “Of course I am! I’ve got a girl. Did you see her?”

  “You said her mother was Bubbles.”

  “That’s right. And I’ve got some new friends.”

  “She does not look like Bubbles.”

  “And…” I raise my chin and enunciate. “…I’m an actor. A man of the arts. Long live the theater!” Loulou doesn’t find this as amusing as I do. “Seriously, the show is cool. You should see it. It’s a joker version of old classics and stuff. Anyway, come on. Let me introduce you.”

  Loulou thinks about it for a moment. Though it’s hot in the bar, he scrunches down in his winter coat like he’s cold. “Nah. I was just passing by. Going to meet some friends.”

  “You have friends?” I say, grinning. I’m hilarious.

  He stares at me, seems on the verge of saying something, but instead turns and pushes through the door, leaving me standing in the blast of cold air that enters as he exits.

  * * *

  —

  It ends up being a great night, which Adesina and I conclude at her place. Grumpy Loulou is very much forgotten.

  The next rehearsal, however, doesn’t go quite as swimmingly as Adesina hoped. Her part is awesome. She flits around the stage, light and angelic with her amazing blue wings, flowing robes of white and pink silk trailing after her in the air. It’s definitely cultural appropriation, but she makes appropriation look really good. She delivers her lines with soft precision, a musicality to her voice. The way Minny watches Adesina move around the stage you could be forgiven for thinking she was actually in love with her. Or maybe she is. That’s possible, too.

  My part, though? Utter failure during what isn’t even the big scare scene, just the one where I spy on Rowly as he picks berries. I sneak up behind him, raise my arms, and summon the wolf. I feel it surge up out of me, but after that nothing happens. No second pair of eyes opening. No new wolf senses flooding my brain. He comes out and towers over me, but instead of doing any of the things he’s supposed to, he crosses his arms, turns his head, lifts his chin, and goes into a huff. He won’t do any of the things I ask him to, no matter how many times Ronaldo reiterates his very clearly projected directions.

  I’m still confused about the whole thing the next evening as I finish up my shift at the Bountiful Bean. We’ve just closed, and the front of the store is empty besides me, Merl, and Adesina, who came to talk things over. “Hi,” I say, sitting down across from her at one of the small round tables. I slip her a coffee. “Your Steamo Speciale.”

  She points at my black coffee. “I don’t understand why you never let Merl froth yours.”

  “Because it’s gross,” I say. “I don’t understand why you do it.”

  “I dunno. There is just another layer to the taste when he does it. Almost…earthy.”

  “Yeah, definitely a pass. Earthy?”

  “Hey, I can hear you,” Merl says while he mops.

  Adesina and I sit for a moment. The attempts at levity aside, my non-performance last night is the elephant in the room. “Adesina,” I begin, “I don’t—”

  “You,” she interrupts, “had a bad night. It happens to everyone. You should be glad it happened when it did.”

  “I should be glad?”

  “Definitely. Stage fright happens to everyone. It’s having it at the worst time possible that’s bad. You didn’t. It was just a stupid dress rehearsal. You can work on it. Figure out what went wrong and fix it before there’s an audience to deal with.” She takes a sip of her coffee, leans closer, and whispers, “I think you’re still nervous about people knowing you’re an ace.”

  “Don’t say that here.” I glance over at Merl. “They’d just make fun of me. Anyway, I’m not an ace.”

  “What do you call it, then? Have you thought about what you and your wolf can do?”

  “Fail tremendously in public,” I say. “Or hurt somebody.”

  “Or do a lot of good.”

  I shake my head. “Since yesterday it’s gone still. It won’t respond when I call it. It’s pissed at me or something. I don’t even know why. Adesina, it’s not…me. It comes out when it wants to. Becomes visible when it wants to. Ignores anything I ask it when it wants to. More and more, I’m realizing I can’t control it.”

  “Maybe it’s not about controlling it. Have you asked what it wants?”

  “To be a pain in the ass.”

  “You see a pain in the ass; I see a part of you. If the wolf is a problem, it’s also an answer. I get that you didn’t ask for it, and that it complicates your life. I definitely get that.” She tweaks an antenna and flutters her wings. “I’ve got some experience with this sort of thing.”

  “Yeah, but you’re crazy cute and you can fly. I’ve got a seriously problematic dog.”

  “I am crazy cute and I can fly, yes,” she says. “I love what I am, but I didn’t always. I didn’t ask for this, either. And…some of it was really hard. More than you can imagine. I think the problem is that because you don’t know who the wolf is, you don’t know who you are, either.”

  From the silence after this, someone else speaks.

  “Who is this beautiful young woman distracting you from your work?” It’s Laine. She’s got her bag and her hat on, an indication she’s on the way out. No coat, but walking with her own climate she doesn’t need one.

  “Adesina, this is Laine,” I say. “My boss.”

  “I’m sorry if I’m keeping him.”

  “Not at all, child. Bacho works hard enough. He deserves some time off, especially with good company. Adesina, where are you from?”

  “New York. I’m here for the university.”

  “New York?” Laine stares at Adesina for a long moment, then says, “No, that’s not right.”

  That seems a bit out of character for Laine. Then it gets stranger.

  Laine says something to Adesina in a language I’ve never heard before, full of round vowels and long rolling words. Adesina sits up straight and nearly slips off the stool. Her eyes go blank, like she’s not seeing with them and like she’s not even in the room. Laine touches her shoulder and says something else, softly.

  This time, Adesina answers. Her voice is hesitant. Full of pauses, but she strings together a collection of words that sound like the same language. For the next few minutes they carry on a conversation that has nothing to do with me.

  Eventually, Laine squeezes Adesina’s hand and says, “You should come. Think about it. Call me here if you want to. Anytime.”

  After Laine leaves, I ask, “What just happened? What language were you speaking?”

  Adesina smirks, reluctant for a moment, then spills. “Swahili.”

  “Swahili?”

  “It’s been a long time. I didn’t know I remembered it, but…well, I guess it’s still in me.” After another pause: “I’m African. I was born in the People’s Paradise of Africa.”

  “Oh,” I say. I’m not the most globally aware, but even I know some crazy stuff went down over there a few years ago. Stuff with the Committee and child soldiers and weird experiments.

  “I was young,” Adesina says. “It’s in the past, and I don’t talk about it much. I’m here now. That’s what matters, right?”

  I nod. “How did Laine know?”

  “Something in my accent, she said.”

  “Wait, Laine was speaking Swahili? She’s from Africa?”

  “Kenya. She invited me to come to a dinner group she hosts. Some African professors. A few students. I said I’d think about it.”

  “Whoa. I guess that’s a mystery solved. Africa. I was sure it was Haiti.” Adesina looks perplexed. I ask, “You have an accent?”

  “Apparently. To some. That’s weird to hear, actually. When I was younger—after being adopted and coming to the States—I became American fast. Lots of American slang. Totes and kewl and stuff like that. It wasn’t that I didn’t like myself or anything, or was ashamed of where I came from. I’ve always been pretty…okay in my skin, right? But it was kinda that the more I sounded super-American, the more I could leave the bad things of the People’s Paradise behind me. There was a lot to leave behind.”

  “When did Bubbles come into it?”

  “Mom and I had a connection. It’s a long story. Point is she saved me, adopted me, gave me a new start. She loved me, and I loved her. Still do. I confused her a little bit when I moved out here, but I just wanted to see what it was like to walk on my own for a bit.”

  Merl’s finished mopping and he walks over to our table. “You all want to do something?”

  Adesina stands up. She starts to put on her coat, which requires slipping her wings through slits for them and snapping the body into place. “We,” she says, “have plans. We’re going to Bacho’s. We’ll curl up and watch a movie we’ve both seen before and don’t really care about seeing again. If you know what I mean. We definitely won’t talk about serious things for the rest of the night. We actually might not talk much at all. Right, Bacho?”

  This is news to me, but I say, “Sounds perfect. Except, let’s go to your place?”

  Merl looks genuinely put out. He blinks and says, “I’m a little bit jealous.”

  Adesina pinches his cheek. “You should be. Also, Bacho’s an ace. That flyer for The Extravaganza? He’s in the show. Come check it out.”

  As Merl sputters, Adesina grabs my hand and pulls me toward the door.

  * * *

  —

  I wait until I know Loulou will be at work for a few hours. He and I have been mostly avoiding each other anyway, but I need to have the apartment all to myself and the wolf. I wish Adesina was here to do this with me, but she insisted this was something I needed to do on my own. I know she’s right. What I don’t know is whether or not I can do anything to prevent the failure that’s careening toward me.

  I sit cross-legged on the floor in the living room. I close my eyes and call to the wolf, asking it to come out. I can tell it hears me calling it. I’m both the one calling and the one resisting the call. Will I ever get used to this? I don’t know, but it’s time to try.

  Come on, I think, let’s have it out. I’m here. All right? You’ve got my attention.

  When it moves, it’s abrupt. It doesn’t climb up my spine like it usually does. Instead, the wolf just steps out of my chest. It leaps onto the couch, sits on its haunches, and stares at me. It’s not exactly the alpha wolf that attacked the Doberman. Or the surly semi-sleeping mutt that hopes Loulou will sit on it. It’s not the massive shadow that towered over the rally, or the werewolf that made Rowly pee himself. This one is a lean, shaggy canine, spectral in that it glimmers with an uncanny energy, and yet is as grounded in flesh as I’ve ever seen it.

  “We have to figure some stuff out,” I say. “You have to start listening to me.”

  The wolf cocks an eyebrow, a gesture that reads clear as day to me. It’s a sneer.

  “You think I should listen to you. Fine. What do you want?”

  The wolf closes its eyes. After a moment, I do the same.

  An image emerges out of my eyelids. Tufts of sagebrush dotted across high desert hills, rising into mountains, rock features like enormous spearheads slammed upward from beneath the earth, creviced with highlights and shadows. I smell the pine trees from the higher slopes. Above it all, a wide-open, clear sky that’s aglow with orange at the horizon, with the promise of stars just visible in the deepening dark at the crest of sky.

  It’s beautiful.

  Then I’m in motion. The ground scrolls beneath me, each step a leap that’s like flying. Myriad smells burst against my face. I inhale them, know them, want to explore each and every one of them. But not as much as I want to hunt, to be high in the silent night, scraping against the stars, warm blood in my teeth, tearing skin and fur, gnawing on bone. Howling and hearing my kind howl back.

  I open my eyes. The images and sensations and smells vanish. The wolf looks at me. It tilts its head slightly. “You want to go into the wild?” I ask. “You want me to take you there?”

  The wolf bridges the space between us and nuzzles against the side of my face.

  “Right. You want to go for a walk. Why did I never think of that?”

  The wolf takes a step back, indignity radiating off it.

  “I’m kidding. I get it.” And I do. I understand what he craves because I crave it, too. All those high wilds and the hunt and night and the universe to be found there. I want that, too. It feels like I’ve always wanted it. I was just too dense to know it. I lean forward and reach out to touch the canine face. “I’ll take you. But can it be a deal? If you help me out with this play, I’ll take you.”