“I wear a mask,” he replied as he began eating his dessert. “That should help keep them out of my private life.”

“I appreciate your optimism, but—” She looked around the room. The deli was cramped like most of the restaurants in Manhattan. They had a booth and she was pretty sure they couldn’t be overheard, but she dropped her voice anyway. “They will be crawling up your ass to try and figure out who you are under that mask.” She leaned toward him. “Also, there are some topics that are flat out off-limits.”

“I can imagine,” he replied. “We can’t talk about missions unless we have permission. At least that’s how it was in Spain.”

She shook her head. “Not just that. There are P.R. issues. Stay off religion and also leave out the politics of what we’re doing.”

“Yes, my religious beliefs would be … problematic.” He took a few more bites of his cheesecake.

“Oh?” Most of Michelle’s wild card friends just didn’t talk about it. Then there was Angel, who was deeply religious and wasn’t shy at all about expressing her beliefs. But by and large, wild carders had enough trouble without bringing faith into things.

Aero smiled wanly. “When the Black Queen took my sister I was still a believer, having been raised in the Catholic faith.” His speech was slow and precise. “As a boy, the Sisters gave me a picture of Jesus in a plastic frame. I’d done well in my schoolwork and this was a reward. The picture frame had small doors that opened and closed. It was a trifle, but I kept it out of sentiment. The night my sister died I shut the doors and prayed to Jesus to open them so that I would know my sister was in heaven. Surely, such a small thing was not too much to ask to keep me from so much doubt and pain.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said, knowing the words were inadequate. “But I’m guessing God didn’t open them for you.”

“No, of course not.” He shook his head. “It was the beginning of the end of my faith. My parents scolded me for testing Jesus, but I wasn’t testing, I was begging. I truly wanted to believe.”

Michelle didn’t know what to say. Sadness and anger were etched across his face.

“We all have our losses,” he said. “But there has been compensation. I’ve learned to value my time on this earth. There’s a discipline, even an art, to enjoying one’s life.”

Michelle nodded. “I’m not a believer. Unlike your parents, my parents only believed in money.” She gave a bitter smile. “You shouldn’t tell that story to anyone you don’t know or trust. If the press gets wind of it, they’ll tear you to shreds. They’ll take things out of context. You’ll be fodder for the evangelical and anti–wild card movements. And you don’t need any more pain.”

“You’re right, of course.” He dabbed his napkin at the corner of his mouth. “They’d mine my pain for public consumption. They do it everywhere. I suppose … I suppose I just wanted you to know. I’m already feeling homesick, and I just arrived. I want someone to know me.” Then he took a sip of his coffee. “The cheesecake is good,” he said.