Chapter 13 Cal
Cal
“I’m worried about you.” Dex confesses, watching me like he's looking for something specific.
“I'm better than ever.” I assure him, not for the first time this month. And it's the truth.
I've never felt so good in my life. The beast is continuously being sated, and we have learned to coexist. He cedes control to me during the day so that I can run my business like a perfectly sane and fully functional human, and I relinquish control to him the minute I'm home, back in our safe place where he can have dominion over me and the beauty captive in my chamber.
It’s been two weeks since I lightened her dosage and three since I learned how to make all the different parts of my life fit together.
The mental clarity has been wonderful for my overall health.
“You never leave the house anymore,” Dex argues.
“I'm out of the house right now.” I say, smirking as I gesture to the little taqueria we have mostly to ourselves.
“We're on a business lunch. That doesn't fucking count.” He rolls his eyes. “You're turning into a shut-in. It's alarming, especially for someone with your…”
I lift an eyebrow, awaiting the rest of that statement, but he shakes his head, regrouping. “What are you doing with all your time, Cal?”
“You think I'm plotting mass destruction?” I chuckle, lifting my empty glass to signal to the waitress that I'll take another margarita. “You think I'm designing pipe bombs or something in my basement?”
“I think you're up to something.” Dex reasons. “You've never been the type to sit home alone. You don't like being alone with yourself, remember?”
“I didn't.” I agree. “But I've learned to make peace with him.”
His eyes narrow on me. “I know what that means. You haven't asked me to…”
“I don't need you to come clean up my messes.” I assure him. “Though I appreciate your loyalty. That last time, things could have gotten really bad if you hadn't come to help me diffuse the situation.”
Dex licks his lips. It's fast, a nervous tick I've seen a million times, and it gives me pause.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He takes a quick sip of his margarita, draining the rest of it before the waitress saunters over and sets down two fresh ones. She bends a little lower than necessary to place them between the two of us, making sure we've both got an ample view of her ample tits.
“Thanks, Carmen.” I tell her, turning my attention back to Dex a second before he rips his gaze away to focus on mine.
Carmen's face falls just the slightest, disappointed that we didn't take the bait, and walks away.
“What about you, buddy?” I ask, studying his face for any signs of whatever he isn't telling me. “Anything you want to get off your chest?”
I've known him long enough to realize he's thinking something, that he's on edge all of a sudden. He was perfectly fine before, but once I mentioned the close call from before...
“I never asked, what did you do with the one I paid for?”
We gave her handler a significant sum of money to not ask any further questions about what happened to her, and he agreed easily.
I was a bit too rattled back then to think much about what would happen to her.
I'd figured he'd just take her to the airport or something, give her a plane ticket to start over somewhere.
She was intoxicated, and I doubt she even knew where she was well enough to be a threat.
Besides, I trusted that if she was a threat, he'd neutralize it.
Now, I'm not so sure.
“Your attempts to distract me aren't going to work.” He says, deflecting. “I'm concerned. You haven't been yourself since you went to Vegas. Did something happen there?”
I roll my eyes, deciding there's no hope of getting out of this right now. “I didn't go to Vegas.”
He's quiet for a minute, watching me like he's trying to decide whether I'm fucking with him. “What?”
“You heard me.” I lift my margarita and drink it fast, the ice clinking around the glass as I let the tequila warm the back of my throat. It's not my favorite, but it does what I need it to.
When I set the glass down, drained of liquid, Dex's eyes are sharp on me.
“If you weren't in Vegas, where were you?”
Christ, he sounds like a jealous girlfriend. I laugh as I take his margarita, too. “You really want to know?”
He hesitates, sensing that whatever I'm about to tell him is more than he wants to know. But he's too loyal a friend, too concerned with saving my soul, to back down.
I watch him calmly, swirling the tequila around the glass before lifting it to my lips and tossing it back.
Dex always takes his drinks neat, so they go down quick.
When I set it between us, he's watching me, steadfast. “Yes.”
“I'll show you.” I shrug, tossing down enough cash to cover our bill and a generous tip for not taking Carmen's bait. “You're driving.”
“This is your house.” Dex says, as we pull up outside the front of the building, his suspicious eyes turning to me.
“It is.” I nod, unbuckling my seatbelt and letting myself out before he's even put the car in park. I'm halfway to the door by the time he catches up to me.
“You were here all week? You didn't actually go anywhere?”
“Nope.” I chuckle, seeing the worry on his face deepen. He has no idea what he's about to walk into, but it's not as bad as whatever he's thinking.
For some strange reason, ever since my darkness has been manifesting, he's seemed to think I have a taste for mass destruction.
I'm not looking to cause chaos or to slaughter innocents for no reason.
The idea of mass shootings or bombings doesn't appeal to me in the slightest. I'm not a psychopath bent on destruction of all things good.
I just like to feel in control. This does it for me.
“Just... tell me what you were up to?” He asks, placing a hand on my shoulder in an effort to get me to stop walking.
It does, and when I face him, he looks genuinely worried.
“Relax,” I tell him. “I've found a way to tame the beast.”
“Like... another hobby?”
“Something like that.” I shrug.
“I'm guessing it's not yoga.” He grumbles, shoulders tense as I unlock my front door and let the two of us in.
He relaxes a bit when he doesn't find anything wild in my living room. I'm pretty sure he was expecting bags of manure and shrapnel.
I'm actually a bit offended that he thinks so little of me.
“Not yoga.” I confirm, locking the door behind us and gesturing for him to follow me.
He doesn't hesitate, though I can feel him bristling as we get closer to the basement. Before I open the door, I turn to smirk at him.
“You're not scared, are you, Dex?”
“For myself? No.” He shakes his head and lets out a low breath. “For you? Definitely.”
“You worry too much.” I chuckle, leading him down the basement stairs. I flick the light on when I get to the bottom, and he jumps a little, startled to see the snake pressing up against the glass, her tongue flicking out of her mouth in greeting.
“That's Abby.” I tell him, watching his eyes as he adjusts to the sight of the large terrarium. It's the first thing you see when you come down here, and that's very much by design. My little doll is just on the other side of them. “She's the sweetest one. Want to meet her?”
“No.” Dex says quickly, tearing his eyes off the snake to turn to me. He looks rattled but also relieved. “This is your hobby? You got pet snakes?”
“Well, no…” I shrug. “I mean, I've been taking care of them. But that's not what all my time has gone to.”
I tip my head to the other side of the glass, which he hasn't yet looked past as he's been too focused on the reptiles slithering over one another.
He follows me out around the other side, and I flick the light on, letting it illuminate the room before us.
When his eyes fall on the figure on the marble slab, his eyes widen and his mouth falls open.
“Cal…” he says slowly, “what the fuck is this?”