2. WAVE GOODBYE
The weeks following my visit to Maximus Lyle were eventful. I resumed work at the Capitol as a consultant, now under Grimm’s supervision. He wasted no time filling Maximus’s shoes, turning over Jacoby Thatcher’s position to Avery incognito, and leaving the gang in the care of God knew who.
I tried to stay out of it and kept Donovan clear, as well. My most successful effort toward that end happened yesterday, funded by money Holland insisted the Capitol refund me for the cost of repairs to the Porsche.
Today, I was playing show and tell with my brother, dragging him across town on a joyride in my newly repaired car and ending here.
I led the way along the boardwalk that bordered the ocean. Small waves crested, and the sun beamed across them, casting everything in stark, bright light. Pointing out the boats bobbing in their slips, a bank of mailboxes, dumpsters, and the waste station, I might have been overselling the place.
Still, disappointment stung me when Donovan said, “It’s a dump.”
His expression was full of disdain for the houseboat tethered to the dock.
“A dump?” I frowned. “And the motel wasn’t?”
He shrugged and walked ahead toward the ‘70s model Cruise-a-Home Caprice so newly mine I had the title in my back pocket.
Paint flaked off the faded blue and white hull, and the whole thing was splattered with dried gull shit. Bleached plastic lawn chairs littered the upper deck, left behind by the previous owners. Not a luxury vehicle, by any means, but it was the best I could afford. If Donovan was already turning up his nose, he was in for a rude shock when he saw the interior.
“Do we have our own rooms?” He glanced back with a raised brow. “You snore.”
Of all the sleeping habits he could have bitched about, that was, objectively, the least offensive. More than once, he’d pummeled me awake with a pillow to stop a telekinetic tornado borne of my unconscious mind. Shouted me out of a dead sleep for assaulting him with fearful thoughts that bound him to his bed. That was without mentioning the times I’d woken myself up strangling, crying, or soaked in sweat. I couldn’t blame him for asking for separate digs. I’d want a room away from me, too.
“Nope.” I blew a breath upward to ruffle my hair. “But you can have the bed. I’ll take the couch. ”
Sliding past Donovan, I opened the door then dipped in a mock bow. “After you.” I waved him ahead.
The musty smell of the interior wafted over me anew. It must have hit Donovan about the same time, judging by the way he swayed backward and stopped in his tracks.
“Aw, come on, Fitch,” he groaned.
I’d considered the ad’s mention of the boat being “fully furnished” a perk. My brother and I were used to living on little. A decade spent in a shared motel room gave no opportunity to amass possessions, so we didn’t leave much behind. Not having to buy every necessity seemed like a good thing until I got an eyeful of the stiff curtains and threadbare bedding, and bonus items like the leaning tower of VHS tapes and the tiny console television.
Donovan tiptoed across the floor and down the aisle that cut between the kitchenette and the single bed. We’d gained amenities—namely the two-burner stove and mini fridge—but lost square footage. There was barely room to walk around the drop leaf table and two chairs, and the tub shower from Lazy Daze had been replaced by a cramped shower stall and camper toilet.
Cleaning supplies scattered across the few available surfaces—sprays and sponges that weren’t new, but definitely hadn’t been used here.
Having reached the end of his brief exploration, Donovan looked back at me. “I guess I’m not sure why this was your solution. There are other hotels in town, you know.”
I leafed through the pots and skillets stacked on the gas range. Those were washed, at least. “Too public,” I muttered. “People might see us coming and going.”
He hugged his arms around his chest like he wished he could shrink from his surroundings. “You’re at the Capitol five days a week. If someone wanted to find you, it’s not hard.”
I wasn’t worried about myself.
Silence flooded the houseboat’s cramped cabin. With my back to my brother, I betrayed nothing except being far too interested in cookware when my kitchen skills went as far as boiling water. Still, he managed to read me.
“Not this again.” Donovan groaned.
My brow quirked. “Not what?”
“The princess in the tower bullshit.” He opened the bathroom and poked his head in.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied.
After a brief inspection of the space, he straightened and slammed the door shut. “My whole life, Fitch. You ran off with the gang while I sat at home.” He pinned me with a scowl. “I was a shut-in. I’m not doing that again.”
I spun around with a saucepan in my hand, thrusting it toward him. “You’re the one who wanted Grimm left alive.”
Now two weeks past, that moment had changed everything. I had our gang leader moments from death, and my brother convinced me to spare him.
“How many times are you gonna throw that in my face?” Donovan’s cheeks puffed with a breath.
“At least once more.”
His dark eyes met mine as he squared up for a fight. He’d learned from watching the older guys peacock and posture, but he was all talk. As a human in a magical society, my brother’s options for combat or self-defense were limited. He could punch me, but I could crush his hand. We played on different fields.
After a long moment, Donovan’s shoulders sagged. “Fine. But I’m not hanging around this gross boat while you roam the city. I’m not as helpless as you think I am.”
“Gross boat,” I grumbled. Dropping the saucepan into the dented steel sink caused a chain reaction of clatters and clangs.
It was easier when he was younger; when he hung on every word I said and believed every lie I told. Donovan didn’t know the half of what he missed out on, languishing in the room at the Lazy Daze Motel while I “ran off with the gang.” He watched cartoons; I killed people. We had a routine. When I got home, we talked about whatever book he was reading or new show he’d found. Then we sat up in bed until the wee hours when he fell asleep and the TV broadcast cut to gritty static.
That reminded me of our newfound selection of VHS cassettes, a mix of ‘80s classics and a few B-films I’d never heard of. I wandered over to the built-in cabinets—particle board with bubbling laminate pasted across the top—and began sorting them. With any luck, there might be a homemade sex tape in the mix.
Behind me, Donovan perched on the corner of the bed. “What does Grimm think about me not being around anymore?”
He should have been thinking how lucky he was that I’d only taken my brother and not his life. Turning Donovan against me, or trying to, was an unforgivable sin, but Grimm never apologized. He acted like the assassination attempt didn’t happen, addressing it only once in the most dismissive way.
“All children rebel,” he’d told me. “Young wolves challenge the pack alpha. It is expected. One day, you may surpass me. Until then, I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”
He’d made good on that. Sharing a nine-to-five at the Capitol forced us into close proximity, of which he took full advantage. No private meetings, though. He always approached me in plain sight, doling out attention that made me feel like either the teacher’s pet or class dunce depending. But the fact that he never spoke to me alone anymore betrayed apprehension he refused to show any other way.
“Does it have a name?” Donovan asked, pulling me from thought.
“Huh?”
“The boat,” he said. “Don’t they usually have names?”
“Oh, yeah.” It had been listed in the advertisement and was sloppily stenciled on the outside. “ Liquid Asset ,” I told him.
After a pause, Donovan confessed, “I don’t get it.”
I sighed. “Me neither.”
With a battered copy of The Terminator in my hand, I leaned against the cabinets. “It’s ours now, though. We can call it whatever we want.”
He picked at the comforter where the fabric had pilled from overwashing. “Well, this is a fresh start, right? A new beginning? What about Wave Goodbye ? To our old lives, yanno?”
My nose wrinkled. “That’s cheesy as fuck.”
The smile that had curved Donovan’s mouth was replaced by a stormy scowl. “Let’s hear your ideas then, smart guy.”
I shook my head. “No, no. Wave Goodbye works.” He relaxed to sink deeper on the mattress before I muttered, “Still cheesy, though.”
He flipped me his middle finger, and I snickered. I slid the black plastic VHS cassette out of its case, then bent to stuff it into the VCR. Poking the power button on the television prompted everything to come alive. I clicked through the buttons on the VCR until the opening credits began to roll.
I gave the TV a pat as I turned away from it. “Make yourself at home, kid,” I told Donovan. “I’ll be back in a while.”
“Where are you going?” He rose from the bed but made no move to follow.
“Out,” I replied.
“For what?”
I cast a glance around the kitchen. “We need groceries…” Though not many with a refrigerator that small. “And I gotta pick up our stuff from Bitters.”
Donovan sighed loudly. He flopped onto the mattress and sprawled, staring up at the ceiling. “If you’re going to visit your boyfriend, just say so. But I don’t get it. You just saw him this morning.”
A sly smile tugged at my lips. “Still not my boyfriend.”
“Pretty sure he thinks he is,” Donovan replied.
Huffing a laugh, I started toward the door. “Enjoy the movie, Donnie. It’s a classic.”